Up in the Clouds: Balloon Voyages
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“Just before we enter the clouds, Mr Coxwell, having made all preparations for the descent, strictly enjoins me to be ready to put up the instruments, lest, when we lose the powerful rays of the sun, and absorb the moisture of the lower clouds, we should approach the earth with too great rapidity.
“We now near the confines of the clouds, and dip swiftly into the thickest of them; we experience a decided chill, and hear the rustling of the collapsing balloon, which is now but one-third full, but cannot see it, so dense is the mass of vapour. One, two, three, or more minutes pass, and we are still in the cloud. How thick it must be, considering the rapidity of the descent! Presently we pass below, and the earth is visible. There is a high road intersecting green pastures; a piece of water looking like polished steel presents itself; a farmhouse, with stacks and cattle, is directly under us. We see the sea-coast, but at a distance. An open country lies before us. A shout comes up, and announces that we are seen, and all goes well, save the rapidity of our descent, which has been caused by that dark frowning cloud which shut us out from the sun’s rays, and bedewed us with moisture. Mr Coxwell, however, is counteracting it by means of the ballast, and streams out one bag, which appears to fly up instead of falling down; now another is cast forth, but still it goes up, up. A third reduces the wayward balloon within the bounds of moderation, and Mr Coxwell exultingly exclaims that ‘he has it now under perfect command, with sand enough, and to spare.’
“Delighted to find the balloon is thus checked, as it is favourable to good readings of the several instruments at this elevation, I work as quickly as I can, noticing also the landscape below; rich mounds of green foliage, fields of various shades of green, like a tessellated pavement in motion; with roads, rivers, rivulets, and the undulatory nature of the ground varying the scene every instant. Should our passage be over a town, it is like a model in motion; and all is seen with a distinctness superior to that from the earth; the line of sight is through a purer and less dense medium; everything seems clearer, though smaller; even at the height of four miles above Birmingham we distinguished the New Street Station and the streets.
“We have been descending slowly for a little time, when I am challenged to signify when I can close my observations, as yonder, about two miles distant, is a fine park, where Mr Coxwell’s eye seems to wander with something like a desire to enter it. I approve of the spot, as it is in every way suitable for a descent. The under-current, which is oftentimes stronger than the upper, is wafting us merrily in that direction. We are now only a few hundred feet above the surface. ‘Put up your instruments,’ cries Mr Coxwell, ‘and we will keep on this level until you are ready.’
“A little more sand is let out, and I pack up the instruments quickly in their wadded cases. ‘Are you all right?’ inquires the aeronaut. ‘All right,’ I respond; ‘look out then, and hold fast by the ropes, as the grapnel will stop us in that large meadow, with the hedgerow in front.’
“There, sure enough, we land. The cattle stand at bay affrighted, their tails are horizontal, and they run wildly away. But a group of friends from among the gentry and villagers draws up near the balloon, and although some few question whether we belong to this planet, or whether we are just imported from another, yet any doubt upon this point is soon set at rest, and we are greeted with a hearty welcome from all when we tell our story, how we travelled the realms of space, not from motives of curiosity, but for the advancement of science, its applicability to useful purposes, and the good of mankind.”
In commenting on the several ascents thus combined in one description, Mr Glaisher gives us various pieces of information which are highly interesting. The clouds, he says, on which the sun was shining brightly, each moment opened up to view deep ravines, and shining masses appeared like mountain ranges, some rising perpendicularly from rolling seas or plains, with summits of dazzling brightness, some pyramidal, others undulatory, with deep shadows between.
While passing over London on one occasion at night, at the height of about one mile, he heard the hum of the great city, and saw its lights. The river looked dull, but the bridges that spanned it, and the many miles of straight, intersecting, and winding streets were distinctly visible.
In referring to sound, he tells us that, on different occasions, at a height of 11,800 feet above the earth, a band was heard playing. At between four and five thousand feet a railway whistle and the shouting of people were heard, and at 10,070 feet the report of a gun. A dog was also heard barking at a height of two miles. At a height of 19,000 feet the hands and lips were observed, during one ascent, to be of a dark bluish colour. At four miles the palpitations of the heart were audible, and the breathing was affected. Considerable difficulty was experienced in respiration at higher elevations. From his various observations he found that the effect of high elevation is different upon the same individuals at different times, and believed that, up to heights less than three miles—to which persons of ordinary self-possession might ascend—delicate and accurate scientific observations might be made with ease, but at heights approaching to four miles, such observations could not be made so well, because of the personal distress of the observer, and on approaching to five miles above the earth it required the exercise of a strong will to take any observations at all.
The most wonderful and alarming of the experiences of Mr Glaisher appear to have occurred to him and his companion, Mr Coxwell, during an ascent made from Wolverhampton on the 5th September, when they reached the enormous elevation of between six and seven miles.
They felt no particular inconvenience until after passing above the fifth mile. When at a height of 26,000 feet, Mr Glaisher could not see the column of mercury in the tube; then the fine divisions on the scale of the instrument became invisible. Shortly afterwards he laid his arm on the table, and on attempting again to use it found that the limb was powerless. He tried to move the other arm, and found that it also was paralysed. He then tried to shake himself, and succeeded in shaking his body, but experienced the curious sensation of having no legs! While in this condition he attempted to look at the barometer, and, while doing so, his head fell on his left shoulder. Struggling to get out of this lethargic state, he found that he could still shake his body, although he could not move either arms or legs. He got his head upright for an instant, but it dropped again on his shoulder, and he fell backwards, his back resting against the side of the car, and his head on its edge.
In this position his eyes were directed to Mr Coxwell, who did not at first observe the state of his companion, in consequence of his having had to ascend into the ring of the balloon to disentangle the valve-line, which had become twisted. Hitherto Mr Glaisher had retained the power of moving the muscles of his back and neck, but suddenly this was lost to him. He saw Mr Coxwell dimly in the ring, and attempted to speak to him, but could not do so. A moment later intense black darkness surrounded him—the optic nerve had lost its power! He was still conscious, however, and with his brain as active as at other times. He fancied he had been seized with asphyxia, and that death would quickly ensue unless they descended without delay. Suddenly the power of thought ceased, and he became unconscious. All these extraordinary and alarming sensations, he calculated, must have taken place within five or six minutes.
While still powerless he heard the words “temperature” and “observation,” and knew that Mr Coxwell was in the car endeavouring to arouse him. Presently he heard him speak more emphatically, but could neither see, reply, nor move. Then he heard him say, “Do try now, do,” after which vision slightly returned, and in a short time he saw clearly again, rose from his seat, looked round, and said to Mr Coxwell, “I have been insensible.” His friend replied, “You have, and I too very nearly.” Mr Coxwell had lost the use of his hands, which were black; Mr Glaisher, therefore, poured brandy over them. His companion then told him that, on descending from the ring, he thought he had laid himself back to rest, but noticing that his legs projected, and his arms hung down by his side, it struck him there was something wrong, and he attempted to go to his assistance, but felt insensibility coming over himself. He tried to open the valve, so that they might descend, but, having lost the use of his hands, could not. In this critical moment he seized the cord with his teeth, dipped his head two or three times, and thus succeeded in opening the valve and descending from those dangerous regions of attenuated atmosphere!
At first they went down at the tremendous rate of twenty miles an hour, but after descending three miles in nine minutes, the balloon’s progress was checked, and they finally alighted safely in a grass field, where their appearance so terrified the country folk that it required a good deal of coaxing in plain English to convince them that the aeronauts were not inhabitants of another world!
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.