As it happened, both departments of dental surgery became equally attractive; that is the surgical as well as the mechanical. By the time I was proficient and just of age, I became entitled to an amount of cash, which enabled me to order a brass plate and commence business with patients on my own account. I had to form a connection, however, and to bide my time for the coming in of fees.
Unfortunately, perhaps, this uphill beginning left a deal of spare time on my hands, so that ever and anon I required—or thought I did—a little recreation.
In taking up a newspaper to see what was going on in the way of rational amusement, I happened to observe an advertisement of an intended balloon ascent by Mr. Hampton.
This notice, coupled with a desire for change, led me to decide upon an outing. My taste for ballooning grew apace, and soon became a passion. Whenever an ascent was advertised I was almost sure to be there, and, as a strong liking for any adventurous and scientific calling leads to acquaintance with kindred spirits, I became familiar with a number of regular attendants at balloonfêtes, and soon acquired a reputation for knowing as much—and some said more—than many of those who had been brought up to it.
From my seventeenth up to my twentieth year I had seen most of the aërostatic sights that had engaged public attention near London. I had witnessed a balloon race from Vauxhall, and saw the aërial competitors come in actual collision without doing injury. I had seen Mrs. Graham ascend and her husband as well. I had seen the great Nassau balloon before and after it took Messrs. Hollond, Green, and Mason to Germany, as already described.
In the year 1837 I went into ballooning with a will, and my visits to the balloon grounds were regular, but I was prevented from seeing Mr. Cocking’s parachute attached to the great balloon, although I saw it suspended in the air from London Bridge as it bore down Eltham way, and was struck with its cumbrous and rigid convex form, so ill adapted, I thought, to offer sufficient resistance, and to possess adequate strength for reaching the ground in safety.
After the death of Mr. Cocking I saw Mr. Hampton descend in a parachute from Bayswater, and this led to mybecoming acquainted with that gentleman some little time afterwards.
I was disappointed of an ascent with Mr. Hampton, as his balloon “Albion,” which was rather small, would only take the aëronaut when I wished to make my maiden ascent. This was the year (1837), a period when I became a diligent student in aërostatics, and, it is not too much to say, that I had shown similar application in dental surgery, indeed I found that all I was called upon to learn was so easy and pleasurable in acquisition that I made light of my duties, and failed not to devote considerable attention to my hobby as well.
One day I met Mr. Hampton in Westminster, full of trouble and anxiety at the way he had been treated by those who had reason, as he alleged, to be his friends. We walked and talked together, entering upon a chapter of misfortunes, which touched me much at the time, and induced me not only to sympathize with him, but to use my best endeavours to assist his cause.
There is no necessity for entering into the way in which he had lost his balloon, suffice it to say that I did all I could to redeem it, and in return the aëronaut took great pains to give me all the information he could about aërostation, and he promised the moment he had a new balloon to take me up with him, and he moreover presented me with a good portrait of himself, the massive frame to which was made by Mr. Hampton’s own hands. This intimacy, and the espousal of the aëronaut’s cause, drew upon me the frowns of several persons connected indirectly and professionally with ballooning.
Knowing some of Mr. Charles Green’s friends I was rather hankering to see more of the air-captain, as the Germans style us, but I knew by experience that “two of a trade seldom agree,” and I was naturally reluctant to offend my patron by being intimate with Mr. Green, whose fame was of long standing and very properly universal.
Circumstances soon brought us together, but on meeting I was impressed with the belief that I was regarded as the advocate of an opposition aëronaut, and not as one upon whom Mr. Green would lavish his experience, or whom he would take up either as a paying passenger or pupil. I was evidently considered a dangerous fellow, and as Mr. Hampton had once stated that he thought I should one day become an aëronaut, although at the time I had no serious intention of doing so, this was quite sufficient to cause me to be shunned by all the family of the Greens, or, if not exactly shunned, at least viewed with caution and suspicion.
For three years I was in the habit of meeting Mr. Hampton and of talking over ballooning, until I grew well nigh surfeited with the tongue part of aërial voyaging, and longed for the reality, which was delayed until the year 1844. Mr. Hampton was then enabled with my assistance to start a new balloon, and I had an opportunity of seeing the construction of it. His first engagement with this was at the Old Vauxhall Gardens, in Birmingham, and thither I went to be his companion, but, to my mortification, the balloon would not raise two persons, so that I had to remain on terra firma, and suffer the tauntsof several spectators, who chose to attribute to motives of fear my getting out of the car after having been once in for the ascent.
My third attempt was successful. Mr. Hampton was solicited to make an ascent from the White Conduit Gardens, Pentonville, on Monday, August 19th, 1844, and I was without fail to accompany him.
Many years had elapsed since the ascent of a balloon from these famed gardens; the attraction was accordingly very powerful.
The balloon was filled at the Imperial Gas Works, Battle-bridge, and the car placed on a cart, to which it was secured by ropes; it was conveyed to the gardens by six o’clock on Monday morning, an extra supply of gas being provided to keep up the loss by condensation.
Before the public entered the grounds, it was rumoured by the privileged few who were present that aMr. Wellswas to be the aëronaut’s companion, as that gentleman had recently been disappointed at Birmingham. Some other persons, mentioning my name, declared that Mr. Coxwell was to be the favoured party.
An appeal was then made to me for authentic information, and as I was now within a stone’s throw of my residence in the Barnsbury Road, Pentonville, where I had recently commenced practice, it was expedient I should frankly declare that I had previously assumed the name of Wells in order to prevent anxiety among my friends, and that the candidateWellsand the aspirantCoxwellwere one and the same person.
This being understood, and the motives which actuatedme in taking upon myself analiasbeing respected, Mr. Hampton, at six o’clock, accompanied by Mr. Wells (as “the Illustrated News” recorded it), stepped into the car, and the balloon rose in majestic style, travelling easterly over the metropolis, and descended in a field belonging to Mr. T. Rust, at East-ham Hall.
This, then, was my first real ascent; but such was the amount of thought I had bestowed on the subject in previous imaginary flights, built upon the descriptive accounts of others, that I seemed to be travelling an element which I had already explored, although, in reality, I was only for the first time realising the dreams of my youth. In most respects I found the country beneath, including the busy humming metropolis, the River Thames, shipping, and distant landscape, pretty much as I expected, and had been tutored to see in the mind’s eye; but the extraordinary and striking feature of this ascent was the enchanting way in which these appearances unfolded themselves in a manner so opposite to what one would picture by looking at a balloon in the sky. This is owing to the peculiarly imperceptible way in which a balloon rises, and herein consists the difference—the delightful, fascinating difference—between heights accomplished by balloon ascents, and altitudes attained by climbing hills, mountains, monuments, and buildings. In Alpine travels the process is so slow, and contact with the crust of the earth so palpable, that the traveller is gradually prepared for each successive phase of view as it presents itself; but in the balloon survey, cities, villages, and vast tracts for observation spring almost magically before the eye, andchange in aspect and size so pleasingly, that bewilderment first, and then unbounded admiration is sure to follow, and when one reflects that all these wonderful panoramic effects are produced by the noiseless, unobserved, ascension of the balloon, we are reminded of the motion of the earth which rolls us round the glorious sun, and the heavenly orbs, so that they, the sun, stars, and planets, appear to be rising and setting.
