1853.
During the summer months I maintained the interest in aërostatics by numerous voyages, and although they did not exceed twenty-two in number, still they furnished fresh experiences, and enabled me to take up more than fifty passengers.
One of the most remarkable was an ascent from the New Globe Pleasure Grounds, Mile End Road. The date fixed for the fête was October 16th, but it was a wet and windy morning, which caused postponement notices to be got out, but no sooner were they delivered into the hands of the bill-sticker and his assistants, than a gleam of sunshine shot forth, and the drift of the clouds betokened a favourable break, while a low, but steady, barometer, together with a slight shift in the wind, induced all parties interested to suspend movements until a consultation had been held, as to what was to be the order of the day. The workmen were at their posts ready to proceed, the foreman of the gas-works was awaiting the word to turn on. My own assistant stood by the balloon, anxious to unfold at a moment’s notice.
In the Board Room were myself, the gas-engineer, and the proprietor of the gardens in earnest discussion, as to whether or not it was too late to fill the balloon. Extra pressure was promised, and a little pressure of another sort was put on me, so that the decision was to proceed.
Biscuits and a hasty glass of sherry were served, when out we all sallied into the grounds, which were now steaming from the rarefaction caused by the sun, which had burst forth with an unmistakable intention of shining uninterruptedly until sunset.
I having raised my hand to go on, the “Sylph” was brought forth, the tube was connected with all available speed, and in less than an hour we presented a bold aspect; it quickly buzzed abroad that the balloon was filling, and that, despite rain and wind, the ascent would be made. The bills, of course, were not posted.
When six o’clock struck, and several watches were examined, numerous were the shakes of the heads as to the state of the balloon; it was not more than half full, and as it rolled and flopped about in the high wind, everyone saw that it was not in a fit state to ascend, and less still, to offer a compact resistance to the freshening gusts. Another half hour’s flow turned the tide in its favour, and produced the required ascending power, but there was nothing to spare, and when I let go the last connecting cord, a violent puff of wind caught the balloon sideways, driving it rather down than up, and although two bags of sand were discharged, it still dashed along at a frightful pace, when every beholder saw that a stack of chimnies and the car must inevitably clash; and so they did—but I had thrown myself into position just previous to the moment of contact, and, although the bricks and mortar were hurled downwards, the “Sylph” shot clear away and mounted gaily to an immense elevation, so that by the time I was over the Houses of Parliament, the wind being east, I found my barometer had fallen five inches, and that temperature had decreased just nineteen degrees, by which I knew that I should continue an upward movement for at least another six thousand feet, owing to the space left for expansion, unless I confined the balloon to the same level by the use of the valve. As I had no object in going very high, I attempted with the cord a slight check, but neither the customary pull nor an extra tug would open the valve. It then struck me that in the hurry of making a beginning my assistant had allowed a fold to form itself in the silk, which prevented the valve-shutters from opening, on looking up through the neck internally, I observed that this was the case, so I determined to allow the balloon to rise and come down without any interference on my part, but in so doing I had to go nearly as far as Basingstoke, before a downward inclination took place.
Soon after the first dip, I noticed a splendid meteor, which was below the level of the car, and apparently about six hundred feet distant—it was blue and yellow, moving rapidly in a north-easterly direction and became extinguished without noise or sparks.
It is just possible that the apparent closeness of this meteor was illusory, and that the real distance was very many miles; its size was half that of the moon, and I could not but feel that if such another visitor were to cross my path, the end of the “Sylph” and its master would be at hand.
The range of temperature was 35°, it being 54° at starting, and 19° at the greatest elevation, viz, two and a half miles.
The car touched the earth soon after 8 o’clock, but it was dark, and no signs of habitation were at hand; I shouted lustily to see if any labourers were within hail, but no one appeared to hear me, or see the balloon. Being quite out of my latitude and longitude, I was naturally curious to ascertain my whereabouts.
I resolved upon a last effort, and having charged my lungs fully I cried out “Air balloon,” some half-dozen times, but getting no encouragement by a response I made up my mind to settle down in the car, and do the best I could to procure rest.
