He had made his balloon without any valve at the top, and in order to descend, had fitted it with long oars, shaped like lacrosse sticks. These he now began to work in order that the vast crowds, who had not been near enough to see him embark, might know that he was in the car. But scarcely had he placed his hands upon them, when one of the oars snapped off, and returned to the earth. It was instantly broken into fragments by the crowd, the pieces being kept as relics by those who were fortunate enough to secure them.
Lunardi then gave himself up to the enjoyment of his voyage, and watched the great city spread beneath him till it became no more than a doll's town.
Over the common of North Mimms Lunardi again plied his oars, and landed, with the assistance of some country folk, in a field called Etna. Here he released a cat which he had brought from London. It had felt the coldness of the upper air considerably. A dog and some pigeons had also accompanied him, and with these he continued his journey, finally landing at Ware. A stone erected on the spot tells, to this day, the story of his adventure.
As regards his mention of the oars, it has been pointed out that, since Lunardi had to throw out ballast when rising the second time from Etna field, it is hardly likely that his descent was due alone to the working of the oars. It must have been through loss of gas, and he deceived himself in thinking otherwise.
London was delighted at the news of his voyage. George III., who had broken off an important state conference to peep through his telescope at the wonderful balloon, afterwards allowed the young Italian to kiss his hand at a brilliant levée. Military honours were bestowed upon him, and with fewer obstacles in his way he now made fresh flights.
But perhaps his greatest triumphs were in Spain, the king of which country gave him a residence in the royal palace at Madrid. Here, on January 8th, 1793, he made a grand ascent, taking with him a number of carrier pigeons. In the car of his balloon he wrote particulars of all he saw, with as much ease as he would have done in his study. Carefully folding the manuscript, he sent it on by one of the pigeons to the governor of Madrid. It was the first time that the world had ever known of a post-office in the sky, but, for all that, the letter was delivered as promptly as any one could wish.
Lunardi's cruises in the clouds were sometimes attended by great danger, particularly one he made in Portugal, on August 24th, 1794. It was a windy day, and when, on nearing the earth, he threw out the anchor, the rope snapped as it caught against a tree. The balloon rose to a height of three miles, and fearing that he would be blown out to sea, Lunardi pulled the valve-rope. Unfortunately this broke too, but enough gas escaped to cause the balloon to descend rapidly. A quarter of an hour later the car struck the ground with great violence, and a sack, weighing twenty pounds, was jolted out. Relieved of this weight it rose again, but less powerfully, and Lunardi found himself, a little later, being dragged and bumped along the ground at a great pace. Some ignorant peasants, terrified by the balloon, ran for their guns, and the poor aeronaut was treated to a shower of bullets. Fortunately, the speed soon carried him out of range; then, seizing an opportunity, he leapt from the car, among a tumbling mass of ballast and scientific instruments. When he found his feet, it was to see the balloon sailing at a great height towards the sea, and a few minutes later it disappeared from his sight for ever.
