Fig. 10.—The Great Balloon of Nassau.
The vessel selected for that famous cruise was The Great Balloon of Nassau, then recently built by Mr. Green and representing all that his skill and experience could devise. It was of pear shape, formed of the finest crimson and white silk, “spun, wove and dyed expressly for the purpose,” and comprising when distended a volume of 85,000 cubic feet. From its stout balloon-ring six feet in diameter was suspended a wicker car measuring nine feet long by four wide, having a seat across either end, and a cushioned bottom to serve as a bed, if such should be needed. Across the middle of the car was a plank supporting a windlass for raising or lowering the guide-rope, that is a heavy rope which could be trailed over land, or water, to keep the balloon at a nearly constant level without expenditure of ballast, and to check its speed on landing. This valuable device invented by Mr. Green in 1820, was now to receive adequate trial, which, indeed, formed one of the chief purposes of the cruise. Other paraphernalia of the voyage were food and drink, warm clothing, lamps, trumpets, telescopes, barometers, a quicklime coffee-heater, a grapnel and cable, and a ton of sand ballast in bags.
The voyage proved well worthy of the elaborate preparations. At one-thirty o’clock on November 7th, the three navigators arose from London, in presence of a mighty multitude, and drifted in a southeasterly direction traversing the cultivated plains of Kent, and in two hours passed the environs of Canterbury. Here they dropped a parachute with a letter for the Mayor, which he duly received. Continuing their journey they floated leisurely above the tree tops, talking to the inhabitants of the country, startling the fleet-winged quail, terrifying a colony of rooks, and finally reaching Dover at sundown, where they again dropped a letter for the Mayor of the city, which also was duly delivered.
Without a moment’s pause they drifted over the Channel into the gathering darkness. Before them rose a huge wall of vapor and black clouds standing on the bosom of the sea; behind them the twinkling lights and the music of breakers rolling on a hospitable shore. Presently they were immersed in a region of absolute silence and impenetrable darkness. At times this deep stratum would slowly dissolve, revealing a glimpse of the dusky ocean and a passing ship; then some huge wreath of vapor would involve them in bottomless gloom, without perspective, without apparent motion, without a sound to cheer or mark their dubious course. Now to avoid the risk of settling too near the sea, as Blanchard and Jeffries had done, they were preparing to let down the guide-rope with floating ballast attached, when suddenly they emerged from the pall of darkness, and were greeted by the glittering lights of Calais, and the gentle sound of waters dashing upon the beach. They had crossed the Channel in one hour, and were soaring serenely three thousand feet above the ocean, not having to lower the guide-rope to preserve their elevation.
Now came the preparations for a night voyage over an obscurely defined land route. A simple rope one thousand feet long without ballast was allowed to trail beneath them. A lamp was lit. Coffee was heated by the slacking of quicklime. An ample store of viands and wine was spread on the board in the middle of the car. The strenuous period of thought and labor was past, and now three hungry men sat leisurely at dinner, after a fast of twelve long hours. However sparing of bones and bottles, which later might serve as ballast, they were not economical of food and wine that evening. For the present they had only to live and be happy as bachelors. Muffled in soft garments, well fed, abundantly served with divine beverages, hot or cold; what finer picture of masculine comfort and delight?
They were now floating tranquilly in the vast solitude of heaven, over a teeming continent mantled in night and mystery. Far along earth’s sable surface gleam the scattered fires of many villages; and above it the lovelier fires of a moonless sky. Unseen, unsuspected, they survey kingdoms and cities, trailing their long rope serpent-like over woodland, field and quiet homestead. Now on the horizon before them looms a greater fire, like a distant conflagration, widening as they approach. Gradually it expands into a model city, shooting out long lines of illuminated streets; here the public squares, markets and theatres; there the rumbling iron mills with blazing furnaces. They are above Liege at her festive hour, murmuring with animation and busy life. Again they drift into the dark regions of slumber, lapped in silence and deep tranquillity, where the lights of men are extinguished, and the stars, redoubling their lustre, gleam whitest silver in heaven’s jetty dome. Midnight involves the world; an abyss of darkness enfolds it; their solitary lamp seems to melt its way through solid space of blackest marble. For hours they undulate over the rolling hills, rising and falling a thousand cubits, held always to earth by the trailing rope. At times they are so near as to trace the landscape dimly; here a white tract covered lightly with snow, here a dark valley or forest, here a tortuous river, probably the Rhine, with its multitudinous thunder of waters. But in all that weird and obscure wandering no joyous note of human or animal life ascends ere dawn to cheer their solitary course in the sky.
