At eight o’clock, the Brothers Robert—Collin and Hullin—and the Duke of Chartres, ascended in presence of an immense multitude. The nearest ranks kneeled down to allow those behind to have a view of the departure of the balloon, which disappeared among the clouds amid the acclamations of the prostrate multitude. The machine, obedient to the stormy and contrary winds which it met, turned several times completely round. The helm, which had been fitted to the machine, and the two oars, gave such a purchase to the winds that the voyagers, already surrounded by the clouds, cut them away. But the oscillations continued, and the little globe inside not being suspended with cords, fell down in such an unfortunate manner as to close up the opening of the large balloon, by means of which provision had been made for the egress of the gas now dilated by the heat of the sun, which poured down its rays, a sudden gust having cleared the space of the clouds. It was feared that the case of the balloon would crack, and the whole thing collapse, in spite of the efforts of the aeronauts to push back the smaller balloon from the opening. Then the Duke of Chartres seized one of the flags they carried, and with the lance-head pierced the balloon in two places. A rent of about nine feet was the consequence, and the balloon began to descend with amazing rapidity. They would have fallen into a lake had they not thrown over 60 lbs. of ballast, which caused them to rise a little, and pass over to the shore, where they got safely to the earth.
The expedition lasted only a few minutes. The Duke of Chartres was rallied by his enemies, who accused him of cowardice; and Monjoie, his historian, making allusion to the combat of Ouessant, says that he had given proofs of his cowardice in the three elements—earth, air, and water.
M. Gray, professor at the seminary of Rodez, presented us some years ago with the following letter from the Abbe Carnus, upon the aerial voyage which he undertook, August 6th, 1784:—
“The progress of the Montgolfiere was so sudden that one might almost have believed that it arose all inflated and furnished out of some chasm in the earth The air was calm, the sky without clouds, the sun very strong. Our fuel and instruments were put into the gallery, my companion, M. Louchet, was at his post, and I took mine. At twenty minutes past eight the cords were loosened, we waved a farewell to the spectators, and while two cannon-shots announced our departure, we were already high above the loftiest buildings.
“To the general acclamations of the crowd succeeded a profound silence. The spectators, half in fear, half in admiration, stood motionless, with eyes fixed, and gazing eagerly at the superb machine, which rose almost vertically with rapidity and also with grandeur. Some women, and even some men, fainted away; others raised their hands to heaven; others shed tears; all grew pale at the sight of our bright fire.
“‘We have quitted the earth,’ said I to my companion.
“‘I compliment you on the fact,’ he answered; ‘keep up the fire!’
“A truss of hay, steeped in spirits of wine accelerated the swiftness of our ascent. I cast my glance upon the town, which seemed to flee rapidly from under our feet. Terrestrial objects had already lost their shape and size. The burning heat which I felt at first now gave place to a temperature of the most agreeable kind, and the air which we breathed seemed to contain healthful elements unknown to dwellers on the lower earth.
“‘How well I am!’ I said to Louchet; ‘how are you?’
“‘As well as can be. Would that I could dispatch a message to the earth!’