from Bayswater, and this led to my becoming acquainted with that
gentleman some little time afterwards.
I was disappointed of an ascent with Mr. Hampton, as his balloon
“Albion,” which was rather small, would only take the aëronaut when I
wished to make my maiden ascent. This was the year (1837), a period
when I became a diligent student in aërostatics, and, it is not too
much to say, that I had shown similar application in dental surgery,
indeed I found that all I was called upon to learn was so easy and
pleasurable in acquisition that I made light of my duties, and failed
not to devote considerable attention to my hobby as well.
One day I met Mr. Hampton in Westminster, full of trouble and anxiety
at the way he had been treated by those who had reason, as he alleged,
to be his friends. We walked and talked together, entering upon a
chapter of misfortunes, which touched me much at the time, and induced
me not only to sympathize with him, but to use my best endeavours to
assist his cause.
There is no necessity for entering into the way in which he had lost
his balloon, suffice it to say that I did all I could to redeem it, and
in return the aëronaut took great pains to give me all the information
he could about aërostation, and he promised the moment he had a new
balloon to take me up with him, and he moreover presented me with a
good portrait of himself, the massive frame to which was made by Mr.
Hampton’s own hands. This intimacy, and the espousal of the aëronaut’s
cause, drew upon me the frowns of several persons connected indirectly
and professionally with ballooning.
Knowing some of Mr. Charles Green’s friends I was rather hankering to
see more of the air-captain, as the Germans style us, but I knew by
experience that “two of a trade seldom agree,” and I was naturally
reluctant to offend my patron by being intimate with Mr. Green, whose
fame was of long standing and very properly universal.
Circumstances soon brought us together, but on meeting I was impressed
with the belief that I was regarded as the advocate of an opposition
aëronaut, and not as one upon whom Mr. Green would lavish his
experience, or whom he would take up either as a paying passenger
or pupil. I was evidently considered a dangerous fellow, and as Mr.
Hampton had once stated that he thought I should one day become an
aëronaut, although at the time I had no serious intention of doing so,
this was quite sufficient to cause me to be shunned by all the family
of the Greens, or, if not exactly shunned, at least viewed with caution
and suspicion.
For three years I was in the habit of meeting Mr. Hampton and of
talking over ballooning, until I grew well nigh surfeited with the
tongue part of aërial voyaging, and longed for the reality, which
was delayed until the year 1844. Mr. Hampton was then enabled with
my assistance to start a new balloon, and I had an opportunity of
seeing the construction of it. His first engagement with this was at
the Old Vauxhall Gardens, in Birmingham, and thither I went to be his
companion, but, to my mortification, the balloon would not raise two
persons, so that I had to remain on terra firma, and suffer the taunts
of several spectators, who chose to attribute to motives of fear my
getting out of the car after having been once in for the ascent.
My third attempt was successful. Mr. Hampton was solicited to make an
ascent from the White Conduit Gardens, Pentonville, on Monday, August
19th, 1844, and I was without fail to accompany him.
Many years had elapsed since the ascent of a balloon from these famed
gardens; the attraction was accordingly very powerful.
The balloon was filled at the Imperial Gas Works, Battle-bridge, and
the car placed on a cart, to which it was secured by ropes; it was
conveyed to the gardens by six o’clock on Monday morning, an extra
supply of gas being provided to keep up the loss by condensation.
Before the public entered the grounds, it was rumoured by the
privileged few who were present that a _Mr. Wells_ was to be the
aëronaut’s companion, as that gentleman had recently been disappointed
at Birmingham. Some other persons, mentioning my name, declared that
Mr. Coxwell was to be the favoured party.
An appeal was then made to me for authentic information, and as I was
now within a stone’s throw of my residence in the Barnsbury Road,
Pentonville, where I had recently commenced practice, it was expedient
I should frankly declare that I had previously assumed the name of
Wells in order to prevent anxiety among my friends, and that the
candidate _Wells_ and the aspirant _Coxwell_ were one and the same
person.
