Chapter I. The History of Aerostation from the Year 1783.

Produced by Dianne Bean

WONDERFUL BALLOON ASCENTS

or, the Conquest of the Skies

A History of Balloons and Balloon Voyages.

By F. Marion

1870

PREFACE

“Let posterity know, and knowing be astonished, that on the fifteenth

day of September, 1784, Vincent Lunardi of Lucca, in Tuscany, the first

aerial traveller in Britain, mounting from the Artillery Ground in

London, and traversing the regions of the air for two hours and fifteen

minutes, on this spot revisited the earth. In this rude monument for

ages be recorded this wondrous enterprise successfully achieved by

the powers of chemistry and the fortitude of man, this improvement in

science which the great Author of all Knowledge, patronising by his

Providence the inventions of mankind, hath graciously permitted, to

their benefit and his own eternal glory.”

The stone upon which the above inscription was carved, stands, or stood

recently, near Collier’s End, in the parish of Standon, Hertfordshire;

and it will possibly afford the English reader a more accurate idea of

the feelings with which the world hailed the discovery of the balloon

than any incident or illustration drawn from the annals of a foreign

country.

The work which we now introduce to our readers does not exaggerate the

case when it declares that no discovery of modern times has aroused so

large an amount of enthusiasm, has excited so many hopes, has appeared

to the human race to open up so many vistas of enterprise and research,

as that for which we are mainly indebted to the Brothers Montgolfier.

The discovery or the invention of the balloon, however, was one of those

efforts of genius and enterprise which have no infancy. It had reached

its full growth when it burst upon the world, and the ninety years which

have since elapsed have witnessed no development of the original idea.

The balloon of to-day--the balloon in which Coxwell and Glaisher have

made their perilous trips into the remote regions of the air--is in

almost every respect the same as the balloon with which “the physician

Charles,” following in the footsteps of the Montgolfiers, astonished

Paris in 1783. There are few more tantalising stories in the annals of

invention than this. So much had been accomplished when Roziers made his

first aerial voyage above the astonished capital of France that all the

rest seemed easy. The new highway appeared to have been thrown open

to the world, and the dullest imagination saw the air thronged with

colossal chariots, bearing travellers in perfect safety, and with more

than the speed of the eagle, from city to city, from country to

country, reckless of all the obstacles--the seas, and rivers, and

mountains--which Nature might have placed in the path of the wayfarer.

But from that moment to the present the prospect which was thus opened

up has remained a vision and nothing more. There are--as those who

visited the Crystal Palace two years ago have reason to know--not a few

men who still believe in the practicability of journeying by air. But,

with hardly an exception, those few have abandoned all idea of utilising

the balloon for this purpose. The graceful “machine” which astonished

the world at its birth remains to this day as beautiful, and as useless

for the purposes of travel, as in the first hour of its history. The day

may come when some one more fortunate than the Montgolfiers may earn the

Duke of Sutherland’s offered reward by a successful flight from the Mall

to the top of Stafford House; but when this comes to pass the balloon

will have no share in the honour of the achievement. Not the less,

however, is the story of this wonderful invention worthy of being

recorded. It deserves a place in the history of human enterprise--if

for nothing else--because of the daring courage which it has in so

many cases brought to light. From the days of Roziers down to those of

Coxwell, our aeronauts have fearlessly tempted dangers not less terrible

than those which face the soldier as he enters the imminent deadly

breach; and, as one of the chapters in this volume mournfully proves,

not a few of their number have paid the penalty of their rash courage

with their lives. All the more is it to be regretted that so little

practical good has resulted from their labours and their sacrifices; and

that so many of those who have perished in balloon voyages have done

so whilst serving to better end than the amusement of a holiday crowd.

There is, however, another aspect which makes at least the earlier

history of the balloon well worth preserving. This is the influence

which the invention had upon the generation which witnessed it. As

these pages show, the people of Europe seem to have been absolutely

intoxicated by the success of the Montgolfiers’ discovery. There is

something bitterly suggestive in our knowledge of this fact. Whilst

pensions and honours and popular applause were being showered upon

the inventors of the balloon, Watt was labouring unnoticed at his

improvements of the steam-engine--a very prosaic affair compared with

the gilded globe which Montgolfier had caused to rise from earth amidst

the acclamations of a hundred thousand spectators, but one which had

before it a somewhat different history to that of the more startling

invention. England, when it remembers the story of the steam-engine,

has little need to grudge France the honour of discovering the balloon.

After all, however, Great Britain had its share in that discovery. The

early observations of Francis Bacon and Bishop Wilkins paved the way for

the later achievement, whilst it was our own Cavendish who discovered

that hydrogen gas was lighter than air; and Dr. Black of Edinburgh, who

first employed that gas to raise a globe in which it was contained from

the earth. The Scotch professor, we are told, thought that the discovery

which he made when he sent his little tissue-paper balloon from his

lecture-table to the ceiling of his classroom, was of no use except as

affording the means of making an interesting experiment. Possibly our

readers, after they have perused this volume, may think that Dr Black

was not after all so far wrong as people once imagined. Be this as it

may, however, in these pages is the history of the balloon, and of

the most memorable balloon voyages, and we comprehend the story to our

readers not the less cordially that it comes from the land where the

balloon had its birth.

London, January, 1870.

BALLOONS AND AIR JOURNEYS.

PART I. THE CONQUEST OF THE SKIES.--1783.

Chapter I. Introduction.

The title of our introduction to aeronautics may appear ambitious to

astronomers, and to those who know that the infinite space we call the

heavens is for ever inaccessible to travellers from the earth; but

it was not so considered by those who witnessed the ardent enthusiasm

evoked at the ascension of the first balloon. No discovery, in the

whole range of history, has elicited an equal degree of applause and

admiration--never has the genius of man won a triumph which at first

blush seemed more glorious. The mathematical and physical sciences

had in aeronautics achieved apparently their greatest honours, and

inaugurated a new era in the progress of knowledge. After having

subjected the earth to their power; after having made the waves of the

sea stoop in submission under the keels of their ships; after having

caught the lightning of heaven and made it subservient to the ordinary

purposes of life, the genius of man undertook to conquer the regions of

the air. Imagination, intoxicated with past successes, could descry no

limit to human power; the gates of the infinite seemed to be swinging

back before man’s advancing step, and the last was believed to be the

greatest of his achievements.

In order to comprehend the frenzy of the enthusiasm which the first

aeronautic triumphs called forth, it is necessary to recall the

appearance of Montgolfier at Versailles, on the 19th of September, 1783,

before Louis XVI, or of the earliest aeronauts at the Tuileries. Paris

hailed the first of these men with the greatest acclaim, “and then, as

now,” says a French writer, “the voice of Paris gave the cue to France,

and France to the world!” Nobles and artisans, scientific men and

badauds, great and small, were moved with one universal impulse. In the

streets the praises of the balloon were sung; in the libraries models

of it abounded; and in the salons the one universal topic was the great

“machine.” In anticipation, the poet delighted himself with bird’s-eye

views of the scenery of strange countries; the prisoner mused on what

might be a new way of escape; the physicist visited the laboratory in

which the lightning and the meteors were manufactured; the geometrician

beheld the plans of cities and the outlines of kingdoms; the general

discovered the position of the enemy or rained shells on the besieged

town; the police beheld a new mode in which to carry on the secret

service; Hope heralded a new conquest from the domain of nature, and the

historian registered a new chapter in the annals of human knowledge.

“Scientific discoveries in general,” says Arago, “even those from

which men expect the most advantage, like those of the compass and the

steam-engine, were greeted at first with contempt, or at the best with

indifference. Political events, and the fortunes of armies monopolised

almost entirely the attention of the people. But to this rule there

are two exceptions--the discoveries of America and of aerostatics, the

advents of Columbus and of Montgolfier.” It is not here our duty

to inquire how it happened that the discoveries made by these two

personages are classed together. Air-travelling may be as unproductive

of actual good to society as filling the belly with the “east wind” is

to the body, while every one knows something of the extent to which the

discovery of Columbus has influenced the character, the civilisation,

the destinies, in short, of the human race. We are speaking at present

of the known and well-attested fact, that the discovery of America

and the discovery of the method of traversing space by means of

balloons--however they may differ in respect of results to man--rank

equally in this, that of all other discoveries these two have attracted

the greatest amount of attention, and given, in their respective eras,

the greatest impulse to popular feeling. Let the reader recall the marks

of enthusiasm which the discovery of the islands on the east coast of

America excited in Andalusia, in Catalonia, in Aragon and Castile--let

him read the narrative of the honours paid by town and village, not only

to the hero of the enterprise, but even to his commonest sailors, and

then let him search the records of the epoch for the degree of sensation

produced by the discovery of aeronautics in France, which stands in the

same relationship to this event as that in which Spain stands to the

other. The processions of Seville and Barcelona are the exact prototypes

of the fetes of Lyons and Paris. In France, in 1783, as in Spain two

centuries previously, the popular imagination was so greatly excited by

the deeds performed, that it began to believe in possibilities of

the most unlikely description. In Spain, the conquestadores and their

followers believed that in a few days after they had landed on American

soil, they would have gathered as much gold and precious stones, as were

then possessed by the richest European Sovereigns. In France, each one

following his own notions, made out for himself special benefits to flow

from the discovery of balloons. Every discovery then appeared to be only

the precursor of other and greater discoveries, and nothing after that

time seemed to be impossible to him who attempted the conquest of the

atmosphere. This idea clothed itself in every form. The young embraced

it with enthusiasm, the old made it the subject of endless regrets. When

one of the first aeronautic ascents was made, the old Marechal Villeroi,

an octogenarian and an invalid, was conducted to one of the windows of

the Tuileries, almost by force, for he did not believe in balloons. The

balloon, meanwhile, detached itself from its moorings; the physician

Charles, seated in the car, gaily saluted the public, and was then

majestically launched into space in his air-boat; and at once the old

Marechal, beholding this, passed suddenly from unbelief to perfect faith

in aerostatics and in the capacity of the human mind, fell on his knees,

and, with his eyes bathed in tears, moaned out pitifully the words,

“Yes, it is fixed! It is certain! They will find out the secret of

avoiding death; but it will be after I am gone!”

If we recall the impressions which the first air-journeys made, we shall

find that, among people of enthusiastic temperament, it was believed

that it was not merely the blue sky above us, not merely the terrestrial

atmosphere, but the vast spaces through which the worlds move, that

were to become the domain of man--the sea of the balloon. The moon,

the mysterious dwelling-place of men unknown, would no longer be an

inaccessible place. Space no longer contained regions which man could

not cross! Indeed, certain expeditions attempted the crossing of the

heavens, and brought back news of the moon. The planets that revolve

round the sun, the far-flying comets, the most distant stars--these

formed the field which from that time was to lie open to the

investigations of man.

This enthusiasm one can well enough understand. There is in the simple

fact of an aerial ascent something so bold and so astonishing, that the

human spirit cannot fail to be profoundly stirred by it. And if this is

the feeling of men at the present day, when, after having been witnesses

of ascents for the last eighty years, they see men confiding themselves

in a swinging car into the immensities of space, what must have been the

astonishment of those who, for the first time since the commencement

of the world, beheld one of their fellow-creatures rolling in space,

without any other assurance of safety than what his still dim perception

of the laws of nature gave him?

Why should we be obliged here to state that the great discovery that

stirred the spirits of men from the one end of Europe to the other,

and gave rise to hopes of such vast discoveries, should have failed

in realising the expectations which seemed so clearly justified by the

first experiments? It is now eighty-six years since the first aerial

journey astonished the world, and yet, in 1870, we are but little

more advanced in the science than we were in 1783. Our age is the most

renowned for its discoveries of any that the world has seen. Man is

borne over the surface of the earth by steam; he is as familiar as the

fish with the liquid element; he transmits his words instantaneously

from London to New York; he draws pictures without pencil or brush, and

has made the sun his slave. The air alone remains to him unsubdued. The

proper management of balloons has not yet been discovered. More

than that, it appears that balloons are unmanageable, and it is to

air-vessels, constructed more nearly upon the model of birds, that we

must go to find out the secret of aerial navigation. At present, as in

former times, we are at the mercy of balloons--globes lighter than the

air, and therefore the sport and the prey of tempests and currents.

And aeronauts, instead of showing themselves now as the benefactors of

mankind, exhibit themselves mainly to gratify a frivolous curiosity, or

to crown with eclat a public fete.

Chapter II. Attempts in Ancient Times to Fly in the Air.

Before contemplating the sudden conquest of the aerial kingdom, as

accomplished and proclaimed at the end of the last century, it is at

once curious and instructive to cast a glance backward, and to examine,

by the glimmering of ancient traditions, the attempts which have been

made or imagined by man to enfranchise himself from the attraction of

the earth.

“The greater number of the arts and sciences can be traced along a

chronological ladder of great length: some, indeed, lose themselves in

the night of time.” The accomplishment of raising oneself in the air,

however, had no actual professors in antiquity, and the discovery

of Montgolfier seems to have come into the world, so to speak,

spontaneously. By this it is to be understood that, unlike Copernicus

and Columbus, Montgolfier could not read in history of any similar

discovery, containing the germ of his own feat. At least, we have no

proof that the ancient nations practiced the art of aerial navigation

to any extent whatever. The attempts which we are about to cite do not

strictly belong to the history of aerostatics.