It is just so with the balloon—a wide-spread carpet of variegated country is changing form, hue, and dimensions, or rather appearing to do so, as the observers rise and descend, and assume various elevations.
Our journey only lasted twenty-five minutes, but it seemed to me when we descended that the balloon had not been more than five minutes in the air. After we anchored I felt that it was a tantalising short-lived piece of grandeur and only enough to whet the appetite for more.
But a second chance was at hand. Mr. Hampton had been asked to ascend from Bromley, in Kent, where such an exhibition was quite a novelty. The undertaking, however, was of too formidable a character for the small gas-works and diminutive pipes in that locality. Visitors who congregated in a meadow selected for the festivities were not gratified with the ascent on the day it was announced to take place; consequently fresh exertions had to be made in the production of gas, and not until the following evening was the balloon fit to ascend, and, even then, it would barely take two, so that I had another narrow escape of being left behind after arranging to go. It was necessary to part with very nearly all the ballast in order to rise.
We started sluggishly, but got up two thousand feet, and there had a splendid view over the garden of England, as the county of Kent has not inaptly been styled. Short and sweet was the order of this second trip of mine, but, as we had a remarkably picturesque country to gaze upon, I was much annoyed at not being longer aloft, and I don’t know but that I vowed—at any rate the idea flashed through my mind—that I would one day have a balloon of my own, even if it were for unprofessional ascents, as these hasty, short views were most aggravating and by no means worth the expense.
Shortly after my being thus initiated into practical ballooning, Mr. Hampton undertook a tour to Ireland; but there, in Dublin, he had the misfortune to descend near a house, the chimney of which was on fire, and his balloon, blown in that direction by a sharp breeze, ignited, but the aëronaut happily escaped with his life.
It was a long time before Mr. Hampton was in a condition to ascend again. In the meantime other balloonists had made my acquaintance, viz., Mr. Gypson, and Lieut. Gale, both of whom sought co-operation, and frequently offered me seats in their cars, as some acknowledgment for the advice and assistance I had rendered them.
Mr. C. Green invariably gave me the cold shoulder. I was rather sensitive about this at the time, but in later years, when I began to obtain a reputation for myself, I came to the conclusion that it was the greatest compliment the greatest aëronaut of the day could award me, inasmuch as it indicated that I was somebody to be studiously kept in the background for an obvious purpose.
During the autumn of 1845, I projected and edited “The Balloon or Aërostatic Magazine,” a publication designed to advance aërostation. A good reception greeted the little serial on the part of the press, but the demand for information on this subject was not equal to my enthusiasm, and as a monthly repository of travels by air, it did not pay, so that its periodical appearance was discontinued, and afterwards it was only published occasionally.
In the year 1847, three new balloons were constructed by the aëronauts, Green, Gale, and Gypson, respectively. Mr. Green, junr, also made one about this time, intending to use it principally on the continent.
With two out of these four balloons, I had a great deal to do, as will soon be seen.
Let us commence with Mr. Gypson’s, as it was the first on the stocks, and the first to make a perilous ascent and descent. When this balloon was finished, Mr. Gypson and myself determined upon a private ascent; we desired a long trip, and would not even object to cross the Channel, if the breeze should waft us in that direction. The Imperial Gas Works, at Haggerston, in London, was the place we started from. The new machine was taken there to be inflated on the day selected, which was favourable, the wind being from the S.S.E., so that we had a long run before us, and a good opportunity of reaching Scotland.
Owing to the close proximity of the balloon to the gas-holders, the filling proceeded very rapidly; it appeared to me that the inflation should be checked somewhat, butthe aëronaut considered his arrangements equal to any pressure that could be put on by Mr. Clarke, the gas-engineer. It was soon evident that the network was not liberated so quickly as it should have been; the consequence was that a lateral and unequal strain began to be imparted, and just as I had gone away to speak to some gentlemen who had arrived, by invitation, the netting began to break towards the lower part, but the damage was not apparently sufficiently serious to prevent the ascent being made. We therefore got into the car, and notwithstanding several broken meshes, prepared for a start, but while sitting in readiness, a sudden gust drove the silk with considerable force towards the fractured cordage, which continued breaking, until the lower part of the silken bag protruded, and then, the entire balloon surged through the opening, leaving the network behind, which dropped on our heads, so that the balloon itself escaped, leaving us in the car to receive the ironical congratulations of our friends, who had come to see us go up.
Not many seconds after the silken bag had bounded away, it split up, and descended in a brickfield, not far distant. It is almost impossible to imagine a more ridiculous position for expectant voyagers to be placed in than this.
The assembled spectators pronounced it a mercy that we had not ascended, and that the breakage had not happened in the air. They believed we must have been killed had not the balloon escaped just when it did; but I was of a different opinion, believing that if once we had got away, no bad results would have occurred while we were travelling aloft.
The balloon was forthwith repaired, and a second private attempt made on March 18th in the same year. This time we had a successful day, and came down all right at Hawkhurst, in Kent, not far from the residence of Sir John Herschel. In the evening we were invited to Collingwood, where we spent a most agreeable and instructive time with the eminent astronomer.
Soon after this event Lieutenant Gale’s balloon was launched at the Rosemary Branch Gardens, Peckham.
Here, too, I was invited, and almost persuaded to make the first trip; but as I had condemned certain new fashioned valve-springs, which I considered unsafe, I preferred to witness rather than participate in the ascent. Mr. Gale wished also to use a pair of supplementary small balloons to receive the expanded gas; but these, I thought, were open to objection, so that I could not possibly join the lieutenant at the time he was applying appurtenances, which I had pronounced dangerous.
The balloon, a very fine one, was duly filled, and the ascent nicely made. A Mr. Burn took my place, and I was rather joked, I remember, when the new balloon floated majestically in the still atmosphere.
Events, however, soon took a sudden turn. Gale had promised to travel far down towards the coast, and had, it appeared, suddenly altered his mind, as the balloon began descending fast.
“Perhaps,” said some one, “he has forgotten something as it is coming down so soon, and will go up again and continue his journey.”
But the rate of descent increased so rapidly, thatMrs. Gale ran to me and inquired anxiously for my opinion.
I was obliged in candour to say, as I was considered an authority, that I feared the flat valve-springs had not quite answered Gale’s expectation; “but he will be all right,” I said, encouragingly, “even if he has a good bump.”