But there were matters requiring immediate attention and of greater importance than sleep, the first was the reduction of the “Sylph” in point of bulk; now it is not exactly an easy matter to get all the gas out of a balloon single-handed; when the valve drops to the ground the gas will not escape unless it is pressed out by men holding down the network, and, as I had no such assistance, I got thus far and no farther; the wind, however, had abated, so that my silken companion presented very much the appearance of a whale.
I drew some part of the loose folds over the car, and then remembered the kind attention of Mr. Gardner, the lessee of the Gardens, who always made up for me something to comfort the inner man before I ascended. This time there was a beef sandwich with a liberal supply of mustard and pepper, but it was not too hot, nor was the pocket pistol, containing brown brandy and water, at all dangerous, for it was rather needed, the cold weather aloft having chilled one somewhat; whilst good Mr. Gardner’s basket, and its truly acceptable contents, produced a glow of gratitude which prompted me, the moment I had unscrewed the flask, to drink to his long life and happiness. I did so twice, and after having taxed the reserve sandwich I felt myself a fresher and more thoughtful man.
The next question was, whether it would be well to turn in where I was for the night, or strike out by the nearest road for assistance.
There would be no harm, I thought, in taking a short reconnoitre as far as the boundaries of the field I was in possession of; it being dark, I could only by close inspection ascertain how the ground lay.
At the further extremity I came upon a gate and a bye lane; now if I pursued this, wouldn’t it lead to a farm house? And if I placed a stone, or, as I did, a chalk and flint opposite the gate in the centre of the lane, shouldn’t I be able to see it on my return?
The argument was conclusive, I struck out in a sanguine spirit, and after a quarter of an hour’s cautious walking came to a farm with a light in one window; bravo! there was a yard wall surrounding the premises, but the stile was visible, and I mounted step after step, determined to knock or ring them up.
But gracious goodness! what dark object was that springing at my throat with a fierce growl?
A bounding, unchained, Newfoundland dog had never entered my dreams.
I confess to being both surprised and alarmed, and to having beat, or attempted to do so, one of the most expeditious retreats on record. If recollection serves me correctly I fairly bolted, but whether I stopped before the flint stone tripped me up or not I cannot say.
Halting at the outside of the gate, and seizing the big flint in my right hand, I breathed more freely, and was not displeased when I ascertained that I had no followers.
Having satisfied myself that the balloon was more quiet than the hound, discretion preached an out-door discourse as to being the better part of valour, and I assented by making up my mind to experimentalise with sleep. A ballast bag or two were now filled with hedge-row gatherings to be used as pillows.
I stretched myself nearly at full length in the car and went earnestly in for a doze. I believe, too, that the first stage of it was duly entered upon, when voices in the distance were indistinctly heard through the wicker-work.
I sprang up, casting aside the curtains of oiled silk, and listened attentively. Yes, there were men in the next field, they had doubtless seen and followed the balloon; to welcome them would be most expedient.
“Hallo there! here I am and the balloon as well.”
No sooner had I delivered this piece of information than I heard a voice say, “Hush!” Receding footsteps in an irregular stampede followed, and I was left in wonderment as to what it all meant.
I came to the conclusion that a gang of poachers were in the neighbourhood, and that I had disturbed their operations at the very outset.
After shouting again and again, I heard no more of the strange voices or footsteps; I determined upon again sallying forth, but this time in the opposite direction, when I armed myself with the liberating iron, a powerful weapon, and, if used dexterously, far more to be dreaded than a policeman’s truncheon.
Having again deposited another white stone in the lane opposite the gate, I walked for at least a mile, when I came to a village green having a pond at one side and cottages in the distance.
It had struck eleven o’clock when I heard some men approaching, and although they were not exactly steady still I was glad to meet with anyone for information’s sake, and for assistance in the packing up.
“Here my man, be good enough to inform me what place this is, I am a stranger and require assistance.”
“But you surely know where you are?”
“No, the fact is I’ve just popped down here in a balloon, and I require help.”
“Oh, that’s it; well, if you go to the ‘Red Lion’ down the street I daresay you’ll get what you want; the landlord is a retired fighting man, and he’ll put you to rights in no time.”
While I was in the act of laughing, my suspicious adviser moved off in an evident state of doubt and alarm, so I pressed forward down the street, and was glad to hear the measured steps of a policeman.
