"We have not spent a hundred and fifty
thousand francs," he said, "merely to help
you to make an inland trip. You must turn
the balloon to some useful account, and cross
the channel with it."

However, in the impossibility of fulfilling
the first conditions, and under the necessity of
at least attempting the second, he returned to
Boulogne, prepared for, and evidently expecting,
the worst.

It may appear strange that a minister of
the crown should be so anxious about the
accomplishment of a mere scientific whim,—
as the balloon passage from France to England
would seem to be,—and should advance so
large a sum of money to further it. But
there was more than a scientific result in the
background, and De Rosier was probably
well aware of it. It was the common report
of that day, that the grand object of Pilâtre's
attempt was to effect the escape of Louis the
Sixteenth and his family to Great Britain, by
an aërial route, since terrestrial ways, it was
instinctively felt, were already closed against
their departure. It was already foreseen by
acute observers of the signs of the times, that
the royal family of France was already
doomed. The King's want of energy, Egalité's
profligacy, Necker's vanity, the obstinate
pride of the aristocracy, and the wrongs and
sufferings of the people, all tended to one
inevitable catastrophe. The King, even then,
had not a will of his own; his house was not
his castle, nor his actions free. He was drifting
down the stream with that increased
rapidity which denotes unmistakeably that a
cataract is near. No person of ordinary
penetration would be surprised to find him not
long afterwards a prisoner in the Tuileries,
walking in the gardens with six grenadiers of
the milice bourgeoise about him, with the
garden gates shut in consequence of his
presence, to be opened to the public as soon as
he entered the palace. He might order a
little railed-off garden for his son, the
Dauphin, to amuse himself in; but the poor boy
could not be permitted to work with his little
hoe and rake without a guard of two grenadiers.
Louis's most attached friends, as well
as his most implacable enemies, foresaw all
this, and what followed it. A balloon was
one of the schemes to rescue him; and Pilâtre
de Rosier was the man pitched upon to
manage it.

It was a desperate chance, the most
sanguine will admit. Even had they been
launched propitiously with a favourable
wind, a sudden change of that fickle element
might have swept them hopelessly towards the
arctic horrors of the North Sea, or to the
interminable waters of the Atlantic Ocean.
We shudder to imagine such a dreadful fate
as possibly awaiting a delicately-nurtured
king with his wife and children; we reflect,
however, that such a speedy termination to
their sufferings, arriving at latest in the
course of a few days, would have been mercy
in comparison to what they were afterwards
really made to endure.

Pilâtre, then, seriously prepared for his
departure. He sent off numerous pilot
balloons, which were constantly driven back to
the continent by adverse west and north-west
winds. All this caused considerable delay,
during which the balloon, exposed to the
wear and tear of the elements, was considerably
damaged; it was even nibbled by rats.
Henceforward, the machine on which such
care and expense had been bestowed, became
leaky and worthless, in consequence of ill-
treatment and want of shelter.

A better prospect opened at last; and as
the wind was favourable, blowing from the
south-east, the departure was fixed for the
fifteenth of June. As the weather was
exceedingly hot, preparations were commenced
at daybreak, and all was ready by seven
o'clock. A salute of artillery announced the
launch into air. The ascent was majestic.
The balloon rose perpendicularly to its
greatest elevation; it then sailed in a
northerly direction, over the top of the cliff of La
Crèche, when a current from the upper regions
of the atmosphere, which had been foreseen by
sailors best acquainted with Channel navigation,
wafted it gently towards the continent.
Twenty-three minutes had elapsed since the
ropes were loosed which held the machine
captive; the acclamations of the spectators
had not ceased; every eye was strained to
gaze after the aërial voyagers, when, just as
the wind drove them back to France, cries of
alarm from the united crowd announced the
fearful calamity which it witnessed. A bright
light burst from the upper balloon; a volume
of smoke succeeded it; and then commenced
the rapid fall which filled all present with
consternation. The scene was frightful; the
crowd shuddered with apprehension of what
was immediately to follow, and swung
backwards and forwards like tempest-tossed
waves. After the first shock of terror, a great
number of people rushed to Wimereux, in the
vain hope of rendering some assistance. They
arrived only to find the adventurers past all
human aid.

I cannot help entertaining a suspicion
that Pilâtre de Rosier perished by suicide;
that he wilfully set fire to the balloon when
he found there was an end of all his hopes.
It is true that the almost fulminating arrangement
of his apparatus might have caused
the explosion to result from accident or
indiscretion; and therefore no more than a suspicion
ought to be suggested. But persons
who watched the progress of the balloon
with telescopes, assert that the valve of the
hydrogen balloon was not secured. Pilâtre,
too, was a doubly ruined man; ruined in
money, and ruined in prestige. Blanchard
had robbed him of his crowning ambition;
and now an envious puff of wind forbade his
ever being allowed to attempt the transportation
of the royal family. Pilâtre's coolness,