Ballast was soon observed to pour out profusely, and there was no doubt of the voyagers being sensible of the frightful pace at which they were coming down. The lower part of the balloon was seen to contain no gas, so that its collapsed condition was visible to everyone present.
Several persons started off to see the cause of so sudden a descent. As to myself I remained with Mrs. Gale, making light of what really looked serious, in order to allay her alarm.
A messenger soon arrived to say that neither the aëronaut nor his companion were seriously hurt, but that they alighted with terrific force at Peckham Rye, owing to the valve-springs not having acted properly.
Gale, himself, soon put in an appearance, inquiring for me. He said, “You are quite right as to those springs; I will abandon them, and you shall ascend next time.”
It was not long before I did so.
Pleasure gardens in and about London were rather numerous in the year ’47, and the Royal Albert Grounds, near Hoxton, were just in their palmy days. It was here I made the next ascent with Lieut. Gale, and one or two with Mr. Gypson also; but as these gentlemen were competitors for aëronautic fame, I was constantly risking the displeasure of both by not adhering entirely to one.
During the same summer I made a variety of aërial journeys with each of these aëronauts, but, two especially, were connected with considerable personal risk.
The first was with Lieut. Gale, when we descended in a rough wind in Gloucestershire, after having started from Bristol.
A new fangled grapnel was used in this trip, and one ill adapted for arresting the progress of a balloon in a strong wind. It was on the ball and socket principle; but the socket, which was of brass, was inside the crown of the prongs. I prophesied before any strain was thrown upon the grapnel that it would break. It did so in trailing over a field, when the balloon dashed into a large oak tree, cutting asunder a thick branch, which ripped the silk from bottom to top, so that the gas escaped instantly, and we pitched to leeward of the tree with no trifling concussion, by the way, but got no broken bones or serious injury.
The second affair was, without doubt, the most perilous descent in the annals of aërostation.
In the year 1847, the far-famed Vauxhall had not altogether lost itsprestige; but still, exciting amusements were indispensable to its continued existence, and aëronautics had enjoyed long-continued popular favour in that establishment. But a nocturnal voyage with fireworks displayed under the balloon, was not of frequent occurrence, and a night ascent with Mr. Gypson’s balloon was decided upon as an opportune attraction.
My own seat in the car was owing to special invitation on the part of the proprietor, but two other candidates—viz.Mr. Albert Smith and Mr. Pridmore, only secured places on the afternoon of the ascent.
Mr. Albert Smith at that time was a popular writer; and, as he had already made a day ascent, he wished to see London by night, and to give an account of it to the public.
When the balloon was filled during the afternoon, in the Waterloo Grounds, the air was calm and hot, with every prospect—as far as appearances went—of a fine summer evening. It was just the sort of weather for an aërial journey in the dark, there was no rustling of leaves, or wild gusts to induce the least apprehension of a disagreeable landing.
The inflation was completed with the utmost ease, and just before the variegated Vauxhall lamps were lighted, a circular framework, with Darby’s fireworks attached, was duly placed in position, so that it could be fixed on when the moment arrived for starting.
About this time it was observed that the atmosphere became oppressive, and that a threatening murky mist arose in the east; not long afterwards, distant thunder rumbled, and people began to scan the firmament, as if it looked uninviting, and as if the terrestrial sight-seers would be safer that night than the air explorers. As for us, we drew together and exchanged opinions, like mariners before leaving a port when dirty weather was looming on the horizon.
The lessee of Vauxhall Gardens, Mr. Robert Wardell, having noticed lightning playing over the city, came forth, with other interested parties, to look around him; andsoon a grave discussion was going on near the car, for the storm was fast brewing, and there was doubt as to whether it would be safe to venture. In the midst of great diversity of opinion, a direct appeal was made to me, and I gave it in as my conviction that, if the ascent were made quickly, and everything well managed, there need be no apprehension.
The fireworks—weighing over 60 lbs.—were now connected, and gentlemen were requested to jump in; for my own part, I decided upon jumping up on the hoop, so as to see the neck clear, and report to Mr. Gypson when the upper valve required opening.
I had never made a night ascent previously, but had formed my own opinions as to the particular line of action desirable, and especially under existing circumstances, when the air was highly charged with electricity, and when a large amount of weight was about to be lost owing to the combustion of the fireworks.
We left in grand style. A salvo of garden artillery announced the slip of the cable, and the most beautiful red and green fires changed the hue of the silken globe as it rose over the heads of the people; and just as these grew faint the aërial pyrotechnics burst forth, and the cheers rose lustily as each device engaged attention—for every piece was artistically arranged; and when the Roman candles shot out their many-coloured stars, and petards burst with a crashing sound, and golden and silver showers enlivened the darkness of mid-air, every spectator seemed to be in ecstacy; nor was there a single shout of dissatisfaction or fear, until nature—as if displeased withman’s efforts to light up the elements—broke out in apparent discontent; and a wide-spread flash, with deep-toned thunder overhead, arrested public admiration, and produced a death-like pause, both with us in the car and those on the earth—all of whom had seen us enveloped, apparently, in a flame of fire.
Our own feelings at this critical period can very well be imagined. We were now some 4000 feet high, in a storm of thunder and lightning, our fireworks were hardly spent and the balloon was mounting rapidly and was fully distended, so that close watching, and a proper line of action, could alone secure our safety.
When, after another flash or two, the gas rushed out of the safety valve, I looked at Mr. Gypson, wondering how he intended to act, and it was not long before I came to the conclusion that the upper valve ought to be opened so as to remove a visible strain on the lower hemisphere of the balloon. HadIseized the line and opened the valve I should most assuredly not have done wrong, but I simply, by pointing and hinting, endeavoured, with too much deference, to persuade him to do as I thought expedient.
He was not, evidently, quite of the same way of thinking as myself; at last I cried out, “if the valve is not opened the balloon will burst.”
Hardly had I uttered the warning when the car appeared to drop suddenly some six or eight feet beneath the balloon.
We all looked up, of course, affrighted, thinking that the netting was giving way at the top, and Mr. Albert Smith was impressed with the idea that I had pulled thevalve line, and broken the framework; but on looking upwards the sparks from the expiring fireworks, aided by a flash of lightning, disclosed the awful fact that the balloon had rent fully sixteen feet, and that we were falling headlong right over the west end of London, with myriads of gas lamps beneath us, and houses in such close proximity, that death stared us all in the face, and seemed inevitable.
Situated as I was, on the hoop, with a better opportunity of observing the torn silk and network than the rest, I noticed after the first shock to the nerves, that the line which connected the neck of the balloon was unduly tightened, and it immediately occurred to me if I cut that, the lower part of the balloon would the more readily form a resisting surface or parachute.
