Chapter Four.
The first Aerial Voyages made in Great Britain—Succeeding Ascents
The credit of the first aerial voyage made in Great Britain has usually been given to Vincenzo Lunardi, an Italian. There is ground for believing, however, that the first balloon voyage was performed by a Scotchman, as the following extract from Chamber’s Book of Days will show:—
“It is generally supposed that Lunardi was the first person who ascended by means of a balloon in Great Britain, but he certainly was not. A very poor man, named James Tytler, who then lived in Edinburgh, supporting himself and family in the humblest style of garret or cottage life by the exercise of his pen, had this honour. He had effected an ascent at Edinburgh on the 27th of August 1784, just nineteen days previous to Lunardi. Tytler’s ascent, however, was almost a failure, by his employing the dangerous and unmanageable Montgolfier principle. After several ineffectual attempts, Tytler, finding that he could not carry up his fire-stove with him, determined, in the maddening desperation of disappointment, to go without this his sole sustaining power. Jumping into his car, which was no other than a common crate used for packing earthenware, he and the balloon ascended from Comely Garden, and immediately afterwards fell in the Restalrig Road. For a wonder, Tytler was uninjured; and though he did not reach a greater altitude than 300 feet, nor traverse a greater distance than half a mile, yet his name must ever be mentioned as that of the first Briton who ascended with a balloon, and the first man who ascended in Britain.
“Tytler was the son of a clergyman of the Church of Scotland, and had been educated as a surgeon; but being of an eccentric and erratic genius, he adopted literature as a profession, and was the principal editor of the first edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica. Becoming embroiled in politics, he published a handbill of a seditious tendency, and consequently was compelled to seek a refuge in America, where he died in 1805, after conducting a newspaper at Salem, in New England, for several years.”
The voyage of Vincenzo Lunardi was made in September 1784. His letters to a friend, in which he comments on the manners and customs of the English, are very amusing. His balloon was of the ordinary spherical shape, made of the best oiled silk, about 520 yards of which were used in its construction. It was filled with hydrogen gas, and provided with car, oars, and wings. The car consisted simply of a wooden platform surrounded by a breast high railing, and the oars and wings were intended, the one to check, by a vertical motion, the rapidity of descent, and the other to act as sails when becalmed in the upper regions of cloudland. He requested permission to make Chelsea Hospital the scene of his first aerial exploit, and the Governor, Sir George Howard, with the full approval of His Majesty King George the Third, gave his consent. He accordingly made all necessary arrangements for an ascent, and his fondest expectations seemed about to be realised. He was, however, doomed to disappointment, owing to the failure of a rival balloon. Writing to a friend at this time he says, “The events of this extraordinary island are as variable as its climate. It was but lately everything relating to my undertaking wore a favourable and pleasing appearance, but I am at this moment overwhelmed with anxiety, vexation, and despair.”
This rival balloon was constructed by a Frenchman named De Moret, who, having succeeded in attracting a concourse of fifty or sixty thousand people to see his ascent, failed in the primary part of his undertaking,—that of filling his balloon. The people, after waiting patiently for three hours, and supposing “the whole affair an imposture, rushed in and tore it to pieces.” In consequence of this failure, and the riots with which it was followed, the Governor forbade Signor Lunardi to make his ascent from Chelsea Hospital grounds. He writes again to his friend, “The national prejudice of the English against France is supposed to have its full effect on a subject from which the literati of England expect to derive but little honour. An unsuccessful attempt has been made by a Frenchman, and my name being that of a foreigner, a very excusable ignorance in the people may place me among the adventurers of that nation, who are said to have sometimes distinguished themselves here by ingenious impositions.” In vain did he try to obtain another place to launch his aerial ship; he was laughed at and ridiculed as an impostor, and the colleague of De Moret. At length, after much exertion, he obtained leave to ascend from the ground of the Honourable Artillery Company. By twelve o’clock on the day fixed for the ascension, an immense mass of people had assembled, including the Prince of Wales. The filling of the balloon caused some delay, but, in order to keep the patience of the populace within control, it was only partially filled. At five minutes past two the balloon ascended amid the loud acclamations of the assembled multitudes, and