Chapter Seven.
Account of Nadar’s Balloon, “Le Géant.” First Ascent
As the “Giant” is the largest balloon that has yet been made, and as its experiences on the occasions of its first and second ascents were not only peculiar but terrible, we shall give an account of it in detail—commencing with its construction, and ending with the thrilling termination of its brief but wild career.
Monsieur Nadar, a photographer of Paris, was the enthusiastic and persevering aeronaut who called it into being, and encountered the perils of its ascents, from which he did not emerge scatheless, as we shall see.
Besides being an experimental voyager in cloudland, Monsieur Nadar started a newspaper named L’Aéronaute, in which he gives an account of the “Giant,” and his reasons for constructing it.
These latter were peculiar. He is emphatic in asserting that the huge balloon was never intended by him to be an “end,” but a mere stepping-stone to an end—which end was the construction of an aeromotive—a machine which was to be driven by means of a screw, and which he intended should supersede balloons altogether, so that his own “Giant” was meant to be the last of its race!
In reference to this, Monsieur Nadar tells us that he was deeply impressed with the belief that the screw would ultimately become our aerial motor, but that, being ignorant of what it was likely the experiments of this first aeromotive would cost, he had resolved, instead of begging for funds to enable him to accomplish his great end, to procure funds for himself in the following manner:—
“I shall,” says he, “make a balloon—the last balloon—in proportions extraordinarily gigantic, twenty times larger than the largest, which shall realise that which has never been but a dream in the American journals, which shall attract, in France, England, and America, the crowd always ready to run to witness the most insignificant ascent. In order to add further to the interest of the spectacle—which, I declare beforehand, without fear of being belied, shall be the most beautiful spectacle which it has ever been given to man to contemplate,—I shall dispose under this monster balloon a small balloon (balloneau), destined to receive and preserve the excess of gas produced by dilation, instead of losing this excess, as has hitherto been the case, which will permit my balloon to undertake veritable long voyages, instead of remaining in the air two or three hours only, like our predecessors. I do not wish to ask anything of any one, nor of the State, to aid me, even in this question of general, and also of such immense, interest. I shall endeavour to furnish myself the two hundred thousand francs necessary for the construction of my balloon. The said balloon finished, by public ascents and successive exhibitions at Paris, London, Brussels, Vienna, Baden, Berlin, New York, and everywhere, I know that I shall collect ten times the funds necessary for the construction of our first aeromotive.”
This first aeromotive, however, has not yet made its appearance, whether from want of funds or of practicability we do not know, but Monsieur Nadar carried his designs triumphantly into effect with the “monster balloon,” which in course of time made its appearance, performed flights, attracted the wonder and admiration, as well as a good deal of the coin, of hundreds of thousands in France and England, even conveyed royalty up into the clouds, broke the bones of its originator, and was exhibited in the great transept (which it nearly filled) of the Crystal Palace at Sydenham. While there we had the good fortune to behold it with our own eyes!
The construction of this balloon merits particular notice; but first, it may be remarked that it is well worthy of being named a giant, seeing that its height was only forty-five feet less than that of the towers of Notre Dame Cathedral, namely 196 feet.
That Nadar had cut out for himself an arduous task will be readily believed. Touching on this, he writes thus:—
“I have set myself to work immediately, and with difficulties, sleepless nights, vexations which I have kept to myself alone to this hour, and which some one of the days of this winter, the most urgent part of my task being finished, I shall in part make in confidence to my readers. I have succeeded in establishing my balloon, in founding at the same time this journal—indispensable moniteur to the aerial automotive—and in laying the basis of that which shall be, perhaps, the greatest financial operation of the age. Those who shall see and appreciate these labours, will please to pardon me, I hope, for having wiped my forehead with a little touch of pride, when at the end of a month—one month!—I have said to myself, ‘it is done!’”