Classic mythology tells us of Daedalus, who, escaping with his son

Icarus from the anger of Minos, in the Isle of Crete, saved himself from

the immediate evil by the aid of wings, which he made for himself and

his son, and by means of which they were enabled to fly in the air. The

wings, it appears, were soldered with wax, and Icarus, flying too high,

was struck by a ray of the sun, which melted the wax. The youth fell

into the sea, which from him derived its name of Icarian. It is possible

that this fable only symbolisms the introduction of sails in navigation.

Coming down through ancient history, we note a certain Archytas, of

Tarentum, who, in the fourth century B. C., is said to have launched

into the air the first “flying stag,” and who, according to the Greek

writers, “made a pigeon of wood, which flew, but which could not

raise itself again after having fallen.” Its flight, it is said, “was

accomplished by means of a mechanical contrivance, by the vibrations of

which it was sustained in the air.”

In the year 66 A.D., in the time of Nero, Simon, the magician--who

called himself “the mechanician”--made certain experiments at Rome of

flying at a certain height. In the eyes of the early Christians this

power was attributed to the devil, and St. Peter, the namesake of this

flying man, is said to have prayed fervently while Simon was amusing

himself in space. It was possibly in answer to his prayers that the

magician failed in his flight, fell upon the Forum, and broke his neck

on the spot.

From the summit of the tower of the hippodrome at Constantinople, a

certain Saracen met the same fate as Simon, in the reign of the Emperor

Comnenus. His experiments were conducted on the principle of the

inclined plane. He descended in an oblique course, using the resistance

of the air as a support. His robe, very long and very large, and of

which the flaps were extended on an osier frame, preserved him from

suddenly falling.

The inclined plane probably suggested to Milton the flight of the angel

Uriel, in “Paradise Lost,” who descended in the morning from heaven to

earth upon a ray of the sun, and ascended in the evening from earth to

heaven by the same means. But we cannot quote here the fancies of

pure imagination, and we will not speak of Medeus the magician, of the

enchantress Armida, of the witches of the Brocken, of the hippogriff

of Zephyrus with the rosy wings, or of the diabolical inventions of the

middle ages, for many of which the stake was the only reward.

Roger Bacon, in the thirteenth century, inaugurated a more scientific

era. In his “Treaty of the Admirable Power of Art and Nature,” he puts

forth the idea that it is possible “to make flying-machines in which the

man, being seated or suspended in the middle, might turn some winch or

crank, which would put in motion a suit of wings made to strike the

air like those of a bird.” In the same treatise he sketches a

flying-machine, to which that of Blanchard, who lived in the eighteenth

century, bears a certain resemblance. The monk, Roger Bacon, was worthy

of entering the temple of fame before his great namesake the Lord

Chancellor, who in the seventeenth century inaugurated the era of

experimental science.

Jean Baptiste Dante, a mathematician of Perugia, who lived in the latter

part of the fifteenth century, constructed artificial wings, by means of

which, when applied to thin bodies, men might raise themselves off

the ground into the air. It is recorded that on many occasions he

experimented with his wings on the Lake Thrasymenus. These experiments,

however, had a sad end. At a fete, given for the celebration of the

marriage of Bartholomew d’Alvani, Dante, who must not be confounded with

the poet, whose flights were of quite another kind--offered to exhibit

the wonder of his wings to the people of Perugia. He managed to raise

himself to a great height, and flew above the square; but the iron

with which he moved one of his wings having been bent, he fell upon the

church of the Virgin, and broke his thigh.

A similar accident befell a learned English Benedictine Oliver of

Malmesbury. This ecclesiastic was considered gifted with the power of

foretelling events; but, like other similarly circumstanced, he does

not seem to have beer able to divine the fate which awaited himself.

He constructed wings after the model of those which according to Ovid,

Daedalus made use of. These he attached to his arms and his feet, and,

thus furnished, he threw himself from the height of a tower. But the

wings bore him up for little more than a distance of 120 paces. He fell

at the foot of the tower, broke his legs, and from that moment led a

languishing life. He consoled himself, however, in his misfortune

by saying that his attempt must certainly have succeeded had he only

provided himself with a tail.

Before going further, let us take notice that the seventeenth century

is, par excellence, the century distinguished for narratives of

imaginary travels. It was then that astronomy opened up its world of

marvels. The knowledge of observers was vastly increased, and from that

time it became possible to distinguish the surface of the moon and of

other celestial bodies. Thus a new world, as it were, was revealed for

human thought and speculation. We learned that our globe was not, as we

had supposed, the centre of the universe. It was assigned its place far

from that centre, and was known to be no more than a mere atom, lost

amid an incalculable number of other globes. The revelations of the

telescope proved that those who formerly were considered wise actually

knew nothing. Quickly following these discoveries, extraordinary

narratives of excursions through space began to be given to the world.

Those scientific romances were simply wild exaggerations, based upon the

thinnest foundation of scientific facts. In order, however, to describe

a journey among the stars, it was necessary to invent some mode of

locomotion in these distant regions. In former times Lucian had been

content with a ship which ascended to the rising moon upon a waterspout;

but it was now necessary to improve upon this very primitive mode, as

people began to know something more of the forces of nature. One of the

first of these travellers in imagination to the moon in modern times was

Godwin (1638), and his plan was more ingenious than that of Lucian. He

trained a great number of the wild swans of St. Helena to fly constantly

upward toward a white object, and, having succeeded in thus training

them, one fine night he threw himself off the Peak of Teneriffe, poised

upon a piece of board, which was borne upward to the white moon by a

great team of the gigantic swans. At the end of twelve days he arrived,

according to his story, at his destination. A little later another

writer of this peculiar kind of fiction, Wilkins, an Englishman,

professed to have made the same ascent, borne up by an eagle. Alexandre

Dumas, who recently wrote a short romance upon the same subject, only

made a translation of an English work by that author. Wilkins’ work is

entitled, “The Discovery of a New World.” One chapter of the book bears

the title, “That ‘tis possible for some of our posterity to find out a

conveyance to this other world; and, if there be inhabitants there, to

have commerce with them.” It is thus that the right reverend philosopher

reasons:--

“If it be here inquired what means there may be conjectured for our

ascending beyond the sphere of the earth’s mathematical vigour, I

answer.--1. ‘Tis not possible that a man may be able to fly by the

application of wings to his own body, as angels are pictured, as

Mercury and Daedalus are feigned, and as hath been attempted by divers,

particularly by a Turk in Constantinople, a Busbequius relates. 2. If

there be such a great duck in Madagascar as Marcus Polus, the Venetian,

mentions, the feathers of whose wings are twelve feet long, which can

scoop up a horse and his rider, or an elephant, as our kites do a mouse;

why, then, ‘Tis but teaching one of these to carry a man, and he may

ride up thither, as Ganymede does upon an eagle. 3. Or if neither of

these ways will serve yet I do seriously, and upon good grounds, affirm

it is possible to make a flying chariot, in which a man may sit and

give such a motion to it as shall convey him through the air. And this,

perhaps, might be made large enough to carry divers men at the same

time, together with food for their viaticum, and commodities for

traffic. It is not the bigness of anything in this kind that can hinder

its motion if the motive faculty be answerable “hereunto. We see that;

great ship swims as well as a small cork, and an eagle flies in the air

as well as a little gnat. This engine may be contrived from the same

principles by which Archytas made a wooden dove, and Regiomontanus

a wooden eagle. I conceive it were no difficult matter (if a man had

leisure) to show more particularly the means of composing it. The

perfecting of such an invention would be of such excellent use that it

were enough, not only to make a man famous but the age wherein he lives.

For, besides the strange discoveries that it might occasion in this

other world, it would be also of inconceivable advantage for travelling,

above any other conveyance that is now in use. So that, notwithstanding

all these seeming impossibilities, it is likely enough that there may be

a means invented of journeying to the moon; and how happy shall they be

that are first successful in this attempt!”

Afterwards comes Cyrano of Bergerac, who promulgates five different

means of flying in the air. First, by means of phials filled with dew,

which would attract and cause to mount up. Secondly, by a great bird

made of wood, the wings of which should be kept in motion. Thirdly, by

rockets, which, going off successively, would drive up the balloon by

the force of projection. Fourthly, by an octahedron of glass, heated by

the sun, and of which the lower part should be allowed to penetrate the

dense cold air, which, pressing up against the rarefied hot air, would

raise the balloon. Fifthly, by a car of iron and a ball of magnetised

iron, which the aeronaut would keep throwing up in the air, and which

would attract and draw up the balloon. The wiseacre who invented these

modes of flying in the air seems, some would say, to have been more in

want of very strict confinement on the earth than of the freedom of the

skies.

In 1670 Francis Lana constructed the flying-machine shown on the next

page. The specific lightness of heated air and of hydrogen gas not

having yet been discovered, his only idea for making his globes rise was

to take all the air out of them. But even supposing that the globes were

thus rendered light enough to rise, they must inevitably have collapsed

under the atmospheric pressure.

As for the idea of making use of a sail to direct the balloon, as one

directs a vessel, that also was a delusion; for the whole machine,

globes and sails, being freely thrown into the air, would infallibly

follow the direction of the wind, whatever that might be. When a ship

lies in the sea, and its sails are inflated with the wind, we must

remember that there are two forces in operation--the active force of

the wind and the passive force of the resistance of the water; and in

working these forces the one against the other, the sailor can turn

within a point of any direction he pleases. But when we are subjected

wholly to a single force, and have no point of support by the use of

which to turn that force to our own purposes, as is the case with the

aeronaut, we are entirely at the mercy of that force, and must obey it.

After the flying-machine of Lana there was constructed by Galien (who,

like the former, was an ecclesiastic) an air-boat, less chimerical in

its form, looked at in view of the conditions of aerial navigation,

but much more singular. Galien describes his air-boat, in 1755, in his

little work entitled, “The Art of Sailing in the Air.” His project was

a most extraordinary one, and its boldness is only equalled by the

seriousness of the narrative. According to him, the atmosphere is

divided into two horizontal layers, the upper of which is much lighter

than the lower. “But,” says Galien, “a ship keeps its place in the water

because it is full of air, and air is much lighter than water. Suppose,

then, that there was the same difference of weight between the upper and

the lower layer of air as there is between the lower stratum and water;

and suppose, also, a boat which rested upon the lower layer of air, with

its bulk in the lighter upper layer--like a ship which has its keel in

the water but its bulk in the air--the same thing would happen with the

air-ship as with the water-ship--it would float in the denser layer of

air.”

Galien adds that in the region of hail there was in the air a separation

into two layers, the weights of which respectively are as 1 to 2.

“Then,” says he, “in placing an air-boat in the region of hail, with its

sides rising eighty-three fathoms into the upper region, which is much

more light, one could sail perfectly.”

But how to get this enormous air-boat up to the region of hail? This is

a minor detail, respecting which Galien is not clear.

From the labours of Lana and Galien, with their impossible flying

machines, the inventor of the balloon could derive no benefit whatever;

nor is his fame to be in the least diminished because many had laboured

in the same field before him. Nor can the story of the ovoador,

or flying man, a legend very confused, and of which there are many

versions, have given to Montgolfier any valuable hints. It appears that

a certain Laurent de Guzman, a monk of Rio Janeiro, performed at Lisbon

before the king, John V., raising himself in a balloon to a considerable

height. Other versions of the story give a different date, and assign

the pretended ascent to 1709. The above engraving, extracted from the

“Bibliotheque de la Rue de Richelieu,” is an exact copy of Guzman’s

supposed balloon.

In 1678 a mechanician of Salle, in Maine, named Besnier invented a

flying-machine. The machine consisted of four great wings, or paddles,

mounted at the extremities of levers, which rested on the shoulders of

the man who guided it, and who could move them alternately by means of

his hands and feet. The following description of the machine is given in

the Journal de Paris by an eye-witness:

“The ‘wings’ are oblong frames, covered with taffeta, and attached to

the ends of two rods, adjusted on the shoulders The wings work up and

down. Those in front are worked by the hands; those behind by the feet,

which are connected with the ends of the rods by strings. The movements

were such that when the right hand made the right wing descend in front,

the left foot made the left wing descend behind; and in like manner

the left hand in front and the right foot behind acted together

simultaneously. This diagonal action appeared very well contrived; it

was the action of most quadrupeds as well as of man when walking; but

the contrivance, like others of the same kind, failed in not being

fitted with gearing to enable the air traveller to proceed in any other

direction than that in which the wind blew him. The inventor first flew

down from a stool, then from a table, afterwards from a window, and

finally from a garret, from which he passed above the houses in the

neighbourhood, and then, moderating the working of his machine, he

descended slowly to the earth.”

Tradition records that under Louis XIV. a certain rope-dancer, named

Alard, announced that on a certain day he would perform the feat of

flying in the air. We have no description of his wings. It is recorded,

however, that he set out on his adventurous flight; but he had not

calculated all the necessities of the case, and, falling to the ground,

he was dangerously hurt.

Leonardo da Vinci might have known the art of flying in the air, and

might even have practiced it. A statement to this effect, at least, is

found in several historians. We have, however, no direct proof of the

fact.

The Abbe Deforges, of Etampes, announced in the journals in 1772 that

he would perform the great feat. On the appointed day multitudes of the

curious flocked to Etampes. The abbe’s machine was a sort of gondola,

seven feet long and about two feet deep. Gondola conductor, and baggage

weighed in all 213 pounds. The pious man believed that he had provided

against everything. Neither tempest nor rain should mar his flight,

and there was no chance of his being upset; whilst the machine, he had

decided, was to go at the rate of thirty leagues an hour.

The great day came, and the abbe, entering his air-boat amidst the

applause of the spectators, began to work the wings with which it was

provided with great rapidity. “But,” says one who witnessed the feat,

“the more he worked, the more his machine cleaved to the earth, as if it

were part and parcel of it.”

