After a most delightful journey with Mr. and Mrs. Henry Hamilton,
laughing, singing, and talking, we dined with them. [Footnote: Mr. and
Mrs. Hamilton were paying a visit at Edgeworthstown, when the papers
announced Mr. Sadler's intention of crossing the Channel in a balloon
from Dublin. Mr. Edgeworth proposed to Mr. Hamilton that they should go
to Dublin together to see the ascent, and he and Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton,
Maria, Sneyd, William, and two little sisters formed the party.] Dear
old Mr. Sackville Hamilton dined with us, fresh from London:
intellectual and corporeal dainties in abundance. The first morning was
spent in cursing Mr. Sadler for not going up, and in seeing the Dublin
Society House. A charming picture of Mr. Foster, by Beachey, with plans
in his hand, looking full of thought and starting into life and action.
Spent an hour looking over the books of prints in the library--Fanny
particularly pleased with a Houbracken: Harriet with Daniel's Indian
Antiquities: my father with Sir Christopher Wren's and Inigo Jones's
designs. After dinner Richard Ruxton came in, and said my aunt and uncle
had thoughts of coming up to see the balloon. In the evening at
Astley's. The second day to see the elephant: how I pitied this noble
animal, cooped up under the command of a scarcely human creature, who
had not half as much reason as himself. Went on to see the Panorama of
Edinburgh: I never saw a sight that pleased me more; Edinburgh was
before me--Princes Street and George Street--the Castle--the bridge over
dry land where the woman met us and said, "Poor little things they be."
At first a mistiness, like what there is in nature over a city before
the sun breaks out; then the sun shining on the buildings, trees, and
mountains.
Thursday morning, to our inexpressible joy, was fine, and the flag, the
signal that Sadler would ascend, was, to the joy of thousands, flying
from the top of Nelson's Pillar. Dressed quickly--breakfasted I don't
know how--job coach punctual: crowds in motion even at nine o'clock in
the streets: tide flowing all one way to Belvidere Gardens, lent by the
proprietor for the occasion: called at Sneyd's lodgings in Anne Street:
he and William gone: drove on; when we came near Belvidere such strings
of carriages, such crowds of people on the road and on the raised
footpath, there was no stirring: troops lined the road at each side:
guard with officers at each entrance to prevent mischief; but
unfortunately there were only two entrances, not nearly enough for such
a confluence of people. Most imprudently we and several others got out
of our carriages upon the raised footpath, in hopes of getting
immediately at the garden door, which was within two yards of us, but
nothing I ever felt was equal to the pressure of the crowd: they closed
over our little heads, I thought we must have been flattened, and the
breath squeezed out of our bodies. My father held Harriet fast, I behind
him held Fanny with such a grasp! and dragged her on with a force I did
not know I possessed. I really thought your children would never see you
again with all their bones whole, and I cannot tell you what I suffered
for ten minutes. My father, quite pale, calling with a stentor voice to
the sentinels. A fat woman nearly separated me from Fanny. My father
fairly kicked off the terrace a man who was intent upon nothing but an
odious bag of cakes which he held close to his breast, swearing and
pushing. Before us were Mrs. Smyley and Mr. Smyley, with a lady he was
protecting. Unable to protect anybody, he looked more frightened than if
he had lost a hundred causes: the lady continually saying, "Let me back!
let me back! if I could once get to my carriage!"
The tide carried us on to the door. An admirable Scotch officer, who was
mounting guard with a drawn sword, his face dropping perspiration,
exclaimed at the sight of Harriet, "Oh the child! take care of that
child! she will be crushed to death!" He made a soldier put his musket
across the doorway, so as to force a place for her to creep under: quick
as lightning in she darted, and Fanny and I and my father after her. All
was serene, uncrowded, and fresh within the park.
We instantly met Sneyd and William, and the two Mr. Foxes. Music and the
most festive scene in the gardens: the balloon, the beautiful
many-coloured balloon, chiefly maroon colour, with painted eagles, and
garlands, and arms of Ireland, hung under the trees, and was filling
fast from pipes and an apparatus which I leave for William's scientific
description: terrace before Belvidere House--well-dressed groups
parading on it: groups all over the gardens, mantles, scarves, and
feathers floating: all the commonalty outside in fields at half-price.
We soon espied Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton, and joined company, and were
extremely happy, and wished for you and dear Honora. Sun shining, no
wind. Presently we met the Solicitor-General: he started back, and made
me such a bow as made me feel my own littleness; then shook my hands
most cordially, and in a few moments told me more than most men could
tell in an hour: just returned from Edinburgh--Mrs. Bushe and daughters
too much fatigued to come and see the balloon.
The Duke and Duchess of Richmond, and Sir Charles Vernon, and Sir
Charles Saxton. The Miss Gunns seated themselves in a happily
conspicuous place, with some gentlemen, on the roof of Belvidere House,
where, with veils flying and telescopes and opera-glasses continually
veering about, they attracted sufficient attention.
Walking on, Sneyd exclaimed, "My Uncle Ruxton!" I darted to him: "Is my
aunt here?"--"Yes, and Sophy, and Margaret, but I have lost them; I'm
looking for them."--"Oh, come with me and we'll find them." Soon we
made our way behind the heels of the troopers' horses, who guarded a
sacred circle round the balloon: found my aunt, and Sophy, and
Mag--surprise and joy on both sides: got seats on the pedestal of some
old statue, and talked and enjoyed ourselves: the balloon filling
gradually. Now it was that my uncle proposed our returning by Black
Castle.
The drum beats! the flag flies! balloon full! It is moved from under the
trees over the heads of the crowd: the car very light and slight--Mr.
Sadler's son, a young lad, in the car. How the horses stood the motion
of this vast body close to them I can't imagine, but they did. The boy
got out. Mr. Sadler, quite composed, this being his twenty-sixth aërial
ascent, got into his car: a lady, the Duchess of Richmond, I believe,
presented to him a pretty flag: the balloon gave two majestic nods from
side to side as the cords were cut. Whether the music continued at this
moment to play or not, nobody can tell. No one spoke while the balloon
successfully rose, rapidly cleared the trees, and floated above our
heads: loud shouts and huzzas, one man close to us exclaiming, as he
clasped his hands, "Ah, musha, musha, GOD bless you! GOD be wid you!"
Mr. Sadler, waving his flag and his hat, and bowing to the world below,
soon pierced a white cloud, and disappeared; then emerging, the balloon
looked like a moon, black on one side, silver on the other; then like a
dark bubble; then less and less, and now only a speck is seen; and now
the fleeting rack obscures it. Never did I feel the full merit of
Darwin's description till then.
Next day, at eight in the morning, my father and William (who proceed to
the Bishop of Derry's) and Fanny went to Collon. Sneyd, Harriet, and I
came here.
_To_ MRS. RUXTON.