This being understood, and the motives which actuated me in taking
upon myself an _alias_ being respected, Mr. Hampton, at six o’clock,
accompanied by Mr. Wells (as “the Illustrated News” recorded it),
stepped into the car, and the balloon rose in majestic style,
travelling easterly over the metropolis, and descended in a field
belonging to Mr. T. Rust, at East-ham Hall.
This, then, was my first real ascent; but such was the amount of
thought I had bestowed on the subject in previous imaginary flights,
built upon the descriptive accounts of others, that I seemed to be
travelling an element which I had already explored, although, in
reality, I was only for the first time realising the dreams of my
youth. In most respects I found the country beneath, including the busy
humming metropolis, the River Thames, shipping, and distant landscape,
pretty much as I expected, and had been tutored to see in the mind’s
eye; but the extraordinary and striking feature of this ascent was
the enchanting way in which these appearances unfolded themselves
in a manner so opposite to what one would picture by looking at a
balloon in the sky. This is owing to the peculiarly imperceptible way
in which a balloon rises, and herein consists the difference--the
delightful, fascinating difference--between heights accomplished by
balloon ascents, and altitudes attained by climbing hills, mountains,
monuments, and buildings. In Alpine travels the process is so slow, and
contact with the crust of the earth so palpable, that the traveller is
gradually prepared for each successive phase of view as it presents
itself; but in the balloon survey, cities, villages, and vast tracts
for observation spring almost magically before the eye, and change
in aspect and size so pleasingly, that bewilderment first, and then
unbounded admiration is sure to follow, and when one reflects that
all these wonderful panoramic effects are produced by the noiseless,
unobserved, ascension of the balloon, we are reminded of the motion of
the earth which rolls us round the glorious sun, and the heavenly orbs,
so that they, the sun, stars, and planets, appear to be rising and
setting.
It is just so with the balloon--a wide-spread carpet of variegated
country is changing form, hue, and dimensions, or rather appearing to
do so, as the observers rise and descend, and assume various elevations.
Our journey only lasted twenty-five minutes, but it seemed to me when
we descended that the balloon had not been more than five minutes in
the air. After we anchored I felt that it was a tantalising short-lived
piece of grandeur and only enough to whet the appetite for more.
But a second chance was at hand. Mr. Hampton had been asked to ascend
from Bromley, in Kent, where such an exhibition was quite a novelty.
The undertaking, however, was of too formidable a character for the
small gas-works and diminutive pipes in that locality. Visitors who
congregated in a meadow selected for the festivities were not gratified
with the ascent on the day it was announced to take place; consequently
fresh exertions had to be made in the production of gas, and not until
the following evening was the balloon fit to ascend, and, even then,
it would barely take two, so that I had another narrow escape of being
left behind after arranging to go. It was necessary to part with very
nearly all the ballast in order to rise.
We started sluggishly, but got up two thousand feet, and there had a
splendid view over the garden of England, as the county of Kent has not
inaptly been styled. Short and sweet was the order of this second trip
of mine, but, as we had a remarkably picturesque country to gaze upon,
I was much annoyed at not being longer aloft, and I don’t know but that
I vowed--at any rate the idea flashed through my mind--that I would
one day have a balloon of my own, even if it were for unprofessional
ascents, as these hasty, short views were most aggravating and by no
means worth the expense.
Shortly after my being thus initiated into practical ballooning, Mr.
Hampton undertook a tour to Ireland; but there, in Dublin, he had the
misfortune to descend near a house, the chimney of which was on fire,
and his balloon, blown in that direction by a sharp breeze, ignited,
but the aëronaut happily escaped with his life.
It was a long time before Mr. Hampton was in a condition to ascend
again. In the meantime other balloonists had made my acquaintance,
viz., Mr. Gypson, and Lieut. Gale, both of whom sought co-operation,
and frequently offered me seats in their cars, as some acknowledgment
for the advice and assistance I had rendered them.
Mr. C. Green invariably gave me the cold shoulder. I was rather
sensitive about this at the time, but in later years, when I began to
obtain a reputation for myself, I came to the conclusion that it was
the greatest compliment the greatest aëronaut of the day could award
me, inasmuch as it indicated that I was somebody to be studiously kept
in the background for an obvious purpose.