As he appeared I thus accosted him:—
“Officer, I am glad to have met you, being a stranger and not knowing what county I am in. I have just——.”
The bull’s eye was immediately turned, and my liberating iron scanned, when the policeman backed a step or two and said, “Oh, you don’t know what county you’re in, don’t ye. Well, I should think you know the county gaol pretty well.”
Whether it was the provoking way in which I burst out laughing, or my close resemblance to some criminal character, I cannot say, but the officer drew himself together as if he were about to encounter a robber, and before I could speak with becoming gravity he held up his lantern and assured me that if I did not immediately move off out of the village he should take me to the station house.
“That’s just where I am going either with or without you as an escort,” I said; “but mind what you are about officer, the fact is, I have descended in a balloon not far from here this evening, and I have come for assistance. Which, pray, is the ‘Red Lion’?”
“I thought,” rejoined the policeman, “You didn’t know what county you were in; we had quite enough of you fellows a fortnight ago, and if you hang about here I shall take you into custody.”
“Do so at your peril,” I cried, holding up my iron defiantly.
The officer continued his beat as if he were perplexed as to my business in that part of the country; I observed that he kept his eye upon me, and turned round occasionally as he went up the street.
I failed to obtain an entrance into the “Red Lion,” nor did I see anyone to ask where the station house was, and as the persons met with appeared semi-savages, I became anxious about the balloon, and decided upon going back and having a parting word with the policeman.
That official, however, was not to be seen, he had either gone further on the road, or he was watching me from some unseen place.
On recognizing the stone, and regaining the field, sleep was once more sought, and this time successfully.
I did not awake until voices were faintly heard in the morning.
I then peeped from my cage, and found that farm labourers were going to work.
Feeling assured that they would pass the gate, notice the stone, and then the balloon, I remained quiet, but could clearly discern the men as they came to a dead halt, as if paralyzed with astonishment at the strange appearance in the field.
“What be that Jim?” said the foremost man with one leg raised on the gate.
“Dang’d if I know,” said another, “either the owld’un or sum’mut alive.”
“Let’s over and see lads.”
As the men approached the balloon their cautious movements and general expression betokened fear.
When they first reached the car, I threw aside my covering, anxious to convince them without further doubt, what it was they were gazing upon.
Whether or not I was too energetic, and sprang up like Jack in the box, I cannot say, but the moment their eyes rested upon me they fled in dismay.
I followed after them, urging that “it was only a balloon,” but the affrighted ones jumped through a hedge-gap, and it was not until they had drawn up on the other side, as if ashamed of their fear, that they listened to what I had to say, and on regaining self-possession they went back and examined for themselves; after getting reassured they conducted me to their master, who invited me to breakfast.
While we were finishing our coffee, the farmer continually apologized for the rude behaviour of his men, who were not at all polite.
Master Hector, the dog, kept eying and pawing me as if he would be rough, but for the presence of the farmer.
After breakfast we drove over to Basingstoke, and called at the “Red Lion” on our road to the railway station.
The landlord had heard a knocking the previous night, and had been warned by the policeman of a dangerous-looking fellow being about, with a house-breaker’s implement in his possession ready for use.
I showed him the liberating iron and explained its application, and who I was, &c., when the ex-pugilist was much amused, and informed me why the villagers were so cautious about strangers.
A fortnight previously, I learnt, several of the shops had been robbed by a gang of London thieves, and most of them, as well as the police, were apprehensive of a second visitation.
“Another thing,” said the burly landlord, “You must please not forget that you have come among the Hampshire hogs, and that a grunt or two is all in character.”
On putting me down at the railway station the farmer expressed his regret that he had not heard my call when I descended, and that the persons I sought information from were so unfriendly.
I told him that I had frequently met with almost similar receptions, and that the treatment I had received was owing to the balloon not having been seen in the air.
As the story of my life represents thoughts and acts in childhood, youth, and early experience, I have now to account for a break in the narrative, which must leave off while barely touching the year 1853. As there yet remains five and thirty years of my career to describe it follows that I cannot do so in the present volume, which, to be candid, owes its appearance to a circumstance which requires mentioning.
