Wonderfull Balloon Ascents
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Fulgence Marion >> Wonderfull Balloon Ascents
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Chapter IX. The "Geant" Balloon.
Not a few of our readers will remember the ascent of Nadar's
colossal balloon from Paris, on Sunday, the 18th of October,
1863. This balloon was remarkable as having attached to it a
regular two-story house for a car. Its ascent was witnessed by
nearly half a million of persons. The balloon, after passing
over the eastern part of France, Belgium, and Holland, suffered a
disastrous descent in Hanover the day after it started on its
perilous journey. It was a fool-hardy enterprise to construct
such a gigantic and unmanageable balloon, presenting such an
immense surface to the atmosphere, and being so susceptible to
adverse aerial currents as to become the helpless prey of the
elements; and it was still more fool-hardy to place the lives of
its passengers at the mercy of such terrible and ungovernable
forces. A large section of the public laboured under the
delusion that Nadar's balloon was one capable of being steered.
In reality, however, the 'Geant' was unquestionably the most
rebellious and unruly specimen of its class that has been made
since the days of Montgolfier. The object in view when this
formidable monster was designed and constructed was to create the
means to collect sufficient funds to form a "Free Association for
Aerial Navigation by means of MACHINES HEAVIER THAN AIR," and for
the construction of machines on this principle. The receipts
from the exhibition of the "Geant" were intended to form the
first capital of the association. The hopes, however, of the
promoters have not been realised in this respect; for while the
expenses of the construction of the balloon have amounted,
directly and indirectly, to the sum of L8,300, its two ascents in
Paris and its exhibition in London produced only L3,300.
Space forbids us to enter at length on the various stages of the
idea of aerial navigation by means of an apparatus heavier than
the atmosphere. The idea is not, however, by any means so absurd
as it appears at first sight. Those who, like Arago, declare
that the word "impossible" does not exist, except in the higher
mathematics, and those who look hopefully to the future instead
of resting content with the past, will join in applauding the
spirit which dictated the manifesto of aerial locomotion to the
founder of the association which we are about to describe. M.
Babinet, speaking on this subject before the French Polytechnic
Association, said: "It is absurd to talk of guiding balloons.
How will you set about it? How is it possible that a
balloon--say, for instance, like the Flesselles, whose diameter
measures 120 feet--can resist and manoeuvre against opposing
winds or currents of air? It would require a power equal to 400
horses for the sails of a ship to struggle on equal terms with
the wind. Suppose an impossibility, namely, that a balloon could
carry with it a force equal to 400 horse-power; this result would
be of little use, for under the immense weight the fragile
covering of the balloon would instantly collapse. If all the
horses of a regiment were harnessed to the car of a balloon by
means of a long rope, the result would be that the balloon would
fly into shivers, being too fragile to withstand these two
opposing forces. Man must seek to raise himself in the air by
another mode of operation altogether, if he wish to guide himself
at the same time. Some time ago I bought a play thing, very much
in vogue at that time, called a Stropheor. This toy was composed
of a small rotating screw propeller, which revolved on its own
support when the piece of string wound round it was pulled
sharply. The screw was rather heavy, weighing nearly a quarter
of a pound, and the wings were of tin, very broad and thick.
This machine, however, was rather too eccentric for parlour use,
for its flight was so violent that it was continually breaking
the pier glass, if there was one in the room; and, failing this,
it next attacked the windows. The ascending force of this
machine is so great that I have seen one of them fly over Antwerp
Cathedral, which is one of the highest edifices in the world.
The air from underneath the machine is exhausted by the action of
the screw, which, passing under the wings, causes a vacuum, while
the air above it replenishes and fills this void, and under the
influence of these two causes the apparatus mounts from the
earth. But the problem is not solved by means of this plaything,
whose motive power is exterior to it. Messrs. Nadar, Ponton,
D'Amecourt, and De la Landelle teach us better than this,
although the wings of their different models are entirely
unworthy of men who desire to demonstrate a truth to short-lived
mortals. We have only arrived as yet at the infancy of the
process, but we have made a good beginning, for, having once
proved that a machine capable of raising itself in the air,
wholly unaided from without, can be made, we have overcome with
this apparently small result the whole difficulty. The principle
of propulsion by means of a screw is by no means a novelty. It
was first utilised in windmills, whose sails are nothing more nor
less than an immense screw which is turned by the action of the
wind on its surface. In the case of turbine water-wheels, where
perhaps 970 cubic feet of water are utilised by means of a
mechanism not larger than a hat, we see another illustration of
it, with this difference, that water takes the place of wind as
the motive power.
