It was a November night of the year 1782, in the little town of
Annonay, near Lyons. Two young men, Stephen and Joseph Montgolfier, the
representatives of a firm of paper makers, were sitting together over
their parlour fire. While watching the smoke curling up the chimney one
propounded an idea by way of a sudden inspiration: "Why shouldn't smoke
be made to raise bodies into the air?"
The world was waiting for this utterance, which, it would seem, was on
the tip of the tongue with many others. Cavendish had already discovered
what he designated "inflammable air," though no one had as yet given it
its later title of hydrogen gas. Moreover, in treating of this gas--Dr.
Black of Edinburgh, as much as fifteen years before the date we have now
arrived at, had suggested that it should be made capable of raising a
thin bladder in the air. With a shade more of good fortune, or maybe
with a modicum more of leisure, the learned Doctor would have won
the invention of the balloon for his own country. Cavallo came almost
nearer, and actually putting the same idea into practice, had succeeded
in the spring of 1782 in making soap bubbles blown with hydrogen gas
float upwards. But he had accomplished no more when, as related, in the
autumn of the same year the brothers Montgolfier conceived the notion of
making bodies "levitate" by the simpler expedient of filling them with
smoke.
This was the crude idea, the application of which in their hands was
soon marked with notable success. Their own trade supplied ready and
suitable materials for a first experiment, and, making an oblong bag of
thin paper a few feet in length, they proceeded to introduce a cloud
of smoke into it by holding crumpled paper kindled in a chafing dish
beneath the open mouth. What a subject is there here for an imaginative
painter! As the smoky cloud formed within, the bag distended itself,
became buoyant, and presently floated to the ceiling. The simple trial
proved a complete success, due, as it appeared to them, to the ascensive
power of a cloud of smoke.
An interesting and more detailed version of the story is extant. While
the experiment was in progress a neighbour, the widow of a tradesman who
had been connected in business with the firm, seeing smoke escaping into
the room, entered and stood watching the proceedings, which were not
unattended with difficulties. The bag, half inflated, was not easy to
hold in position over the chafing dish, and rapidly cooled and collapsed
on being removed from it. The widow noting this, as also the perplexity
of the young men, suggested that they should try the result of tying
the dish on at the bottom of the bag. This was the one thing wanted to
secure success, and that good lady, whose very name is unhappily
lost, deserves an honoured place in history. It was unquestionably the
adoption of her idea which launched the first balloon into space.
The same experiment repeated in the open air proving a yet more
pronounced success, more elaborate trials were quickly developed, and
the infant balloon grew fast. One worthy of the name, spherical in shape
and of some 600 cubic feet capacity, was now made and treated as before,
with the result that ere it was fully inflated it broke the strings that
held it and sailed away hundreds of feet into the air. The infant
was fast becoming a prodigy. Encouraged by their fresh success, the
inventors at once set about preparations for the construction of a much
larger balloon some thirty-five feet diameter (that is, of about 23,000
cubic feet capacity), to be made of linen lined with paper and this
machine, launched on a favourable day in the following spring, rose with
great swiftness to fully a thousand feet, and travelled nearly a mile
from its starting ground.
Enough; the time was already ripe for a public demonstration of the new
invention, and accordingly the 5th of the following June witnessed the
ascent of the same balloon with due ceremony and advertisement. Special
pains were taken with the inflation, which was conducted over a pit
above which the balloon envelope was slung; and in accordance with the
view that smoke was the chief lifting power, the fuel was composed of
straw largely mixed with wool. It is recorded that the management of
the furnace needed the attention of two men only, while eight men could
hardly hold the impatient balloon in restraint. The inflation, in spite
of the fact that the fuel chosen was scarcely the best for the purpose,
was conducted remarkable expedition, and on being released, the
craft travelled one and a half miles into the air, attaining a height
estimated at over 6,000 feet.
From this time the tide of events in the aeronautical world rolls on in
full flood, almost every half-year marking a fresh epoch, until a new
departure in the infant art of ballooning was already on the point of
being reached. It had been erroneously supposed that the ascent of the
Montgolfier balloon had been due, not to the rarefaction of the air
within it--which was its true cause--but to the evolution of some light
gas disengaged by the nature of the fuel used. It followed, therefore,
almost as a matter of course, that chemists, who, as stated in the last
chapter, were already acquainted with so-called "inflammable air," or
hydrogen gas, grasped the fact that this gas would serve better than any
other for the purposes of a balloon. And no sooner had the news of the
Montgolfiers' success reached Paris than a subscription was raised, and
M. Charles, Professor of Experimental Philosophy, was appointed, with
the assistance of M. Roberts, to superintend the construction of a
suitable balloon and its inflation by the proposed new method.