During the autumn of 1845, I projected and edited “The Balloon or
Aërostatic Magazine,” a publication designed to advance aërostation.
A good reception greeted the little serial on the part of the press,
but the demand for information on this subject was not equal to my
enthusiasm, and as a monthly repository of travels by air, it did not
pay, so that its periodical appearance was discontinued, and afterwards
it was only published occasionally.
In the year 1847, three new balloons were constructed by the aëronauts,
Green, Gale, and Gypson, respectively. Mr. Green, junr, also made one
about this time, intending to use it principally on the continent.
With two out of these four balloons, I had a great deal to do, as will
soon be seen.
Let us commence with Mr. Gypson’s, as it was the first on the stocks,
and the first to make a perilous ascent and descent. When this balloon
was finished, Mr. Gypson and myself determined upon a private ascent;
we desired a long trip, and would not even object to cross the Channel,
if the breeze should waft us in that direction. The Imperial Gas Works,
at Haggerston, in London, was the place we started from. The new
machine was taken there to be inflated on the day selected, which was
favourable, the wind being from the S.S.E., so that we had a long run
before us, and a good opportunity of reaching Scotland.
Owing to the close proximity of the balloon to the gas-holders,
the filling proceeded very rapidly; it appeared to me that the
inflation should be checked somewhat, but the aëronaut considered
his arrangements equal to any pressure that could be put on by Mr.
Clarke, the gas-engineer. It was soon evident that the network was not
liberated so quickly as it should have been; the consequence was that
a lateral and unequal strain began to be imparted, and just as I had
gone away to speak to some gentlemen who had arrived, by invitation,
the netting began to break towards the lower part, but the damage was
not apparently sufficiently serious to prevent the ascent being made.
We therefore got into the car, and notwithstanding several broken
meshes, prepared for a start, but while sitting in readiness, a sudden
gust drove the silk with considerable force towards the fractured
cordage, which continued breaking, until the lower part of the silken
bag protruded, and then, the entire balloon surged through the opening,
leaving the network behind, which dropped on our heads, so that the
balloon itself escaped, leaving us in the car to receive the ironical
congratulations of our friends, who had come to see us go up.
Not many seconds after the silken bag had bounded away, it split up,
and descended in a brickfield, not far distant. It is almost impossible
to imagine a more ridiculous position for expectant voyagers to be
placed in than this.
The assembled spectators pronounced it a mercy that we had not
ascended, and that the breakage had not happened in the air. They
believed we must have been killed had not the balloon escaped just when
it did; but I was of a different opinion, believing that if once we had
got away, no bad results would have occurred while we were travelling
aloft.
The balloon was forthwith repaired, and a second private attempt made
on March 18th in the same year. This time we had a successful day, and
came down all right at Hawkhurst, in Kent, not far from the residence
of Sir John Herschel. In the evening we were invited to Collingwood,
where we spent a most agreeable and instructive time with the eminent
astronomer.
Soon after this event Lieutenant Gale’s balloon was launched at the
Rosemary Branch Gardens, Peckham.
Here, too, I was invited, and almost persuaded to make the first trip;
but as I had condemned certain new fashioned valve-springs, which I
considered unsafe, I preferred to witness rather than participate in
the ascent. Mr. Gale wished also to use a pair of supplementary small
balloons to receive the expanded gas; but these, I thought, were open
to objection, so that I could not possibly join the lieutenant at the
time he was applying appurtenances, which I had pronounced dangerous.
The balloon, a very fine one, was duly filled, and the ascent nicely
made. A Mr. Burn took my place, and I was rather joked, I remember,
when the new balloon floated majestically in the still atmosphere.
Events, however, soon took a sudden turn. Gale had promised to travel
far down towards the coast, and had, it appeared, suddenly altered his
mind, as the balloon began descending fast.
“Perhaps,” said some one, “he has forgotten something as it is coming
down so soon, and will go up again and continue his journey.”
But the rate of descent increased so rapidly, that Mrs. Gale ran to me
and inquired anxiously for my opinion.