I had supplied my publishers with an article on Military Ballooning for one of their magazines. This led to the question whether or not the matter would lend itself to expansion for a small book, and as Military and Meteorological Ballooning had revived in Paris, I expressed myself ready to allude to the current topics of the day, and further stated that I had written part of my life. It was then decided to connect the two; but there is this striking contrast between the narrative and the more matured remarks which are added, viz, that the former gives faithfully the buoyant allusions to my early ascents in a gossiping, anecdotal strain, whereas the following chapters are the more matured opinions of later years.
I have noticed hitherto that ballooning best commends itself to general readers when amusement is blended with instruction, and especially if the scientific and practical part is introduced incidentally, so as to avoid abstruse treatment and long calculations.
I must ask the reader’s indulgence to recollect that the writer was born in 1819 (I ought perhaps, with becoming loyalty, to add that considering this is the era of Her Majesty’s Jubilee, I had the honour of being born in that year). An apology is perhaps therefore due for a mixed composition, and for the writer’s boyish views in the earlier part, although it may not be unreasonably presumed that as I have seen some service in trying to advance Aëronautic Science and Military Ballooning, the latter remarks may have more value.
I may add that in a succeeding Volume my autobiography will be continued and concluded.
THE BEGINNING OF
MILITARY BALLOONING.
MANY articles have appeared on this subject, but they are mostly concise compilations as to the dates of the employment of war balloons, and there is yet wanting a more simple and systematic arrangement of the order and particulars under which the respective balloons figured in early aëronautic history.
I have endeavoured to supply these requirements and to add a few practical and critical observations as to the merits and faults of the various equipments and plans from an aëronautic standpoint; as this kind of treatment may interest military aëronauts, and assist civilians who are studying the matter, and it may also prove more attractive to general readers who like to know what professional men have to say (in friendly rivalry) as to the ideas of naval and military officers, who have devoted attention to ballooning.
On the other hand military men, the young especially, who are apt to conclude that veterans know very little compared with modern tacticians, may find that in this speciality they are somewhat mistaken, and that ballooning is not to be “picked up,” so to speak, without having a regular and legitimate schooling in an art which so very few understand.
“One science only will one genius fit,
So vast is art, so narrow human wit.”
The inventive genius of the French may be traced no less than their intrepidity in their early efforts to apply the balloon to purposes of warfare.
In the year 1793, a scientific committee was formed in Paris with this object, when it was suggested that balloons should be used both for attack and defence, and for ascertaining the movement of armies in the field, and to get at the strength of fortified places.
Here was a clear and comprehensive plan for a new departure in military science which the leading nations of Europe have been slow in imitating.
A great deal of doubt and ridicule have been cast upon those (myself included), who, in different countries had the courage of their convictions to urge such a movement upon the attention of those in power.
Austria, whose forces first faced a war balloon at the battle of Fleurus, directed her government not to neglect a bird’s-eye view of the enemy.
Russia took up the idea pretty early.
Italy followed suit.
Germany was slow to move in the air, but has been steady and scientific in carrying out her projects.
Old England, proverbially averse to new fangled notions, resisted all overtures even from an experienced aëronaut for many years, pooh-poohing this kind of feather-brained mode of strategy as at that period imagined.
At last, after experiments had been made by Colonel Beaumont and myself at Aldershot and Woolwich, a balloon corps was formed and permitted to try their hand with calico balloons.
This new force, however, ignoring the first instructors most persistently, ventured to teach the British army without recognized balloonists to aid them; but one day, in an unfortunate hour, a war balloon, while taking a preliminary canter, not, of course, in an official capacity, dashed off on a dark December evening to sea, with an enterprising and much lamented member of Parliament, who knew no fear, but had a poor chance of being rescued from a watery grave.
Then, after this calamity, the British balloon force languished, but not for long, as war clouds were to be seen in the East, where military balloons should have been sent, particularly to Alexandria, but they were not, nor to other places in which Lord Wolseley has himself admitted that they might have proved very useful.
Our own progress at home and the activity displayed on the continent form an instructive contrast, but if we want to ascertain and compare the present with the past we must go back to the year 1793, and follow on chronologically.