"The aerial screw is beset with great difficulties, but if we can
succeed through its agency in raising even the smallest weight,
we may be confident of being able to raise a heavier one, for a
large machine is always more powerful in proportion to its size
than a small one.
"Mlle. Garnerin once made a bet that she would guide herself in
her descent from a considerable altitude towards a fixed spot on
the earth at some distance, with no other help than the
parachute; and she was really able to guide herself to within a
few feet of the specified spot, by simply altering the
inclination of the parachute.
"From observations in mountainous districts, where large birds of
prey may be seen to the best advantage hovering with outstretched
wings, I have come to the conclusion that they first of all
attain the requisite height and then, extending their wings in
the form of a parachute, let themselves glide gradually towards
the desired spot. Marshal Niel confirms this opinion by his
experience in the mountains of Algeria. It is, therefore, clear
from these examples that we should possess the power of
transporting ourselves from place to place if we could only
discover a means of raising a weight perpendicularly in the air,
which would then act as a capital of power, only requiring to be
expended at will."
From the foregoing remarks we may gather an idea of the
importance which may be attached to aerial locomotion
notwithstanding the successive failures of all those who have
hitherto taken up the subject. We come now to the description of
the memorable ascent of the 'Geant.'
We learn from the very interesting account of the 'Geant,'
published at the time, all the mishaps and adventures it outlived
from the time of the first stitch in its covering to its final
inflation with gas. We must, however, be content to take up the
narrative at the point at which the 'Geant,' with thirteen
passengers on board, had, in obedience to the order to "let go,"
been released from the bonds which held it to the earth. The
narrative is, as our readers will perceive, written in somewhat
exaggerated language:--
"The 'Geant' gave an almost imperceptible shake on finding itself
free, and then commenced to rise. The ascent was slow and
gradual at first--the monster seemed to be feeling its way. An
immense shout rose with it from the assembled multitude. We
ascended grandly, whilst the deafening clamour of two hundred
thousand voices seemed to increase. We leant over the edge of
the car, and gazed at the thousands of faces which were turned
towards us from every point of the vast plain, in every
conceivable angle of which we were the common apex. We still
ascended. The summits of the double row of trees which surround
the Champ de Mars were already under us. We reached the level of
the cupola of the Military School. The tremendous uproar still
reached us. We glided over Paris in an easterly direction, at
the height of about six hundred feet. Every one took up the best
possible position on the six light cane stools, and on the two
long bunks at either end of the car, and contemplated the
marvellous panorama spread out under us, of which we never grew
weary.
"There is never any dizziness in a balloon, as is often
erroneously supposed, for in it you are the only point in space
without any possibility of comparison with another, and therefore
the means of becoming giddy are not at hand.
A very experienced aeronaut, who numbers his ascents by hundreds,
has assured me that he never knew of a single case of dizziness.
"The earth seems to unfold itself to our view like an immense and
variegated map, the predominant colour of which is green in all
its shades and tints. The irregular division of the country into
fields made it resemble a patchwork counterpane. The size of the
houses, churches, fortresses, was so considerably diminished as
to make them resemble nothing so much as those playthings
manufactured at Carlsruhe. This was the effect produced by a
microscopic train, which whistled very faintly to attract our
attention, and which seemed to creep along at a snail's pace,
though doubtless going at the rate of thirty miles an hour, and
was enveloped in a minute cloud of smoke. What a lasting
impression this microscopic neatness makes on us! What is that
white puff I see down there? the smoke of a cigar? No: it is a
cloud of mist. It must be a perfect plain that we are looking
at, for we cannot distinguish between the different altitudes of
a bramble-bush and an oak a hundred years old!
"It is one of the delights of an aeronaut to gaze on the familiar
scenes of earth from the immense height of the car of a balloon!