I was obliged in candour to say, as I was considered an authority,
that I feared the flat valve-springs had not quite answered Gale’s
expectation; “but he will be all right,” I said, encouragingly, “even
if he has a good bump.”
Ballast was soon observed to pour out profusely, and there was no doubt
of the voyagers being sensible of the frightful pace at which they were
coming down. The lower part of the balloon was seen to contain no gas,
so that its collapsed condition was visible to everyone present.
Several persons started off to see the cause of so sudden a descent. As
to myself I remained with Mrs. Gale, making light of what really looked
serious, in order to allay her alarm.
A messenger soon arrived to say that neither the aëronaut nor his
companion were seriously hurt, but that they alighted with terrific
force at Peckham Rye, owing to the valve-springs not having acted
properly.
Gale, himself, soon put in an appearance, inquiring for me. He said,
“You are quite right as to those springs; I will abandon them, and you
shall ascend next time.”
It was not long before I did so.
Pleasure gardens in and about London were rather numerous in the
year ’47, and the Royal Albert Grounds, near Hoxton, were just in
their palmy days. It was here I made the next ascent with Lieut.
Gale, and one or two with Mr. Gypson also; but as these gentlemen
were competitors for aëronautic fame, I was constantly risking the
displeasure of both by not adhering entirely to one.
During the same summer I made a variety of aërial journeys with each of
these aëronauts, but, two especially, were connected with considerable
personal risk.
The first was with Lieut. Gale, when we descended in a rough wind in
Gloucestershire, after having started from Bristol.
A new fangled grapnel was used in this trip, and one ill adapted for
arresting the progress of a balloon in a strong wind. It was on the
ball and socket principle; but the socket, which was of brass, was
inside the crown of the prongs. I prophesied before any strain was
thrown upon the grapnel that it would break. It did so in trailing over
a field, when the balloon dashed into a large oak tree, cutting asunder
a thick branch, which ripped the silk from bottom to top, so that the
gas escaped instantly, and we pitched to leeward of the tree with no
trifling concussion, by the way, but got no broken bones or serious
injury.
The second affair was, without doubt, the most perilous descent in the
annals of aërostation.
In the year 1847, the far-famed Vauxhall had not altogether lost its
_prestige_; but still, exciting amusements were indispensable to its
continued existence, and aëronautics had enjoyed long-continued popular
favour in that establishment. But a nocturnal voyage with fireworks
displayed under the balloon, was not of frequent occurrence, and a
night ascent with Mr. Gypson’s balloon was decided upon as an opportune
attraction.
My own seat in the car was owing to special invitation on the part of
the proprietor, but two other candidates--viz. Mr. Albert Smith and
Mr. Pridmore, only secured places on the afternoon of the ascent.
Mr. Albert Smith at that time was a popular writer; and, as he had
already made a day ascent, he wished to see London by night, and to
give an account of it to the public.
When the balloon was filled during the afternoon, in the Waterloo
Grounds, the air was calm and hot, with every prospect--as far as
appearances went--of a fine summer evening. It was just the sort of
weather for an aërial journey in the dark, there was no rustling
of leaves, or wild gusts to induce the least apprehension of a
disagreeable landing.
The inflation was completed with the utmost ease, and just before the
variegated Vauxhall lamps were lighted, a circular framework, with
Darby’s fireworks attached, was duly placed in position, so that it
could be fixed on when the moment arrived for starting.
About this time it was observed that the atmosphere became oppressive,
and that a threatening murky mist arose in the east; not long
afterwards, distant thunder rumbled, and people began to scan the
firmament, as if it looked uninviting, and as if the terrestrial
sight-seers would be safer that night than the air explorers. As for
us, we drew together and exchanged opinions, like mariners before
leaving a port when dirty weather was looming on the horizon.
The lessee of Vauxhall Gardens, Mr. Robert Wardell, having noticed
lightning playing over the city, came forth, with other interested
parties, to look around him; and soon a grave discussion was going on
near the car, for the storm was fast brewing, and there was doubt as to
whether it would be safe to venture. In the midst of great diversity
of opinion, a direct appeal was made to me, and I gave it in as my
conviction that, if the ascent were made quickly, and everything well
managed, there need be no apprehension.