Signor Lunardi had proved himself no impostor. He writes to his friend, “The stillness, extent, and magnificence of the scene rendered it highly awful. My horizon seemed a perfect circle, the terminating line several hundred miles in circumference; this I conjectured from the view of London, the extreme points of which formed an angle only a few degrees. It was so reduced on the great scale before me that I can find no simile to convey an idea of it. I could distinguish Saint Paul’s and other churches from the houses; I saw the streets as lines, all animated with beings whom I knew to be men and women, but which otherwise I should have had a difficulty in describing. It was an enormous bee-hive, but the industry of it was suspended. All the moving mass seemed to have no object but myself, and the transition from the suspicion, perhaps contempt, of the preceding hour, to the affectionate transport, admiration, and glory of the present moment, was not without its effect on my mind. It seemed as if I had left below all the cares and passions that molest mankind. I had not the slightest sense of motion in the machine; I knew not whether it went swiftly or slowly, whether it ascended or descended, whether it was agitated or tranquil, but by the appearance or disappearance of objects on the earth. The height had not the effect which a much less degree of it has near the earth, that of producing giddiness. The gradual diminution of objects, and the masses of light and shade, are intelligible in oblique and common prospects, but here everything wore a new appearance and had a new effect. The face of the country had a mild and permanent verdure to which Italy is a stranger. The variety of cultivation and the accuracy with which property is divided give the idea, ever present to the stranger in England, of good civil laws and an equitable administration. The rivulets meandering; the immense districts beneath me spotted with cities, towns, villages, and houses, pouring out their inhabitants to hail my appearance. You will allow me some merit in not having been exceedingly intoxicated with my situation.” He descended at North Mimms about half-past three-o’clock, but wishing to obtain a second triumph, he threw out the remainder of his ballast and provisions, landed a cat which he had taken up with him, and which had suffered severely from the cold, and again ascended to the regions above. This time his ascent was more rapid, the thermometer quickly fell to 29 degrees, and icicles were soon formed all round his machine. He descended at twenty minutes past four near Ware in Hertfordshire, and the balloon being properly secured, the gas was let out and “nearly poisoned the whole neighbourhood by the disagreeable stench emitted.” The success and triumph of this first attempt in aerial navigation in English air exceeded Signor Lunardi’s utmost expectations. Everywhere he was received with marks of approbation, and treated as a hero. “My fame,” he writes, “has not been sparingly diffused by the newspapers (which in England are the barometers of public opinion; often erroneous, as other instruments are, in their particular information, but yielding the best that can be obtained). You will imagine the importance of these vehicles of knowledge when you learn that in London alone there are printed no less than 160,000 papers weekly, which, by a stamp on each paper, and a duty on advertisements, brings into the treasury of the nation upwards of 80,000 pounds a year. They are to the English constitution what the Censors were to those of ancient Rome. Ministers of State are checked and kept in awe by them, and they freely, and often judiciously, expose the pretensions of those who would harass Government merely to be taken into its service.”
There were many other aeronauts who distinguished themselves after this period.
In 1785, Monsieur Blanchard, with Dr J. Jeffries, an American, crossed the channel between England and France in a balloon—starting from Dover, and descending in safety in the Forest of Guiennes. They had, however, a narrow escape, having been compelled to throw out all their ballast, and everything they could dispense with, to prevent their balloon from falling into the sea.
The first ascents for scientific purposes were made about the beginning of the present century. In 1803, Mr Robertson ascended from Saint Petersburg, for the purpose of making electrical, magnetical, and physiological experiments. Messieurs Gay-Lussac and Biot followed his example from Paris, in 1804. Gay-Lussac was an enthusiastic and celebrated aeronaut. He made several interesting ascents.
Two years afterwards, Brioschi, the Astronomer-Royal at Naples, endeavoured to ascend to a higher elevation than had been reached by Monsieur Gay-Lussac—namely, 22,977 feet. He was accompanied by Signor Andreani, the first Italian aeronaut. The balloon burst when at a great height, but the remnants were sufficient to check the descent so much that both gentlemen escaped with their lives. Brioschi, however, received injuries which afterwards resulted in his death.