Retif de la Bretonne, in his work upon this subject, gives the

accompanying picture of a flying man, furnished with very artistically

designed wings, fitting exactly to the shoulders, and carrying a basket

of provisions, suspended from his waist; and the frontispiece of the

“Philosophic sans Pretention” is a view of a flying-machine. In the

midst of a frame of light wood sits the operator, steadying himself with

one hand, and with the other fuming a cremaillere, which appears to

give a very quick rotatory movement to two glass globes revolving upon

a vertical axis. The friction of the globes is supposed to develop

electricity to which his power of ascending is ascribed.

To wings, however, aerial adventurers mostly adhered. The Marquis de

Racqueville flew from a window of his hotel, on the banks of the

Seine, and fell into a boat full of washerwomen on the river. All

these unfortunate attempts were lampooned, burlesqued on the stage, and

pursued with the mockery of the public.

Up to this time, therefore, the efforts of man to conquer the air had

miscarried. They were conducted on a wrong principle, the machinery

employed being heavier than the air itself But, even before the time

of Montgolfier, the principles of aerostation began to be recognised,

though nothing was actually done in the way of acting upon them. Thus,

in 1767, Professor Black, of Edinburgh, announced in his class that a

vessel, filled with hydrogen, would rise naturally in the air; but

he never made the experiment, regarding the fact as capable of being

employed only for amusement. Finally, Cavallo, in 1782, communicated

to the Royal Society of London the experiments he had made, and which

consisted in filling soap-bubbles with hydrogen. The bubbles rose in the

atmosphere, the gas which filled them being lighter than air.

Chapter III. The Theory of Balloons.

A certain proposition in physics, known as the “Principle of

Archimedes,” runs to the following effect:--“Every body plunged into a

liquid loses a portion of its weight equal to the weight of the fluid

which it displaces.” Everybody has verified this principle, and knows

that objects are much lighter in water than out of it; a body plunged

into water being acted upon by two forces--its own weight, which tends

to sink it, and resistance from below, which tends to bear it up. But

this principle applies to gas as well as to liquids--to air as well as

to water. When we weigh a body in the air, we do not find its absolute

weight, but that weight minus the weight of the air which the body

displaces. In order to know the exact weight of an object, it would be

necessary to weigh it in a vacuum.

If an object thrown into the air is heavier than the air which it

displaces, it descends, and falls upon the earth; if it is of equal

weight, it floats without rising or falling; if it is lighter, it

rises until it comes to a stratum of air of less weight or density than

itself. We all know, of course, that the higher you rise from the earth

the density of the air diminishes. The stratum of air that lies upon the

surface of the earth is the heaviest, because it supports the pressure

of all the other strata that lie above. Thus the lightest strata are the

highest.

The principle of the construction of balloons is, therefore, in perfect

harmony with physical laws. Balloons are simply globes, made of a light,

air-tight material, filled with hot air or hydrogen gas which rise in

the air because (they are lighter than the air they displace).

The application of this principle appeared so simple, that at the time

when the news of the invention of the balloon was spread abroad the

astronomer Lalande wrote--“At this news we all cry, ‘This must be! Why

did we not think of it before?’” It had been thought of before, as we

have seen in the last chapter, but it is often long after an idea is

conceived that it is practically realised.

The first balloon, Montgolfier’s, was simply filled with hot air; and it

was because Montgolfier exclusively made use of hot air that balloons

so filled were named Montgolfiers. Of course we see at a glance that

hot air is lighter than cold air, because it has become expanded and

occupies more space--that is to say, a volume of hot air contains

actually less air than a volume of the same size of air that has not

been heated. The difference between the weight of the hot air and the

cold which it displaced was greater than the weight of tire covering of

the balloon. Therefore the balloon mounted.

And, seeing that air diminishes in density the higher we ascend, the

balloon can rise only to that stratum of air of the same density as the

air it contains. As the warm air cools it gently descends. Again, as the

atmosphere is always moving in currents more or less strong, the balloon

follows the direction of the current of the stratum of air in which it

finds itself.

Thus we see how simply the ascent of Montgolfiers, and their motions,

are explained. It is the same with gas-balloons. A balloon, filled with

hydrogen gas, displaces an equal volume of atmospheric air; but as the

gas is much lighter than the air, it is pushed up by a force equal to

the difference of the density of air and hydrogen gas. The balloon then

rises in the atmosphere to where it reaches layers of air of a density

exactly equal to its own, and when it gets there it remains poised in

its place. In order that it may descend, it is necessary to let out a

portion of the hydrogen gas, and admit an equal quantity of atmospheric

air; and the balloon does not come to the ground till all, or nearly

all, the gas has been expelled and common air taken in. Balloons

inflated with hydrogen gas are almost the only ones in use at the

present day. Scarcely ever is a Montgolfier sent up. There are

aeronauts, however, who prefer a journey in a Montgolfier to one in a

gas-balloon. The air voyager in this description of balloon had formerly

many difficulties to contend with. The quantity of combustible material

which he was bound to carry with him; the very little difference that

there is between the density of heated and of cold air; the necessity

of feeding the fire, and watching it without a moment’s cessation, as it

hangs in the rechaud over the middle of the car, rendered this sort of

air travelling subject to many dangers and difficulties. Recently, M.

Eugene Godard has obviated a portion of this difficulty by fitting a

chimney, like that which is found of such incalculable service in the

case of the Davy lamp. It is principally on account of this improvement

that the Montgolfiere has risen so highly in popular esteem.

Generally it is not pure hydrogen that is made use of in the inflation

of balloons. Aeronauts content themselves with the gas which we burn in

our streets and houses, and thus it suffices, in inflating the balloon,

to obtain from the nearest gas-works the quantity of gas necessary, and

to lead it, by means of a pipe or tube, from the gasometer to the mouth

or neck of the machine.

The balloon is made of long strips of silk, sewn together, and rendered

air-tight by means of a coating of caoutchouc. A valve is fitted to the

top, and by means of it the aeronaut can descend to the earth at will,

by allowing some quantity of the gas to escape. The car in which he

sits is suspended to the balloon by a network, which covers the whole

structure. Sacks of sand are carried in this car as ballast, so

that, when descending, if the aeronaut sees that he is likely to be

precipitated into the sea or into a lake, he throws over the sand, and

his air-carriage, being thus lightened, mounts again and travels away to

a more desirable resting-place. The idea of the valve, as well as that

of the sand ballast, is due to the physician Charles. They enable the

aeronaut to ascend or descend with facility. When he wishes to mount,

he throws over his ballast; when he wants to come down, he lets the gas

escape by the valve at the roof of the balloon. This valve is worked by

means of a spring, having a long rope attached to it, which hangs down

through the neck to the car, where the aeronaut sits.

The operation of inflating a balloon with pure hydrogen is represented

in the engraving on the next page.

Shavings of iron and zinc, water, and sulphuric acid, occupy a number of

casks, which communicate, by means of tubes, with a central cask, which

is open at the bottom, and is plunged in a copper full of water. The gas

is produced by the action of the water and the sulphuric acid upon the

zinc and the iron this is hydrogen mixed with sulphuric acid. In passing

through the central copper, or vat, full of water, the gas throws off

all impurities, and comes, unalloyed with any other matter, into the

balloon by a long tube, leading from the central vats. In order to

facilitate the entrance of the gas into the balloon two long poles

are erected. These are furnished with pulleys, through which a rope,

attached also to a ring at the top of the balloon, passes. By means

of this contrivance the balloon can be at once lightly raised from the

ground, and the gas tubes easily joined to it. When it is half full it

is no longer necessary to suspend the balloon; on the contrary, it has

to be secured, lest it should fly off. A number of men hold it back by

ropes; but as the force of ascension is every moment increasing, the

work of restraining the balloon is most difficult and exciting. At

length, all preparations being complete, the car is suspended, the

aeronaut takes his seat, the words “Let go all!” are shouted, and away

goes the silken globe into space.

The balloon is never entirely filled, for the atmospheric pressure

diminishing as it ascends, allows the hydrogen gas to dilate, in virtue

of its expansive force, and, unless there is space for this expansion,

the balloon is sure to explode in the air.

An ordinary balloon, with a lifting power sufficient to carry up three

persons, with necessary ballast and materiel, is about fifty feet high,

thirty-five feet in diameter’ and 2,250 cubic feet in capacity. Of such

a balloon, the accessories--the skin, the network, the car--would weigh

about 335 lbs.

To find out the height at which he has arrived, the aeronaut consults

his barometer. We know that it is the pressure of the air upon the cup

of the barometer that raises the mercury in the tube. The heavier the

air is, the higher is the barometer. At the level of the sea the column

of mercury stands at 32 inches; at 3,250 feet--the air being at this

elevation lighter--the mercury stands at 28 inches; at 6,500 feet above

sea level it stands at 25 inches; at 10,000 feet it falls to 22 inches;

at 20,000 feet to 15 inches. These, however, are merely the theoretic

results, and are subject to some slight variation, according to

locality, &c.

Sometimes the aeronaut makes his descent by means of the parachute,

a separate and distinct contrivance. If, from any cause, it appears

impracticable to effect a descent from the balloon itself, the parachute

may be of the greatest service to the voyager at the present day it is

chiefly used to astonish the public, by showing them the spectacle of

a man who, from a great elevation in the air, precipitates himself into

space, not to escape dangers which threaten him in his balloon, but

simply to exhibit his courage and skill. Nevertheless, parachutes are

often of great actual use, and aeronauts frequently attach them to their

balloons as a precautionary measure before setting out on an aerial

excursion.

The shape of a parachute, shown on the previous page, very much

resembles that of the well-known all serviceable umbrella. The strips of

silk of which it is formed are sewn together, and are bound at the top

around a circular piece of wood. A number of cords, stretching away from

this piece of wood, support the car in which the aeronaut is carried. At

the summit is contrived an opening, which permits the air compressed

by the rapidity of the descent to escape without causing damage to the

parachute from the stress to which it is subjected.

The rapidity of the descent is arrested by the large surface which the

parachute presents to the air. When the aeronaut wishes to descend by

the parachute, all that is required is, after he has slipped down from

the car of the balloon to that of the parachute, to loosen the rope

which binds the latter to the former, which is done by means of a

pulley. In an instant the aeronaut is launched into space with a

rapidity in comparison with which the wild flights of the balloon are

but gentle oscillations. But in a few moments, the air rushing into

the folds of the parachute, forces them open like an umbrella, and

immediately, owing to the wide surface which this contrivance presents

to the atmosphere, the violence of the descent is arrested, and the

aeronaut falls gently to the ground, without receiving too rude a shock.

The virtues of the parachute were first tried upon animals. Thus,

Blanchard allowed his dog to fall in one from a height of 6,500 feet.

A gust of wind caught the falling parachute, and swept it away up above

the clouds. Afterwards, the aeronaut in his balloon fell in with the dog

in the parachute, both of them high up in the cloudy reaches of the

sky, and the poor animal manifested by his barking his joy at seeing his

master. A new current separated the aerial voyagers, but the parachute,

with its canine passenger, reached the ground safely a short time after

Blanchard had landed from his balloon.

Experience has proved that, in the case of a descending parachute, if

the rapidity of the descent is doubled the resistance of the air is

quadrupled; if the rapidity is triple the resistance is increased

ninefold; or, to speak in language of science, the resistance of the air

is increased by the square of the swiftness of the body in motion. This

resistance increases in proportion as the parachute spreads, and thus

the uniformity of its fall is established a minute after it has been

disengaged from the balloon. We can, therefore, check the descent of a

body by giving it a surface capable of distension by the action of the

air.

Garnerin, in the year 1802, conceived the bold design of letting himself

fall from a height of 1,200 feet, and he accomplished the exploit before

the Parisians. When he had reached the height he had fixed beforehand,

he cut the rope which connected the parachute with the balloon. At first

the fall was terribly rapid; but as soon as the parachute spread out

the rapidity was considerably diminished. The machine made, however,

enormous oscillations. The air, gathering end compressed under it, would

sometimes escape by one side sometimes by the other, thus shaking and

whirling the parachute about with a violence which, however great, had

happily no unfortunate effect.

The origin of the parachute is more remote than is generally supposed,

as there was a figure of one which appeared among a collection of

machines at Venice, in 1617.

Another species of parachute, less perfect, to be sure; than that of

Garnerin, but still a practical machine, was described 189 years before

the great aeronaut’s feat at Paris. We read in the narrative of the

ambassador of Louis XIV at Siam, at the end of the seventeenth century,

the following passage--“A mountebank at the court of the King of Siam

climbed to the top of a high bamboo-tree, and threw himself into the air

without any other support than two parasols. Thus equipped, he abandoned

himself to the winds, which carried him, as by chance, sometimes to

the earth, sometimes on trees or houses, and sometimes into the river,

without any harm happening to him.”

Is not this the idea of our parachutes?

Chapter IV. First Public Trial of the Balloon.

(Montgolfier’s Balloon Annonay, 5th of June of 1783.)

We are accustomed to rank the brothers Joseph and Etienne Montgolfier

as equally distinguished in the field of science. The reason for thus

associating these two names seems to have been the fraternal friendship

which subsisted in an extraordinary degree in the Montgolfier family,

rather than any equality of claim which they had to the notice of

posterity. After special investigation, we find that Joseph Montgolfier

was very superior to his brother, and that it is to him principally, if

not exclusively, that we owe the invention of aerostation. Nevertheless,

we shall not insist upon this fact; and seeing that a sacred amity

always cemented a perfect union in the Montgolfier family, we will

regard that union as unbroken in any sense, and will not insinuate that

the brother of Montgolfier was undeserving of the honoured rank which in

his lifetime he held.