The “Giant” was composed of yellowish white silk, of which there were used 22,000 yards at about 5 shillings 4 pence a yard, so that the cost of the silk alone was 5,866 pounds. This was cut into 118 gores, which were entirely hand-sewed with a double seam, and some idea of the vastness of the work may be gathered from the fact that 200 women were employed during a month in the sewing of the gores. For the sake of greater strength the silk was doubled. In other words, there were two balloons of the same size, one within the other.
Directly beneath, and attached to its lower orifice, there was a small balloon called a compensator, the object of which was to receive and retain for use the surplus gas. When a balloon rises to the higher regions of the atmosphere, the gas within it expands, so that a large quantity of it is allowed to rush out at the open mouth beneath, or at the safety-valve above. Were this not the case, the balloon would certainly burst. This loss of gas, however, is undesirable, because when the balloon descends the gas contracts, and the loss is then felt to be a great one. By collecting the over-flow of gas in the compensator, this disadvantage is obviated.
The car, which was made chiefly of wicker-work, was actually a small cottage of two storeys (a ground-floor and platform or upper deck), with door and windows. Its height was about eight, and its length thirteen feet. The ground-floor contained a cruciform passage and six divisions. At one extremity was a captain’s cabin with a bed in it, and underneath a compartment for luggage. At the other was the passengers’ cabin, with three beds, one above the other. The four other divisions or rooms were a provision store, a lavatory, a place for conducting photographic operations, and a room for a small lithographic press, with which it was intended to print an account of the voyage, to be scattered about the localities over which they should pass!
In reference to this last, Monsieur Nadar writes:—
“An English company a month ago (our neighbours are marvellous in not losing time), appreciating the bustle which the sight of a balloon always excites in every inhabited place, and judging rightly that papers would never be better received and more greedily read than those thrown overboard by us, despatched a messenger to propose to me to accept commercial prospectuses. We shall never have too much money for the construction of our first aeromotive. I have accepted and made a contract.”
Besides many miscellaneous articles, such as grapnels, fowling-pieces, speaking-trumpets, etcetera, that were to be carried up in this cot, there were provisions of all sorts, instruments for scientific observations, games, means of defence in case of descent among an inhospitable people, and two cages of carrier-pigeons sent from Liège. The car and all it contained was secured by twenty cables traversing on and beneath its walls, interlaced with the fabric and fastened to a large hoop just below the neck, to which hoop was also attached the ropes of the net-work by which the balloon itself was enveloped. There were two axles and four wheels connected with the car, by means of which it could, when necessary, be drawn along an ordinary road. Canes, disposed to act as springs, were placed underneath and round the middle of it to protect it from concussions, besides which internal buoys and an immense girdle in compartments of inflated india-rubber, rendered it incapable of submersion in water.
Such was the giant balloon in which Monsieur Nadar and his friends made two ascents; of the first of which (4th October 1863) Galignani writes thus:—
“The departure of this Leviathan of the airy regions attracted immense crowds to the Champ de Mars yesterday afternoon. Considering that the avenues encircling that vast space were filled to suffocation, so that we found it extremely difficult to force our way to the open ground reserved for tickets, and that all the housetops were occupied by spectators, we think the number of persons present may fairly be stated at 80,000. Ample precautions had been taken to prevent disasters,—a strong police force, supported by a company of infantry and some cavalry, being present to maintain order. The balloon, which is 90 yards in circumference, and has consumed upwards of 20,000 yards of silk in its manufacture, was held down, while filling, by about 100 men, and the weight of at least 200 sandbags. The car was of wicker-work, comprising an inner surface of about 54 square feet divided into three compartments or small rooms, surmounted by an open terrace, to which the balloon was braced. Outside grapnels, wheels, and fowling-pieces, four of each, besides two speaking-trumpets, were lashed to the sides of the