The Dream of Bartolomeu de Gusmao

By Craig: For as long as I can remember I  have always had the same dream. I am flying over a field. Below me I can see the roof tops of houses, and the lush green foliage of tree tops. It is a serene, quiet dream with no elements of surprise, or abrupt deviations that turn and twist a dream from one location to another by means of the minds fragile and whimsical ability to skim the periphery of varying thoughts. No, it is always the same; the dark green grass, the tree tops and roofs of the houses with their open chimneys looking like dark cavities. I might have the dream once or twice a year, perhaps more, but the mind is a very forgetful instrument. In fact, I believe that I have written about this dream in a previous post on this blog. But anyway... I want to fly like the birds, and so too have others throughout the history of the world. Daedalus and his son Icarus created wings like a bird which were held together by wax. Their flight from the labyrinth, however, came with a warning. Daedalus warned his son not to fly too close to the sun or the wax of his wings would melt. Needless to say the warning went unheeded as the impetuous youth soared into the heavens and met his fate. The story of Daedalus and Icarus has been relegated to mythology, but needless to say it is proof that people were thinking about manned flight in ancient times.



In the early 18th century an inventive Portuguese priest named Bartolomeu de Gusmao appeared at the court of King John V in Lisbon. He had a startling proposal to make which, in 1709, seemed preposterous. Gusmao claimed that he could invent an airship that could take to the heavens and fly. He presented the king and his court with a sketch of the craft along with a detailed description. It would be shaped like a boat, with a massive sail to catch the wind. The ship would be held aloft by tubes from which air would be pumped through by way of a bellows. Powerful magnets inserted into hollow metal balls would move the craft through the sky. To today's readers this seems like something from the pages of a 19th century Jules Verne novel. However, Gusmao was totally serious.  It is not known for certain whether a model of his lighter than air craft was ever constructed. According to one account published by a London newspaper decades after the alleged event there is evidence that at least one of his experiments was attempted. Sometime around the year 1720 it is written:



A Brazilian Jesuit, named Bartholomew Gusmao, possessed of abilities, imagination, and address, by permission of John V. fabricated a balloon in a place contiguous to the Royal Palace, and one day, in presence of their Majesties, and an immense crowd of spectators, raised himself, by means of a fire lighted in the machine, as high as the cornice of the building; but through the negligence and want of experience of those who held the cords, the machine took an oblique direction, and, touching the cornice, burst and fell.

It is said that the Inquisition got wind of Gusmao's experiments, and believed that he might have been experimenting in a sort of wizardry.  He fled to Spain where he died at a relatively young age in 1724. Gusmao had a dream that one day mankind would take to the skies and soar through the clouds like birds. These days the dream of Gusmao is realized and people have even been into space. There has even been talk of a manned mission to Mars in the near future. What might Gusmao think of this? It is hard to say. The Inquisition is no more, but there is still the age old threat that keeps science and progress from attaining the evolution of Gusmao's dream ,and that is the inability of people to get along. There is a cultural divide that slows the advancement of technology due to the distractions and resources that are needed to fight them. Maybe one day reason will prevail over the petty squabbles of nations that inhibit the growth of Gusmao's dream.



I find myself standing in an open court. There is a slight breeze as I mingle with the crowd that has gathered in front of Ribeira Palace in Lisbon. I gaze to my left and see the harbor filled with merchantman and caravels. A large man-o-war with 56 guns sits idle, its crew also mingling with the throng of people that are here to witness a marvel never before seen in the annals of time. A raised platform covered by a large canvas canopy holds the young king and his courtiers who are here to witness this unprecedented event. In the center of the court is the magician himself, wearing a chocolate brown robe made of the finest eastern silk. He stands next to his machine that is bedecked in a material known only to the inventor. It is shaped like a large bird the bow carved into the likeness of a hawk. He salutes the crowd and then the king, and climbs aboard with two assistants who are similarly clothed. Gusmao bends down and does something to the large magnets that causes a humming sound to burst forth from the craft. There is a startled emanation from the crowd as fingers point to the object of interest. Suddenly it is aloft! The two assistants work the bellows as the unfurled sail catches a northerly breeze from the harbor and the airship is soon moving slowly higher up over the palace and into the sky. The inventor can be seen working the sail, his soft hat askew. The crowd is shouting with mixed emotion, some of them cheering, others laughing and crying, while the most pious of the lot are on their knees praying to their savior for the wizardry that they have just been witness to. A man screams and flees the palace yard in terror taking a horde of the superstitious rabble with him. I watch in silence until the mighty airship disappears behind a cloud. When it emerges again it is but a speck in the sky...drifting...sailing into the dreams of an unknown future.