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.