car. (The wheels were intended to be put to the car after alighting, in order to convey it back with horses.) The preliminary operations took considerable time, putting the patience of the spectators to a severe trial, a circumstance which perhaps prevented them from cheering when the words ‘Lâchez tout!’ were given, and the immense machine rose slowly and majestically into the air. We were rather surprised at the silence of the public, considering the very remarkable and interesting feat in aeronautics thus successfully performed. There were fifteen persons in the car, or rather cabin:– Monsieur Nadar, captain; Messieurs Marcel, Louis and Jules Godard, lieutenants; the Prince de Sayn-Wittgenstein, Count de Saint Martin, Monsieur Tournachon (Nadar’s brother), Messieurs Eugène Delessert, Thirion, Piallat, Robert Mitchell, Gabriel Morris, Paul de Saint Victor, de Villemessant, and one lady, the Princess de la Tour d’Auvergne. The Princess was taking her usual drive to the Bois de Boulogne, when, observing an unusual movement in the neighbourhood of the Invalides, and having inquired the cause; she ordered her coach man to drive to the Champ de Mars. Having seen the balloon, she expressed a wish to make the ascent, and although Nadar had to the last moment refused to take any lady, and even his own wife, he could not resist the entreaty of the Princess. On starting, Monsieur Nadar climbed up the net-work and took off his hat to the spectators. The balloon took a north-easterly direction, and was visible for some time. At the moment of going to press, a communication has reached us, signed by the captain, Monsieur Nadar, and all those who had taken places in the balloon, stating that on alighting yesterday evening at nine o’clock at Ibarcy, near Meaux (Seine-et-Marne), three severe shocks were experienced, which had the effect of completely capsizing the balloon, and inflicting on its occupants several rather severe contusions.
“Interesting details of the ascent of the Nadar balloon, said to have been narrated by Prince Wittgenstein, are given by the France. The most extraordinary is, that at half-past eight, when the balloon attained the height of 1500 metres, the aeronauts saw the sun, which had set for the earth below upwards of two hours before. The effect of the light upon the balloon is described as something marvellous, and as having thrown the travellers into a sort of ecstasy. Although they met with no rain, their clothes were all dripping wet from the mist which they passed through. The descent was more perilous than at first reported. The car dragged on its side for nearly a mile, and the passengers took refuge in the ropes, to which they clung. Several were considerably bruised—though, as before stated, no one sustained any very serious injury. Everybody behaved well. Nadar, visibly uneasy about his fair charge, the young Princess de la Tour d’Auvergne, was told by her to attend to his duty as captain. ‘Every one at his post,’ said she; ‘I will keep to mine.’ Notwithstanding all the shaking which the car underwent, the 37 bottles of wine provided for the journey were all found unbroken, and they were most joyously broached when the party got on terra firma. The rifles, the crockery, as well as a cake and 13 ices, presented to Nadar by Siraudin, of the Rue de la Paix, were all uninjured. When the descent was effected, the lights and the speaking-trumpets soon attracted a number of peasants, who brought carts and helped the party to the village of Barcy, where most of them passed the night; but Monsieur Nadar and the Prince de Wittgenstein, with two or three others, came to Paris by the first train from Meaux.
“It is said that the descent was resolved upon in consequence of the advice of the brothers Godard, and contrary to the wish of Monsieur Nadar, who, as captain, had made every one of his companions sign an agreement to act upon his orders, even though the vote should be unanimously against him. He, however, yielded his opinion, in deference to that of these experienced aeronauts. A truly extraordinary statement is, that they fancied the wind was blowing them to the sea, and certain destruction, whereas they were going due east, with no sea at all before them nearer than the Caspian.
“There was great disappointment in the receipts at the Champ de Mars, which are said to have realised only 27,000 francs, whereas 150,000 had been calculated upon. The papers say that the public broke down the barriers and got in for nothing, instead of paying their franc. It is quite certain that at the moment of the ascent there could not have been less than 50,000 people on the Champ de Mars, and on the terraces and heights around there must have been four times that number.”