The task was one of considerable difficulty, owing partly to the
necessity of procuring some material which would prevent the escape of
the lightest and most subtle gas known, and no less by reason of the
difficulty of preparing under pressure a sufficient quantity of gas
itself. The experiment, sound enough in theory, was eventually carried
through after several instructive failures. A suitable material was
found in "lustring," a glossy silk cloth varnished with a solution of
caoutchouc, and this being formed into a balloon only thirteen feet in
diameter and fitted without other aperture than a stopcock, was after
several attempts filled with hydrogen gas prepared in the usual way by
the action of dilute sulphuric acid on scrap iron.
The preparations completed, one last and all-important mistake was
made by closing the stop-cock before the balloon was dismissed, the
disastrous and unavoidable result of this being at the time overlooked.
On August 25, 1783, the balloon was liberated on the Champ de Mars
before an enormous concourse, and in less than two minutes had reached
an elevation of half a mile, when it was temporarily lost in cloud,
through which, however, it penetrated, climbing into yet higher cloud,
when, disappearing from sight, it presently burst and descended to earth
after remaining in the air some three-quarters of an hour.
The bursting of this little craft taught the future balloonist his first
great lesson, namely, that on leaving earth he must open the neck of
his balloon; and the reason of this is obvious. While yet on earth the
imprisoned gas of a properly filled balloon distends the silk by virtue
of its expansive force, and in spite of the enormous outside pressure
which the weight of air exerts upon it. Then, as the balloon rises
high in the air and the outside pressure grows less, the struggling gas
within, if allowed no vent, stretches the balloon more and more until
the slender fabric bursts under the strain.
At the risk of being tedious, we have dwelt at some length on the
initial experiments which in less than a single year had led to the
discovery and development of two distinct methods--still employed and in
competition with each other--of dismissing balloons into the heavens. We
are now prepared to enter fully into the romantic history of our subject
which from this point rapidly unfolds itself.
Some eleven months only after the two Montgolfiers were discovered
toying with their inflated paper bag, the younger of the two brothers
was engaged to make an exhibition of his new art before the King at
Versailles, and this was destined to be the first occasion when
a balloon was to carry a living freight into the sky. The stately
structure, which was gorgeously decorated, towered some seventy
feet into the air, and was furnished with a wicker car in which the
passengers were duly installed. These were three in number, a sheep, a
cock, and a duck, and amid the acclamations of the multitude, rose a few
hundred feet and descended half a mile away. The cock was found to have
sustained an unexplained mishap: its leg was broken; but the sheep
was feeding complacently, and the duck was quacking with much apparent
satisfaction.
Now, who among mortals will come forward and win the honour of being the
first to sail the skies? M. Pilitre de Rozier at once volunteered, and
by the month of November a new air ship was built, 74 feet high, 48 feet
in largest diameter, and 15 feet across the neck, outside which a wicker
gallery was constructed, while an iron brazier was slung below all.
But to trim the boat properly two passengers were needed, and de Rozier
found a ready colleague in the Marquis d'Arlandes. By way of precaution,
de Rozier made a few preliminary ascents with the balloon held captive,
and then the two intrepid Frenchmen took their stand on opposite sides
of the gallery, each furnished with bundles of fuel to feed the furnace,
each also carrying a large wet sponge with which to extinguish the
flames whenever the machine might catch fire. On casting off the balloon
rose readily, and reaching 3,000 feet, drifted away on an upper current.
The rest of the narrative, much condensed from a letter of the Marquis,
written a week later, runs somewhat thus: "Our departure was at
fifty-four minutes past one, and occasioned little stir among the
spectators. Thinking they might be frightened and stand in need of
encouragement, I waved my arm. M. de Rozier cried, 'You are doing
nothing, and we are not rising!' I stirred the fire, and then began to
scan the river, but Pilitre cried again, 'See the river; we are dropping
into it!' We again urged the fire, but still clung to the river bed.
Presently I heard a noise in the upper part of the balloon, which gave
a shock as though it had burst. I called to my companion, 'Are you
dancing?' The balloon by now had many holes burned in it, and using my
sponge I cried that we must descend. My companion, however, explained
that we were over Paris, and must now cross it. Therefore, raising the
fire once more, we turned south till we passed the Luxemburg, when,
extinguishing the flame, the balloon came down spent and empty."
Daring as was this ascent, it was in achievement eclipsed two months
later at Lyons, when a mammoth balloon, 130 feet in height and lifting
18 tons, was inflated in seventeen minutes, and ascended with no less
than seven passengers. When more than half a mile aloft this machine,
which was made of too slender material for its huge size, suddenly
developed a rent of half its length, causing it to descend with immense
velocity; but without the smallest injury to any of the passengers.
This was a memorable performance, and the account, sensational as it may
read, is by no means unworthy of credit; for, as will be seen hereafter,
a balloon even when burst or badly torn in midair may, on the principle
of the parachute, effect its own salvation.