In 1783, the sons of Pierre Montgolfier, a rich papermaker at Annonay

department of Ardeche, were already in the prime of life, and it is

related of them that their principal occupation was experimenting in the

physical sciences. Joseph Montgolfier, after being convinced by a number

of minor experiments made in 1782 and 1783, that a heat of 180 degrees

rarefied the air and made it occupy a space of TWICE the extent it

occupied before being heated--or, in other words, that this degree of

heat diminished the weight of air by one half--began to speculate on

what might be the shape and the material of a structure which being

filled with air thus heated, would be able to raise itself from the

earth in spite of the weight of its own covering.

His first balloon was a small parallelopiped in very thin taffeta,

containing less than seventy-eight cubic inches of air. He made it rise

to the roof of his apartment in November, 1782--at Avignon, where he

then happened to be. Having returned some little time after to Annonay,

Joseph and his brother performed the same experiment, together in the

open air with perfect success. Certain, then, of the new principle, they

made a balloon of considerable size, containing upwards of sixty-five

feet of heated air.

This machine likewise rose, tore away the cords by which it was at first

held down, and mounting in the air to the height of from two to three

hundred feet, fell upon the neighbouring hills after a considerable

flight. The brothers Montgolfier then made a very large and strong

balloon, with which they wished to bring their discovery before the

public.

The appointed day was the 5th of June, 1783 and the nobility of the

vicinity were invited to be present at the experiment. Faujas de

Saint Fond, author of “La Description des Experiences de la Machine

Aerostatique,” published the same year, gives the following account of

it:--

“What,” says Saint Fond, “was the general astonishment when the

inventors of the machine announced that immediately it should be full

of gas, which they had the means of producing at will by the most simple

process, it would raise itself to the clouds. It must be granted that,

in spite of the confidence in the ingenuity and experience of the

Montgolfiers, this feat seemed so incredible to those who came to

witness it, that the persons who knew most about it--who were, at the

same time, the most favourably predisposed in its favour--doubted of its

success.

“At last the brothers Montgolfier commenced their work. They first

of all began to make the smoke necessary for their experiment. The

machine--which at first seemed only a covering of cloth, lined with

paper, a sort of sack thirty-five feet high--became inflated, and grew

large even under the eyes of the spectator, took consistence, assumed a

beautiful form, stretched itself on all sides, and struggled to escape.

Meanwhile, strong arms were holding it down until the signal was given,

when it loosened itself, and with a rush rose to the height of 1,000

fathoms in less than ten minutes.” It then described a horizontal line

of 7,200 feet, and as it had lost a considerable amount of gas, it began

to descend quietly. It reached the ground in safety; and this first

attempt, crowned with such decisive success, secured for ever to

the brothers Montgolfier the glory of one of the most astonishing

discoveries.

“When we reflect for a moment upon the numberless difficulties which

such a bold attempt entailed, upon the bitter criticism to which it

would have exposed its projectors had it failed through any accident,

and upon the sums that must have been spent in carrying it out, we

cannot withhold the highest admiration for the men who conceived the

idea and carried it out to such a successful issue.”

Etienne Montgolfier has left us a description of this first balloon.

“The aerostatic machine,” he says, “was constructed of cloth lined with

paper, fastened together on a network of strings fixed to the cloth.

It was spherical; its circumference was 110 feet, and a wooden frame

sixteen feet square held it fixed at the bottom. Its contents were about

22,000 cubic feet, and it accordingly displaced a volume of air weighing

1,980 1bs. The weight of the gas was nearly half the weight of the air,

for it weighed 990 lbs., and the machine itself, with the frame, weighed

500: it was, therefore, impelled upwards with the force of 490 lbs. Two

men sufficed to raise it and to fill it with gas, but it took eight

to hold it down till the signal was given. The different pieces of

the covering were fastened together with buttons and button-holes.

It remained ten minutes in the air, but the loss of gas by the

button-holes, and by other imperfections, did not permit it to continue

longer. The wind at the moment of the ascent was from the north. The

machine came down so lightly that no part of it was broken.”

Chapter V. Second Experiment.

(Charles’s Balloon, Paris, Champ de Mars, 27th of August, 1783.)

The indescribable enthusiasm caused by the ascent of the first balloon

at Annonay, spread in all directions, and excited the wondering

curiosity of the savants of the capital. An official report had been

prepared, and sent to the Academy of Sciences in Paris, and the result

was that the Academy named a commission of inquiry. But fame, more rapid

than scientific commissions, and more enthusiastic than academies,

had, at a single flight, passed from Annonay to Paris, and kindled the

anxious ardour of the lovers of science in that city. The great desire

was to rival Montgolfier, although neither the report nor the

letters from Annonay had made mention of the kind of gas used by that

experimenter to inflate his balloon. By one of the frequent coincidences

in the history of the sciences, hydrogen gas had been discovered six

years previously by the great English physician Cavendish, and it had

hardly even been tested in the laboratories of the chemists when it all

at once became famous. A young man well versed in physics, Professor

Charles, assisted by two practical men, the brothers Robert, threw

himself ardently into the investigation of the modes of inflating

balloons with this gas, which was then called INFLAMMABLE AIR. Guessing

that it was much lighter than that which Montgolfier had been obliged to

make use of in his third-rate provincial town, Charles leagued himself

with his two assistants to constrict a balloon of taffeta, twelve feet

in diameter, covered with india-rubber, and to inflate it with hydrogen.

The thing thus arranged, a subscription was opened. The projected

experiment having been talked of all over Paris, every one was struck

with the idea, and subscriptions poured in. Even the most illustrious

names are to be found in the list, which may be called the first

national subscription in France. Nothing had been written of the

forthcoming event in any public paper, yet all Paris seemed to flock to

contribute to the curious experiment.

The inflation with hydrogen was effected in a very curious manner. As

much as 1,125 lbs. of iron and 560 lbs. of sulphuric acid were found

necessary to inflate a balloon which had scarcely a lifting power of

22 lbs., and the process of filling took no less than four hours. At

length, however, at the end of the fourth hour, the balloon, composed of

strips of silk, coated with varnish, floated, two-thirds full, from the

workshop of the brothers Robert.

On the morning of the 26th of August, the day before the ascent was

to be made, the balloon was visited at daybreak, and found to be in

a promising state. At two o’clock on the following morning its

constructors began to make preparations to transport it to the Champ

de Mars, from which place it was to be let loose. Skilled workmen were

employed in its removal, and every precaution was taken that the gas

with which it was charged should not be allowed to escape. In the

meantime the excitement of the people about this wonderful structure

was rising to the highest pitch. The wagon on which it was placed

for removal was surrounded on all sides by eager multitudes, and the

night-patrols, both of horse and foot, which were set to guard the

avenues leading to where it lay, were quite unable to stem the tide of

human beings that poured along to get a glimpse of it.

The conveyance of the balloon to the Champ de Mars was a most singular

spectacle. A vanguard, with lighted torches, preceded it; it was

surrounded by special attendants, and was followed by detachments of

night-patrols on foot and mounted. The size and shape of this structure,

which was escorted with such pomp and precaution--the silence that

prevailed--the unearthly hour, all helped to give an air of mystery

to the proceedings. At last, having passed through the principal

thoroughfares, it arrived at the Champ de Mars, where it was placed in

an enclosure prepared for its reception.

When the dawn came, and the balloon had been fixed in its place by

cords, attached around its middle and fixed to iron rings planted in the

earth, the final process of inflation began.

The Champ de Mars was guarded by troops, and the avenues were also

guarded on all sides. As the day wore on an immense crowd covered the

open space, and every advantageous spot in the neighborhood was crowded

with people. At five o’clock the report of a cannon announced to the

multitudes, and to scientific men who were posted on elevations to make

observations of the great event, that the grand moment had come. The

cords were withdrawn, and, to the vast delight and wonder of the crowd

assembled, the balloon shot up with such rapidity that in two minutes it

had ascended 488 fathoms. At this height it was lost in a cloud for an

instant, and, reappearing, rose to a great height, and was again lost

in higher clouds. The ascent was a splendid success. The rain that fell

damped neither the balloon nor the ardor of the spectators.

This balloon was 12 feet in diameter, 38 feet in circumference, and had

a capacity of 943 cubic feet. The weight of the materials of which it

was constructed was 25 lbs., and the force of ascension was that of 35

lbs.

The fall of the balloon was caused by the expansion and consequent

explosion of the hydrogen gas. This event took place some distance out

in the country, close to a number of peasants, whose terror at the

sight and the sound of this strange monster from the skies was beyond

description. The people assembled, and two monks having told them that

the burst balloon was the hide of a monstrous animal, they immediately

began to assail it vigorously with stones, flails, and pitchforks. The

cure of the parish was obliged to walk up to the balloon to reassure his

terrified flock. They finally attached the burst envelope to a horse’s

tail, and dragged it far across the fields.

Many drawings and engravings of the period represent the peasants armed

with pitchforks, flails, and scythes, assailing it, a dog snapping at

it, a garde-champetre firing at it, a fat priest preaching at it, and a

troop of young people throwing stones at the unfortunate machine.

The news of this fiasco came to Paris, but too late. When search was

made for the covering, scarcely a fragment could be found.

A somewhat humorous result of all this was the issue of a communication

from government to the people, entitled, “Warning to the People on

kidnapping Air-balloons.” This document, duly signed and approved of,

describes the ascents at Annonay and at Paris, explains the nature and

the causes of the phenomena, and warns the people not to be alarmed when

they see something like a “black moon” in the sky, nor to give way to

fear, as the seeming monster is nothing more than a bag of silk filled

with gas.

This first ascent in Paris was an important event. Every one, from the

smallest to the greatest, was deeply interested in it, while to the man

of science it was one of the most exciting of incidents. For the purpose

of observing the altitude to which the balloon rose, and the course it

took, Le Gentil was on the observatory, Prevost was on one of the towers

of Notre Dame, Jeaurat was on La Place Louis XV., and d’Agelet was on

the Champ de Mars. It was only Lalande that frowned as he witnessed

the success of the experiment. He had predicted the year before that

air-navigation was impossible.

Chapter VI. Third Experiment.

(Montgolfier’s Balloon, Paris, Faubourg St. Antoine.)

As we have seen, the triumph of aerostation was sudden and complete. The

young Montgolfier had arrived in Paris prior to the experiment of the

27th of August, and was present as a simple spectator on that occasion.

immediately afterwards he set to work upon a balloon, which was to

be made use of when the Academy should investigate the phenomenon at

Versailles in presence of the king, Louis XVI.

It was at this time (September, 1783) that those small balloons, made

of gold-beaters’ skin, which are used as children’s toys to the present

day, were first made. The whole of Paris amused itself with them,

repeating in little the phenomenon of the great ascent. The sky of the

capital found itself all at once traversed by a multitude of small rosy

clouds, formed by the hand of man.

Faujas de Saint Fond says that at first an attempt was made to construct

balloons of fine, light paper; but this material being permeable, and

the gas being inflammable, balloons thus made did not succeed. It

was necessary to seek a material less porous, and, if possible, still

lighter.

The Journal de Paris, of the 11th of September, 1783, informed the

public that the Baron de Beaumanoir, “who cultivated the sciences and

the fine arts with as much success as zeal,” would send up a balloon

eighteen inches in diameter. At noon of the same day he made this

experiment in presence of a numerous assembly in the garden in front of

the Hotel de Surgeres.. The little balloon mounted freely, but was held

in, like a kite, by means of a silk thread. In the course of the same

afternoon, the baron took down the balloon and filled it anew with

hydrogen, and then let it off. The spectators had the pleasure of seeing

it rise to a great height, and pass away in the direction of Neuilly,

and it is said to have been found at a distance of several leagues, by

peasants.

However trifling this experiment may appear at first sight, it added

a new fact to the science of aerostation. The material employed by

the baron was lighter and better than paper. It was what is called

gold-beaters’ skin. This skin is simply the interior lining of the

large bowel of the ox. It is carefully prepared, is relieved of the fat,

stringy and uneven parts, is dried, and is afterwards softened. Little

balloons of this material came to be the fashion, and they are still

frequently seen.

At the same time, Montgolfier was busy constructing, at the request

of the Academy of Sciences, a balloon seventy feet high and forty

in diameter, with which it was proposed to repeat the experiment of

Annonay. He took up his quarters in the magnificent gardens of his

friend Reveillon, proprietor of the royal manufactory of stained paper

in the Faubourg St. Antoine. The new balloon was of a very singular

shape: the upper part represented a prism, twenty-four feet high the top

was a pyramid of the same height; the lower part was a truncated cone,

twenty feet in depth. It was made of packing-cloth, lined with good

paper, both inside and out.