Monsieur Nadar, on his return to Paris, wrote as follows:—
“Here, as briefly as possible, is the account which you asked me to send. Yesterday evening at nine o’clock, the ‘Giant’ was compelled to descend near the Barcy Marsh, two leagues from Meaux, after three violent shocks, the last of which completely turned everything in the car topsy-turvy, and it descended on its side. The rupture of our valve-pipe rope while travelling by night, forced us to throw out our anchors. One of the prongs of the first anchor having broken, the principal anchor fortunately took hold of the ground. We were able to let out the gas, notwithstanding the violence of the wind, and the car was set up at half-past one in the morning. Some slight contusions and a concussion of the knee of one of the passengers—that is our receipt in full. It is not too dear.
“A. Nadar.”
This bold and zealous aeronaut unfortunately paid dearer for his succeeding ascent as shall be seen in the next chapter.
Chapter Eight.
Second Ascent of Nadar’s “Giant” Balloon
Before describing the second ascent, which was decidedly the more adventurous, we shall give the rules laid down for his party by Monsieur Nadar, which were remarkably stringent, and somewhat amusing:—
“1. Every traveller on board the ‘Géant’ must, before mounting, take knowledge of the present rules, and engage himself upon his honour to respect them, and to make them respected, both in the letter and in the spirit. He accepts and will obey this obligation until the descent.
“2. From the departure to the return there shall be only one command, that of the captain. That command shall be absolute.
“3. As legal penalty cannot be enforced, the captain, having the responsibility of the lives of the passengers, decides alone, and without appeal, in all circumstances, the means of assuring the execution of his orders with the aid of all under him. The captain can, in certain cases, take the advice of the crew, but his own authority is decisive.
“4. Every passenger declares, at the time of ascending, that he carries with him no inflammable materials.
“5. Every passenger accepts, by his simple presence on board, his entire part and perfect co-operation in all manoeuvres, and submits himself to all the necessities of the service; above all, to the command of the captain. On landing, he must not quit the balloon without permission duly acquired.
“6. Silence must be absolutely observed when ordered by the captain.
“7. Victuals and liquors carried up by the travellers must be deposited in the common canteen, of which the captain alone has the key, and who regulates the distribution thereof. Passengers have no claim to victuals and liquors, except when on board.
“8. The duration of the journey is not limited. The captain alone decides the limitation; the same judgment decides, without appeal, the putting down of one or more travellers in the course of the voyage.
“9. All gambling is expressly prohibited.
“10. It is absolutely forbidden to any traveller to throw overboard ballast, or any packet whatever.
“11. No passenger can carry up with him luggage exceeding thirty pounds in weight, and occupying more space than a travelling-bag.
“12. Except in very rare cases, of which the captain alone shall be judge, it is absolutely forbidden to smoke on board, or on land within the vicinity of the balloon.”
The second ascent took place on the 18th of October, when Monsieur Nadar, nothing daunted by his former experience, again went up in his “Giant” from the Champ de Mars. On this occasion preliminaries were managed with greater success than on the former, and the event was regarded with much more general interest. Soldiers kept the ground; the Emperor himself was present, and conversed with the bold aeronaut on the subject of his balloon; George the First of Greece was there also, and the crowd which assembled to witness the ascent surpassed all expectation.
There were two peculiar features in this second ascent. It had been doubted whether the balloon, which was said to be capable of raising four-and-a-half tons, could carry more than thirteen men. In order to set this question at rest, a short preliminary flight was made with a rope attached to restrain the “Giant.” About thirty soldiers were then put into the car, who mounted to the extent of the rope, and were pulled down again. The other feature was that a balloon of more ordinary dimensions was let fly along with the “Giant,” to give, by contrast, a better idea of its size. The balloon used for this purpose was the “Godillot,” which had been used by the Emperor in the Italian campaign for reconnoitring the enemy.
