Chapter III: Part 3

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, and being 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.”

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.”

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 other gentlemen 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:--

Balloon, netting, and car 400 lbs.
Mr. Ram 160 ”
Two other gentlemen 304 ”
Myself 148 ”
Grapnel and rope 52 ”
Coats, instruments, &c. 30 ”
Ballast 160 ”
----------
Total 1254 lbs.
==========

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 a mile, 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 ashamed of 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 at the 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. _We_ responded, 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 they _had me_ on 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 morning breezes 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 firm belief 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 correctness of 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 me that 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 I have 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 a large 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 to a 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 be expected 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.

One could not pass over the ruins of Hougomont, or the farm-house of La Haye Saint, without thinking of the dust and ashes of countrymen and fees which were there scattered in profusion; when we recollect that on the small surface of two square miles, 50,000 men and horses were ascertained to be lying, we can form some idea of the mouldering remains which lie beneath the ripening crops, which presented themselves to our view.

The sun had just set on the peaceful plains in rosy and majestic grandeur. The glorious King of Day declined also on June 18th, thirty-three years before we passed over in a balloon. But how different the scene!

On that evening after the battle, when the cries of the wounded filled the air, as the roar of artillery ceased, and, as night approached, the earth was red dyed and sodden; but on this--inviting cheers of welcome came to us on all sides, and at Waterloo we met with a most friendly reception.

I made one more ascent in the year 1848, in Belgium; this time from the Bourse, at Antwerp. The voyage which was made under great disadvantages presented a rare and remarkable feature. The Englishman, with whom the reader has been made acquainted, was again commissioned to negociate with the gas directors of Antwerp, respecting an ample supply for the inflation; but it again happened that the delivery was by no means equal to our expectations. In fact, when the hour for departure arrived, the “Sylph” was not half full.

What was to be done? The visitors would be disappointed, and my own name connected with a failure.

“Well, that won’t do,” I remember saying, “if there is any means of rising above the Exchange, and clearing Antwerp, I must resort to it.”

“Give me a supply of cordage, and let me tie a few lines across the hoop, and see if there is gas enough to take me up without a car. Do not say a word to anyone, lest our plans are thwarted.”

Having placed myself in the hoop, without any other protection whatever, I found that the balloon would just raise me. The spectators were not aware that I was about to leave them, minus a car to sit in, so that, on mounting over their heads, great surprise was at first manifested, but followed quickly by expressions of approbation, when my risky position was known to be owing to a determination to fulfil my contract. I attained a great elevation during this trip, but, being without a barometer, I could only estimate it approximately at two and a half miles, and this was done by observing that the balloon rose until it became fully distended, and as it was not half inflated at starting, I knew I was quite, if not over two and a half miles high, because a volume of gas will double its bulk at an elevation of nearly three miles and three-quarters.

The excessive cold I experienced was no doubt to be attributed to the current of air passing through the ring, without being in any way broken either by a wicker car or extra clothing.

Not having any ballast to put out or to work with, I was anxious to allow the balloon to rise and fall by alternate expansion and condensation, without letting out gas through the upper valve.

My descent was safely made near Turnhout.

A messenger from Brussels, direct from Callow’s Hotel, arrived on the morning after the ascent, requesting an immediate interview on the part of a gentleman from Prussia, who was anxious to take me over the Rhine.

At the appointed hour, two cards were sent up, and a local solicitor presented himself, and introduced me to Herr Abraham Küpper, the proprietor of Johannisberg, a celebrated _locale_, as it was styled, at Elberfeld.

Herr Küpper, a fine stout fellow with an immense beard, which spread over a spotless white waistcoat, was one of those men who make a pleasing first impression.

I conceived a decided prejudice in his favour before we had entered much into matters of business, and as he was willing to agree to my own terms for a certain number of ascents, the services of the solicitor were soon brought into requisition, and an agreement entered into which was mutually satisfactory. Herr Küpper then requested the favour of our company during the afternoon, and as a carriage was at the door, he proposed a drive in the Park.