Much against the wishes of my companions I severed this cord, and a check was soon observable, but the sparks from the paper cases shot up among the gas through the tear in the silk, and once more the thunder roared, and lightning flashed, so that a more frightful descent to the earth could not possibly be imagined.
As the gas-lit metropolis appeared to come up towards us—for, strange as it may seem, there was no sense of giddiness or dropping—we collected the ballast bags and disconnected the grapnel rope in order to let them go just as we came in contact with the ground.
Fortunately, or rather say providentially, the balloon fell in a newly formed street in the Belgrave Road, Pimlico, while the network caught in some scaffold poles, which helped to break the force of collision.
Only one of the four of us was hurt, and that was myself, who received a cut in the hand from a bystander while he was trying to let us out of the network, which fell over our heads when the car touched the road.
Albert Smith and Mr. Pridmore lost no time in going back to Vauxhall Gardens to assure people of our safety; but the general public were not aware of the accident, although some few, who narrowly watched the course of the balloon, noticed that it appeared to be falling quickly and surrounded with sparks.
Almost the first person Albert Smith was said to have encountered on entering Vauxhall, was his brother, who looked amazed at seeing him, but observed a certain pallor and other indications of something being out of order.
“Good gracious, Albert,” he said, “I could have declared I saw you go in the balloon.”
“So you did,” was the reply, “don’t be alarmed, an accident happened, but no one is hurt. Come and tell Mr. Wardell particulars.”
After Mr. Gypson and I had returned with the luggage on top of a cab, a consultation was held as to the cause of the rupture; one thought the valve was broken, and another that the balloon was struck with the electric fluid, but the proprietor, as well as myself, knew the precise cause of the burst, and when an examination was made on the following morning, the valve line was found not to have been pulled, so the rent could clearly have been prevented had the valve been opened in time.
Divested in this way of a great deal of the horrorassociated with the stormy state of the weather, the accident assumed a more simple and comprehensible form.
No wonder, therefore, that after talking these points over, Mr. Gypson and I agreed, that in order to demonstrate that the balloon was not wanting in strength, it would be well to make another ascent by night with fireworks. Mr. Albert Smith was again invited, but a certain pressure, exercised perhaps wisely, by his friends prevented him from ascending again.
Mr. Pridmore, too, although as brave as need be, did not join us; but that very night week, with double the weight of fireworks, we ascended again with the restored balloon, and this time all went well, and we came down at Acton, having with us a third voyager, in the person of a captain, who had accompanied us under circumstances characteristic of an Englishman, and, perhaps, worth narrating.
Some little time before starting the said captain applied for a seat in the car, and I was asked to negotiate for him, in doing which I thought it but right to explain that an accident had happened the week previously and that Mr. Gypson was by no means desirous of taking a third person on the present occasion.
After I had again alluded in unmistakable terms to the perilous descent, the captain, in no way discouraged, said:
“Well sir, you are taking a great deal of trouble to inform me of that which is patent to everybody who reads, but I suppose the odds are that to-night there will be no smash.”
“Just so,” I added encouragingly, when the gallant gentleman stepped forward and took his place.
After the balloon was packed up at Acton I fancied that our companion looked as if he was happy and self-satisfied, he begged of us to go with him to his club, adding that he could well afford to offer an entertainment as he had made a wager of one hundred pounds that he would ascend that night, a decided opinion having prevailed at his club that he dare not do so, as a terrible catastrophe would be sure to take place, and so thought the public apparently, for Vauxhall was filled to such an extent that the garden officials described the crowd as so thick that one might have walked on people’s heads.
During the winter of 1847 Lieutenant Gale found that the expenses of establishing himself in popular favour were heavier than he had anticipated. He was associated with two other gentlemen in the proprietorship of his balloon, but his individual responsibilities caused a split, so that the aëronaut and his partners separated.
When Gale lost or threw up all controlling power over the balloon, the then sole owners having as they said a considerable amount of confidence in my judgment, called upon me, and proposed that as I had ascended so frequently and had encountered so many dangers, that I should make a series of ascents on my own and on their account, and that if I would manage the balloon that was styled Gale’s, but which was really theirs, I should have every facility for doing so, as Gale would have nothing more to do with it.
Such a thought never having entered my head, andbeing moreover engaged as a dentist, I at once declined, but not without explaining that my relatives had always discountenanced my balloon ascents, and would raise most positively a great outcry if ever my name appeared in a public capacity as a professed aëronaut.
Shortly after this refusal we again met in company with several of the admirers of aërostation, and whether by design or casual conversation I know not, but certain it was that gossip turned upon my former aërial adventures, and upon the advisability of my making it at once a business affair as well as a pastime. All the arguments I raised against the proposal were swept away by overwhelming opinions as to my aptitude and so forth.
“Look,” said one, “you are certainly risking your life without any profit, and the chances are you frequently dip your hand pretty deeply into your pocket minus any return.”
“Again,” said another, “look at the hair-breath escapes you have had, perhaps if you were to run alone these would be diminished.”
“And then,” suggested a third, “by being your own pilot you might attain to success and honour.”
This last inducement proved more weighty and seductive than the two former, and when the question was simply put whether if I would mind a run over to Brussels, just to put them right there for one or two ascents, I consented, but had no idea at the time that I was doing an act which would lead to my becoming a practical balloonist.
In the spring of 1848, therefore, I agreed to manage the said balloon, but before ascending I christened it the“Sylph,” and that word was painted three times in giant characters round the equator, so that wherever it appeared, or whichever way it turned, the name was always prominent.
My first ascent, as director in the Belgian capital, was to take place in the month of May, but a voyage by private arrangement was set on foot by way of a trial trip, and one of the owners, a Mr. S——, was to entrust his life to my care, and we were to go whither the winds blew us, on a sort of pleasure trip. The “Sylph” received a good supply of gas at the Independent Gas-works at Haggerston, London, on April 10th; early in the afternoon we ascended, and after being nearly three hours aloft came down near Colchester, passing directly over the county town of Essex.
This led on our way back to a call at Chelmsford, and as I knew several persons in that town who now learnt that I was commanding officer of the good craft “Sylph,” nothing would satisfy them but getting up an ascent there, and although I was averse to any undertaking of the sort in England, still I was over persuaded, and the rumour rapidly gained circulation that I should make a public ascent from the gas-yard of the town shortly, and that as it would be the first thing of the kind from Chelmsford for seventeen years, the inhabitants would hail such an exhibition with much pleasure and good attendance.
The first of my two ascents from this town took place April 28th, 1848. The weather was not exactly propitious, for the morning rose somewhat sulky.
“And her sick head was bound about with clouds,As if she threatened night e’er noon of day.”
“And her sick head was bound about with clouds,As if she threatened night e’er noon of day.”
“And her sick head was bound about with clouds,
As if she threatened night e’er noon of day.”