In England one of the most famous aeronauts was Mr Green, who introduced coal gas for balloons, and made many hundreds of ascents. In the year 1836 he ascended from London in a coal-gas balloon, and with two other gentlemen made an aerial voyage to Weilburg in the grand Duchy of Nassau. It lasted eighteen hours, and extended over 500 miles.
Chapter Five.
Parachutes
Of the other voyages which were made in balloons in our own country and in foreign lands about this period we shall say nothing, but, before describing the most interesting of recent ascents, give a short account of the parachute.
This contrivance has been considered by some a very important adjunct to the balloon; whether it be so or no, we do not pretend to determine, but certainly it is an interesting and curious machine, which merits notice.
The parachute may be described as a species of gigantic umbrella attached to the balloon below the car, which hangs in a loose form while ascending, but expands, of necessity, when cut adrift and allowed to descend. As the balloon has a car hung beneath it, so in like manner the parachute has a small car or basket, capable of holding one person, suspended from it. The word signifies a guard against falling—from the French parer, to ward off, and chute, a fall, and is allied to parasol, which means literally “a warder off of the sun.”
The parachute was introduced some years after a terrible accident which occurred to the celebrated aeronaut Rozier, who, desirous of emulating Blanchard and Jeffries by crossing the channel from France to England in a balloon, made an attempt, which cost him his life. Rozier’s balloon was about forty feet in diameter, and had attached to it, beneath, a smaller balloon on the Montgolfier principle. On the 15th of June 1785, he entered the car with Monsieur Romain, and ascended to the height of above three thousand feet, when it was observed by the spectators that the lower balloon had caught fire. With horror they saw that the fire spread—the whole apparatus was in a blaze—and in another minute it descended like a shattered meteor to the ground with a terrible crash. It fell near the sea-shore, about four miles from Boulogne, and of course the unfortunate voyagers were killed instantaneously. At a later period a Venetian nobleman and his lady fell with their balloon from a great height and were killed. It must be remarked, however, that cases of this kind were very rare, considering the rage which there was at that period for ballooning.
In order to provide aeronauts with a means of escape—a last resource in case of accident—the parachute was invented. It may be regarded as a balloon’s lifeboat, which will (perhaps!) bear the passengers in safety to the ground in case of balloon-wreck.
Doubtless the umbrella suggested the parachute. Every one knows the tremendous force that this implement exerts in a high wind if the unfortunate owner should happen to get turned round in the wrong direction. The men of the east have, it is said, turned this power to account by making use of an umbrella to enable them to leap from considerable heights. In particular, a native of Siam, who was noted for his feats of agility, was wont to amuse the King and his court by taking tremendous leaps, having two small umbrellas with long slender handles attached to his girdle. These eased him down in safety, but he was occasionally driven by the wind against trees or houses, and sometimes into a neighbouring river.
In case any adventurous individual should be tempted to make trial of the powers of himself and his umbrella in this way, we think it right, by way of caution, to tell him that the French General Bournonville, who was imprisoned in the fortress of Olmutz in 1793, became so desperate that he attempted to regain his freedom by leaping with an umbrella from his window, which was forty feet from the ground. He hoped that the umbrella would break his fall. Doubtless it did so to some extent, and saved him from being killed, but being a large heavy man, he came down with sufficient violence to break his leg, and was carried back to his dungeon.
The chief differences between a parachute and an umbrella lie in the great size of the former, and in the cords which stretch from the outer points of its ribs to the lower end of the handle. These cords give it strength, and prevent it from turning inside out. There is also a hole in the top of the parachute to allow some of the air to escape.
The first parachute was constructed by Blanchard in 1785, and a dog was the first living creature that descended in it, and reached the earth unhurt. Blanchard afterwards made a descent in person at Basle, and broke his leg in the fall.
