Flights of Fancy
A short history, or overview, of ballooning
during the Georgian and Regency, eras: together with interesting eye-witness accounts,
to which are added numerous woodcuts and descriptions of the various balloons.
Part 5 :
Garden of airy delights.
By the dawn of the 19th century, ballooning had become a staple
of popular culture. No féte or celebration was complete without at least one ascent.
Aeronauts, both male and female, rose majestically from pleasure grounds and gardens
all over Europe. Tivoli Gardens in Paris, was one of the most popular spots for
this entertainment and soon became the playground of the “flying” Garnerin family.
Andre-Jacques Garnerin was the greatest French aeronaut to follow J.P. Blanchard, and during his aerostatic career he was accompanied and abetted by his wife Jeanne-Genevieve (the first woman parachutist, 1798) and niece Elisa (who learned to fly balloons at age 15 and became the first professional parachutist, making 39 parachute descents from 1815 to 1836).
A. J. Garnerin
Garnerin had made his first balloon ascent from Metz in 1787, but the French Revolution interrupted his career. “Citizen Garnerin” joined the army on the Northern front and was taken prisoner by the English during the Napoleonic War. They handed him over to the Austrians who then imprisoned him in the fortress of Buda, in Hungary for nearly 3 years.
Garnerin had heard of Blanchard’s experiments with parachutes, and during his long confinement he contemplated constructing such a device and using it to escape from the fortress prison. He never had to opportunity to put this dream into execution, but resolved to make a parachute jump when he gained his liberty.
After his release, Garnerin returned to Paris where he resumed his aeronautical career and embarked on a bold experiment, which culminated in the first parachute jump, at the park of Monceau on October 22, 1797. After rising in his aerostatic balloon to a height of 3,000 ft., Garnerin climbed into a detachable gondola that resembled a modern-day garbage can, then released it and began to plummet before his “parasol” shaped canopy opened--fluttering and oscillating unstably toward the ground. Garnerin landed roughly, sustaining a sprained ankle upon impact -- but the descent had been a success.
In 1798, Garnerin repeated his parachuting feat at Tivoli Gardens in Paris, after making some much needed design changes in his 30 ft in diameter “parasol”, which helped to provide a smoother descent. He performed numerous others parachute descents in the next few years, aided and abetted by his wife and niece. In 1802, during the short peace between England and France, Garnerin came to England and made a number of balloon ascents from Vauxhaull and Chelsea Gardens in London and other locations around the country. During an ascent in London on August 3, 1802, in preparation for his next jump, Garnerin released a small parachute with a kitten suspended beneath. The parachute floated gently to earth, without the kitten having to spend one of its nine lives.
On September 21, 1802, Garnerin repeated his history making parachute descent; this time over London, taking off from the Volunteer Ground, Grosvenor Square. After reaching a height of almost 10,000 feet, he climbed into his parachute car and cut the suspension cord. The flight was extremely violent, owing to the brisk air currents, and Garnerin was battered to and fro by the wind. The sight was so frightening to spectators on the ground that they feared the worst for poor Garnerin, expecting that the parachute would collapse or that he would be flung out of the car.
As he swung out of sight, the crowd rushed toward the field near St. Pancras where Garnerin was seen to fall. There they found him bruised and dizzy from the motion of the car, but otherwise in good spirits. Two of the first well-wishers to arrive were the Duke of York and Lord Stanhope who heartily greeted the daring para-naut. A contemporary street ballad commemorates the event:
Bold
Garnerin went up
Which increased his Repute
And came safe to earth
In his Grand Parachute.
While the Garnerins were touring Britain, the Napoleonic war erupted again and the family packed up their ballooning apparatus and left for the Continent to continue their grand aerial feats. From 1798 to 1812, Garnerin’s wife, Jeanne-Genevieve made numerous ascents in cities throughout Europe; several of these being accompanied by a parachute descent which thrilled the cheering crowds. She had been the first woman to descend in a parachute, performing that feat in 1798, at the age of 19. In 1799 she further added to her fame by becoming the first woman to “solo” in an aerostatic balloon.
