Читать книгу Falling Upwards: How We Took to the Air - Richard Holmes - Страница 32

From the shifting population of local American balloonists and barnstormers, three men were to make their mark by the late 1850s in a way that would soon make the Godard-style circus look flashy and old-fashioned. They were a different breed from such itinerant showmen: men of book-learning, business and scientific aspirations. They could lecture and write, as well as fly. They often adopted the courtesy title of ‘Professor’, and wore bow ties even when in a balloon basket.

All three also had names that looked suitably memorable on a publicity poster: John Wise, John LaMountain and Professor Thaddeus S.C. Lowe. These became the great triumvirate of the Golden Age of American ballooning; and naturally, they became the most celebrated rivals too. Their inspiration was the long-distance European flights of Jean-Pierre Blanchard and Charles Green. But they were even more haunted by the entirely fictitious Atlantic crossing of Poe’s ‘great balloon hoax’.

Born in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, in 1808, John Wise, as his name usefully suggested, was the oldest and most experienced of the three. In fact he had invented the name. He was from German immigrant stock, originally Johan Weiss. His father was a musical instrument-maker, and he himself was brought up with Lutheran sobriety – encouraged to study music and mathematics, to be bilingual in German and English, and to work hard. An early desire to study theology was transformed into a fascination with the visible cosmos: ‘I would spend hours in the night lying upon a straw-heap looking at the stars and moon, and the arrival of a comet gave me rapturous joy. It was this kind of natural bent that first led me to indulge in aerial projects.’ This began, as it had with Franklin, with kites, then tissue-paper parachutes, then small Montgolfier fire balloons.⁵

He was apprenticed for five years to a cabinetmaker in Philadelphia, and began to specialise in the delicate craft of piano-making. In his spare time he read scientific journals, studied ‘pneumatics and hydrostatics’, and continued to dream of flying.⁶

Philadelphia still gloried in the name of Franklin, and still proudly remembered the symbolic flight of Jean-Pierre Blanchard, from the yard of the Walnut Street prison, in 1794. Supported by his father, Wise made his first six ascents in a series of small home-made muslin balloons in 1835–36. Then a silk balloon, unhappily called the Meteor, exploded while deflating, throwing him ten feet in the air, severely burning his hands and face and blinding him for several days. It also set fire to the clothes of several bystanders, though strangely there were no legal ramifications, possibly because the flight had been funded by public subscription. Wise was soon back in the air, with a balloon more cautiously named the Experiment. By 1837 he had reached a useful deal with the Philadelphia Gas Works Company, and was learning to cultivate the local press, one of the most influential on the east coast. By his thirties he was an acknowledged figure in the town, and had made launches from many of its squares and parks.⁷

He had a gift for evangelising on the subject of ballooning, and giving good, quotable interviews. ‘Ballooning is about half a century ahead of the age,’ he would announce. Balloons would soon make the much-vaunted railroads and steamships look old-fashioned, uncomfortable and above all slow. ‘Our children will travel to any part of the globe, without the inconvenience of smoke, sparks and seasickness, – and at the rate of one hundred miles per hour.’⁸

Wise was studying the infant science of meteorology, and making technical innovations too. After several rough landings in which he was dragged across fields and through hedges, unable to deflate his balloon swiftly enough, he came up with the idea for a ‘rip panel’. This was a strip section of the balloon gore, sewn separately into the top of the envelope, which could be instantly torn away by pulling a red-painted ‘rip-cord’, thus rapidly releasing the hydrogen and deflating the balloon in seconds. Many friends thought this ‘safety’ device was in fact suicidally risky, open to all kinds of technical failure and human error. But Wise first used it successfully on 27 April 1839, and it was soon universally adopted, the first serious balloon invention since Charles Green’s trail rope.⁹

In the mid-1840s, John Wise’s exploits in his silk balloon the Hercules were the subject of a full-page illustrated article in the Philadelphia Inquirer. Ballooning was hailed as a serious act of scientific demonstration, as well as a respectable entertainment. The article praised Mr Wise’s ‘orderly’ launch from the city centre, accompanied by three passengers, one of whom was his wife. This was observed by an enthusiastic but well-behaved crowd, a large proportion of whom were ‘females accompanied by children’. There was no drunkenness, and no riot. The launch was saluted not by guns, but by a brass band. The article concluded in an exalted and patriotic manner, containing a witty reference to Milton’s Paradise Lost:

Our Philadelphia friends have generally paid much attention to the subject of aerial navigation, and the Allegheny Mountains were crossed in this manner as early as the summer of 1837. It is said that Lucifer himself is ‘the Prince of the Air’, but we shall not be at all surprised to see his dominions invaded by some enterprising Yankee in a profitable style of travel … Dr Franklin’s paper kite led to the discovery of some very important first principles of science which have since benefited the whole world. Therefore we say to our scientific ballooning friends – Go on and prosper! Or let them take the motto of New York, and cry out – ‘Excelsior!’. Our humble endeavour will be to aid in the publicity or illustration of all such flights of true genius.

The article was run alongside a literary essay by William Hazlitt on the same page. Ballooning was becoming a proper part of American culture.¹⁰

John Wise’s long-term business plan was to establish the first pan-American aerial service, carrying people and mail back and forth across the continent, and eventually across the Atlantic to Europe.¹¹ But he also had a visionary, almost religious belief in ballooning itself, in its existential value. Ballooning was good for the body, but also for the soul. Its advantages were both physical and metaphysical. As Wise wrote during one of his high flights across the grand prairies around Lafayette, Indiana: ‘I feel rejoiced – invigorated – extremely happy! God is all around me – Astra Castra, Numen Lumen [the Stars my camp, the Deity my lamp]. The manifestations around me make me rejoice in God’s handiwork. Glorious reverie! … With me it never fails to produce exhilaration … The mind is illuminated.’¹²

But this was not all. The glorious reverie also brought measurable physiological improvements. The upper air was hygienic, tonic: ballooning was a kind of aerial health cruise. In fact, ballooning produced a high: ‘The blood begins to course more freely when up a mile or two with a balloon – the gastric juices pour into the stomach more rapidly – the liver, the kidneys, and heart work with expanded action in a highly calorified atmosphere – the brain receives and gives more exalted inspirations – the whole animal and mental system becomes intensely quickened …’ A two-hour balloon trip ‘on a fine summer’s day’ was worth more than an entire fortnight’s sea cruise across the Atlantic ‘from New York to Madeira’.¹³