In the meanwhile, the rival balloon of hydrogen gas--the Charliere, as
it has been called--had had its first innings. Before the close of
the year MM. Roberts and Charles constructed and inflated a hydrogen
balloon, this time fitted with a practicable valve, and in partnership
accomplished an ascent beating all previous records. The day, December
17, was one of winter temperature; yet the aeronauts quickly reached
6,000 feet, and when, after remaining aloft for one and a half hours,
they descended, Roberts got out, leaving Charles in sole possession.
Left to himself, this young recruit seems to have met with experiences
which are certainly unusual, and which must be attributed largely to the
novelty of his situation. He declared that at 9,000 feet, or less
than two miles, all objects on the earth had disappeared from view, a
statement which can only be taken to mean that he had entered cloud.
Further, at this moderate elevation he not only became benumbed with
cold, but felt severe pain in his right ear and jaw. He held on,
however, ascending till 10,500 feet were reached, when he descended,
having made a journey of thirty miles from the start.
Ascents, all on the Continent, now followed one another in rapid
succession, and shortly the MM. Roberts essayed a venture on new lines.
They attempted the guidance of a balloon by means of oars, and though
they failed in this they were fortunate in making a fresh record. They
also encountered a thunderstorm, and by adopting a perfectly scientific
method--of which more hereafter--succeeded in eluding it. The storm
broke around them when they were 14,000 feet high, and at this altitude,
noting that there were diverse currents aloft, they managed to manoeuvre
their balloon higher or lower at will and to suit their purpose, and
by this stratagem drew away from the storm centre. After six and a half
hours their voyage ended, but not until 150 miles had been covered.
It must be freely granted that prodigious progress had been made in
an art that as yet was little more than a year old; but assuredly not
enough to justify the absurdly inflated ideas that the Continental
public now began to indulge in. Men lost their mental balance, allowing
their imagination to run riot, and speculation became extravagant in
the extreme. There was to be no limit henceforward to the attainment
of fresh knowledge, nor any bounds placed to where man might roam. The
universe was open to him: he might voyage if he willed to the moon or
elsewhere: Paris was to be the starting point for other worlds: Heaven
itself had been taken by storm.
Moderation had to be learned ere long by the discipline of more than
one stern lesson. Hitherto a marvellous--call it a Providential--good
fortune had attended the first aerial travellers; and even when mishaps
presently came to be reckoned with, it may fairly be questioned whether
so many lives were sacrificed among those who sought to voyage through
the sky as were lost among such as first attempted to navigate the sea.
It is in such ventures as we are now regarding that fortune seems
readiest to favour the daring, and if I may digress briefly to adduce
experiences coming within my own knowledge, I would say that it is to
his very impulsiveness that the enthusiast often owes the safety of his
neck. It is the timid, not the bold rider, that comes to grief at the
fence. It is the man who draws back who is knocked over by a tramcar.
Sheer impetus, moral or physical, often carries you through, as in
the case of a fall from horse-back. To tumble off when your horse is
standing still and receive a dead blow from the ground might easily
break a limb. But at full gallop immunity often lies in the fact that
you strike the earth at an angle, and being carried forward, impact is
less abrupt. I can only say that I have on more than one occasion found
the greatest safety in a balloon venture involving the element of risk
to lie in complete abandonment to circumstances, and in the increased
life and activity which the delirium of excitement calls forth. In
comparing, however, man's first ventures by sky with those by sea, we
must remember what far greater demand the former must have made upon the
spirit of enterprise and daring.
We can picture the earliest sea voyager taking his first lesson astride
of a log with one foot on the bottom, and thus proceeding by sure stages
till he had built his coracle and learned to paddle it in shoal water.
But the case was wholly different when the first frail air ship stood at
her moorings with straining gear and fiercely burning furnace, and when
the sky sailor knew that no course was left him but to dive boldly up
into an element whence there was no stepping back, and separated from
earth by a gulf which man instinctively dreads to look down upon.
Taking events in their due sequence, we have now to record a voyage
which the terrors of sky and sea together combined to make memorable.
Winter had come--early January of 1785--when, in spite of short dark
days and frosty air, M. Blanchard, accompanied by an American, Dr.
Jeffries, determined on an attempt to cross the Channel. They chose the
English side, and inflating their balloon with hydrogen at Dover, boldly
cast off, and immediately drifted out to sea. Probably they had not paid
due thought to the effect of low sun and chilly atmosphere, for their
balloon rose sluggishly and began settling down ere little more than
a quarter of their course was run. Thereupon they parted with a large
portion of their ballast, with the result that they crept on as far as
mid-Channel, when they began descending again, and cast out the residue
of their sand, together with some books, and this, too, with the
uncomfortable feeling that even these measures would not suffice to
secure their safety.