The Committee of Public Safety (an excellent kind of committee for London adoption) gave their approval on condition that the gas should be prepared without using sulphuric acid, as sulphur could ill be spared on account of its being so much needed for the production of gunpowder.
Guyton de Morveau showed that water could be decomposed by being forced over red hot metal and borings in a retort, the oxygen being thus separated from the hydrogen which was alone required for an inflation.
Experiments at Meudon were instituted under the direction of Guyton de Morveau, Coutelle, and Conté. Their report led to the formation of a company to be named the Aërostiers, who boasted a captain, a sergeant-major, one sergeant, two corporals, and twenty men.
Coutelle was captain, and the aërostiers went to Meudon to be practised in the aëronautic art. After the preliminary experiments Coutelle was sent off to General Jourdan at Maubeuge with material for the inflation, but he arrived at the moment when General Chasal was under arrest for being involved in a plot to deliver the place to the enemy. Jourdan threatened to shoot him as a spy, but he softened down, as De Fonvielle relates, when he saw that Coutelle was not in the least disconcerted, and ended by congratulating him on his zeal in the defence of his country.
The balloon corps contained in its ranks, as indeed some of the modern associations do, some rather singular individuals. We are told in “Adventures in the Air” of a priest of Montmorency, whom the Reign of Terror had driven to take refuge in the camp, but who only waited the advent of more peaceable times to resume his cassock.
We may also mention Selles de Beauchamp, who entered the corps under the name of Cavalier Albert, and who rose to the rank of officer, and left interesting memoirs on the experiences of military balloonists.
The father of Beauchamp, an officer in one of the royal regiments, was seriously wounded in Piedmont, where two of his brothers were killed; he retired, moreover, and died in 1781, leaving a child six years old, who, two years later, lost his mother also. As an orphan of fortune, as soon as he was old enough, he was sent to the Harcourt College, where he was treated as a youth of quality.
His tutor adopted zealously the revolutionary cause, while Beauchamp stuck to the Court party. The latter, in attempting to leave the country, was arrested and sent to the army of the Loire, but rather than join it he engaged among the military balloonists, of whose life, but for him, we should have known nothing, for the memoirs of Coutelle, though very valuable from a scientific point of view, are too laconic, and enter into no details.
To these various characters Coutelle added a certain number of mechanics, whose services were indispensable. His first lieutenant, Delaunay, was formerly a master mason, and proved useful in the construction of furnaces, for it required no less than 12,000 bricks to build the furnace for the manufacture of gas.
The process of inflation lasted from thirty-six to forty hours. I may here call attention to the decided improvement which appears to have been made in the generation and storage of hydrogen gas for the English balloon force. Compressed gas is now supplied at Chatham in metal receivers, which can be sent abroad, as it was to Suakim. This plan has its advantages and difficulties. It must be very expensive, and the weight of the cylinders is an objection where every ounce of impedimenta has to be sometimes thought of.
The French balloons were made of silk, and so efficiently varnished that they retained the gas for two to three months.
In this important element we are behind the French, as mere calico was the first fabric used in the construction of the Woolwich balloons, and though professional aëronauts for public ascents may sometimes resort to cotton balloons, still for military objects, silk, although the most costly, is, I should say, the lightest, strongest, tightest, and best.
We must allow for considerable exaggeration in the much vaunted holding powers of the original French balloons, and, for the matter of that, for the latest productions as well, both in England and on the continent. I must include the Channel balloonists.
It is all very well to talk and write about such a volatile substance as hydrogen, or even coal gas, remaining good for three months or a month. Aëronauts deny it.
Will a volume of the lightest known fluid be fit for much after being a fortnight or even a week in either a silk, skin, or so-called india-rubber envelopes.
Until ballooning is divested of much that is absurd, untruthful, and misleading, real progress will be slow.
The balloon “Entreprenant” which was sent to the army of the north was only twenty-seven feet in diameter, and its lifting power was 500 pounds. It was held fast by two ropes which were attached to some extra network at the equator; but considering that in those days the network did not cover much more than half of the balloon, we should not fail to notice that at present balloons are enveloped in much more extensive and elongated nets which protect the lower hemisphere, and prevent the escape of the balloon unless the network gives way. It is generally made of thicker cord below, so that this danger is more guarded against than it was in the year 1794.