The bold aeronaut Monsieur Garnerin next ventured to make the perilous descent. He visited London in 1802, and made several ascents in a balloon. During one of these, on the evening of the 2nd November, he cut himself adrift in his parachute when at a vast height. The parachute was made of white canvas, having thirty-two gores, which, when not in use, hung with its cords from a hoop near the top of the machine. When expanded, it formed a vast umbrella of twenty-three feet in diameter, with a small basket about four feet high, and two and a quarter wide, suspended below it. Monsieur Garnerin stood in this basket when his balloon mounted into the air from an enclosure near North Audley Street. The parachute hung like a curtain over his head, above it towered the balloon, beneath stood the anxious multitude.
Well might they gaze in breathless expectation! After floating for some time in the upper regions of the air, as if he dreaded to make the bold attempt, he cut the cord that fastened him to the balloon when at the height, probably, of about half a mile. At first the parachute remained closed and descended with frightful violence; then it burst open, and for some seconds tossed about to such an extent that the basket was sometimes thrown almost into a horizontal position. The wind carried it over Marylebone and Somerstown; it almost grazed some of the houses of Saint Pancras in passing, and finally came to the ground in a field with such violence that poor Garnerin was thrown on his face and severely cut and bruised. No wonder that we are told he received a terrible shock. He trembled violently, and blood flowed from his nose and ears. Nevertheless, the accident did not deter his daughter from afterwards making the descent several times—and in safety.
The cause of the irregularity and violence of Garnerin’s descent was the giving way of one of the stays, which had the effect of deranging the balance of the apparatus.
In 1837 Mr Cocking invented a new parachute, which he hoped would be free from the faults of the other. It may be described as being the reverse of that of Garnerin, being made in the form of an umbrella blown inside out. The resistance to the air, it was thought, would be sufficient to check the rapid descent, while its form would prevent the tendency to oscillate.
This parachute was 34 feet in diameter, and was distended by a strong hoop to prevent its closing. There was also a hole in the middle of it, about 6 feet in diameter. Mr Cocking started from Vauxhall Gardens on the 24th of July, and after ascending to a considerable height, cut himself loose from his balloon when over Blackheath. The parachute descended rapidly and vibrated with great violence; the large hoop broke, the machine collapsed, and the unfortunate aeronaut was killed, and his body dreadfully mutilated.
Fatal accidents of this kind were to be expected; nevertheless it is a fact that the disasters which have befallen aeronauts have been comparatively few, considering the extreme danger to which they are necessarily exposed, not only from the delicacy of the materials with which they operate and the uncertainty of the medium through which they move, but, particularly, because of the impossibility of giving direction to their air-ships, or to arrest their progress through space. Parachutes, however, are not so absolutely incapable of being directed as are balloons. Monsieur Nadar writes on this point as follows:—
“Let us consider the action of the parachute.
“A parachute is a sort of umbrella, in which the handle is replaced at its point of insertion by an opening intended to ease the excess of air, in order to avoid the strong oscillations, chiefly at the moment at which it is first expanded. Cords, departing symmetrically from divers points of the circumference, meet concentrically at the basket in which is the aeronaut. Above this basket, and at the entrance of the folded parachute, that is to say closed during the rise, a hoop of sufficient diameter is intended to facilitate, at the moment of the fall, the entrance of the air which, rushing in under the pressure, expands the folds more easily and rapidly.
“Now the parachute, where the weight of the car, of the attaching cords, and the wrigglings of the aeronaut, is in equilibrium with the expansion—the parachute, which seems to have no other aim but to moderate the shock in falling—the parachute even has been found capable of being directed, and aeronauts who have practised it, take care not to forget it. If the current is about to drive the aeronaut over a place where the descent is dangerous—say a river, a town, or a forest—the aeronaut perceiving to his right, let us suppose, a piece of ground suitable for his purpose, pulls at the cords which surround the right side, and by thus imparting a greater obliquity to his roof of silk, glides through the air, which it cleaves obliquely, towards the desired spot. Every descent, in fact, is determined by the side on which the incline is greatest.”
That these are not mere theoretical opinions or conjectures is certain from the fact that Mademoiselle Garnerin once wagered to guide herself with a parachute from the point of separation from her balloon to a place determined and very remote. By the combined inclinations which could be given to her parachute, she was seen in fact, very distinctly, to manoeuvre and tend towards the appointed place, and succeeded at length in alighting within a few yards of it.