In this state of things, a postponement was contemplated, but soon after midday, the sun, “of this great world the eye and soul,” scattered the clouds and revived the preparations; there was, in fact, a complete revolution in the weather, and the curious began to gather in and take up their positions, while the bright eyes of many Essex ladies were directed, not to the six points of Chartism, just then famous, but to the one point where the silken craft towered above the adjoining buildings, as it was influenced by the breeze in the gas-works.
The visitors having been treated with a series of partial ascents, at six o’clock the balloon rose. In the car were Mr. Chas. Livermore, of Felstead, and Mr. Isaac Livermore, of Dunmow, together with Mr. Church, the engineer of the gas-works.
We were greeted in our course by thousands of applauding voices—
“Followed far by many a wond’ring eye,They glide majestic ’twixt the earth and sky.”
“Followed far by many a wond’ring eye,They glide majestic ’twixt the earth and sky.”
“Followed far by many a wond’ring eye,
They glide majestic ’twixt the earth and sky.”
The “Sylph” took a direction over the Hanning fields, and ultimately descended near Rettendon Common.
On May the 5th, a second illustration was made from the same locality. This time the atmosphere had all the sunshine and softness of balmy spring, the visitors were far more numerous than on the former occasion, and the reserved seats were filled principally with ladies, many of them from the leading families of the neighbourhood.
Captive ascents were found to be impracticable this day, but at length Mr. Ram, of Newland Hall, with two othergentlemen entered the car, and we mounted over the irregular forces who garrisoned the housetops in rapid style, and moved towards the Roothings.
Strange to say, the descent was made near Good Easter, where Mr. Ram lived, and here I kept the balloon all night; the following morning, soon after sunrise, I began taking people up, the length of the cable, and after breakfast Mr. Ram’s daughters had a panoramic view of the Hall and Park; the elder young lady would fain have ascended altogether, but papa had made up his mind to do so once more himself, so that soon after 11 o’clock we started again with the same gas, and after being up nearly an hour, descended at Forth-end, near Felstead.
Before starting from the gas-works, on the 5th instant, I made the following estimate of the weight of the “Sylph” and its appendages:—
being the weight which 32,000 feet of carburetted hydrogen gas would sustain at a specific gravity of about 440.
The temperature of the air on the earth was sixty-two degrees; at the greatest altitude, viz., three-quarters of amile, forty-nine degrees. Temperature of gas on the earth, as obtained by placing a thermometer in the neck, sixty-three degrees; ditto in mid-air, forty-four degrees. Force of expansion, as indicated by the pressure gauge, 5·10, or half an inch; rate of travelling, twenty miles an hour; direction of wind, N.W.
About the middle of the merry month of May Mr. S—— and I formed part of a group of passengers at London Bridge Wharf, on our way to the Antwerp steam-boat.
Everybody but ourselves was looking after the porters and their luggage. We appeared to be gazing at the clouds, but were in reality watching a large wicker basket which was suspended some thirty feet under a crane, and was ready to be swung in on deck directly the mate saw all clear below, and sung out “lower away.”
This basket, owing to its unusual size, attracted general attention, a bystander, who took it for a large bread basket, observed that the passengers would be well off for the “staff of life,” even if they lacked delicacies. But the interest taken in the huge basket rather increased than diminished when the mate, a little angry with the seamen, cried out “bear a hand there, stow away that balloon.”
“Belongs to you Sir?” added the officer, directing a patronizing glance towards me, whereupon a hundred eyes or more followed suit, and my connection with the supposed bread basket was established beyond the shadow of a doubt. Assuming, rather than feeling, the required amount of nerve to endure this introduction to the ship’s crew, I nodded an affirmative, and tried to suppress a rush of blood to the cheek, but it would not do. I looked ashamedof this branch of publicity, and proposed to go below and see after our berths.
The first person I met in the chief cabin was an acquaintance, but glad enough was I to find that he had not noticed our luggage, and what was more, that he was merely seeing a friend off to the continent. No sooner had we deposited our portmanteaus in the sleeping berths than I proposed to go on deck again, whispering to my friend as we went up the companion ladder, “out of the frying-pan into the fire.” “That gentleman,” I added, “knows my family well, and I would rather not be identified with the big basket so uncommonly close to London Bridge.”
“That’s all a matter of taste,” observed Mr. S—— consolingly, “many men would be proud of the position.”
“But you know I am not, and you are aware of my reasons for not caring about being thought a professional aëronaut.”
“All right Mr. Coxwell, take it quietly and pass for an amateur.”
The vessel had not rounded the Isle of Dogs when we found ourselves in earnest conversation with an elderly gentleman, who was much interested in aërostation. It came out, too, that he had ascended himself, and that he was intimate with some of the aëronautic celebrities of the present century.
“Do you know,” said our communicative fellow-traveller, “I never could thoroughly understand the cause of the fatal descent of that poor man Cocking; being abroad atthe time I had not the opportunity of keeping pace with our home newspapers.”
In reply I said, “You are aware that the principle of his parachute was diametrically opposite to Garnerin’s, which had descended successfully. Cocking’s was a sort of inverted cone, while that previously employed was more like an umbrella turned upside down with a weight appended to the stick.”
“Exactly,” said our intelligent acquaintance, “and the tendency of a rush of air was not to collapse but rather to keep it distended.”
I fully agreed, and added that “Two objectionable circumstances attended the use of Garnerin’s parachute, namely, the length of time which elapsed before it expanded, and the violent oscillating movement which accompanied the descent. In order to obviate these deficiencies a variety of plans had been proposed at different times, amongst which was that of Cocking’s.” The inverted cone principle, however, was not an idea originating with Cocking, although he had lectured on the subject in 1814 before the Society of Arts.
“Towards the end of the last century this kind of parachute was proposed in Paris, and revived by Sir George Cayley, and again more fully developed by Mr. Kerr in the Encyclopædia Edinensis.”
“Pray,” inquired our friend, “do you happen to know the weight and diameter of Cocking’s parachute?”
“Yes; the computations which appeared in the public press, previous to the inquest, were loose and incorrect. They were to the effect that the entire weight was 393 lbs.,whereas, from the evidence taken before the coroner, it appeared that the apparatus weighed 413 lbs., and Mr. Cocking 170 lbs. The terminal velocity, therefore, would have been nearly twenty feet in a second had the parachute not collapsed. Its diameter was thirty-four feet.”
“Of course one of smaller dimensions on the concave plan would descend less rapidly?”
“Oh, certainly a parachute on the Garnerin principle would bring a man down at the rate of twenty feet in a second, even if it were fifteen feet in diameter.”
“According to the most reliable tables of atmospheric resistances, a weight of one pound under a square foot of sustaining surface would cause it to descend at the rate of 1320 feet per second, or fifteen miles an hour.”
