1852.
The votaries of ballooning, like the followers of any other pursuit, have their mutual jealousies. The renowned Mr. C. Green was, at the above date, gradually relinquishing aëronautic duties. Age was steadily creeping upon the veteran, and ambition was prompting one or two others to prove themselves competitors and scientific successors. Lieutenant Gale had lost his life after ascending from Bordeaux, and his patron, Mr. Goulston, had determined to follow aërostation enthusiastically. This latter gentleman was not what the public would style a mere professional balloonist, but an aspirant, who was well to do in the world as a floor-cloth manufacturer. On returning from the continent, I gave Mr. Goulston a friendly call, as we had more than once been up together, and much enjoyed a chat about our favourite study. I then learnt that it was his intention to make ascents from Cremorne Gardens, as well as other places, and that the probability being that I should go abroad again, he imagined that we should not oppose each other.
I distinctly remember objecting to this idea as to my own movements, stating as a reason that I had myself some tempting offers to ascend in and about the Metropolis. I promised, moreover, if he was determined to take the West, that I would try my fortune in the East of London.
Mr. Goulston was the proprietor of the balloon “La Normandie,” and he had just built a new one of smaller capacity, which was about to make its maiden ascent in the forthcoming Whitsun holidays, from Belle Vue Gardens, Manchester.
Strange to say, the very first attempt proved fatal. Mr. Goulston, who ascended in a strong wind was dashed against some stone walls, and lost his life.
He had, it appeared, a very imperfect grapnel for stopping the balloon, but whether he attempted to get out of the car, or not, could hardly be ascertained, although he was known to have determined upon some scheme by which he thought it possible to let the balloon go to the mercy of the wind, whilst endeavouring to save himself by springing from the car.
This untoward beginning was the means of bringing the ill-fated balloon into my notice very shortly after this sad event.
Mr. Goulston had engaged to use it at Cremorne Gardens; intimations of an intended ascent had been published in the newspapers, and I was immediately applied to for an ascent with my own balloon in the place of Mr. Goulston who was killed.
Mr. Simpson, the lessee, then informed me that Mrs. Goulston had applied to him to purchase the balloons, but he would be glad to have my judgement as to the value and construction of the smaller balloon, in which the aëronaut had lost his life.
On examination, I found it to be of good make and material, and when I was asked if I would ascend in it, I unhesitatingly replied: “Certainly, provided I use my own grapnel and ropes.”
After I had made a few trips with it, the accident could no longer be attributed to imperfections in the aërial machine, and it was purchased by Mr. Simpson, and named the “Prince of Wales.” It thus happened, most unexpectedly on my part, that the West-end gardens, as well as those in the East, were at my command.
Having overcome the objection, which owing to family scruples I had formerly felt, to appear professionally in England, I made up my mind, that having once done so, I would go ahead, and make as many ascents as possible during the season of 1852.
Although it was the year after the Exhibition, and there was not much to be done, as my good advisers supposed, yet I resolved to show that it was possible to make more ascents in one year, than had been made by several aëronauts, during the past three or four seasons.
I made arrangements, therefore, to ascend from the New Globe Gardens, Mile End Road, not far from the site of the People’s Palace, also from the Eagle Establishment, City Road, and from the new grounds, which had just been started at North Woolwich, under the name of the Pavilion Gardens.
What with Cremorne and the above named localities, I ascended three or four times in a week, and at the termination of 1852, added thirty-six voyages to my former ascents, which dated in rapid succession from my first as an amateur in the year 1844.
There was one peculiarity about the ballooning at North Woolwich, which caused a fund of amusement on the Thames and the garden esplanade; this consisted in crossing over from the gas-works at Woolwich, the car being fastened in a ferry boat with a steam-tug ahead, which towed the balloon across the river to the Pavilion Gardens.
On one occasion I was engaged somewhere else, when the directors particularly wanted an ascent. I recommended an aëronaut with whom I had long been acquainted, and the way he acknowledged my kindness was by finding fault with the manner I moved my balloon, offering at the same time to show the real and scientific style of doing it properly. But this aëronaut lost his balloon in the attempt, it bounded away out of control, burst in the air, and came down a wreck.
My concluding ascents in 1852 took place at Glasgow. Mr. Maxwell, my compagnon de voyage on the second ascension on October 14th 1852, confirms the account descriptive of our own feelings, and which is a very fair representation of other people’s when they go up in a balloon. A few extracts will be useful, as they apply generally to the subject.