The army of the Meuse-Sambre had the “Céleste” balloon, while the “Hercule” and “Intrepide” were sent to the Rhine-Moselle.
The recent Naval Jubilee Review reminds one how interesting it would be could the aërial fleet of the last century be inspected by the side of the latest style of war balloons that England has produced.
I am not at all sure that comparisons would be in our favour. Fancy the British army under an amateur!
On June 18th, when Coutelle reconnoitred the Austrian position, the enemy fired at his balloon as it was ascending and descending.
From Maubeuge it was taken to Charleroi, floating at such a height as to permit cavalry and other troops to pass beneath.
At the battle of Fleurus, in Belgium, on June 26th, 1794, two ascents were made, each of about four or five hours, notwithstanding a strong wind; the success of the French was said to be generally due to observations from this balloon, as all movements were reported.
The balloonists were again brought into requisition in the campaign of 1795. The “Entreprenant” withstood an amount of buffeting which would shatter a modern balloon to shreds; we are reminded of this by a high French authority, and I am not prepared to dispute this bold assertion, when we remember of what material some of the latest war balloons are composed.
The strain on Coutelle’s balloon was lessened by attaching the cable to horses and men, rather than to fixed objects.
Of course it was; there are secrets in every art, and I may here mention a case in point as to the danger of a too rigid holdfast, which happened to my large balloon, which I made at my own cost for The British Association Experiments, in the year 1862.
While the committee at Wolverhampton, which included Professor Tyndall, Lord Wrottesley, Dr. Lee, Mr. Glaisher, and others, were watching the inflation during a high wind, I left the grounds for a short time, the balloon being in charge of my assistants, who were manœuvring at the nozzle of the lower opening, as that is a part requiring much care, and will not admit, without great risk, of being held too fast; the late Colonel Sykes, M.P., considered that if a crow-bar were driven in the ground, and the cord were attached, it would prevent the men from being rolled over occasionally, and his idea was put to the test.
I was surprised to observe from a distance, that the balloon had been badly torn, and could not account for it until I returned and saw that the neck valve had been pulled completely away. Had it been kept as I left it, with a give and take movement to obviate a sudden snatch, the balloon would have escaped injury.
It is really astonishing how the same ideas occur to all amateurs and novices. Those who read much about aërostatics must have noticed that a strong resemblance in these notions is constantly to be observed; they one and all begin with the valve and have ever since I can remember. Green’s and Coxwell’s notions are pronounced old-fashioned and exploded.
They all want to try india-rubber and other complicated springs instead of the rat-trap principle, which is so very simple, and cannot well fail to act in all weathers, whereas india-rubber will relax in heat, and beadings and other additions will swell and contract in the framework, if of wood, according to atmospheric changes; but the plan, which experienced aëronauts know to be the safest, is almost sure to be cast aside until an accident, as I have already pointed out, induces beginners to fall back upon the approved plan.
Then again, the varnishes are wrong, Mr. A. or Mr. M. has a varnish which is perfectly impermeable, the old stories and new pretensions are reiterated, while the old stager knows very well that there are objections to most of the new fancies, and that the colours and oils he has used are like those of the old masters in painting, not so easily to be surpassed, particularly in the present day, when most pigments are so impure and adulterated.
Thirdly, the grapnels are all wrong, but if the ropes and balloon equipments of early days were to be put side by side with many of the accessories of modern appliances, I believe the balance would be in favour of the experts of the last generation.
In 1796, the “Intrepide” was sent to the army of the Danube; a fifth balloon was prepared for the army of Italy, but for some reason it was never sent out.
In the year 1798, Napoleon took a balloon equipment to Egypt, but unfortunately for the French, the English managed to capture the ship which contained the apparatus.
After this, the aërostiers seem to have gradually died out of notice, and the balloons were sold in 1804.
It was said that the dissolution of the corps was due more immediately to the displeasure of Napoleon at the performance of a balloon which ascended at his coronation, with a large crown suspended beneath it, which travelled all the way to Rome, and deposited part of the crown on the tomb of Nero.