Mr. S----, together with our friend, the roving Englishman, whose personal appearance had improved, was pleased to find that our prospects were brightening, and I ought to state that the latter was not personally responsible, or at any rate to be blamed, for the difficulties we had to contend with in Brussels; all that should be placed to the account of his associates in the badly-managed speculation. It was the Dutchman, the Belgian, and the Frenchman who were not up to their work, he now pointed out, and happy was he to find that this fine bold Prussian, with whom we were treating, was evidently a man of business, and he further added, but not until we had partaken of champagne as well as good claret, that he, Herr Küpper, clearly knew what he was about; but whether the Englishman was alluding to the treat instead of the treaty he did not say; but this much he let out, that he was so much taken with our new acquaintance that he should be happy, at our expense, to go with us to Elberfeld, but as Küpper could neither speak French nor English, and as the rest of our party could not say much in German, Mr. S---- pertinently asked whether he wished to be engaged as interpreter or companion.

He was silenced at this enquiry, since none of us while drinking success to the undertaking could understand or properly reply to the caterer from Rhineland.

However, we started with him after a day or two spent in sight-seeing, but we left the Brussels agent at his lodgings, committing ourselves to the care of Herr Küpper, whose agreeable postures and friendly attentions, combined with the most amusing efforts to do a little broken English, made some amends for want of fluency on both sides, but no sooner had we arrived at the Johannisberg Gardens at Elberfeld, than the redoubtable proprietor called aloud, over the heads of a large assemblage of visitors, for Mr. B----, when a gentleman, wearing a white hat and green coat, came forward and hailed us as countrymen, saying how glad he was to see us, and confirming his honest outburst with such a hearty shaking of hands that a cry of “bravo!” burst from many of those present.

Herr Küpper having thus introduced us, vociferated for champagne, cigars, &c., though he need not have cried so loud, as there were two or three _kelners_ close behind him; it had, however, to our way of thinking a grand and welcome ring about it, and so thought Mr. B----, who was none of your mock modest men, when good wine stared him in the face.

“Go it Dick,” cried another Englishman, who was seated near our table, and what with the accent of this familiar advice, backed with other pleasantries, we soon felt at ease, if not at home.

Herr Küpper, some time after our refreshment with Mr. Dick B----, invited us to see the ball-room and the grounds; we dined together somewhat later, and after an excellent repast were present at the concert.

Dick B---- was getting rather effusive in his explanations as to the musicians, and becoming very red in the face, but he impressed us as being a capital fellow under the circumstances in which we were placed, and he was considered as such by many of his pupils who were present, and who rejoiced to see him happy.

“You are not perhaps aware,” said Mr. B----, “that I am a teacher of languages.”

Nor were we--as I, for one, had put him down as an equestrian or circus master; however, we had fortunately not allowed the secret cogitations to escape our lips, so no harm was done. Mr. B----, on our separating that evening, promised to be “at our service” early next morning, and sure enough Dick came to an early breakfast, and had not, as we inferred, had very much sleep.

“The early bird gets the worm,” said Mr. B----, as he helped himself to some wurst, or smoked sausage, by way of a patronising start.

“Make yourselves at home, gentlemen. Do you like raw ham and black bread?” “_I do_,” he added; “have found out a thing or two since I left the great city,” meaning London.

Mr. S---- who had delicate digestive organs, and who had not travelled much, failed in doing that justice to his first German breakfast, which Mr. B---- tackled with such gusto. He, however, partook of his coffee with a quiet nod of approval, and was in the act of finishing his first cup when the teacher of languages, looking S---- straight in the face, said, “I suppose you had a smother of frogs at Callow’s Hotel in Brussels;” but, perceiving that Mr. S---- turned pale, he exclaimed, “My good fellow, what’s the matter?”

Poor S---- then ejected, almost in Mr. B----’s face, the black contents of his white cup; he sprang up in a nervous, bewildered state, when I had to do the amiable by way of apology.

Mr. Dick laughed, but stuck to his guns, and recommended eggs, when Mr. Abraham Küpper’s voice was heard approaching, who entered smiling, and was followed by a waiter with beefsteaks well broiled, but small; there were three of them, by the way.

