Between Memories and Faces

I made the acquaintance of Colonel Fred Burnaby in a balloon. In such

strange quarters, at an altitude of over a thousand feet, commenced a

friendship that for years was one of the pleasantest parts of my life,

and remains one of its most cherished memories.

It was on the 14th of September, 1874. A few weeks earlier two French

aeronauts, a Monsieur and Madame Duruof, making an ascent from Calais,

had been carried out to sea, and dropping into the Channel, had passed

through enough perils to make them a nine days' wonder. Arrangements had

been completed for them to make a fresh ascent from the grounds of the

Crystal Palace, and half London seemed to have gone down to Sydenham to

see them off. I was young and eager then, and having but lately joined

the staff of the Daily News as special correspondent, was burning for

an opportunity to distinguish myself. So I went off to the Crystal

Palace resolved to go up in the balloon.

"No," said Mr. Coxwell, when I asked him if there were a seat to spare

in the car. "No; I am sorry to say that you are too late. I have had at

least thirty applications for seats, and as the car will hold only six

persons, and as practically there are but two seats for outsiders, you

will see that it is impossible."

This was disappointing, the more so as I had brought with me a large

military cloak and a pair of seal-skin gloves, under a general but

well-defined impression that the thing to do up in a balloon was to keep

yourself warm. Mr. Coxwell's account of the position of affairs so

completely shut out the prospect of a passage in the car that I

reluctantly resigned the charge of the military cloak and gloves, and

strolled down to the enclosure where the process of inflating the

balloon was going on. Here was congregated a vast crowd, which increased

in density as four o'clock rang out, and the great mass of brown silk

into which the gas was being assiduously pumped began to assume a

pear-like shape, and sway to and fro in the light air of the autumn

afternoon.

About this time the heroes of the hour, Monsieur and Madame Duruof

walked into the enclosure, accompanied by Mr. Coxwell and Mr. Glaisher.

A little work was being extensively sold in the Palace bearing on the

title-page, over the name "M. Duruof," a murderous-looking face, the

letter-press purporting to be a record of the life and adventures of

the French aeronauts. Happily M. Duruof bore but the slightest

resemblance to this portrait, being a young man of pleasing appearance,

with a good, firm, frank-looking face.

By a quarter to five o'clock the monster balloon was almost fully

charged, and was swaying to and fro in a wild, fitful manner, that could

not have been beheld without trepidation by any of the thirty gentlemen

who had so judiciously booked seats in advance. The wickerwork car now

secured to the balloon was half filled with ballast and crowded with

men, whilst others hung on to the ropes and to each other in the effort

to steady it.

But they could not do much more than keep it from mounting into mid-air.

Hither and thither it swung, parting in swift haste the curious throng

that encompassed it, and dragging the men about as if they were ounce

weights. The wind seemed to be rising and the faces of the experienced

aeronauts grew graver and graver, answers to the constantly repeated

question, "Where is it likely to come down?" becoming increasingly

vague. At last Mr. Glaisher, looking up at the sky and round at the

neighbouring trees bending under the growing blast, put his veto upon

Madame Duruof's forming one of the party of voyagers.

"We are not in France," he said. "The people will not insist upon a

woman going up when there is any danger. The descent is sure to be

rough, will possibly be perilous, so Madame Duruof had better stay where

she is."

Madame Duruof was ready to go, but was at least equally willing to stay

behind, and so it was settled that she should not leave the palace

grounds by the balloon. I cast a lingering thought on the military cloak

and the seal-skin gloves, in safe keeping in a remote part of the

building. If Madame was not going there might be room for a substitute.

But again Mr. Coxwell would not listen to the proposal. There were at

least thirty prior applicants; some had even paid their money, and they

must have the preference.

At five o'clock all was ready for the start. M. Wilfrid de Fonvielle,

a French aeronaut and journalist, took off his hat, and in full gaze of

a sympathising and deeply interested crowd deliberately attired himself

in a Glengarry cap, a thick overcoat, and a muffler. M Duruof put on

his overcoat, and Mr. Barker, Mr. Coxwell's assistant, seated on the

ring above the car, began to take in light cargo in the shape of

aneroids, barometers, bottles of brandy and water, and other useful

articles. M. Duruof scrambled into the car, one of the men who had been

weighing it down getting out to make room for him. Then M. de Fonvielle,

amid murmurs of admiration from the crowd, nimbly boarded the little

ship, and immediately began taking observations. There was a pause, and

Mr. Coxwell, who stood by the car, prepared for the rush of the Thirty.

But nobody volunteered. Names were called aloud; only the wind, sighing

amongst the trees made answer.

