There is not in the whole annals of aerostation a more moving
catastrophe than that of the unfortunate Comte Zambeccari, who, during
an aerial journey on October the 7th, 1804, was cast away on the waves
of the Adriatic.
The history of Zambeccari is dramatic throughout. After having been
taken by the Turks and thrown into the Bay of Constantinople, from which
he with difficulty escaped, he devoted himself to the study and practice
of aerial navigation. He fancied he could make use of a lamp supplied
with spirits of wine, the flame of which he could direct at will, in the
hope of thus being able to steer the balloon in whatever direction he
chose. One day his balloon damaged itself against a tree at Boulogne,
and the spirits of wine set his clothes on fire. The flames with which
the aeronaut was covered only served to increase the ascending power of
the balloon, and the frightened spectators, among whom were Zambeccari’s
young wife and children, saw him carried up into the clouds out of
sight. He succeeded, however, in extinguishing the fire which surrounded
him.
In 1804, he organised a series of experiments at Milan, for which he
received, in advance, the sum of 8,000 crowns; but the experiments
failed, in consequence of the inclemency of the weather, the treachery
of his assistants, and the malice of his rivals.
At length, on the 7th of October, after a fall of rain which lasted
forty-eight hours, and which had delayed the announced ascent, he
resolved, whatever might happen, to carry it out, though all the chances
were against him. Eight young men whom he had instructed, and who had
promised him their assistance in filling the balloon, failed him at the
critical moment. Still, however, he continued his labours, with the
help of two companions, Andreoli and Grassetti. Wearied with his
long-continued efforts, dis-appointed and hungry, he took his place in
the car.
The two companions whom we have named went with him. They rose gently at
first, and hovered over the town of Bologna. Zambeccari says, “The lamp,
which was intended to increase our ascending force, became useless. We
could not observe the state of the barometer by the feeble light of a
lantern. The insupportable cold that prevailed in the high region to
which we had ascended, the weariness and hunger arising from my having
neglected to take nourishment for twenty-four hours, the vexation
that embittered my spirit--all these combined produced in me a total
prostration, and I fell upon the floor of the gallery in a profound
sleep that was like death. ‘The same misfortune overtook my companion
Grassetti. Andreoli was the only one who remained awake and able for
duty--no doubt because he had taken plenty of food and a large quantity
of rum. Still he suffered from the cold, which was excessive, and his
endeavours to wake me were for a long time vain. Finally, however, he
succeeded in getting me to my feet, but my ideas were confused, and I
demanded of him, like one newly awaking from a dream, ‘What is the news?
Where are we? What time is it? How is the wind?’
“It was two o’clock. The compass had been broken, and was useless; the
wax light in the lantern would not burn in such a rarefied atmosphere.
We descended gently across a thick layer of whitish clouds, and when
we had got below them, Andreoli heard a sound, muffled and almost
inaudible, which he immediately recognised as the breaking of waves in
the distance. Instantly he announced to me this new and fearful danger.
I listened, and had not long to wait before I was convinced that he was
speaking the truth. It was necessary to have light to examine the state
of the barometer, and thus ascertain what was our elevation above the
sea level, and to take our measures in consequence. Andreoli broke five
phosphoric matches, without getting a spark of fire. Nevertheless, we
succeeded, after very great difficulty, by the help of the flint
and steel, in lighting the lantern. It was now three o’clock in the
morning--we had started at midnight. The sound of the waves, tossing
with wild uproar, became louder and louder, and I suddenly saw the
surface of the sea violently agitated just below us. I immediately
seized a large sack of sand, but had not time to throw it over before we
were all in the water, gallery and all. In the first moment of fright,
we threw into the sea everything that would lighten the balloon--our
ballast, all our instruments, a portion of our clothing, our money, and
the oars. As, in spite of all this, the balloon did not rise, we threw
over our lamp also. After having torn and cut away everything that did
not appear to us to be of indispensable necessity, the balloon, thus
very much lightened, rose all at once, but with such rapidity and to
such a prodigious elevation, that we had difficulty in hearing each
other, even when shouting at the top of our voices. I was ill, and
vomited severely. Grassetti was bleeding at the nose; we were both
breathing short and hard, and felt oppression on the chest. As we were
thrown upon our backs at the moment when the balloon took such a sudden
start out of the water and bore us with such swiftness to those high
regions, the cold seized us suddenly, and we found ourselves covered all
at once with a coating of ice. I could not account for the reason why
the moon, which was in its last quarter, appeared on a parallel line
with us, and looked red as blood.
“After having traversed these regions for half an hour, at an
immeasurable elevation, the balloon slowly began to descend, and at
last we fell again into the sea, at about four in the morning I cannot
determine at what distance we were from land when we fell the second
time. The night was very dark, the sea rolling heavily, and we were in
no condition to make observations. But it must have been in the middle
of the Adriatic that we fell. Although we descended gently, the gallery
was sunk, and we were often entirely covered with water. The balloon
being now more than half empty, in consequence of the vicissitudes
through, which we had passed, gave a purchase to the wind, which pressed
against it as against a sail, so that by means of it we were dragged
and beaten about at the mercy of the storm and the waves. At daybreak
we looked out and found ourselves opposite Pesaro, four miles from the
shore. We were comforting ourselves with the prospect of a safe landing,
when a wind from the land drove us with violence away over the open sea.
It was now full day, but all we could see were the sea, the sky, and the
death that threatened us. Certainly some boats happened to come within
sight; but no sooner did they see the balloon floating and striping upon
the water than they made all sail to get away from it. No hope was then
left to us but the very small one of making the coasts of Dalmatia,
which were opposite, but at a great distance from us. Without the
slightest doubt we should have been drowned if heaven had not mercifully
directed towards us a navigator who, better informed than those we had
seen before, recognised our machine to be a balloon and quickly sent his
long-boat to our rescue. The sailors threw us a stout cable, which we
attached to the gallery, and by means of which they rescued us when
fainting with exposure. The balloon thus lightened, immediately rose
into the air, in spite of all the efforts of the sailors who wished to
capture it. The long boat received a severe shock from its escape,
as the rope was still attached to it, and the sailors hastened to cut
themselves free. At once the balloon mounted with incredible rapidity,
and was lost in the clouds, where it disappeared for ever from our view.
It was eight in the morning when we got on board. Grassetti was so ill
that he hardly showed any signs of life. His hands were sadly mutilated.
Cold, hunger, and the dreadful anxiety had completely prostrated me. The
brave captain of the vessel did everything in his power to restore us.
He conducted us safely to Ferrara, whence we were carried to Pola, where
we were received with the greatest kindness, and where I was compelled
to have my fingers amputated.”