“But as this is a far greater rate than is consistent with safety, the diameter should be at least twenty-five feet.”
“Then how is it that scientific men and practical aëronauts did not point out these faults?”
“They did; but poor Cocking was so confident and determined, that no sooner was a large balloon built by the Vauxhall proprietors, Messrs. Gye and Hughes, than he proposed appending a parachute to it, and he threatened in the event of refusal, to construct another balloon and offer opposition to Vauxhall.”
“Indeed, and I have no doubt that pecuniary inducements had their weight. But what did Mr. Green say?”
“Green, to do him justice, never liked the experiment, and he has been heard to say since, that for no amount of money would he repeat his experience on July 24th, 1837.”
“He is said at first to have declined to connect his name with it, but he was bound to ascend with the great balloon when called upon by the proprietors, as there was a legal difficulty in evading the ascent.”
“It has been suggested, and with some show of practicability, that he might by stratagem have brought Cocking down without allowing him to descend with his parachute alone, but Mr. Green distinctly stated on the other hand, that his individual impression was, that having withstood the pressure of the atmosphere in the ascent, the parachute would go down safely.”
“What with the danger to Mr. Green and his companion, Mr. E. Spencer, owing to the loss of so great a weight, it is evident that it was an ill-judged affair from first to last.”
“Most decidedly. Now please to tell me where this frail structure gave way.”
“The upper circle was made only of tin hooping, soldered together, and this broke before even the ascent was made.”
“It transpired, afterwards, that Cocking in all probability twisted the cord round his wrist, the better to enable him to effect his liberation by pulling hard at the trigger; in so doing it is conjectured that he was jerked against the smaller circle at the apex of the cone, and that his own body produced a fracture in the framework, which added to its weakness.”
“This concussion may have deprived him of sensibility as well, a wound found on his temple tends to confirm this view of the catastrophe.”
Thus ended our dissertation on parachutes; but long ere our further chat had ceased, we had approached the mouth of Father Thames, where a fresh breeze and a lively motion caused many passengers to go below, and others to obey the steward’s call to dinner.Weresponded, and went through not only the ceremony, but the enjoyment of, a generous repast, without feeling indisposed. On landing at Antwerp an Englishman presented himself on the quay, whom we took, and rightly so, for a gentleman who had entered into the balloon speculation at Brussels, and who had in consequence engaged my services to ascend.
He was a red-haired, gaunt person, extremely short-sighted, and wore a cap and close-fitting dress-coat, which had seen more sunny days and was conspicuously short in the sleeves. But, notwithstanding his optical infirmity, he was a match for the sharpest porter, and by tact he was soon up with the steward and ascertained our names and errand with astonishing sharpness.
In introducing himself, he brought his hand down upon the great basket, or balloon car, with some degree of familiarity, saying, “Well, here you are,” as if he had been intimately acquainted with us previously.
It was, however our first meeting, and was essentially of a business character, but anything like a stiff commercial view of this preliminary interview was soon removed by a jaunty nonchalance on his part. He then drew out a showy cigar case, and almost immediately replaced it, saying, “Wait a bit, we will go over to the hotel and breakfast first,” which we decided to do, after his perceiving that the cigar case was empty.
All doubt being then removed, Mr. S—— and I looked at each other, as much as to say, perhaps he is a capital fellow, notwithstanding his manner, looks, and short-comings.
After refreshment, our long-haired short-sighted, short-sleeved countryman proposed, or rather peremptorily decided upon pushing on to Brussels forthwith.
Matters were not quite so forward as he could wish, and although the ascent was positively announced, and the king had promised his patronage, still there was much to be done, and for his part he had quite lost faith in Frenchmen and Belgians. What all this meant, we could only surmise and think over privately.
On arriving at Brussels we found that the intended balloon ascent had received such careless attention, that the prospect of its taking place on the day announced was doubtful in the extreme.
It seemed that a company had been formed to carry out this little enterprise, and that one Frenchman, two Belgians, a Dutchman, and an Englishman, had united their abilities and purses to put it into execution.
The Englishman was clearly neither the treasurer nor principal. The Frenchman had chiefly to do with the Prado Gardens, whence the “Sylph” was to rise; and whether the Dutchman or the Belgians were the sleeping partners, or the capitalists, they deposed not, nor could we gather, although it soon became evident that the relative positions of each member of so complicated an association, required to be well and at once understood by me, before proceeding further in the matter.
I said, therefore, to the British representative of this amalgamated balloon company, that I was under the impression I was purely and solely engaged by the lessee of the Prado to make these ascents, and that he was a well-to-do and competent proprietor.
“So I thought,” observed the seedy Englishman.
“It appears to me that there are a prodigious number of cooks to prepare this simple mess of broth, and I tell you candidly,” I continued, “that unless the cash for the first ascent, and the requisite supply of gas are forthcoming within twenty-four hours I shall retire from Brussels but not without publicly alleging as a reason, that I have been deceived by the party inviting us to come over.”
On due inquiry, I ascertained that no pipes had been brought into the gardens of adequate size for the inflation, and that it was intended, without my approval or consent, to accomplish that all important task at a distant gas-works, outside the capital, and then before daybreak, to pass it over the housetops, and finally deposit it in the Prado, until such time as the public had assembled.
Now, although this process is one which I have frequently accomplished under favourable circumstances as to wind and locality, still to drag a balloon through Brussels, and risk its contact with high houses and chimneys, was an injudicious beginning, and I protested emphatically, and indeed declined it altogether.
I had, however, stood out, according to the letter of my own request, for cash and a supply of gas, and these terms, after no small altercation, were agreed to.
The cash was to be paid just when my part of the contract was about to be fulfilled; but the gas could not be delivered in the gardens, as the cost would be enormous, no such large pipes as those required being in the neighbourhood.
When the Englishman, with short sleeves and sight, first wrote to us in London, I was assured that “all the customary facilities for filling balloons would be found in the Vauxhall of Brussels,” and “that no doubt or hesitation need be felt on that score.”
But surely such discordant bickerings and confusion of languages, as we had, never before preceded the arrangements for this kind of work.
There was no money, no head, no gas, and no order in any step that had been taken, until I personally superintended the whole affair.
A certain amount of pressure and decision, however, brought this heterogeneous mixture of nationalities entirely to book, but theyhad meon one point, and at a tremendous advantage, namely, I was driven to fill the “Sylph” at the gas-works, and endeavour to transport it through the town.
This attempt was made in May, 1848, and on that occasion grey-eyed morn broke in with a high dawn and a reddish sky, an appearance which was interpreted as being very fine by those who assembled for an exciting view before breakfast.
We soon beat to quarters, as nautical men say, and, although we had “time by the forelock,” we were none too soon, as I was most anxious to be moving before the morningbreezes were astir; and, though I had little time for noticing the barometer, still I had observed a decided drop, and did not altogether admire present appearances.
