Every-day Science: Volume 7. The Conquest of Time and Space

by Henry Smith Williams; Edward Huntington Williams

It will be recalled that balloons were used for making military observations during the French Revolution; and they were used for similar purposes in several of the Continental wars during the first half of the nineteenth century. After that time, however, interest in their use for this purpose flagged somewhat until the time of the Crimean War, when their usefulness was again demonstrated, as it was in the American Civil War which followed shortly after.

But it was not until the Franco-Prussian War that the one thing for which the Montgolfiers had predicted their usefulness in warfare—that of sending messages out from a closely besieged city—was put to practical test. During the siege of Paris by the Germans in 1870–71, when every other possible means of communication had been cut off, the Parisians still kept in communication with the outside world by means of balloons and carrier-pigeons. On September 23rd, the first ascent of the siege was made by the aeronaut Durouf, who carried a large number of despatches from the city, landing near Evreux, after being in the air about three hours. The success of this journey and several others that quickly followed led the French Government to establish a regular balloon-post, and to undertake the manufacture of balloons for this purpose. The mere matter of balloon construction offered no difficulty but a more serious one was met in the lack of experienced aeronauts. In this emergency, however, it occurred to the authorities that sailors, accustomed to climbing about at dizzy heights, might be taught to take the place of trained aeronauts. This experiment proved most successful, and in subsequent voyages these mariners maintained their reputation for daring undertakings. Between September and January sixty-four balloons were sent up, all but seven of which fulfilled their mission and delivered their despatches; and the total number of persons leaving Paris in balloons during the siege was one hundred and fifty-five. These carried with them a total of nine tons of despatches and something like three million letters, the speed with which these journeys were made ranging from a minimum of twenty miles an hour to a maximum velocity, in one instance, of eighty miles.

Shortly after this balloon-post was established, the Germans came into possession of the new Krupp long-range rifle, with which they succeeded in bringing down several of the balloons. Companies of Uhlans, the swiftest cavalry of Germany, scoured the country constantly, and kept such a sharp lookout that, as the German lines were extended, it became difficult for the balloons to make their way over them in daylight. Night voyages, therefore, became necessary; but naturally these were extremely dangerous, and many of them had dramatic and tragic terminations. One of the longest and most famous of these voyages was that of the balloon named the Ville d'Orléans, which left Paris about midnight of November 24th. As a strong wind was blowing from the north at the time, it was hoped that the balloon would descend in the vicinity of Tours. The first intimation that the voyagers had that there was a deviation from this course was the sound of the waves breaking against the shore beneath them. At this time they were in a thick mist, and it was not until some time after daybreak that this mist cleared away sufficiently for them to get an idea of their surroundings. Then they found, to their horror, that they were over a large body of water, out of sight of land, in what part of the world they had not the slightest idea. The balloon appeared to be drifting rapidly, and from time to time they passed over vessels, which were frantically signaled by the voyagers. No notice was taken of these signals except by one vessel, which responded by firing several shots which went wide of the mark. The balloon continued on its course northward until late in the day when land was sighted lying to the northeast. By this time the ballast in the car had been entirely expended, and the balloon, which had been sinking gradually for several hours, seemed about to plunge into the ocean. In this extremity a heavy bag of despatches was thrown out, and the balloon thus lightened again rose to a considerable height, where another current of air carried it over the land.

A successful landing was made in Norway, in a desolate but friendly region, where the balloonists were treated with the greatest kindness. The balloon and its contents were subsequently secured, and all the despatches delivered to their proper destinations, except, of course, the one package that had been thrown out as ballast.

A week after the eventful voyage of the Ville d'Orléans a still more unfortunate ascent was made by a sailor named Prince, in the balloon called the Jacquard. As the ropes releasing this balloon were cut, the enthusiastic mariner, standing in his car and extending his hand toward the crowd, shouted dramatically, "I go upon a great voyage!" He did—and on one much greater than he anticipated—for the balloon was blown out to sea and lost. As he was passing over England after successfully crossing the Channel, he threw out his package of despatches, but this so lightened his balloon that it mounted quickly and was soon far out over the Atlantic. It was never heard of again. But the life of the enthusiastic voyager was not given in vain, for most of the despatches eventually reached their destination.

Although, as has been seen, the balloons sent out of Paris were not of the dirigible kind, and were entirely dependent upon the caprice of the winds, they fulfilled their missions quite as well as could be expected under the circumstances. In fact, there was small chance of failure, starting as they did from a central point, and being almost certain of success no matter what direction was taken, except, indeed, the one that would blow them over the German frontier. But the other part of the problem—the sending of balloons from the outside into Paris—was an entirely different proposition. So different, and so difficult, in fact, that it was never accomplished, although attempted several times.

But the millions of people in Paris, shut off completely from the outside world, were just as anxious to receive news as to send it. In attempting to establish communication from without, therefore, one balloon leaving the city in the early days of the siege, carried with it some trained dogs in the hope that they would make their way back to the city through the German lines. But either they lost their way, or were captured by the enemy, for nothing was ever heard of them after starting on the return trip. In this extremity the members of the "Société Colombophile" came forward with the offer of the use of their homing-pigeons. The society had a large number of these birds, trained to return to their cotes from long distances, and the experiment of sending return despatches with them was tried at once. Three birds were first sent out in one of the despatch-balloons, and within sixteen hours after starting these had all returned to the capital, bearing despatches. During the next few days a score more pigeons were sent out, eighteen of which returned safely with their messages; and thereafter a regular pigeon-post was organized.

As the weight that a pigeon is able to carry in its flight is extremely small, microscopic photography was resorted to, so that, although each bird carried only a single quill in which were rolled thin collodion leaves, the whole weighing only fifteen grains, the amount of printed matter thus carried was sometimes more than is contained in an ordinary volume.

By photographic methods, thirty-two thousand words, or about half an ordinary volume, were crowded upon a pellicule two inches long by one and one-quarter inches wide, and weighing about three-quarters of a grain! Twenty of these, representing six thousand words, or twice the amount of printed matter contained in such a book as Scott's Ivanhoe, or Prescott's Conquest of Mexico, were carried by each pigeon. One bird carried forty thousand complete messages on a single trip.

When the bird arrived at its cote, the quill was secured and taken to the government office, where the little leaflets were carefully removed, placed in an enlarging optical apparatus, thrown upon a screen with a magic lantern, and copied. The messages were then distributed to their destination about the city.