Mr. B---- rose to salute either the steaks or mine host, and rubbed his hands with great glee.

“Eh, vat Mein Herren?” asked Herr Küpper, looking to B---- for a response, as to Mr. S----’s sad appearance.

Dick, in German, assured the landlord that he had saved the life of Mr. S---- who would positively starve unless he had something of that kind to begin the day with.

“Donner wetter; what will he end with then?” asked Küpper astonished; of course he knew S---- did not understand the remark, which was made in German.

Dick B---- next declared in point blank Saxon, that for his part “he had got his second wind,” and the steaks having restored Mr. S---- by their timely arrival, we managed to pull through; the teacher having taught us already more than one important lesson, and, what is more, illustrated them with his own knife and fork, again fell to with an appetite which was tremendous, considering that he was generous with his coffee and had confessed to a couple of seidels of Beirisch before he put in an appearance.

This, our first substantial breakfast went off very well considering B----’s sallies and noble example.

“Now to business,” he said, after receiving our thanks for his service at table.

Outside in the gardens, we could perceive one or two gas-men with their chief engineer, and Abraham himself in his smoking cap, and a long tight-fitting dressing gown, which reached to his slippers; in this attire we noticed how sturdy he was, and withal how commanding.

“He turns sixteen and a half centners,” said B----, and their weights are heavier than ours--“but come gentlemen, I perceive Küpper is getting impatient.”

We thought that B---- toned down a good deal as we drew near to the monarch of Johannisberg, who puffed his cigar, and then brushed off, or rather hit aside a bit of steak adhering to B----’s coat.

What a change in manner and deportment, I thought. The fact was we had kept them all waiting to get instructions as to the laying of the gas pipes, while the teacher kept us pottering about inside, merely to gratify his own inordinate propensity for creature comforts.

“Meester Coxvel,” cried Küpper--one might have heard his voice half round Elberfeld.

B---- translated with a tremulous accent, as if he were funky; the plain English of it was this--Would I point out, or stamp my foot, to use Küpper’s definition, on the exact spot where the pipes were to terminate in the inner circle, just where the balloon was to be filled.

Perceiving, with half an eye, what kind of man we had to do with, I ran to the spot, stamped my foot firmly down, and cried out “here.”

“Sehr gut, now Herr Coxvel, (Mr. B---- translated) where will you place the balloon?”

The reply, sharp and emphatic on my part, was again “_here_,” but I had moved in the meantime a few yards farther on, and the smartness with which Küpper’s questions were answered, elicited his approval, as he raised his smoking cap, advanced towards me with a kindly greeting, and drew forth his cigar case.

“_You_ have made a hit of it, if I have not,” cried B---- who was now regaining self-possession.

All the preparations having been made to the satisfaction of Küpper, who was a bit of a Tartar in his own domain, I was invited to accompany him down town at midday, Mr. S---- being left to the care of B---- who had begged a holiday from his pupils--they knowing, presumably, that he would scarcely be equal to his duties, until he had indulged in his first diversion of ballooning.

Abraham Küpper was great in riding, and he was also great in walking, he stood over six feet without his glazed boots, and when, after alighting from an open trap, he placed his arm in mine, and again withdrew it to stroke down his fine flowing beard, he attracted the attention of those who were passing by, and further rivetted it, by pronouncing my name in no undertone, so that I heard several persons observe, “Abraham und der Luftschiffer.”

He then led me with stately deportment into a confectioner’s, where in a private room we met several professors, doctors, and merchants, most of them I was relieved to find, speaking English; but Küpper on the way had been polite enough to drill into me a rapid instalment of his own language, although it was not high German, I was told--still to me it had a most imposing utterance, accompanied as it was, with considerable action.

One of the party to whom I was introduced, asked the pleasure of my company next day at their scientific institution, as there were papers to be read and discussion to follow on an interesting subject.

Küpper agreed that I was to be there without asking if I was that way disposed.

He next hurried me on, goodness knows to how many different places, and I could not but feel that his attentions were of a superior order to what I had met with in Brussels.

At the Institution on the following day, I was at first disappointed, as the proceedings appeared to me of an informal, and easy going kind.