During the early part of the 19th century, A. J. Garnerin was Napoleon’s official arranger of aeronautic fétes and Madame Garnerin’s unofficial title became “Aerostiere des Fétes Publiques”. By 1815, Garnerin’s niece, Mademoiselle Elisabeth Garnerin, had become an accomplished balloonist, and in that same year she performed her first parachute descent.
Elisabeth Garnerin
The Garnerins made a return trip to England towards the end of the Napoleonic war and a handbill describes their impending performance with Elisabeth descending in a parachute at The Theatre Royal, Covent-Garden, Wednesday January 4th, 1815, and Wednesday January 11th, 1815: ‘AN ASCENT OF A BALLOON AND PARACHUTE BY MONS. GARNERIN, CARRYING MLLE. GARNERIN, WHO WILL DESCEND IN THE PARACHUTE FROM THE ROOF, OVER THE AUDIENCE, ON TO THE STAGE.’
Elisabeth Garnerin went on to become the first “professional” parachutist, and performed a remarkable (for the times) 39 descents. During her trip to Italy in 1824, the people of Milan hailed her as “Prima Aeroporista” of France after performing her twenty-second and twenty-third descents there. An Italian engraving of the period shows her descending to earth waving an Italian flag in one hand and the French flag in the other.
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Castles in the air.
Although some historians state that Vincent Lunardi never returned to England after 1786, there is proof that he did and was busy gathering subscriptions for his next aerial feat. Benjamin Silliman, an American travelling in England in 1805, gives us a wonderful description of Lunardi’s latest balloon being exhibited at the Pantheon:
June 21, 1805
“On my way home from Westminster
Hall, I stopped at the Pantheon, to view a magnificent balloon which is now getting
ready there. Lunardi, a well known aeronaut, is to ascend in it, with a party
of a dozen ladies and gentlemen. They pay a high premium for the privilege of
breathing among the clouds, and the chance of being killed philosophically. This
balloon is ornamented, in a very expensive style, and will probably cost enough
to buy the finest equippage in Europe; minds of a less ambitious cast would perhaps
prefer the wheels and horses on the ground, to varnished silk, and inflammable
gas, among the whirlwinds of heaven. This party are even more ambitious than aeronauts
usually are; for they are not contented with building castles in the air, they
must even raise a Grecian Temple there, as if by magic; for, it is a part of the
scheme of this balloon that, after it has ascended to a certain height, a festoon
of curtains which has been suspended all around it, will suddenly unfold and hang
in such a manner as to hide the balloon completely, and to represent a Grecian
temple with all its porticoes and columns.
The car of this balloon is a circular platform furnished with a dozen elegant chairs, secured in their places by an iron ring, which passes through their backs, and is itself supported by iron posts. In the middle is a table in which is a door that opens into convenient places for refreshments, philosophical instruments and other things necessary for the voyage. The car will be suspended as usual by a net-work of cords passing over the balloon, and fastened to the platform. A day in September is fixed on for the ascent, and, if I am at that time in London, you may expect to hear more of this great bubble, should it actually rise.”
An account of this proposed flight has eluded me, and Silliman makes no more mention of it, so we may surmise that it did not take place and Lunardi once more ventured off to Europe for excitement -- and “sainthood.”
The “Minerva”
Many others fantasized about building real castles in the air, and the “Minerva”, shown here, is a prime example of the lofty imaginations that were at work during the Georgian era. Designed by “Professor” Etienne Gaspard Robertson in 1803, the “Minerva” was to have splendid rooms for conferences and games, studios for music and study, a private pavilion for women -- and even a church. Also included would be cannons for firing salutes, plus spare balloons for side-trips to earth -- presumably to pick up groceries. No experienced traveler could leave earth without liquid refreshment, so a large keg of German beer was suspended beneath -- to serve as both drink and expendable ballast. The fact that there was no provision for a wine cellar in this French balloon has never been accounted for.
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In our next: Return of the flying pastry chef, and Napoleon’s Angel.