What earthly pleasure can compare with this! Free, calm, silent,
roving through this immense and hospitable space, where no human
form can harm me, I despise every evil power; I can feel the
pleasure of existence for the first time, for I am in full
possession, as on no other occasion, of perfect health of mind
and body. The aeronauts of the 'Geant' will scarcely condescend
to pity those miserable mortals whom they can only faintly
recognise by their gigantic works, which appear to them not more
dignified than ant-hills!
"The sun had already set behind the purple horizon in our rear.
The atmosphere was still quite clear round the 'Geant,' although
there was a thick haze underneath, through which we could
occasionally see lights glimmering from the earth. We had
attained a sufficient altitude to be only just able to hear
noises from villages that we left beneath us, and were beginning
to enjoy the delicious calm and repose peculiar to aerial
ascents.
"There is, however, a talk about dinner, or rather supper, and
night is now fast approaching. Every one eats with the best
possible appetite. Hams, fowls and dessert only appear to
disappear with an equal promptitude, and we quench our thirst
with bordeaux and champagne. I remind our companions of the
pigeons we brought with us, and which are hanging in a cage
outside the railing. I knew there was no danger of their flying
away, so fearlessly opened the cage. The three or four birds I
had put in the car seemed struck with terror. They flew
awkwardly towards the centre of our party, tumbling among the
plates and dishes and under our feet. It was not a case of
hunger with them, and I ought to have remembered that their
feeding time was long since past. I replaced them in their cage.
"Meanwhile, the sun has left us for some time. Our longing gaze
followed it behind the dark clouds in the horizon, whose edges it
tipped with a glorious purple. Its last rays shone on us, and
then came a bluish-grey twilight. Suddenly we are enveloped in a
dense fog. We look around, above us. Everything has disappeared
in the mist. The balloon itself is no longer visible. We can
see nothing except the ropes which suspend us, and these are only
visible for a few feet above our heads, when they lose themselves
in the fog. We are alone with our wickerwork house in an
unfathomable vault.
"We still ascend, however, through the compact and terrible fog,
which is so solid-looking as to seem capable of being carved into
forms with a knife. As we were without a moon, and had no light
at all, in fact, we were unable to distinguish nicely the
different shades of colour in these thick clouds. Now and then,
when the clouds seemed to be lighter, they had a bluish tinge;
but the thicker ones were dirty and muddy-looking. Dante must
have seen some like these.
"Water trickled down our faces, hands, and clothes, and the ropes
and sides of our car.
"The water did not fall in rain-drops or in flakes, as it
sometimes does in the tropics; but we were as completely
saturated by this heavy, penetrating mist as if we had been under
a waterfall. We still continued to traverse these rainy regions.
The thick fog which the balloon dislodged in forcing a passage
closed immediately after it. At one moment I thought I felt
something press against my cheek, which could only be compared to
the points of a thousand needles, or to floating particles of
ice. We were all of us too much absorbed with our situation to
think of the hour or of the height to which we had attained.
Suddenly the Prince of Wittgenstein, who was standing at my left
hand, cried out under his breath--
"'Look at the balloon, sir! look at the balloon!'
"I raised my eyes, in company with several others, and shall
never forget the magnificent sight which awaited them. I saw the
balloon, for which I had been searching in vain a few minutes
before. It had undergone a transformation . It looked now as if
coated with silver, and floating in a pale phosphorescent
glimmer. All the ropes and cords seemed to be of new, bright,
and liquid silver, like mercury, caused by the mist which had
rested on them becoming suddenly congealed. Two luminous arcs
intervened between us, in a sea of mother-of-pearl and opal, the
lower one being the colour of red ochre and the upper one orange.
Both of them, blinding in their brilliancy, seemed about to
embrace one another.
"'How far are they off?' thought I to myself. 'Can I touch them
with my hand, or are they separated from me by an immense space?'
We are not capable of forming ideas of perspective, floating as
we are in the midst of such a glimmering splendour.
"Above and around us are nothing but thick fogs and enormous
black clouds, whose ragged edges and backs are relieved by a pale
silver coating. They undulate ceaselessly to and fro, and either
usurp quietly the place of others, or disappear only to be
superseded by more formidable ones. But the last ray of
reflected light has died out, and we plunge into this chaos of
dreadful forms. Monsters seem to wish to approach us, and to
envelop us in their dark embraces. One of them, on my right
hand, looks like a deformed human arm in a menacing attitude,
writhing its jagged top like a blind serpent feeling its way.