“Before taking a seat in the car for the first time, imagination is busy picturing the scenes and sensations which belong to an aërial voyage. However great one’s courage may be, there are always little fears as to personal safety, and it is owing to this feeling before starting, that the first great impression is made on the mind, when the traveller finds, on rising, that the transition is not accompanied by any of those disagreeable emotions which most persons are apt to connect with that mode of travelling. As the balloon leaves the ground, two-fold astonishment seizes the mind, first—as to the vastness and splendour of the view, secondly—that the effect produced in looking down is not what would be supposed, judging from lofty surveys on the tops of high buildings, in fact, fear is lost in admiration, and there is a joyous consciousness of safety, which favours calm observation.
“The earth presented to our view an immense concave surface, that part immediately beneath being the deepest, this variegated picture may be compared to a map. A certain degree of confusion, however, attends one’s early efforts to recognise particular localities, and here it was that the aëronaut surprised me by the facility with which he pointed out the leading features of Glasgow, although they were new to him.
“First he directed attention to the Clyde, pointing out the different ship-building yards, and mentioning the names of the proprietors. Anon he took me round the squares, along the streets, up to the railway station, and off to the distant country. I was bold enough to inquire how it was Mr. C—— was enabled to trace Glasgow and its surroundings with such accuracy, having made only one ascent previously. ‘I will tell you,’ he replied, ‘I always make it my business before ascending, to acquire every possible information as to a strange locality, much is to be obtained from local maps, &c., but more from personal observations as to public buildings, thoroughfares, roads, and other conspicuous objects, which once seen, familiarise themselves again in the bird’s-eye view, and thereby lead to detection.’
“So model-like and regular was the face of the city, that it was difficult to reconcile the belief that there, beneath, lay the thrifty, solid-built, populous port of Glasgow.
“A view from on high is certainly a great leveller of human distinction—the contrast of a splendid residence with a humble dwelling is not very great when viewed from the range of the clouds, nor do lofty spires, hallowed walls, or public monuments, command, however much they deserve, that respect which they are accustomed to receive below. Everything is reduced to the smallest possible dimensions, preserving, notwithstanding, distinctness of form and outline.”
We descended at the village of Cryston; Robert Kaye, Esq., of Mill Brae, was present, rendering material assistance, and invited us to take refreshment at his house.
In a third trip from Glasgow, in which Mr. Maxwell again accompanied me, Duncan McIntyre was initiated into the enjoyments of ballooning; a few extracts of his own version of the scene will sufficiently bring it within view.
“After having witnessed the ascents made by Mr. H. Coxwell on the 9th and 13th of October, I had no hesitation in making arrangements for a trip with him on the 18th instant.
“Almost immediately on leaving, the aëronaut commenced a most entertaining lecture on aërostation, and described graphically, the beautiful scene which gradually opened out to our view.
“The tortuous winding of the Clutha, appeared like a small rivulet, dotted here and there with Liliputian steamers. Dumbarton with its ship-building yards and ancient Castle-Greenock, in the distance, with its forest of shipping, were all seen to great advantage, although on the same dwarfish scale. On ascending still higher, the country, to my inexperienced eye, assumed a somewhat concave appearance, reminding me of the plains of South America, and for miles there was not apparently an eminence of a foot high; but this deceitful appearance was fully explained by our enterprising captain, who pointed out many places and informed us of their height.
“Near to Garscube bridge, Mr. Maxwell left the car, as we wished to go much higher than we had been, and this time the captain took a variety of observations with his instruments, by which he told me of the degrees of cold, and our height in feet, a few of which I put down in my pocket book; for instance, just before we entered a cloud, though I had not observed it overhead, I was requested to button up my coat, as the thermometer had fallen fourteen degrees, and we were three-quarters of a mile high, and in another minute we should enter a cloud, and there it would be ten degrees colder still. I remember he said we were then more than a mile high.
“Our descent was made in a masterly style about half a mile west of Milngaire. It is worthy of remark that this is the same field in which Mr. Sadler, twenty-nine years ago, made his descent, and still more remarkable, it was the same man who caught the rope of Mr. Sadler’s balloon, who performed a similar service for us.”
After the three ascents already recorded, I made one more in conclusion, and it is no vain exaggeration to assert, that my first season in London, besides my numerous ascents previously as an amateur, did actually comprise a greater number of trips than any three balloonists had made, even in the preceding exhibition year.