The gossipping and prolix Faujas de Saint Fond thus describes this

machine:--“It was painted blue, represented a sort of tent, and was

richly ornamented with gold Its height was seventy feet; its weight

1,000 lbs.; the air which it displaced was 4,500 lbs. in volume, and the

vapor with which it was filled was half the weight of ordinary air. The

approach of the equinox having brought rain, all the conditions under

which this balloon was constructed and exhibited were unfavourable. The

structure was so large that it was impossible to get it together

and stitch it, except in the open air--in the garden, in fact, where

Montgolfier commenced its construction. It was a great labour to turn

and fold this heavy covering, while the liability of the thick paper

to crack was an additional difficulty. Not less than twenty men were

required to move it, and they were obliged to use all their skill, and

every precaution, not to destroy it. No balloon had ever given so much

trouble. On the 11th of September the weather improved, and the balloon

was entirely completed and prepared for the first experiment. In the

evening the attempt was made. It was with admiration that the beholders

saw the beautiful machine filling itself in the short space of nine

minutes, swelling out on all sides and showing the full symmetry of its

artistic form. It was firmly held in hand, or it would have risen to a

great height. On the following day the actual ascent was to take place,

and the commissioners of the Academy of Sciences were invited to be

present. In the morning thick clouds covered the horizon, and a tempest

was expected; but as there was an ardent desire that the ascent should

take place without delay, and as all the gearing was in order, it was

resolved to proceed.

“Fifty pounds of dry straw were fired in parcels under the balloon, and

upon the fire were thrown at intervals several pounds of wool. This fuel

produced in ten minutes such a volume of smoke that the huge balloon was

speedily filled. It rose, with a weight of 500 lbs. holding it down, to

some height above the ground, and had the ropes by which it was attached

to the ground been cut, it would have mounted to a great height.

Meantime the storm broke, rain descended, and the wind blew with great

force. The most likely means of saving the balloon was to let it fly

but as it was to ascend again on another occasion, at Versailles, the

greatest efforts were made to bring it down, and these, together with

the damage caused by the storm, eventually rent it into numberless

fragments and tatters. It withstood the storm for twenty-four hours;

then, however, the paper came peeling off, and this beautiful structure

was a wreck.”

Chapter VII. Fourth Experiment.

(Versailles, 19th September, 1783, in presence of Louis of XVI.)

Of course another balloon was wanted for the fete at Versailles. The

king had demanded an ascent for the 19th, a week after the disaster at

the Faubourg St. Antoine. Already the possibility of a man going up with

the balloon was discussed, and people indulged in visions of splendid

aerial trips; but the king would not hear of the proposal. Balloons were

novelties, not offering sufficient security, and he was unwilling that

any of his subjects should risk their lives in attempting the unknown.

He consented, however, to a proposal that animals might be sent up in

the first instance, by way of experiment, suspended in an osier cage

attached to the neck of the balloon.

Montgolfier at once began a new balloon. A few days only were at his

disposal; but, assisted by friends, he worked with such ardour

and success that he was able, on the date appointed, to produce

a magnificent spherical balloon, much stronger than the former,

constructed of good strong cotton cloth, and painted in distemper.

It is proper here to remark that the first balloons were much more

elegant in appearance than those afterwards made. The coloured prints

and engravings of the period enable us to form an opinion of the

splendour of their ornamentation and the beauty of their design.

Sometimes the figures painted upon them represented scenes from

the heathen mythology, and sometimes historical scenes; while rich

embroideries, royal insignia, and gaily-coloured draperies added much

to the general effect. The Versailles balloon was painted blue, with

ornaments of gold, and it presented the form of a richly decorated tent.

It was fifty-seven feet in height, and sixty-seven in diameter.

It was first tried at Paris, and succeeded perfectly. On the morning of

the 19th it was carried to Versailles, where due preparation had been

made for its reception In the great court of the castle a sort of

theatre had been temporarily erected with a scaffolding, covered

throughout with tapestry In the middle was an opening more than fifteen

feet in diameter, in which was spread a banquet for those who had

constructed the balloon. A numerous guard formed a double cordon around

the structure. A raised platform was used for the fire by means of which

the balloon was to be inflated; a covered funnel or chimney of strong

cloth, painted, was suspended over the fire-place, and received the hot

smoke as it arose. Through this funnel the heated air ascended straight

up into the balloon.

At six in the morning, the road from Paris to Versailles was covered

with carriages. Crowds came from all parts, and at noon the avenues,

the square of the castle, the windows, and even the roofs of the houses,

were crowded with spectators. The noblest, the most illustrious, and

most learned men in France were present, and the splendour of the scene

was complete when their majesties and the royal family entered within

the enclosure, and went forward to inspect the balloon, and to make

themselves familiar with the preparations for the ascent.

In a short time the fire was lit, the funnel extended over it, and the

smoke rose inside, while the balloon, unfolding, gradually swelled to

its full size, and then, drawing after it the cage, in which a sheep

and some pigeons were enclosed, rose majestically into the air. Without

interreruption, it ascended to a vast height, where, inclining toward

the north, it seemed to remain stationary for a few seconds, showing

all the beauty of its form, and then, as though possessed of life, it

descended gently upon the wood of Vaucresson, 10,200 feet from the point

of its departure. Its highest elevation, as estimated by the astronomers

Le Gentil and M. Jeaurat, Jeaurat, was about 1,700 feet.

Chapter VIII. Men and Balloons.

It is not natural that the human mind should stop upon the way to the

solution of a problem, especially when it seems to be on the point of

arriving at a satisfactory conclusion to its labours. The osier cage

of Versailles very soon transformed itself into a car, bearing human

passengers, and the age of the “Thousand and One Nights” was expected

to come back again. It was resolved to continue experiments, with the

direct object of finding out whether it was impossible or desperately

dangerous for man to travel in balloons. Montgolfier returned from

Versailles, and constructed a new machine in the gardens of the Faubourg

St. Antoine. It was completed on the 10th of October Its form was oval,

its height 70 feet, its diameter 46 feet and its capacity 60,000 cubic

feet. The upper part, embroidered with fleurs-de-lis, was further

ornamented with the twelve signs of the zodiac, worked in gold. The

middle part bore the monogram of the king, alternating with figures of

the sun, while the lower part was garnished with masks, garlands, and

spread eagles. A circular gallery made of osiers and festooned with

draperies and other ornaments, was attached by a set of cords to the

bottom of the structure. The gallery was three feet wide, and was

protected by a parapet over three feet in height. It did not in any way

interfere with the opening at the neck of the balloon, under which

was suspended a grating of iron wire upon which the occupants of the

gallery, who were to be provided with dried straw and wool, could in

a few minutes kindle a fire and create fresh smoke, when that in the

balloon began to be exhausted. The machine weighed, in all, 1,600 lbs.

The public had previously been warned, in the Journal de Paris de Paris,

that the approaching experiments were to be of a strictly scientific

character; and as they would be only interesting to savants, they would

not afford amusement for the merely curious. This announcement was

necessary, to abate in some degree the excitement of the people until

some satisfactory results should be obtained; it was also necessary for

those engaged in the work, whose firmness of nerve might have suffered

from the enthusiastic cries of excited spectators. On Wednesday, the

15th of October, Pilatre des Roziers, who had on other occasions given

proofs of his intelligence and courage in performing dangerous feats,

and who had already signalised himself in connection with balloons,

offered to go up in the new machine. His offer was accepted; the balloon

was inflated; stout ropes, more than eighty feet long, were attached

to it, and it rose from the ground to the height to which this tackle

allowed it. At this elevation it remained four minutes twenty-five

seconds; and it is not surprising to hear that Roziers suffered no

inconvenience from the ascent. What was really the interesting thing in

this experiment was, that it showed how a balloon would fall when the

hot air became exhausted, this being the point which caused the greatest

amount of disquietude among men of science. In this instance the balloon

fell gently; its form distended at the same time, and, after touching

the ground, it rose again a foot or two, when its human passenger had

jumped out.

On Friday, the 17th of October, this experiment was repeated, and the

excitement of the public on this occasion was unbounded. “All the world”

came to see. Roziers was again lifted up in the balloon, to the height

of eighty feet; but so strong was the wind, and the strain on the ropes

was so great, that the balloon was somewhat unsteady, and the exhibition

was not on the whole such a splendid success as that of the preceding

Wednesday.

On Sunday, Montgolfier chose a fine day for the following

ascents:--“First Ascent: On the 19th of October, 1783, at half-past

four, in presence of two thousand spectators, ‘the machine’ was filled

with gas in five minutes, and Roziers, being placed in the gallery with

a counterbalancing weight of 110 lbs. in the other side of the gallery,

was carried up to the height of 200 feet. The machine remained six

minutes at this elevation without any fire in the grating. Second

Ascent: The machine carried Roziers and the counterbalancing

weight--fire being in the grating--to the height of 700 feet. At this

height it remained stationary eight and a half minutes As it was drawn

back, a wind from the east bore it against a tuft of very tall trees in

a neighbouring garden, where it got entangled, without, however, losing

its equilibrium. The gas was renewed by Roziers, and the balloon

again rising, extricated itself from among the branches, and soared

majestically into the air, followed by the acclamations of the public.

This second ascent was very instructive, for it had been often asserted

that if ever a balloon fell upon a forest it would be destroyed, and

would place those who travelled in it in the greatest peril. This

experiment proved that the balloon does not FALL it DESCENDS; that it

does not overturn; that it does not destroy itself on trees; that it

neither causes death, nor even damage, to its passengers; that, on the

contrary, the latter, by making new gas, give it the power of detaching

itself from the trees; and that it can resume its course after such an

event. The intrepid Roziers gave in this ascent a further proof of the

facility he had in descending and ascending at will. When the machine

had risen to the height of 200 feet it began to descend lightly, and

just before it came to the earth the aeronaut very cleverly and quickly

threw on more fuel and produced more smoke, at which the balloon, to

the astonishment of every one, suddenly soared away again to its

former elevation. Third Ascent: The balloon rose again with Roziers,

accompanied this time by another aeronaut, Gerond de Villette; and as

the cords had been lengthened, the adventurers were carried up to the

height of 324 feet. At this elevation the balloon rested in perfect

equilibrium for nine minutes. It was the first time that human beings

had ever been carried to an equal elevation, and the spectators were

astonished to find that they could remain there without danger and

without alarm. The balloon had a superb effect at this elevation; it

looked down upon the whole town, and was seen from all the suburbs. Its

size seemed hardly diminished in the least, though the men themselves

were barely visible. By the aid of glasses, Roziers could be seen calmly

and industriously making new gas. When the balloon descended the two men

declared that they had not experienced the slightest inconvenience from

the elevation. They received the universal applause which their zeal and

courage so well deserved. The Marquis d’Arlandes, a major of infantry,

afterwards went up with Roziers, and this latter experiment was as

successful as the former.”

Some days after these experiments the conductors of the Journal de Paris

who described them, received a letter from Montgolfier, and also one

from Gerond de Villette. The latter only is of interest here. Gerond

de Villette says: “I found myself in the space of a quarter of a minute

raised 400 feet above the surface of the earth. Here we remained six

minutes. My first employment was to watch with admiration my intelligent

companion. His intelligence, his courage and agility in attending to the

fire, enchanted me. Turning round, I could behold the Boulevards, from

the gate of St. Antoine to that of St. Martin, all covered with people,

who seemed to me a flat band of flowers of various colours. Glancing at

the distance, I beheld the summit of Montmartre, which seemed to me much

below our level. I could easily distinguish Neuilly, St. Cloud, Sevres,

Issy, Ivry, Charenton, and Choisy. At once I was convinced that this

machine, though a somewhat expensive one, might be very useful in war

to enable one to discover the position of the enemy, his manoeuvres,

and his marches; and to announce these by signals to one’s own army. 1

believe that at sea it is equally possible to make use of this machine.

These prove the usefulness of the balloon, which time will perfect

for us. All that I regret is that I did not provide myself with a

telescope.”

Chapter IX. The First Aerial Voyage--Roziers and Arlandes.

These experiments had only one aim--the application of

Montgolfier’s discovery to aerial navigation. The knowledge

gained in the Faubourg St. Antoine having led to the most

favourable conclusions, it was resolved that a first aerial

voyage should be attempted.

“If,” says Linguet, “there existed an autograph journal, written by

Columbus, descriptive of his first great voyage with what jealous care

it would be preserved, with what confidence it would be quoted! We

should delight to follow the candid account which he gave of his

thoughts, his hopes, his fears; of the complaints of his followers, of

his attempts to calm them, and, finally, of his joy in the moment

which, ratifying his word and justifying his boldness, declared him the

discoverer of a new world All these details have been transmitted to us,

but by stranger hands; and, however interesting they may be, one cannot

help feeling that this circumstance makes them lose part of their

value.”

The narrative of the first aerial voyage, written by one of the two

first aeronauts, exists, and we are in a position to place it before our

readers. Such an enterprise certainly demanded great courage in him who

was the first to dare to confide himself to the unknown currents of the

atmosphere It threatened him with dangers, perhaps with death by a fill,

by fire, by cold, or by straying into the mysterious cloud-land. Two men

opposed the first attempt. Montgolfier temporised, the king forbade it,

or rather only gave his permission on the condition that two condemned

criminals should be placed in the balloon! “What!” cried Roziers, in

indignation at the king’s proposal, “allow two vile criminals to have

the first glory of rising into the sky! No, no; that will never do!”

Roziers conjured, supplicated, agitated in a hundred ways for permission

to try the first voyage. He moved the town and the court; he addressed

himself to those who were most in favour at Versailles; he pleaded with

the Duchess de Polignac, who was all-powerful with the king. She

warmly supported his cause before Louis. Roziers dispatched the Marquis

d’Arlandes, who had been up with him, to the king. Arlandes asserted

that there was no danger, and, as proof of his conviction, he offered

himself to accompany Roziers. Solicited on all sides, Louis at last

yielded.

The gardens of La Muette, near Paris, were fixed upon as the spot from

which this aerial expedition should start. The Dauphin and his suite

were present on the occasion. It was on the 21st of October, 1783, at

one o’clock p.m., that Roziers and Irelands took their leave of the

earth for the first time. The following is Arlandes’ narrative of the

expedition, given in the form of a letter, addressed by the marquis to

Faujas de Saint Fond:--“You wish, my dear Faujas, and I consent most

willingly to your desires, that, owing to the number of questions

continually addressed to me, and for other reasons, I should gratify

public curiosity and fix public opinion upon the subject of our aerial

voyage.