"Il faut partir," said M. Duruof, somewhat impatiently. Then a

middle-aged gentleman, who, I afterwards learned, had come all the way

from Cambridge to make the journey, and who had only just arrived

breathless on the ground, was half-lifted, half-tumbled in, amid

agonised entreaties from Barker to "mind them bottles." The Thirty had

unquestionably had a fair chance, and Mr. Coxwell made no objection as I

passed him and got into the car, followed by one other gentleman, who

brought the number up to the stipulated half-dozen. We were all ready to

start, but it was thought desirable that Madame Duruof should show

herself in the car. So she was lifted in, and the balloon allowed to

mount some twenty feet, frantically held by ropes by the crowd below. It

descended again, Madame Duruof got out, and in her place came tumbling

in a splendid fellow, some six feet four high, broad-chested to boot,

who instantly made supererogatory the presence of half a dozen of the

bags of ballast that lay in the bottom of the car.

It was an anxious moment, with the excited multitude spread round far as

the eye could reach, the car leaping under the swaying balloon, and the

anxious, hurried men straining at the ropes. But I remember quite well

sitting at the bottom of the car and wondering when the new-comer would

finish getting in. I dare say he was nimble enough, but his full arrival

seemed like the paying out of a ship's cable.

This was Fred Burnaby, only Captain then, unknown to fame, with Khiva

unapproached, and the wilds of Asia Minor untrodden by his horse's

hoofs. His presence on the grounds was accidental, and his undertaking

of the journey characteristic. He had invited some friends to dine

with him that night at his rooms, then in St. James's Street. Hearing

of the proposed balloon ascent, he felt drawn to see the voyagers off,

purposing to be home in time to dress for dinner. The defection of the

Thirty appearing to leave an opening for an extra passenger, Burnaby

could not resist the temptation. So with a hasty Au revoir! to his

companion, the Turkish Minister, he pushed his way through the crowd

and dropped into the car.

I always forgot to ask him how his guests fared. As it turned out, he

had no chance of communicating with his servant before the dinner hour.

The arrival of Burnaby exceeded by one the stipulated number of

passengers, and Coxwell was anxious for us to start before any more got

in. For a minute or two we still cling to the earth, the centre of an

excited throng that shout, and tug at ropes, and run to and fro, and

laugh, and cry, and scream "Good-bye" in a manner that makes our

proposed journey seem dreadful in prospect. The circle of faces look

fixedly into ours; we hear the voices of the crowd, see the women

laughing and crying by turns, and then, with a motion that is absolutely

imperceptible, they all pass away, and we are in mid-air where the echo

of a cheer alone breaks the solemn calm.

I had an idea that we should go up with a rush, and be instantly in the

cold current of air in view of which the preparation of extra raiment,

the nature of which has been already indicated, had been made. But here

we were a thousand feet above the level of the Palace gardens, sailing

calmly along in bright warm sunlight, and no more motion perceptible

than if we were sitting on chairs in the gardens, and had been so

sitting whilst the balloon mounted. It was a quarter past five when we

left the earth, and in less than five minutes the Crystal Palace

grounds, with its sea of upturned faces, had faded from our sight.

Contrary to prognostication, there was only the slightest breeze, and

this setting north-east, carried us towards the river in the direction

of Greenwich. We seemed to skirt the eastern fringe of London, St.

Paul's standing out in bold relief through the light wreath of mist that

enveloped the city. The balloon slowly rose till the aneroid marked a

height of fifteen hundred feet. Here it found a current which drove it

slightly to the south, till it hovered for some moments directly over

Greenwich Hospital, the training ship beneath looking like a cockle boat

with walking sticks for masts and yards. Driving eastward for some

moments, we slowly turned by Woolwich and crossed the river thereafter

steadily pursuing a north-easterly direction.

Looking back from the Essex side of the river the sight presented to

view was a magnificent one. London had vanished, even to the dome of

St. Paul's, but we knew where the great city lay by the mist that

shrouded it and shone white in the rays of the sun. Save for this patch

of mist, that seemed to drift after us far away below the car, there was

nothing to obscure the range of vision. I am afraid to say how many

miles it was computed lay within the framework of the glowing panorama.

But I know that we could follow the windings of the river that curled

like a dragon among the green fields, its shining scales all aglow in

the sunlight, and could see where it finally broadened out and trended

northward. And there, as M. Duruof observed with a significant smile,

was "the open sea."

There was no feeling of dizziness in looking down from the immense

height at which we now floated--two thousand feet was the record as

we cleared the river. By an unfortunate oversight we had no map of

the country, and were, except in respect of such landmarks as

Greenwich, unable with certainty to distinguish the places over which

we passed.

"That," said Burnaby from his perch up in the netting over the car,

where he had clambered as being the most dangerous place immediately

accessible, "is one of the great drawbacks to the use of balloons in

warfare. Unless a man has natural aptitude, and is specially trained

for the work, his observations from a balloon are of no use, a

bird's-eye view of a country giving impressions so different from the

actual position of places."

This dictum was illustrated by the scene spread out beneath us. Seen

from a balloon the streets of a rambling town resolve themselves into

beautifully defined curves, straight lines, and various other highly

respectable geometrical shapes.