At last the paling of the morning star, and a faint tingeing of the eastern cumuli, announce the expected day. With sudden bound the great ship mounts aloft twelve thousand feet, into the glory of the blazing sun, new risen among clouds of amber and purple. Far below, twilight and mist still mantle the half-awakened world, presenting a stupendous panorama, vast as an empire. Presently down they plunge into the vaporous and obscure atmosphere, drifting carelessly, but soon reascending into the splendor of morning. Thus after making the sun rise three times and set twice, they float contentedly along the misty landscape, marveling what region lies below them, whether a barren wilderness, or the abode of civilized life, with human comforts and a ready means of transportation. A hot breakfast would be very welcome now; for they had accidentally dropped the lime pot and had spent the latter half of the night without warm beverage in a region where oil and water had frozen.
At length through the clearing vapor they perceive the country well tilled and populous; a good place to land to shorten their route to Paris, and avoid the wide plains of Poland or Russia. They raise the guide-rope, lower the cable and anchor, open the valve, and descend in a grassy field near Weilburg, in the Duchy of Nassau. It is now seven-thirty o’clock, just eighteen hours since starting; and they have traveled five hundred miles, the longest aërial voyage thus far recorded. Very soon they are surrounded by a wondering crowd of pipe-puffing, shaggy-headed, German peasants, by whose willing aid they finally deflate the balloon, pack it in the bottom of the car, and mount it on a one-horse cart for Weilburg. Thence the aëronauts, after a week of festivities in their honor, and distinguished attentions from the highest officials of the town, embarked with their balloon for Paris. This famous craft now bore its permanent title; for a few days previously the lovely daughter of the Baron de Bibra, with seven other young ladies and Mr. Green, had stood within the air-inflated vessel, poured a generous libation of wine, and christened the hardy cruiser The Great Balloon of Nassau.
It was in truth a great balloon in various ways; in solidity and strength, in workmanship, in completeness of appointment, in endurance and control. Having accomplished that long journey without a sign of weakness or defect, it was still in prime condition, proudly heading for the farthest verge of Europe. It had not, of course, the instrumental equipment of a modern balloon; but it did possess the elements essential for a long and hard cruise. Since the day of its launching many additions have been added to the art, but these, for the most part, are special adjuncts. The more important features of a good balloon are practically the same to-day as when they were first introduced by Professor Charles and sturdy old Mr. Green.
A still more elaborate and colossal air ship was the Geant, constructed in 1863, for A. Nadar of Paris. It was made of a double layer of white silk, had a volume of 215,000 cubic feet and a buoyancy of 4½ tons. The car was a wicker cabin 13 feet wide by 7 feet high, with a wicker balcony round the top so that the roof could be used as an observation deck—a delightful place to loll in the starlight, or watch the morning sun “flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye.” The closed car comprised two main rooms with a hallway between them, one containing the captain’s bed and baggage, the other having three superposed berths for passengers. Minor divisions of the car were reserved for provisions, a lavatory, photography and a printing press, the latter to be used for the dissemination of news from the sky, as the navigators floated from state to state. A compensator balloon of 3,500 cubic feet, just below the main bag and connected with it, received the escaping gas during expansion with increase of temperature or altitude, and gave it back on contraction. In fact as well as in name, Nadar’s vessel was a giant. Curiously enough, he called it the “last balloon,” for he expected to realize enough money by exhibiting it, to inaugurate successful flying by means of the helicopter, and thus banish ballooning from the world of futile effort to the domain of bygone dreams and chimæras.