“I wish to describe as well as I can the first journey which men have

attempted through an element which, prior to the discovery of MM.

Montgolfier, seemed so little fitted to support them.

“We went up on the 21st of October, 1783, at near two o’clock, M.

Roziers on the west side of the balloon, I on the east. The wind was

nearly north-west. The machine, say the public, rose with majesty; but

really the position of the balloon altered so that M. Roziers was in the

advance of our position, I in the rear.

“I was surprised at the silence and the absence of movement which

our departure caused among the spectators, and believed them to be

astonished and perhaps awed at the strange spectacle; they might well

have reassured themselves I was still gazing, when M. Roziers cried to

me--

“‘You are doing nothing, and the balloon is scarcely rising a fathom.’

“‘Pardon me,’ I answered, as I placed a bundle of straw upon the fire

and slightly stirred it. Then I turned quickly, but already we had

passed out of sight of La Muette. Astonished, I cast a glance towards

the river. I perceived the confluence of the Oise. And naming the

principal bends of the river by the places nearest them, I cried,

‘Passy, St. Germain, St. Denis, Sevres!’

“‘If you look at the river in that fashion you will be likely to bathe

in it soon,’ cried Roziers. ‘Some fire, my dear friend, some fire!’

“We travelled on; but instead of crossing the river, as our direction

seemed to indicate, we bore towards the Invalides, then returned upon

the principal bed of the river, and travelled to above the barrier of La

Conference, thus dodging about the river, but not crossing it.

“‘That river is very difficult to cross,’ I remarked to my companion.

“‘So it seems,’ he answered; ‘but you are doing nothing I suppose it is

because you are braver than I, and don’t fear a tumble.’

“I stirred the fire, I seized a truss of straw with my fork; I raised

it and threw it in the midst of the flames. An instant afterwards I felt

myself lifted as it were into the heavens.

“‘For once we move,’ said I.

“‘Yes, we move,’ answered my companion.

“At the same instant I heard from the top of the balloon a sound which

made me believe that it had burst. I watched, yet I saw nothing.

My companion had gone into the interior, no doubt to make some

observations. As my eyes were fixed on the top of the machine I

experienced a shock, and it was the only one I had yet felt. The

direction of the movement was from above downwards I then said--

“‘What are you doing? Are you having a dance to yourself?’

“‘I’m not moving.’

“‘So much the better. It is only a new current which I hope will carry

us from the river,’ I answered.

“I turned to see where we were, and found we were between the Ecole

Militaire and the Invalides.

“‘We are getting on.’ said Roziers.

“‘Yes, we are travelling.’

“‘Let us work, let us work,’ said he.

“I now heard another report in the machine, which I believed was

produced by the cracking of a cord. This new intimation made me

carefully examine the inside of our habitation. I saw that the part that

was turned towards the south was full of holes, of which some were of a

considerable size.

“‘It must descend,’ I then cried.

“‘Why?’

“‘Look!’ I said. At the same time I took my sponge and quietly

extinguished the little fire that was burning some of the holes within

my reach; but at the same moment I perceived that the bottom of the

cloth was coming away from the circle which surrounded it.

“‘We must descend,’ I repeated to my companion.

“He looked below.

“‘We are upon Paris,’ he said.

“‘It does not matter,’ I answered ‘Only look! Is there no danger? Are

you holding on well?’

“‘Yes.’

“I examined from my side, and saw that we had nothing to fear. I then

tried with my sponge the ropes which were within my reach. All of them

held firm. Only two of the cords had broken.

“I then said, ‘We can cross Paris.’

“During this operation we were rapidly getting down to the roofs. We

made more fire, and rose again with the greatest ease. I looked down,

and it seemed to me we were going towards the towers of St. Sulpice;

but, on rising, a new current made us quit this direction and bear more

to the south. I looked to the left, and beheld a wood, which I believed

to be that of Luxembourg. We were traversing the boulevard, and I cried

all at once--

“‘Get to ground!’

“But the intrepid Roziers, who never lost his head, and who judged more

surely than I, prevented me from attempting to descend. I then threw a

bundle of straw on the fire. We rose again, and another current bore us

to were now close to the ground, between two mills. As soon to the

left. We as we came near the earth I raised myself over the gallery,

and leaning there with my two hands, I felt the balloon pressing softly

against my head. I pushed it back, and leaped down to the ground.

Looking round and expecting to see the balloon still distended, I was

astonished to find it quite empty and flattened. On looking for Roziers

I saw him in his shirt-sleeves creeping out from under the mass of

canvas that had fallen over him. Before attempting to descend he had

put off his coat and placed it in the basket. After a deal of trouble we

were at last all right.

“As Roziers was without a coat I besought him to go to the nearest

house. On his way thither he encountered the Duke of Chartres, who

had followed us, as we saw, very closely, for I had had the honour of

conversing with him the moment before we set out.”

The following report of this first aerial voyage was drawn up by

scientific observers, among other signatures to it being that of

Benjamin Franklin.

“Today 21st of October, 1783, at the Chateau de la Muette, an experiment

was made with the aerostatic machine of M. Montgolfier. The sky was

clouded in many parts, clear in others--the wind north-west. At mid-day

a signal was given, which announced that the balloon was being filled.

Soon after, in spite of the wind, it was inflated in all its parts, and

the ascent was made. The Marquis d’Arlandes and M. Pilatre des Roziers

were in the gallery. The first intention was to raise the machine and

pull it back with ropes, to test it, to find out the exact weight which

it could carry, and to see if everything was properly arranged before

the actual ascent was attempted. But the machine, driven by the wind,

far from rising vertically, was directed upon one of the walks of

a garden, and the cords which held it shook with so much force that

several rents were made in the balloon. The machine, being brought back

to its place, was repaired in less than two hours. Being again inflated,

it rose once more, bearing the same persons, and when it had risen

to the height of 250 feet, the intrepid voyagers, bowing their heads,

saluted the spectators. One could not resist a feeling of mingled fear

and admiration. Soon the aeronauts were lost to view, but the balloon

itself, displaying its very beautiful shape, mounted to the height of

3,000 feet, and still remained visible. The voyagers, satisfied with

their experience, and not wishing to make a longer course, agreed to

descend, but, perceiving that the wind was driving them upon the houses

of the Rue de Sevres, preserved their self-possession, renewed the hot

air, rose anew and continued their course till they had passed Paris.

“They then descended tranquilly in the country, beyond the new

boulevard, without having experienced the slightest inconvenience,

having still the greater part of their fuel untouched. They could, had

they desired, have cleared a distance three times as great as that which

they traversed. Their flight was nearly 30,000 feet, and the time it

occupied was from twenty to twenty-five minutes. This machine was 70

feet high, 46 feet in diameter, and had a capacity of 60,000 cubic

feet.”

It is reported that Franklin, more illustrious in his humility than the

most brilliant among the lords of the court, when consulted respecting

the possible use of balloons, answered simply, “C’est l’enfant qui vient

de naitre?”

Chapter X. The Second Arial Voyage.

(1st December 1783.--Charles and Robert at the Tuileries.)

The first ascent of Roziers and Arlandes was a feat of hardihood almost

unique. The men’s courage was, so to speak, their only guarantee. Thanks

to the balloon, however, they accomplished one of the most extraordinary

enterprises ever achieved by our race.

On the day after the experiment of the Champ de Mars (27th of August),

Professor Charles--who had already acquired celebrity at the Louvre, by

his scientific collection and by his rank as an official instructor--and

the Brothers Robert, mechanicians, were engaged in the construction of

a balloon, to be inflated with hydrogen gas, and destined to carry a car

and one or two passengers. For this ascent Charles may be said to have

created all at once the art of aerostation as now practiced, for he

brought it at one bound to such perfection that since his day scarcely

any advance has been made upon his arrangements. His simple yet complete

invention was that of the valve which gives escape to the hydrogen gas,

and thus renders the descent of the balloon gentle and gradual; the car

that carries the travellers; the ballast of sand, by which the ascent is

regulated and the fall is moderated; the coating of caoutchouc, by means

of which the material of the balloon is rendered airtight and prevents

loss of gas; and, finally, the use of the barometer, which marks at

every instant, by the elevation or the depression of the mercury, the

position in which the aeronaut finds himself in the atmosphere. Charles

created all the contrivances, or, in other words, all the ingenious

precautions which make up the art of aerostation.

On the 26th of November, the balloon, fitted with its network, and

having the car attached to it, was sent away from the hall of the

Tuileries, where it had been exhibited. The ascent was fixed for the 1st

of December, 1783, a memorable day for the Parisians.

At noon upon that day, the subscribers, who had paid four louis for

their seats, took their places within the enclosure outside the circle,

in which stood the casks employed for making the gas. The humbler

subscribers, at three francs a-head, occupied the rest of the garden.

The number of spectators, as we read underneath the numerous coloured

prints which represent this spectacle, was 600,000; but though, without

doubt, the gardens of the Tuileries are very large, it is probable this

figure is a considerable overstatement, for this number would have been

three-fourths of the whole population of Paris.

The roofs and windows of the houses were crowded, whilst the Pont Royal

and the square of Louis XV. were covered by an immense multitude. About

mid-day a rumour was spread to the effect that the king forbade the

ascent. Charles ran to the Chief Minister of State, and plainly told him

that his life was the king’s, but his honour was his own: his word was

pledged to the country and he would ascend. Taking this high ground,

the bold professor gained an unwilling permission to carry out his

undertaking.

A little afterwards the sound of cannon was heard. This was the signal

which announced the last arrangements and thus dissipated all doubt as

to the rising of the balloon, There had during the day been considerable

disturbance among the crowd, between the partisans of Charles and

Montgolfier; each party extolled its hero, and did everything possible

to detract from the merits of the rival inventor. But whatever

ill-feeling might have existed was swept away by Professor Charles with

a compliment. When he was ready to ascend, he walked up to Montgolfier,

and, with the true instinct of French politeness, presented him with a

little balloon, saying at the same time--

“It is for you, monsieur, to show us the way to the skies.”

The exquisite taste and delicacy of this incident touched the bystanders

as with an electric shock, and the place at once rang out with the most

genuine and hearty applause The little balloon thrown up by Montgolfier

sped away to the north-east, its beautiful emerald colour showing to

fine effect in the sun.

From this point let us follow the narrative of Professor Charles

himself.

“The balloon,” he says, “which escaped from the hands of M. Montgolfier,

rose into the air, and seemed to carry with it the testimony of

friendship and regard between that gentleman and myself, while

acclamations followed it. Meanwhile, we hastily prepared for departure.

The stormy weather did not permit us to have at our command all the

arrangements which we had contemplated the previous evening; to do so

would have detained us too long upon the earth. After the balloon and

the car were in equilibrium, we threw over 19 lbs. of ballast, and we

rose in the midst of silence, arising from the emotion and surprise felt

on all sides.

“Nothing will ever equal that moment of joyous excitement which filled

my whole being when I felt myself flying away from the earth. It was not

mere pleasure; it was perfect bliss. Escaped from the frightful torments

of persecution and of calumny, I felt that I was answering all in rising

above all.

“To this sentiment succeeded one more lively still--the admiration of

the majestic spectacle that spread itself out before us. On whatever

side we looked, all was glorious; a cloudless sky above, a most

delicious view around. ‘Oh, my friend,’ said I to M. Robert, ‘how great

is our good fortune! I care not what may be the condition of the earth;

it is the sky that is for me now. What serenity! what a ravishing scene!

Would that I could bring here the last of our detractors, and say to the

wretch, Behold what you would have lost had you arrested the progress of

science.’

“Whilst we were rising with a progressively increasing speed, we

waved our bannerets in token of our cheerfulness, and in order to give

confidence to those below who took an interest in our fate. M.

Robert made an inventory of our stores; our friends had stocked our

commissariat as for a long voyage--champagne and other wines, garments

of fur and other articles of clothing.

“‘Good,’ I said; ‘throw that out of the window.’ He took a blanket and

launched it into the air, through which it floated down slowly, and fell

upon the dome of l’Assomption.

“When the barometer had fallen 26 inches, we ceased to ascend. We were

up at an elevation of 1,800 feet. This was the height to which I had

promised myself to ascend; and, in fact, from this moment to the time

when we disappeared from the eyes of our friends, we always kept a

horizontal course, the barometer registering 26 inches to 26 inches 8

lines.

“We required to throw over ballast in proportion as the almost

insensible escape of the hydrogen gas caused us to descend, in order to

remain as nearly as possible at the same elevation. If circumstances had

permitted us to measure the amount of ballast we threw over, our course

would have been almost absolutely horizontal.

“After remaining for a few moments stationary, our car I changed its

course, and we were carried on at the will of the wind. Soon we passed

the Seine, between St. Ouen and Asnieres. We traversed the river a

second time, leaving Argenteuil upon the left. We passed Sannois,

Franconville, Eau-Bonne, St. Leu-Taverny, Villiers, and finally, Nesles.

This was about twenty-seven miles from Paris, and we had I reached this

distance in two hours, although there was so little wind that the air

scarcely stirred.

“During the whole course of this delightful voyage, not the slightest

apprehension for our fate or that of our machine entered my head for a

moment. The globe did not suffer any alteration beyond the successive

changes of dilatation and compression, which enabled us to mount and

descend at will. The thermometer was, during more than an hour, between

ten and twelve degrees above zero; this being to some extent accounted

for by the fact that the interior of the car was warmed by the rays of

the sun.

