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