The vague monster has disappeared; but the momentary splendour
being followed by the original gloom, we plunge once more into a
darkness that can be felt.
"The water which had collected on the balloon during its ascent
now began to take effect, and caused it to descend with such
rapidity into the dark abyss that the ballast, which was
immediately thrown overboard, was overtaken in its descent and
fell on our heads again
"I hear exclamations and voices near me. My companions are
evidently agitated, and with good reason, too; for the lights
which we could see a long way below us approach with terrible
rapidity. We reached the earth rather quicker than we left it.
"Suddenly we feel a dreadful shock, followed by ominous
crackings. The car has grounded. The 'Geant' has made its
descent. But in what part of the habitable globe, and under what
zone? At Meaux!"
To employ an expression of M. Nadar's it seems that these
gentlemen never before experienced such a "knock-down blow."
After all these preparations, all this trouble, all the energy
employed in the undertaking--sufficient, indeed, wherewith to
attempt to cross the Atlantic--to "descend at Meaux!"
The 'Geant,' however, had its revenge. Its second ascent gave it
this revenge. We shall be as brief as possible in relating this
voyage; but the details are all so very interesting that we
regret extremely our being unable to give more than extracts from
the narrative.
Our travellers committed themselves again to the mercy of the
air. The Emperor, following the example of a former King of
France, took considerable interest in the construction of this
aerial monster, and wished the aeronaut "Bon voyage" at starting.
The passengers endeavoured to pass the night as comfortably as
possible, having first instituted a four hours' watch, as on
board ship.
The aerial vessel glided rapidly through the air. "We
repeatedly," said Nadar, "passed over some manufacturing centre,
whose lights were not yet extinguished. I either hailed them
with my speaking-trumpet or rang our two bells. Sometimes we
received a reply from below, in the shape of a shout, for,
although we still had no moon, the night was occasionally clear
enough for people to distinguish us; and sometimes we heard a
peal of laughter from out of the atmosphere in which we were
travelling. It was another party of aeronauts in a smaller
balloon, who left at the same time as we did, and who would
persist in keeping the 'Geant' company. We are passing over a
small town; we hear the usual shouting and the report of a gun.
Our first thoughts are--Was it loaded with shot or ball? The
inhuman brute who fired will say, 'Certainly not;' but as
balloons have often been damaged in this way, we may be confident
there was more than powder in this one. It would be
satisfactory, at any rate, if the name of the person could be
ascertained who favoured us with this welcome. But it is rather
late to make inquiries on this subject. It was between a quarter
and half-past nine o'clock when this occurred. 'The sea!' cried
Jules; 'look at the revolving lights of the lighthouses. There:
one has just disappeared: it will flash out again in a moment!'
But what is this? Before us, as far as our eyes can reach, we
distinguish faint lights, which in this case are neither lamps
nor torches. As we continue to draw nearer we get a better view
of these numerous, violent, and smoking furnaces. Loud and
ringing sounds strike on our ear at the same time. Am I right in
my conjectures? Is this not that splendid country I love more
than ever now? It must be Erquelines! And the dignified
Custom-house official, had it been possible, would have added
thereto 'Belgium!'
"We still continue to pass over fires, forges, tall chimneys, and
coal mines at frequent intervals. Not long after we distinguish
a large town on our right hand, which, by its size and brilliant
lighting by gas, we recognise as Brussels. There could be no
mistake, for close by, more modest in size and appearance, we see
Catholic Malines. We have left it behind us.
"Onward! Onward! Behind us the fires fade gradually away, and
disappear one after anopther. Before us nothing at present
visible. We seemed to drift on for about one hundred or one
hundred and fifty yards more. We cannot distinguish a single
point in front of us on which to fix our gaze. But we still
continue our course in silence.
"This mournful darkness, this endless shroud, in which we can
discover neither rent nor spangle, still continues. Where are
we? Over what strange country, possessing neither cities, towns,
nor villages, are we hovering in the tomb-like silence of this
interminable darkness? We seem, indeed, to have been carried by
a puff of wind towards the west.