“At the end of fifty-six minutes, we heard the report of the cannon

which informed us that we had, at that moment, disappeared from view at

Paris. We rejoiced that we had escaped, as we were no longer obliged

to observe a horizontal course, and to regulate the balloon for that

purpose.

“We gave ourselves up to the contemplation of the views which the

immense stretch of country beneath us presented. From that time, though

we had no opportunity of conversing with the inhabitants, we saw

them running after us from all parts; we heard their cries, their

exclamations of solicitude, and knew their alarm and admiration.

“We cried, ‘Vive le Roi!’ and the people responded. We heard, very

distinctly--‘My good friends, have you no fear? Are you not sick? How

beautiful it is! Heaven preserve you! Adieu, my friends.’

“I was touched to tears by this tender and true interest which our

appearance had called forth.

“We continued to wave our flags without cessation, and we perceived

that these signals greatly increased the cheerfulness and calmed the

solicitude of the people below. Often we descended sufficiently low to

hear what they shouted to us. They asked us where we came from, and at

what hour we had started.

“We threw over successively frock-coats, muffs, and habits. Sailing on

above the Ile d’Adam, after having admired the splendid view, we made

signals with our flags, and demanded news of the Prince of Conti. One

cried up to us, in a very powerful voice, that he was at Paris, and

that he was ill. We regretted missing such an opportunity of paying our

respects, for we could have descended into the prince’s gardens, if we

had wished, but we preferred to pursue our course, and we re-ascended.

Finally, we arrived at the plain of Nesles.

“We saw from the distance groups of peasants, who ran on before us

across the fields. ‘Let us go,’ I said, and we descended towards a vast

meadow.

“Some shrubs and trees stood round its border. Our car advanced

majestically in a long inclined plane. On arriving near the trees, I

feared that their branches might damage the car, so I threw over two

pounds of ballast, and we rose again. We ran along more than 120 feet,

at a distance of one or two feet from the ground, and had the appearance

of travelling in a sledge. The peasants ran after us without being able

to catch us, like children pursuing a butterfly in the fields.

“Finally, we stopped, and were instantly surrounded. Nothing could equal

the simple and tender regard of the country people, their admiration,

and their lively emotion.

“I called at once for the cures and the magistrates. They came round

me on all sides: there was quite a fete on the spot. I prepared a short

report, which the cures and the syndics signed. Then arrived a company

of horsemen at a gallop. These were the Duke of Chartres, the Duke of

Fitzjames, and M. Farrer. By a very singular chance, we had come down

close by the hunting-lodge of the latter. He leaped from his horse and

threw himself into my arms, crying, ‘Monsieur Charles, I was first!’

“Charles adds that they were covered with the caresses of the prince,

who embraced both of them. He briefly narrated to the Duke of Chartres

some incidents of the voyage.

“‘But this is not all, monseigneur. I am going away again,’ added

Charles.

“‘What! Going away!’ exclaimed the duke.

“‘Monseigneur, you will see. When do you wish me to come back again?’ I

said.

“‘In half an hour.’

“‘Very well: be it so. In half an hour I shall be with you again.’

“M. Robert descended from the car, and I was alone in the balloon.

“I said to the duke, ‘Monseigneur, I go.’ I said to the peasants who

held down the balloon, ‘My friends, go away, all of you, from the car

at the moment I give the signal.’ I then rose like a bird, and in

ten minutes I was more than 3,000 feet above the ground. I no longer

perceived terrestrial objects; I only saw the great masses of nature.

“In going away, Charles had taken his precautions against the possible

explosion of the balloon, and made himself ready to make certain

observations. In order to observe the barometer and the thermometer,

placed at different extremities of the car, without endangering the

equilibrium, he sat down in the middle, a watch and paper in his left

hand, a pen and the cord of the safety-valve in his right.

“I waited for what should happen,” continues he. “The balloon, which

was quite flabby and soft when I ascended, was now taut, and fully

distended. Soon the hydrogen gas began to escape in considerable

quantities by the neck of the balloon, and then, from time to time, I

pulled open the valve to give it two issues at once; and I continued

thus to mount upwards, all the time losing the inflammable air, which,

rushing past me from the neck of the balloon, felt like a warm cloud.

“I passed in ten minutes from the temperature of spring to that of

winter; the cold was keen and dry, but not insupportable. I examined all

my sensations calmly; _I_ COULD HEAR MYSELF LIVE, so to speak, and I am

certain that at first I experienced nothing disagreeable in this sudden

passage from one temperature to another.

“When the barometer ceased to move I noted very exactly eighteen inches

ten lines. This observation is perfectly accurate The mercury did not

suffer any sensible movement.

“At the end of some minutes the cold caught my fingers; I could hardly

hold the pen, but I no longer had need to do so. I was stationary, or

rather moved only in a horizontal direction.

“I raised myself in the middle of the car, and abandoned myself to the

spectacle before me. At my departure from the meadow the sun had sunk to

the people of the valleys; soon he shone for me alone, and came again to

pour his rays upon the balloon and the car. I was the only creature in

the horizon in sunshine--all the rest of nature was in shade. Ere long,

however, the sun disappeared, and thus I had the pleasure of seeing him

set twice in the same day. I contemplated for some moments the mists and

vapours that rose from the valley and the rivers The clouds seemed to

come forth from the earth, and to accumulate the one upon the other.

Their colour was a monotonous grey--a natural effect, for there was no

light save that of the moon.

“I observed that I had tacked round twice, and I felt currents which

called me to my senses. I found with surprise the effect of the wind,

and saw the cloth of my flag: extended horizontally.

“In the midst of the inexpressible pleasure of this state of ecstatic

contemplation, I was recalled to myself by a most extraordinary pain

which I felt in the interior of the ears and in the maxillary glands.

This I attributed to the dilation of the air contained in the cellular

tissue of the organ as much as to the cold outside. I was in my vest,

with my head uncovered. I immediately covered my head with a bonnet of

wool which was at my feet, but the pain only disappeared with my descent

to the ground.

“It was now seven or eight minutes since I had arrived at this

elevation, and I now commenced to descend. I remembered the promise I

had made to the Duke of Chartres, to return in half an hour. I quickened

my descent by opening the valve from time to time. Soon the balloon,

empty now to one half, presented the appearance of a hemisphere.

“Arrived at twenty-three fathoms from the earth, I suddenly threw over

two or three pounds of ballast, which arrested my descent, and which I

had carefully kept for this purpose. I then slowly descended upon the

ground, which I had, so to speak, chosen.”

Such is the narrative of the second aerial voyage. After such a

memorable ascent one is astonished to learn that Professor Charles never

repeated his experiment. It has been said that, in descending from

his car, he had vowed that he would never again expose himself to such

perils, so strong had been the alarm he felt when the peasants ceasing

to hold him down he shot up into the sky with the rapidity of an arrow.

But after him a thousand others have followed the daring example he set.

With this ascent the memorable year 1783 closed, and the seed which had

been sown soon began to be productive.

PART II.

Chapter I. The History of Aerostation from the Year 1783.

The Open Route--Travels and Travellers--Great Increase in

the Number of Air Voyages--Lyons, Ascent of “Le Flesselles--

Milan, Ascent of Adriani--Flight of a Balloon from London--

Lost Balloons in the Chief Towns of Europe

From the year 1783, in which aerostation had its birth, and in which

it was carried to a degree of perfection, beside which the progress

of aeronauts in our days seems small, a new route was opened up for

travellers. The science of Montgolfier, the practical art of Professor

Charles, and the courage of Roziers, subdued the scepticism of those who

had not yet given in their adhesion to the possible value of the great

discovery, and throughout the whole of France a feverish degree of

enthusiasm in the art manifested itself Aerial excursions now became

quite fashionable. Let it be understood that we do not here refer to

ascents in fixed balloons, that is, in balloons which were attached to

the earth by means of ropes more or less long.

M. Biot narrates that, in his young days, when aeronautic ascents were

less known than they are in these times, there was in the plain of

Grenelle, at the mill of Javelle, an establishment where balloons were

constantly maintained for the accommodation of amateurs of both sexes

who wished to make ascents in what were called “ballons captifs,” or

balloons anchored, so to speak, to the earth by means of long ropes They

were for a considerable time the rage of fashionable society, and it is

not recorded that any accidents resulted from the practice. Of course

it may be easily understood with these safe balloons the adventurous

aeronauts never ascended to any great height. The reader will find this

subject treated under the chapter of military aerostation.

We are at present specially engaged with the narrative of the first

attempts in aerostation--the first experiments in the new discovery.

We have followed with interest the exciting details of the first

adventurous ascents, in which the genius of man first essayed the

unexplored paths of the heavens. Yet a continued record of aerial

voyages would not be of the same interest. The results of subsequent

expeditions, and the impressions of subsequent aeronauts are the same

as those already described, or differ from them only in minor points. No

important advance is recorded in the art. We shall therefore endeavour

not to confine ourselves to the narrative of a dry and monotonous

chronology, but to select from the number of ascents that have taken

place within the last eighty years, only those whose special character

renders them worthy of more detailed and severe investigation.

In order to give an idea of the rapid multiplication of aeronautic

experiments, it will suffice to state that the only aeronauts of

1783 are Roziers, the Marquis d’Arlandes, Professor Charles, his

collaborateur the younger Robert, and a carpenter, named Wilcox, who

made ascents at Philadelphia and London.

A number of balloons were remarkable for the beauty and elegance which

we have already spoken of. Among the most beautiful we may mention the

“Flesselles” balloon and Bagnolet’s balloon.

Of the ascents which immediately succeeded those that have been treated

in the first part of our volume, and which are the most memorable in

the early annals of aerostation, that of the 17th of January, 1784, is

remarkable. It took place at Lyons. Seven persons went into the car on

this occasion--Joseph Montgolfier, Roziers, the Comte de Laurencin, the

Comte de Dampierre, the Prince Charles de Ligne, the Comte de Laporte

d’Anglifort, and Fontaine, who threw himself into the car when it had

already begun to move.

A most minute account of this experiment is given in a letter of Mathon

de la Cour, director of the Academy of Sciences at Lyons:--“After the

experiments of the Champ de Mars and Versailles had become known,”

he says, “the citizens of this town proposed to repeat them and a

subscription was opened for this purpose. On the arrival of the elder

Montgolfier, about the end of September, M. de Flesselles, our director,

always zealous in promoting whatever might be for the welfare of the

province and the advancement of science and art, persuaded him to

organise the subscription. The aim of the experiment proposed by

Montgolfier was not the ascent of any human being in the balloon. The

prospectus only announced that a balloon of a much larger size than any

that had been made would ascend--that it would rise to several thousand

feet, and that, including the animals that it was proposed it should

carry, it would weigh 8,000 lbs. The subscription was fixed at L12, and

the number of subscribers was 360.”

It was on these conditions that Montgolfier commenced his balloon of 126

feet high and 100 feet in diameter, made of a double envelope of cotton

cloth, with a lining of paper between. A strength and consistency was

given to the structure by means of ribbons and cords.

The work was nearly finished when Roziers went up in his fire-balloon

from La Muette. Immediately the Comte de Laurencin pressed Montgolfier

to allow him to go up in the new machine. Montgolfier was only too glad

of the opportunity--refused up to this time by the king--of going up

himself. From thirty to forty people made application to go with the

aeronauts; and on the 26th of December, 1678, Roziers, the Comte de

Dampierre, and the Comte de Laporte, arrived in Lyons with the same

intention. Prince Charles also arrived; and as his father had taken one

hundred subscriptions, his claim to go up could not be refused.

But while the public papers were full of ascents at Avignon, Marseilles,

and Paris, it is impossible to describe the vexation of Roziers, when

he discovered that Montgolfier’s new balloon was not intended to carry

passengers, and had not been, from the first, constructed with that

view. He suggested a number of alterations, which Montgolfier adopted at

once.

On the 7th of January, 1784, all the pieces of which the balloon was

composed were carried out to the field called Les Brotteaux, outside the

town, from which the ascent was to be made. This event was announced to

take place on the 10th and at five o’clock on the morning of that day;

but unexpected delays occurred, and in the necessary operations the

covering was torn in many places.

On the 15th the balloon was inflated in seventeen minutes, and the

gallery was attached in an hour--the fire from which the heated air was

obtained requiring to be fed at the rate of 5 lbs. of alder-wood per

minute; but the preparations had occupied so much time, that it was

found, when everything was complete, that the afternoon was too far

advanced for the ascent to be made. This machine was destined to suffer

from endless misfortunes. It took fire while being inflated, and,

several days afterwards, it was damaged by snow and rain. Put nothing

discouraged Roziers and his companions. Places had been arranged in the

gallery for six persons. After the balloon was at last inflated,

Prince Charles and the Comes de Laurencin, Dampierre, and Laporte threw

themselves into the gallery. They were all armed, and were determined

not to quit their places to whoever might come. Roziers, who wished at

the last to enjoy a high ascent, proposed to reduce the number to three,

and to draw lots for the purpose. But the gentlemen would not descend.

The debate became animated. The four voyagers cried to cut the ropes.

The director of the Academy, to whom application was made in this

emergency, admiring the resolution and the courage of the four

gentlemen, wished to satisfy them in their desire. Accordingly the ropes

were cut; but at that moment M. Montgolfier and Roziers threw themselves

into the gallery. At the same time a certain M. Fontaine, who had

had much to do in the construction of the machine, threw himself in,

although it had not previously been arranged that he should be of the

party. His boldness in jumping in was pardoned, on the ground of his

services and his zeal.