No sooner was the gas turned on than the “Sylph” began to display its proportions satisfactorily, and the lookers on threw themselves into various postures indicative of approbation.
“Ah! Monsieur Coxvel,” said one of the party, stroking down his beard, “you vil hav vun vary fine day; no vind, no nothink. Your transport vil no be difficile.”
Hereupon I glanced around the horizon, but returned the weather wise Belgian no reply. He then looked with such a scrutinizing glance, as to provoke an expression of discontent.
“Ah! vat you mean,” inquired he, “vy you frown?”
The fact was, a small solitary, dark-looking cloud had made its appearance to the westward; and, although a goodly distance off, was wending its way up with great rapidity. The configuration of this little intruder on the blue sky was such as to forbode wind.
“Gentlemen,” said I to those who were helping, “there is a fresh wind springing up, at no great distance from the earth, and if it does not extend downwards before reaching the gardens, we may consider ourselves fortunate.”
Several bystanders protested against the probability of this, and discussed the matter with flourishing action of the hands and much useless talk.
The Frenchman and the English agent grew quite warm as they expressed opposite views about the matter; but the Dutchman, who was one of the party, avowed his firmbelief that squally weather was approaching, and the way in which he gave a furtive and semi-nautical glance above, showed at once that he shared my opinions and fears.
Our attention was directed as quickly as possible to securing the net lines to the hoop, so as to get a fair and equal bearing from a strong centre, and we had just completed this necessary precaution, when the long grass around us bent to leeward with a low, murmuring sound, and in less than half-an-hour after the first symptoms of an approaching gale, one fitful gust broke upon us, creating, as it acted upon the partially-filled balloon, a flapping, blustering sort of music, which only loud Boreas is accustomed to indulge in.
Around the hoop and in the car were placed about forty half-hundredweights, in order to steady the restless machine, which on being filled and let up to the extent of the netting rolled round in graceful sweeps over our heads.
The manager of the gardens, a sturdy Frenchman, was for a precipitate dash through the city, regardless of all risk, but the adventurous Englishman asked “How would Monsieur act if the balloon were his own property?”
“Vat you vil do?” said the military looking Belgian, who promised us “no vind, no nothink.”
“Why Sir,” I replied, “the fact is we have to contend with a most formidable opponent, and I think we can’t do better than act purely on the defensive, the assaults of this strong wind are quite as much as the balloon can bear, and if we attempt to charge in the teeth of the wind we shall only be repulsed, perhaps with heavy loss.”
As there appeared to be some doubt about the correctnessof my views, which required translation, I ordered a general move forward, by way of demonstrating whether it were possible to keep on or whether it was better to lay-to until the wind dropped.
Our forces, so to speak, were thus divided:—twenty burly mechanics at the car, six to each guy-rope, about thirty to two ropes fastened to the hoop with a view of pulling the balloon along, myself in the car giving directions, the Englishman, whose sleeves were shorter than ever, at my right acting as interpreter, Mr. S—— on my left pulling for example’s sake; the manager of the Prado public garden, with subordinates, and small fry, were at their posts shouting vociferously, and thereby confounding the interpreter.
Away we marched, to the infinite delight of the Frenchmen, for a few steps right bravely, but suddenly, flap, round, up, down, went the “Sylph,” upsetting several of the party, and at last we were driven further back than we had actually advanced, which proved sufficient to convince everybody present as to who was right and who were wrong.
We now essayed to move laterally towards a somewhat sheltered spot, but here a fresh difficulty soon presented itself in the shape of a file of soldiers, who drew up near the balloon. An officer then advanced and summoned me to his presence.
There was something decidedly ominous in the undertoned conversation betwixt the officer and myself. I could perceive that all persons present preserved silence, and displayed a large amount of curiosity to ascertain what was going to happen.
The effect of the wind, which was gradually increasing, was not so apparent when the “Sylph” was sheltered behind some trees as it was previously, when each blast came upon us in its full fury, without break or hindrance. I therefore betook myself to the car and stowed away the sand-bags, getting rid of some half-hundredweights in their stead. Lastly I attached my liberating iron to the hoop, and passed into the hands of the workmen a rope connected therewith, which they were requested to hold, and I then informed the assistants that I wished to learn what ascending power the gas had, to effect which it would be necessary to allow the car to rise once or twice a few feet above the ground.
I noticed that the Belgians, Dutchman, and Frenchman, who were most interested in these proceedings, stood aloof in earnest conversation. Quite unexpectedly I found a pair of long hands and bare wrists over the side of the car, and before I could make the first trial with the balloon the Englishman, although short-sighted be it remembered, had vaulted in by my side, without explaining himself or asking of me an explanation, but I guessed when I put out a few bags of sand to equalize his weight that he knew as much of my real intentions as I did myself.
The moment I found the balloon had a buoyant tendency, I suddenly and unexpectedly pulled the trigger, when away went the “Sylph” with a bound, allowing the holders of the rope to go head-over-heels, and everybody else to be seized with the conviction that the balloon had broken away from its moorings.
My intrepid companion was not long in convincing methat he overheard the officer’s secret request, which was, that “owing to the then unsettled state of political affairs persons were not allowed to collect in numbers in the public thoroughfare, and that if I found it impossible to reach the Prado, the authorities requested that I would let out the gas and stop the proceedings.”
“In what way did you pledge yourself to the official?” asked my countryman, as he looked down upon the receding knot of astonished spectators beneath.
“Just allow me to let off a little gas, and I will tell you; we are rising fast notwithstanding our rapid movement forward. Replying to your question then, I merely promised the officer that the balloon should be removed with all possible expedition. It is not likely that I was going to haul down my colours, or in other words, to let out the gas without ascending.”
“But my partners in this speculation, the Frenchman and the others, will hardly comprehend this hasty exit.”
“Indeed they will,” I replied, “the officer will surely intimate his instructions, and my own way of executing his orders will not be displeasing in the long run.”
“What a magnificent view of fair Brussels, but how insignificant in size. Look at the Tower of Malines.”
“And far beyond,” I added, “you can see Antwerp.”
“I knew by your preparations you were going to ascend.”
“Did you,” I observed, “well, I told no one of my intentions, not even Mr. S——, I thought it would be better to clear off first and explain afterwards. It would have been useless to keep the balloon where it was, and Ihave no doubt the friends with whom you are connected will appreciate my motives by and bye.”
“We are now passing over a village,” said my companion, “which I have just recognised, and you will be astonished to hear that we are least sixteen miles from Brussels, and that we have not been up more than a quarter of an hour.”
“I am not surprised at our rate of travelling, but rather at your good sight in picking out a place well known to you.”