"But something seems to approach us. What are those pale rays of
light which we can faintly see a long, long way before us--rays
pale and soft, quite unlike those flaming fires we have left
behind us? Surely these do not denote the presence of human
activity! As we continue to advance, these pale flakes of
light--resembling nothing so much in appearance as molten
lead--which at first were scanty and isolated, gradually expand,
and leave only narrow strips of darkness to divide them into
fantastic shapes. By their help we discovered we were passing
over the immense marshes of Holland, which extended to and lost
themselves in the hazy horizon. On our right hand we hear a deep
moan, still distant, but rapidly approaching every moment. It is
undoubtedly the rushing of the wind. A fresh breeze for five
minutes would bring us to the sea.
"We experienced another shock not less formidable than the first.
The 'Geant' is trembling from its effects. The cable of our
first anchor has just broken like a piece of thread. We could
not hope for a better result. The violence of the wind which is
carrying us along seems to be redoubled. A bump: another and
another--then shock after shock.
"'The second dead men!'
"Our swift pace was shock after shock.
"'The anchor is lost,' cries Jules; 'we are all dead men!
"This truth is too palpable to all of us to require expressing in
so many words, for we are just commencing that furious, tearing
course called 'trailing.'
"Our swift pace was considerably accelerated by the lower part of
the balloon, which--limp, empty, and forming nearly a third of
the whole--had been set free at the first shock, and flapped
against the distended part, acting as a sail. The shocks
continued to multiply so fast that it was impossible to count
them. The car continued to rebound from these shocks to the
height of five, ten, sometimes thirty, forty, and even fifty
feet, for all the world like an India-rubber ball from the hands
of an indefatigable player. Unfortunately, all our human
freight, terror stricken and without advice, had crowded into one
side of the car; and as this happened to be the side on which we
invariably bumped, we experienced all the worst effects of the
joltings.
"What a dizzy whirl! What a succession of breathless shocks!
What a strain on both muscles and nerves! By the least
negligence or slip, or by the loss of presence of mind for one
moment, we should have been thrown out and dashed to atoms.
"Every collision tries our muscles and strains our wrists or our
shoulders; and every rebound dashes us one against the other,
constituting each individual a tormentor and victim at the same
time. Our flight is so rapid that we can only distinguish an
occasional glimpse of anything. Far, far in the distance we
distinguish an isolated tree. We approach it like lightning, and
we break it as though it were a straw.
"Two terrified horses, with manes and tails erect, endeavour to
fly from us. But we consume distances; we leave them behind
immediately. We skip over a flock of affrighted sheep in one of
our bounds. But now comes the real danger.
"At this moment, when we were perfectly benumbed with fear, and
had lost all power of articulation, we saw a locomotive, drawing
two carriages, running along an embankment at right angles to our
course. A few more revolutions of the wheels, and it will be all
over with us, for we seem to be fated to meet with geometrical
precision at one spot!
"What will happen?
"Travelling at our present hurricane pace, we shall undoubtedly
lift up and overturn the machine and what it is drawing. But
shall we not be crushed ourselves? A few paces still intervene
between us and our foe, and we give vent to a shout of terror.
"It is heard, and the locomotive answers it by a whistle, then
slackens its pace, and after seeming to hesitate an instant backs
quickly and only just in time to give us a free passage, whilst
the driver, waving his cap, salutes us with--
"'Look out for the wires!'
"The caution was well timed, for we had not noticed the four
telegraph wires which we rapidly approached. We energetically
ducked our heads on seeing them, but fortunately we escaped any
more damage than having two or three of our ropes cut. These we
continued to drag after us like the tail of a ragged comet,
having the telegraph-wires and the posts which lately supported
them attached to us."
After having been dragged thus for some time at the mercy of a
hurricane which they ought to have been able to avoid, these
aerial navigators at last got entangled in the outskirts of a
wood near Rethem, in Hanover. A few broken arms and legs paid
for their temerity in meddling with this monster, and one and all
of the passengers have reason to be thankful that it will be
unnecessary for us to proclaim their virtues and their fate in
our next chapter.
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