This was in reality the first time that a sea passage had been made by
sky, and the gravity of their situation must not be under-estimated.
We are so accustomed in a sea passage to the constant passing of other
vessels that we allow ourselves to imagine that a frequented portion of
the ocean, such as the Channel, is thickly dotted over with shipping of
some sort. But in entertaining this idea we are forgetful of the fact
that we are all the while on a steamer track. The truth, however, is
that anywhere outside such a track, even from the commanding point of
view of a high-flying balloon, the ocean is seen to be more vast than
we suppose, and bears exceedingly little but the restless waves upon
its surface. Once fairly in the water with a fallen balloon, there is
clearly no rising again, and the life of the balloon in this its wrong
element is not likely to be a long one. The globe of gas may under
favourable circumstances continue to float for some while, but the open
wicker car is the worst possible boat for the luckless voyagers, while
to leave it and cling to the rigging is but a forlorn hope, owing to
the mass of netting which surrounds the silk, and which would prove a
death-trap in the water. There are many instances of lives having been
lost in such a dilemma, even when help was near at hand.
Our voyagers, whom we left in mid-air and stream, were soon descending
again, and this time they threw out their tackle--anchor, ropes, and
other gear, still without adequately mending matters. Then their case
grew desperate. The French coast was, indeed, well in sight, but there
seemed but slender chance of reaching it, when they began divesting
themselves of clothing as a last resort. The upshot of this was
remarkable, and deserves a moment's consideration. When a balloon has
been lightened almost to the utmost the discharge of a small weight
sometimes has a magical effect, as is not difficult to understand.
Throwing out ten pounds at an early stage, when there may be five
hundred pounds more of superfluous weight, will tell but little, but
when those five hundred pounds are expended then an extra ten pounds
scraped together from somewhere and cast overboard may cause a balloon
to make a giant stride into space by way of final effort; and it was so
with M. Blanchard. His expiring balloon shot up and over the approaching
land, and came safely to earth near the Forest of Guiennes. A
magnificent feast was held at Calais to celebrate the above event. M.
Blanchard was presented with the freedom of the city in a gold box, and
application was made to the Ministry to have the balloon purchased and
deposited as a memorial in the church. On the testimony of the grandson
of Dr. Jeffries the car of this balloon is now in the museum of the same
city.
A very noteworthy example of how a balloon may be made to take a fresh
lease of life is supplied by a voyage of M. Testu about this date, which
must find brief mention in these pages. In one aspect it is laughable,
in another it is sublime. From every point of view it is romantic.
It was four o'clock on a threatening day in June when the solitary
aeronaut took flight from Paris in a small hydrogen balloon only
partially filled, but rigged with some contrivance of wings which were
designed to render it self-propelling. Discovering, however, that
this device was inoperative, M. Testu, after about an hour and a half,
allowed the balloon to descend to earth in a corn field, when, without
quitting hold of the car, he commenced collecting stones for ballast.
But as yet he knew not the ways of churlish proprietors of land, and
in consequence was presently surprised by a troublesome crowd, who
proceeded, as they supposed, to take him prisoner till he should pay
heavy compensation, dragging him off to the nearest village by the trail
rope of his balloon.
M. Testu now had leisure to consider his situation, and presently hit on
a stratagem the like of which has often since been adopted by aeronauts
in like predicament. Representing to his captors that without his
wings he would be powerless, he suffered them to remove these weighty
appendages, when also dropping a heavy cloak, he suddenly cut the cord
by which he was being dragged, and, regaining freedom, soared away into
the sky. He was quickly high aloft, and heard thunder below him, soon
after which, the chill of evening beginning to bring him earthward,
he descried a hunt in full cry, and succeeded in coming down near the
huntsmen, some of whom galloped up to him, and for their benefit he
ascended again, passing this time into dense cloud with thunder and
lightning. He saw the sun go down and the lightning gather round, yet
with admirable courage he lived the night out aloft till the storms were
spent and the midsummer sun rose once more. With daylight restored, his
journey ended at a spot over sixty miles from Paris.
We have, of course, recounted only a few of the more noteworthy early
ballooning ventures. In reality there had up to the present time been
scores of ascents made in different localities and in all conditions of
wind and weather, yet not a life had been lost. We have now, however,
to record a casualty which cost the first and boldest aeronaut his life,
and which is all the more regrettable as being due to circumstances that
should never have occurred.
M. Pilatre de Rosier, accompanied by M. Romain, determined on crossing
the Channel from the French side; and, thinking to add to their buoyancy
and avoid the risk of falling in the sea, hit on the extraordinary idea
of using a fire balloon beneath another filled with hydrogen gas! With
this deadly compound machine they actually ascended from Boulogne, and
had not left the land when the inevitable catastrophe took place.
The balloons caught fire and blew up at a height of 3,000 feet, while
the unfortunate voyagers were dashed to atoms.