“Ah,” said the Englishman, “mine is a long sight, you will hardly believe that I command the entire panoramic view as clearly as you do; for instance, do you see anything besides those microscopic dots in that green patch? I mean anything besides the cows which graze in the meadows to the right of the farm-house.”
I looked attentively, and just detected a number of ducks, chiefly white ones, on the banks of a pond, but should not have noticed them unless I had examined minutely.
“How far do you suppose those insignificant specks are down?”
“I should guess 3000 feet, but not having my instruments I cannot accurately ascertain our height or the temperature of the air; indeed, we have little time even for landscape viewing, as I suppose we both wish to make Brussels again to-night, there to account for our unceremonious flight.”
I now let off some gas, and in a few minutes we found ourselves travelling with considerable velocity across alarge common, where there were canals and banks in which the grapnel was likely to get hold.
I prepared my companion for a rough landing, telling him he must not mind it, as it was his own seeking.
To do him justice he seemed to like the aërial mode of transit, and when the iron took in a water-course and hung fast in the bank, causing the balloon and car to roll over, and then to break away again, he became conscious of the terrible force of the wind, and prepared for a succession of bumps and shocks.
We were soon trailing along towards another canal, the car keeping just clear of the ground, when I found that it was a good spot to catch in, and begged my fellow-traveller to keep fast and look out for squalls. Fortunately this we held fast, but the wayward “Sylph” struggled hard for freedom, and we were thrice driven down with unpleasant violence before I crippled the balloon so as to be able to get out.
We lost no time in returning from whence we came.
On the whole, people were well pleased, both those who were present at the start and those who had only heard of the peculiar circumstances under which it became expedient to make the ascent thus early in the morning.
The newspaper accounts of this first attempt of mine in Belgium eulogised it as “daring and extraordinary.” Public attention therefore was not only called to it, but to another, which was spoken of as certain to take place, provided the gas directors would bestir themselves for the public good.
Thus politely challenged, how could they reasonably refrain from obliging?
To do them justice, they came forward readily, and in less than a week a six-inch main was introduced into the Prado Gardens.
On the 2nd of June a large attendance of the inhabitants of Brussels testified the pleasure they derived from a close inspection of the balloon. They were invited to see something like novelty in connection with the ascent, as I had undertaken to show, on a miniature scale, how practicable it was to discharge aërial shells from a balloon, supposing they were needed in warfare, when it was not possible to bombard in the usual way, owing to the intervention of hills, water, or other impediments.
As there was hardly a breath of air stirring during inflation, the “Sylph” stood proudly erect, and seemed to bask in the sunshine, occasionally evincing a tendency to rise into the upper air, as if to escape the heat below, by soaring into the refreshing coolness of the skies.
A Belgian pyrotechnist having made the explosive shells, in strict accordance with my instructions, and in exact imitation of a model to scale, I was rather anxious to have them all brought out and adjusted before the last moment of setting off.
Great interest was manifested and some apprehension felt about these fireworks, which I had promised to ignite when 2,000 feet high.
The danger connected with their use rested in a great measure with the manufacturer.
If my instructions were rigidly adhered to, they would go off as certainly as a well-made military shell from a mortar. I had taken the precaution of attaching them toa separate battery, which was ready to lower when the balloon left the earth, and I could then pass down a rope ladder, something after the plan of Lieut. Gale, and by communicating with a fuse at a safe distance from the gas, the shells would be ignited.
Being perfectly satisfied with the entire disposition of this part of the contrivance, I invited my intended fellow travellers to enter the car. These were Mr. N——, a railway engineer, and Mr. S——. At eight o’clock p.m., barometer 30·2 and thermometer 66°, we set out for a calm, delightful journey.
The “Sylph” rose almost perpendicularly, so that there was no necessity for hurry in lowering the battery, or in going down to fire the shells.
In less than two minutes, a bluish outburst of smoke, followed by a sharp sound, announced that the first aërial shell had burst in mid-air; a second ring of smoke formed higher up near the balloon, and then a third and fourth exploded at about the original range, the rest following at stated intervals, and with remarkable precision.
Cheer succeeded cheer as each “bang” reached the earth.
“Look out for the next,” cried Mr. N—— as the twelfth shell darted down towards the housetops, and then detonated with a loud ringing report, which echoed in the still air like distant artillery. “That, indeed, is a splendid sight.”
“And sound too,” added Mr. S——. “How many more are there to go off now?”
“As many more,” I replied, “but there is no danger,they are all trimmed to a nicety, and made to fall at least 300 feet before exploding.”
“If these things were used on a large scale, how would you manage their ignition?” enquired the engineer.
“That might be by concussion, supposing the shells were formed like a pear, with two or three nipples at the heavier end, and by fuse as well in case of failure when striking, but we will speak of these matters by and bye; please to note down, barometer 25·4 and thermometer 47° Fahrenheit; we have been so busy as not to have observed the pressure and temperature, which were considerable.”
“It does not feel so much colder,” observed Mr. N——.
“No,” I answered, “for my part, it appears to me warmer, owing to my going up and down the ladder and otherwise exerting myself; but pray notice our course: you, as a resident, know all about that.”
“I am much mistaken,” said the engineer, “if we are not going direct for Waterloo. We are too, by Jove!”
“Bravo,” I exclaimed; “how stands the barometer?”
“About 5·800 feet, we will lower gradually, as we clear the forest of Soignes so as to have a good bird’s-eye view of the battle-fields.”
Mr. S——, who had been looking through a telescope, and who had only recently accompanied us to Waterloo, now caught sight of the lion on the mound.
“Sure enough,” he said, “we shall pass directly over.”
A balloon view of Waterloo with the surrounding country, and bold acclivities, fails entirely to convey the martial associations, which those noted Belgic plains would beexpected to arouse. We felt hardly reconciled to the fact, that, on that cluster of fields, which looked so rural, and cultivated, the fate of Europe had been decided, in so great and sanguinary a contest.
As our survey happened to be made in the same month as that on which the memorable battle was fought; the general appearances of nature could not have been very dissimilar to what they were on June 17th, 1815, just when the British infantry bivouacked on the rising ground near the village, and the cavalry rested in those hollows in the rear.
It is true we gazed upon a landscape which was comparatively tame, when unenlivened by the armies of Wellington, Blücher, and Napoleon.
An aërial glance at that great historical picture would indeed have been a sight worth seeing. But the mere bird’s-eye view of the site was somewhat disappointing.
Could we have seen the downtrodden corn and rye, the clouds of smoke, the prancing horses, and helmeted riders, the splendid French columns impetuously advancing against the solid squares of red. Could we have heard the din and roar of musketry and cannon, and the wild hurrah of the last grand charge, then indeed the scene would have appeared fresh and imposing. Our bird’s-eye view of Waterloo, so far from being lively and soul-stirring, was rather of a philosophical and contemplative character.