After the usual delays which are inseparable from such displays, Monsieur Nadar, with eight friends, stepped into the car, the rope was let go, and the “Giant” rose slowly towards the clouds, grew “small by degrees and beautifully less,” until it finally disappeared about night-fall—being wafted along by a gentle south-easterly breeze.
Nothing more was heard of the aeronauts for the next two days, and their friends were becoming naturally very anxious about them, when at last a telegram came from Bremen, dated the 21st, which ran as follows:—
“Nadar’s balloon descended near Eystrup in Hanover. There were nine persons in it, of whom three were seriously, and two slightly injured.”
Other telegrams quickly followed stating that Monsieur Nadar had both legs dislocated; Monsieur Saint Felix had sustained severe fractures and contusions; and that Madame Nadar had also been severely injured.
It was stated that the voyagers would probably all have perished if Jules Godard (a celebrated aeronaut, who, with his brother Louis, accompanied Nadar), had not, at the risk of his life, climbed up the net-work, and cut a hole in the silk with a hatchet, so as to allow the gas to escape. By so doing, he stopped the furious course of the balloon, which was making truly gigantic bounds of from forty to fifty yards over the ground, with a violence that would soon have knocked the car to pieces!
A full and graphic, but inflated and sentimental account of the voyage—which was one of real and thrilling interest—is given by one of the voyagers, Monsieur Eugène Arnould, a reporter of the French newspaper La Nation. Had Monsieur Arnould confined himself to a simple statement of facts, he would have greatly increased the interest and power of his description. However, we must take him as we find him, and as his account is the most complete—and correct in the main, although exaggerated in detail—we present it to the reader.
“At nine o’clock at night (the same night on which they started) we were at Erquelines; we passed over Malines, and towards midnight we were in Holland. We rose up very high, but it was necessary to come down to see where we were. Ignorant of that, our position was a critical one. Below, as far as we could see, were marshes, and in the distance we could hear the roar of the sea. We threw out ballast, and, mounting again, soon lost sight of the earth. What a night! Nobody slept, as you may suppose, for the idea of falling into the sea had nothing pleasant about it, and it was necessary to keep a look-out in order to effect, if necessary, a descent. My compass showed that we were going towards the east—that is to say, towards Germany. In the morning, after a frugal breakfast made in the clouds, we re-descended. An immense plain was beneath us; the villages appeared to us like children’s toys—rivers seemed like little rivulets—it was magical. The sun shone splendidly over all. Towards eight o’clock we arrived near a great lake; there I found out our bearings, and announced that we were at the end of Holland, near the sea.
“We passed I know not how much time in contemplating the enchanting scene around us; but at length we all felt the necessity of going downwards to see where we were. Presently the balloon came so near to the earth that we could readily distinguish the tall chimneys of a great many flaming furnaces. ‘If we were to fall upon some of them,’ said Montgolfier anxiously. These furnaces told us very clearly that we were in Belgium, and, besides, the Flemish songs that continually reached our ears left no doubt upon the point. Godard, Nadar, all of us, called out frequently to the people below, ‘Where are we?’ but we got no other answer than shouts of laughter. There were two bells in the car, and Yon and myself rang them as hard as we could, while Nadar roared through his speaking-trumpet. I had an opportunity of observing that the purity of the air in no degree attenuates the quantity of false notes lodged in the throats of certain individuals. Our aerial Charivari at length provoked a corresponding one on earth, and we could hear dogs barking, ducks quacking, men swearing, and women screaming. All this had a droll effect; but time went on, the wind blew hard, it was dark night, and our balloon drove on with prodigious rapidity, and we were not able to tell exactly where we were. I could not see my compass, and we were not allowed to light a lucifer match under any pretext whatsoever. From the direction in which we had passed over Lille, we judged that we must be going towards the sea; Louis Godard fancied that he could see lighthouses. We descended again to within 150 yards of the earth. Beneath us we saw a flat marshy country of sinister aspect, and indicating plainly the neighbourhood of the coast. Every one listened with all his ears, and many fancied they heard the murmurs of the sea. The further we went on the more desert the country became: there was no light whatever, and it became more and more difficult to guess where we were going. ‘I am entirely out of my reckoning,’ exclaimed Louis Godard, ‘and my opinion is that the only thing we have to do is to descend at once.’ ‘What! here in the marshes!’ remonstrated all of us; ‘and suppose we are driven into the sea?’ The balloon went driving on still. ‘We cannot descend here,’ said Jules Godard; ‘we are over water.’ Two or three of us looked over the edge of the car, and affirmed that we were not over water, but trees. ‘It is water,’ Jules Godard persisted. Every one now looked out attentively; and, as the balloon descended a little, we saw plainly that there was no water, but without being able to say positively whether there were trees or not. At the moment when Jules Godard thought he saw water, Nadar exclaimed, ‘I see a railway.’ It turned out that what Nadar took for a railway was a canal running towards the Scheldt, which we had passed over a few minutes before. Hurrah for balloons! They are the things to travel in; rivers, mountains, custom-houses,—all are passed without let or hindrance. But every medal has its reverse; and, if we were delighted at having safely got over the Scheldt, we by no means relished the prospect of going on to the Zuyder Zee. ‘Shall we go down?’ asked Louis Godard. There was a moment’s pause. We consulted together. Suddenly I uttered a cry of joy; the position of the needle of my compass indicated that the balloon had made a half turn to the right, and was now going due east. The aspect of the stars confirmed this assertion. Forward! was now the cry. We threw out a little ballast, mounted higher, and started with renewed vigour with our backs turned to the depreciated Zuyder Zee. It was now three in the morning, and none of us had slept. Just as we began to try to sleep a little, my diabolical compass showed that the balloon was turning back again. ‘Where are you going to take us to?’ cried out Yon to the immense mass of canvas which was oscillating above our heads. Louis Godard again proposed to descend; but we said, ‘No! forward! forward!’ Two hours sped away without our being able to tell where we were. At five o’clock day broke, and broad daylight came on with marvellous rapidity. It is true that we were at a height of 980 metres. Novel-writers and others have so much abused descriptions of sunrise, on mountains and on the ocean, that I shall say little about this one, although it is not a common thing to see the horizon on fire below the clouds. The finest Venetian paintings could alone give an idea of the luxuriant tones of the heaven that we saw. Such dazzling magnificence led me to wonder that there is no revival of sun worship, since men must necessarily have some material representation of the divinity. It is true that the sun is not made in man’s image! We now had beneath us an immense plain, the same, probably, that we had passed over in the night. There is nothing more pleasant at first sight, nor more monotonous in the long-run, than the sort of country which forms at least one-third of Holland. There are miniature woods the size of bouquets, fields admirably cultivated and divided into little patches like gardens, rivers with extraordinary windings, microscopic roads, coquettish-looking villages, so white and so clean that I think the Dutch housewives must scour the very roofs of their houses every morning. In the midst of every village there is a jewel of a church with a shining steeple. While riding along at a height of 700 metres, we had beneath us a picture of Paul Potter’s fifty leagues square. All at once the tableaux became animated. The people below had perceived the balloon. We heard cries expressive of astonishment, fright, and even of anger; but the feeling of fright seemed to predominate. We distinctly saw women in their chemises look hurriedly out of windows and then rush back again. We saw chubby boys looking at us, and blubbering as if they were mad. Some men, more determined than the rest, fired off guns at us. I saw several mammas pointing us out to stubborn babies, with an attitude which seemed to say that our balloon was Old Bogy. Old women raised their hands against us, and at their signal many ran away, making the sign of the cross. It is evident that in some of these villages we were taken to be the devil in person. On this point it is apropos to cite a letter communicated to me which has been addressed to the Courrier de Hanovre. I translate it textually:—