In going away the machine turned to the south-west, and bent a little.

A rope which dragged along the ground seemed to retard its ascent; but

some intelligent person having cut this with a hatchet, it began to

right itself and ascend. At a certain height it turned to the north

east. The wind was feeble, and the progress was slow, but the imposing

effect was indescribable. The immense machine rose into the air as by

some effect of magic. Nearly 100,000 spectators were present, and they

were greatly excited at the view. They clapped their hands and stretched

their arms towards the sky; women fainted away, or (for some reasons

best known to themselves) found relief for their excitement in tears;

while the men, uttering cries of joy, waved their handkerchiefs, and

threw their hats into the air.

The form of the machine was that of a globe, rising from a reversed and

truncated cone, to which the gallery was attached. The upper part was

white, the lower part grey; and the cone was composed of strips of stuff

of different colours. On the sides of the balloon were two paintings,

one of which represented History, the other Fame. The flag bore the arms

of the director of the Academy, and above it were inscribed the words

“Le Flesselles.”

The voyagers observed that they did not consume a fourth of the quantity

of combustibles after they had risen into the air, which they consumed

when attached to the earth. They were in the gayest humour, and they

calculated that the fuel they had would keep them floating till late

in the evening. Unfortunately, however, after throwing more wood on the

fire, in order to get up to a greater altitude, it was discovered that

a rent had been made in the covering, caused by the fire by which the

balloon had been damaged two or three days previously. The rent was four

feet in length; and as the heated air escaped very rapidly by it, the

balloon fell, after having sailed above the earth for barely fifteen

minutes.

The descent only occupied two or three minutes, and yet the shock was

supportable. It was observed that as soon as the machine had touched the

earth all the cloth became unfolded in a few seconds, which seemed to

confirm the opinion of Montgolfier, who believed that electricity had

much to do in the ascent of balloons. The voyagers were got out of the

balloon without accident, and were greeted with the most enthusiastic

applause.

On the day of the ascent, the opera of “Iphigenia in Aulis” was given,

and the theatre was thronged by a vast assemblage, attracted thither

in the hope of seeing the illustrious experimentalists. The curtain had

risen when M. and Madame de Flesselles entered their box, accompanied

by Montgolfier and Roziers. At sight of them the enthusiasm of the house

rose to fever pitch. The other voyagers also entered, and were greeted

with the same demonstrations. Cries arose from the pit to begin the

opera again, in honour of the visitors. The curtain then fell, and when

it again rose, after a few moments, the actor who filled the role of

Agamemnon advanced with crowns, which he handed to Madame de Flesselles,

who distributed them to the aeronauts. Roziers placed the crown that had

been given to him upon Montgolfier’s head.

When the actress who played the part of Clytemnestra, sung the passage

beginning--

“I love to see these flattering honours paid.”

The audience at once applied her song to the circumstances, and

re-demanded it, which request the actress complied with, addressing

herself to the box in which the distinguished visitors sat. The

demonstrations of admiration were continued after the opera was over;

and during the whole of the night the gentlemen of the balloon ascent

were serenaded.

Two days afterwards, Roziers having appeared at a ball, received further

proofs of admiration and honours; and when, on the 22nd of January, he

departed for Dijon on his return to Paris, he was accompanied as in a

triumph by a numerous cavalcade of the most distinguished young men of

the city.

There was, however, at Paris, much discontent with the ascent of

“Le Flesselles;” and the Journal de Paris de Paris, which notices so

enthusiastically the other ascents of that epoch, speaks slightingly of

that at Lyons.

The next great ascent took place at Milan, on the 25th of February,

1784, under the direction of the Chevalier Paul Andriani, who had a

balloon constructed by the Brothers Gerli, at his own expense. We read

that this balloon was 66 feet in diameter, and that the envelope was

composed of cloth, lined in the interior with fine paper.

The balloon was not in all respects constructed like that which rose at

Lyons. The grating which supported the fire that kept up the supply of

hot air was placed at the mouth of the opening. It was made of copper,

was six feet in diameter, and was secured by a number of transverse

beams of wood. M. Andriani thought it best to place his fire--contrary

to general usage--a little way above the mouth of the opening, and he

found out that the activity of the fire was in proportion with that of

the air which entered and fed it.

In place of making use of a gallery like that employed by Montgolfier,

as much to manage the fire as to carry the traveller and the fuel, he

substituted a wide basket, suspended by cords to the edge of the opening

of the balloon, at such a distance that fuel could be thrown on with the

hand without being inconvenienced by the heat.

Everything being in readiness, the machine was carried to Moncuco, the

splendid domain of Andriani, where the first experiments were made; for

this gentlemen knew that as the populace are impatient, they are also

often un-reasonable, and jump to the hastiest and most inconsiderate

conclusion when, in witnessing scientific experiments, any of the

arrangements happen to be imperfect, and the results in any respect

prove unsuccessful.

Andriani did not deceive himself, for, sure enough, his first attempt

did not come up to expectation. The reasons for this failure were the

too great quantity of air which the fire drew in, and the unsuitable

character of the fuel used.

On the 25th of February, 1784, a second attempt was made. The fire was

lighted under the machine, at first with dry birch-wood and afterwards

with a bituminous composition, ingeniously concocted by one of the

Brothers Gerli. In less than four minutes the balloon was completely

inflated, and the men employed to hold it down with ropes perceived that

it was on the point of rising. The aeronauts then gave the order to

let go. Scarcely was the balloon let off, when it gently rose a short

distance, and then flew in a horizontal direction towards a palace in

the neighbourhood. In order that the structure should not be destroyed

on the walls and the roof of the palace, the voyagers heaped on the

fuel, and the spectators, who had gathered together from the surrounding

villages, then saw this strange vessel of the air rising with rapidity

to a surprising height. Such a phenomenon was so astonishing, that those

who beheld it could hardly believe their own eyes; and when the balloon

disappeared from view, the delight they had manifested was dashed with

fear for the fate of the bold aeronauts. The latter, seeing that the

balloon was driving through the air towards a range of rocky hills in

the neighbourhood, and perceiving, on the other hand, that their stock

of combustibles was nearly exhausted, judged it prudent to descend. They

diminished their fire, and came gradually down, warning the multitude

below of their intention by means of a speaking-trumpet.

In the course of the descent the balloon alighted upon a large tree, to

the great peril of the travellers; but as soon as the fire was increased

it again mounted and got clear from the branches while the people below,

grasping the cords that were hung out to them, guided the machine to the

spot which the voyagers indicated. To descend to terra firma was then

a comparatively easy matter, and it was safely accomplished. The fire,

which in the case of the French balloons had dried, calcined, and almost

consumed the upper part of the balloon, had no evil effect upon that of

Andriani, which came down looking as fresh as if it had never been used.

The new idea had now passed the frontiers of France, in which it was

originally conceived, and among the other nations, as at first in

France, the power of the inflated balloon came to be tested everywhere

by the construction of small toy globes.

It was just about five months after the first experiment at

Annonay--viz., on the 25th of November, 1783--that the first balloon

ascended in London. We are informed, in the History of Aerostation by

Tiberius Cavallo, that an Italian, Count Zambeccari, who was staying in

the English capital, made a balloon of silk, covered with a varnish of

oil. Its diameter was ten feet, and its weight eleven pounds. It was

gilded for the double purpose of enhancing its appearance and preventing

the escape of air. After having been exposed to public inspection for

several days, it was filled three parts full of hydrogen gas, a tin

bottle was suspended from it, containing an address to whoever might

find it when it should fall, and it was let off from the Artillery

Ground, in presence of a vast assembly.

On the 11th of December, 1783, a little balloon, made of gold-beaters’

skin, was let off publicly at Turin. This was an experiment similar to

that which had been tried at Paris in September. The balloon was seen

to penetrate the clouds, then to mount still higher, and finally to

disappear entirely in five minutes fifty-four seconds from the time when

it was set free.

It was natural, after the experiments made long before with electric

paper kites, to employ the balloon in the investigation of the electric

conditions of the atmosphere. The first to use it for this purpose was

the Abbe Berthelon de Montpellier. He sent up a number of balloons, to

which he had attached pieces of metal, long and narrow, and terminating

in a cylinder of glass, or other substance suitable for the purpose

of isolation, and he obtained sufficient electricity by these means

to demonstrate the phenomena of attraction and repulsion, as well as

electric sparks.

Cavallo mentions an accident which took place in England about this

time, and which served as a warning to all who had to do with balloons

filled with hydrogen gas. A balloon thus inflated had been sent up

at Hopton, near Matlock, and was found by two men near Cheadle, in

Staffordshire. These ingenious persons carried it within doors, and

having wished to fully inflate it--half the gas having by this time

escaped--they applied a pair of bellows to its mouth. By this means they

only forced out the volume of the hydrogen gas that was left; and this

gas, coming in contact with a candle that had been placed too near,

exploded. The report was louder than that of a cannon, and so powerful

was the shock that the men were thrown down, the glass blown out of the

windows, and the house otherwise damaged. The men suffered severely,

their hair, beards, and eyebrows being completely burnt away, and their

faces severely scorched.

At Grenoble, in Dauphine, De Baron let off a balloon on the 13th of

January, 1784. It rose, and at first took a northern direction;

but, having encountered a current of air, it was carried away in a

south-easterly direction, and after flying a distance of three-quarters

of a mile, it fell, having traversed this distance in fifteen minutes.

A society, under the presidency of the Abbe de Mably, having constructed

a balloon thirty-seven feet high and twenty feet in diameter, sent it

off from the court of the Castle of Pisancon, near Romano, on the same

day, the 13th of February. At first it was carried to the south by

a strong north wind, but after it had risen to 1,000 feet above the

surface, its course was changed towards the north. It was calculated

that, in less than five minutes, this balloon rose to the height of

6,000 feet.

On the 16th of the same month the Count d’Albon threw off from his

gardens at Franconville a balloon inflated with gas, and made of silk,

rendered air-tight by a solution of gum-arabic. It was oblong, and

measured twenty-five feet in height, and seventeen feet in diameter.

To this balloon a cage, containing two guinea-pigs and a rabbit,

was suspended. The cords were cut, and the inflated globe rose to an

enormous height with the greatest rapidity. Five days afterwards it was

found at the distance of eighteen miles, and it is remarkable that, in

spite of the cold of the season, and particularly of the elevated region

through which the balloon had been passing, the animals were not only

living, but in good condition.

On the 3rd of February, 1784, the Marquis de Bullion sent up a paper

balloon, of about fifteen feet in diameter. A flat sponge, about a foot

square, placed in a tin dish and drenched with a pint of spirits of

wine, was the only apparatus made use of to create a supply of heated

air. It rose at Paris, and three hours afterwards it was found near

Basville, about thirty miles from the capital.

On the 15th of the same month Cellard de Chastelais sent up a paper

balloon. Heated air was supplied on this occasion by a paper roll,

enclosing a sponge, and soaked in oil, spirits of wine, and grease.

A cage, which contained a cat, was attached to this air globe. In

thirty-five minutes it had mounted so high that it looked but like the

smallest star, and in two hours it had flown a distance of forty-six

miles from the place where it was thrown off. The cat was dead, but it

was not discovered from what cause.

The first balloon that traversed the English channel was sent off at

Sandwich, in Kent, on the 22nd of February, 1784. It was five feet in

diameter, and was inflated with hydrogen gas. It rose rapidly, and was

carried toward France by a north-west wind. Two hours and a half after

it had been let off it was found in a field about nine miles from Lille.

The balloon carried a letter, instructing the finder of the balloon to

communicate with William Boys, Esq., Sandwich, and to state where and at

what time it was found. This request was complied with.

On the 19th of February a similar balloon, five feet in diameter, was

sent up from Queen’s College, Oxford. It was spherical, and was made of

Persian silk, coated with varnish. It was the first balloon sent up from

that city.

De Saussure makes mention, in a letter dated from Geneva, the 26th

of March, 1784, of certain experiments made in that town with the

electricity of the atmosphere by means of fixed balloons--i.e., balloons

attached to the earth by ropes, which gave forth sparks and positive

electricity.

Mention is also made of a certain M. Argand, of Geneva, who had the

honour of making balloon experiments at Windsor in the presence of King

George III., Queen Charlotte, and the royal family. About this time

(1784) balloons became “the fashion,” and frequent instances occur of

their being raised by day and night, by means of spirit-lamps, to the

great delight of multitudes of spectators.

A letter from Watt to Dr. Lind, of Windsor, dated from Birmingham, 25th

December, 1784, narrates an experiment made the summer preceding with

a balloon inflated with hydrogen. The balloon was made of fine paper

covered with a varnish of oil and filled two-thirds with hydrogen gas,

and one-third common air. To the neck of the balloon was attached a sort

of squib two feet long, the fuse of which was ignited when the balloon

was inflated. The night was calm and dark, and a great multitude was

assembled to witness the ascent, which was accomplished with a success

that gave delight to all; for, at the end of six minutes the fuse

communicated with the squib, and the explosion was like the sound of

thunder. The men who saw it from a distance, but were not present at

its ascent, took it for a meteor. “Our intention,” says Watt, “was, if

possible, to discover whether the reverberating sound of thunder was

due to echoes or to successive explosions. The sound occasioned by the

detonation of the hydrogen gas of the balloon in this experiment, does

not enable us to form a definite judgment; all that we can do is to

refer to those who were near the balloon, and-who affirm that the sound

was like that of thunder.”