We could not at any time make out forms of people. The white highways

that ran like threads among the fields, and the tiny openings in the

towns and villages which we guessed were streets, seemed to belong to

a dead world, for nowhere was there trace of a living person. The

strange stillness that brooded over the earth was made more uncanny

still by cries that occasionally seemed to float in the air around us,

behind, before, to the right, to the left, but never exactly beneath

the car. We could hear people calling, and had a vague idea they were

running after us and cheering; but we could distinguish no moving

thing. Yes; once the gentleman from Cambridge exclaimed that there

were some pheasants running across a field below; but upon close

investigation they turned out to be a troop of horses capering about

in wild dismay. A flock of sheep in another field, huddled close

together, looked like a heap of limestone chippings. As for the

fields stretched out in wide expanse, far as the eye could reach,

they seemed to form a gigantic carpet, with patterns chiefly diamond

shape, in colour shaded from bright emerald to russet brown.

At six o'clock the sun began to drop behind a broad belt of black

cloud that had settled over London. The mist following us ever since

we crossed the river had overtaken us, even passed us, and was

strewed out over the earth, the sky above our heads being yet a

beautiful pale blue. We were passing with increased rapidity over the

rich level land that stretches from the river bank to Chelmsford, and

there was time to look round at each other. Burnaby had come down from

the netting and disposed his vast person amongst us and the bags of

ballast. He was driven down by the smell of gas, which threatened to

suffocate us all when we started. M. Wilfrid de Fonvielle, kneeling

down by the side of the car, was perpetually "taking observations,"

and persistently asking for "the readings," which the gentleman from

Cambridge occasionally protested his inability to supply, owing either

to Burnaby having his foot upon the aneroid, or to the Captain so

jamming him up against the side of the car that the accurate reading

of a scientific instrument was not only inconvenient but impossible.

When we began to chat and exchange confidences, the fascination which

balloon voyaging has for some people was testified to in a striking

manner. The gentleman from Cambridge had a mildness of manner about him

that made it difficult to conceive him engaged in any perilous

enterprise. Yet he had been in half a dozen balloon ascents, and had

posted up from his native town on hearing that a balloon was going up

from the Crystal Palace. As for Burnaby, it was borne in upon me, even

at this casual meeting, that it did not matter to him what enterprise

he embarked upon, so that it were spiced with danger and promised

adventure. He had some slight preference for ballooning, this being his

sixteenth ascent, including the time when the balloon burst, and the

occupants of the car came rattling down from a height of three thousand

feet, and were saved only by the fortuitous draping of the half emptied

balloon, which prevented all the gas from escaping.

At half-past six we were still passing over the Turkey carpet,

apparently of the same interminable pattern. Some miles ahead the level

stretch was broken by clumps of trees, which presently developed into

woods of considerable extent. It was growing dusk, and no town or

railway station was near. Burnaby, assured of being too late for his

dinner party, wanted to prolong the journey. But the farther the balloon

went the longer would be the distance over which it would have to be

brought back and Mr. Coxwell's assistant was commendably careful of his

employer's purse. On approaching Highwood the balloon passed over a

dense wood, in which there was some idea of descending. But finally the

open ground was preferred, and, the wood being left behind, a ploughed

field was selected as the place to drop, and the gas was allowed to

escape by wholesale. The balloon swooped downward at a somewhat

alarming pace, and if Barker had had all his wits about him he would

have thrown out half a bag of ballast and lightened the fall. But after

giving instructions for all to stoop down in the bottom of the car and

hold onto the ropes, he himself promptly illustrated the action, and

down we went like a hawk towards the ground.

As it will appear even to those who have never been in a balloon, no

advice could have been worse than that of stooping down in the bottom of

the car, which was presently to come with a great shock to the earth,

and would inevitably have seriously injured any who shared its contact.

Fortunately Burnaby, who was as cool as if he were riding in his

brougham, shouted out to all to lift their feet from contact with the

bottom of the car, and to hang on to the ropes. This was done, and when

the car struck the earth it merely shook us, and no one had even a

bruise.

Before we began to descend at full speed the grappling iron had been

pitched over, and, fortunately, got a firm hold in a ridge of the

ploughed land. Thus, when the balloon, after striking the ground, leapt

up again into the air and showed a disposition to wander off and tear

itself to pieces against the hedges and trees, it was checked by the

anchor rope and came down again with another bump on the ground. This

time the shock was not serious, and after a few more flutterings it

finally stood at ease.

The highest altitude reached by the balloon was three thousand feet, and

this was registered about a couple of miles before we struck Highwood.

For some distance before completing this descent we had been skimming

along at about a thousand feet above the level of the fields, and the

intention to drop being evident, a great crowd of rustics gallantly kept

pace with the balloon for the last half-mile. By the time we were fairly

settled down, half a hundred men, women, and children had converged upon

the field from all directions, and were swarming in through the hedge.

Actually the first in at the death was an old lady attired chiefly in a

brilliant orange-coloured shawl, who came along over the ridges with a

splendid stride. But she did not fully enjoy the privilege she had so

gallantly earned. She was making straight for the balloon, when Burnaby

mischievously warned her to look out, for it might "go off." Thereupon

the old lady, without uttering a word in reply, turned round and, with

strides slightly increased in length, made for the hedge, through which

she disappeared, and the orange-coloured shawl was seen no more.