The fireworks--weighing over 60 lbs.--were now connected, and gentlemen
were requested to jump in; for my own part, I decided upon jumping up
on the hoop, so as to see the neck clear, and report to Mr. Gypson when
the upper valve required opening.
I had never made a night ascent previously, but had formed my own
opinions as to the particular line of action desirable, and especially
under existing circumstances, when the air was highly charged with
electricity, and when a large amount of weight was about to be lost
owing to the combustion of the fireworks.
We left in grand style. A salvo of garden artillery announced the
slip of the cable, and the most beautiful red and green fires changed
the hue of the silken globe as it rose over the heads of the people;
and just as these grew faint the aërial pyrotechnics burst forth, and
the cheers rose lustily as each device engaged attention--for every
piece was artistically arranged; and when the Roman candles shot out
their many-coloured stars, and petards burst with a crashing sound,
and golden and silver showers enlivened the darkness of mid-air, every
spectator seemed to be in ecstacy; nor was there a single shout of
dissatisfaction or fear, until nature--as if displeased with man’s
efforts to light up the elements--broke out in apparent discontent; and
a wide-spread flash, with deep-toned thunder overhead, arrested public
admiration, and produced a death-like pause, both with us in the car
and those on the earth--all of whom had seen us enveloped, apparently,
in a flame of fire.
Our own feelings at this critical period can very well be imagined.
We were now some 4000 feet high, in a storm of thunder and lightning,
our fireworks were hardly spent and the balloon was mounting rapidly
and was fully distended, so that close watching, and a proper line of
action, could alone secure our safety.
When, after another flash or two, the gas rushed out of the safety
valve, I looked at Mr. Gypson, wondering how he intended to act, and it
was not long before I came to the conclusion that the upper valve ought
to be opened so as to remove a visible strain on the lower hemisphere
of the balloon. Had _I_ seized the line and opened the valve I should
most assuredly not have done wrong, but I simply, by pointing and
hinting, endeavoured, with too much deference, to persuade him to do as
I thought expedient.
He was not, evidently, quite of the same way of thinking as myself; at
last I cried out, “if the valve is not opened the balloon will burst.”
Hardly had I uttered the warning when the car appeared to drop suddenly
some six or eight feet beneath the balloon.
We all looked up, of course, affrighted, thinking that the netting was
giving way at the top, and Mr. Albert Smith was impressed with the
idea that I had pulled the valve line, and broken the framework; but
on looking upwards the sparks from the expiring fireworks, aided by a
flash of lightning, disclosed the awful fact that the balloon had rent
fully sixteen feet, and that we were falling headlong right over the
west end of London, with myriads of gas lamps beneath us, and houses in
such close proximity, that death stared us all in the face, and seemed
inevitable.
Situated as I was, on the hoop, with a better opportunity of observing
the torn silk and network than the rest, I noticed after the first
shock to the nerves, that the line which connected the neck of the
balloon was unduly tightened, and it immediately occurred to me if I
cut that, the lower part of the balloon would the more readily form a
resisting surface or parachute.
Much against the wishes of my companions I severed this cord, and a
check was soon observable, but the sparks from the paper cases shot up
among the gas through the tear in the silk, and once more the thunder
roared, and lightning flashed, so that a more frightful descent to the
earth could not possibly be imagined.
As the gas-lit metropolis appeared to come up towards us--for, strange
as it may seem, there was no sense of giddiness or dropping--we
collected the ballast bags and disconnected the grapnel rope in order
to let them go just as we came in contact with the ground.
Fortunately, or rather say providentially, the balloon fell in a newly
formed street in the Belgrave Road, Pimlico, while the network caught
in some scaffold poles, which helped to break the force of collision.
Only one of the four of us was hurt, and that was myself, who received
a cut in the hand from a bystander while he was trying to let us out of
the network, which fell over our heads when the car touched the road.
Albert Smith and Mr. Pridmore lost no time in going back to Vauxhall
Gardens to assure people of our safety; but the general public were
not aware of the accident, although some few, who narrowly watched the
course of the balloon, noticed that it appeared to be falling quickly
and surrounded with sparks.