Retro Blast: Up, Up and Away

Ah, the warm days of summer roll on, and my eyes are drifting to the skies, where I'll soon be flying off to our writers conference, otherwise known as Regina and Marissa's annual sleepover. In the meantime, I couldn't help revisiting another mode of flight--ballooning. Enjoy!

The nineteenth century saw the birth of many inventions we take for granted today, but few were viewed with greater awe and anticipation than the hot air balloon. Crowds gathered every time the basket and uninflated balloon arrived on a wagon and watched as the bag was filled and the balloon rose into the sky. Ascensions, as they were called, were plentiful around London, from the various parks and Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens. Young ladies swooned over the prospect of being lifted aloft, and young men dreamed of being aeronauts. One of the most practiced in the art was Charles Green.

Green was the son of a fruit merchant. But he grew interested in ballooning in school and went on to build his own balloons and fly them. He also had a theory that coal-gas would be a more convenient and safer fuel than hydrogen gas, which was widely used at the time. At the request of the government, Green ascended from one of the London parks on George IV’s coronation day (July 19, 1821) in the first balloon filled with coal-gas. The crowds went wild.

But Green wasn’t finished with stunts. In August 1828, he took a pony aboard with him, ascended from the Eagle Tavern in London, and came down thirty minutes later in Kent. The proprietors from Vauxhall were so impressed they commissioned him to build them a balloon for the delight of their customers. He liked it so much he bought it back from them but continued to ascend from Vauxhall, taking groups of people around England.

In 1836, Robert Hollond, a member of Parliament representing Hastings, funded Green to fly the balloon from Vauxhall to Germany. Hollond and his friend Thomas Monck Mason had both dreamed of being aeronauts but had settled for more prosaic occupations. The two joined Green at Vauxhall for a grand send off, crossed the channel to Dover, and reached the countryside on the outskirts of Weilburg in Germany. They had traveled a total of 500 miles over land and sea in 18 hours. The record would not be broken until 1907. Green’s fame was assured.

But however much the crowds idolized the aeronauts and dreamed of flying themselves, ballooning was not for the faint of heart. Green set the record for a time for height, reaching more than 27,000 feet, with temperatures well below freezing. He fought his way through thunderstorms and rode the winds aloft at times nearly 100 miles an hour. He piloted a balloon where one of the first parachutes was tested (at the loss of life of the man testing it!). Once someone severed the ropes attaching the basket to the balloon, and he and his passenger had to climb onto the mesh of the balloon to survive. Still, by the time he retired, he had ascended more than 500 times!

The British Balloon and Airship Club still awards the Charles Green Salver for exceptional flying or contributions to the field of ballooning.

Me? I’m afraid I’m one of those terribly practical people who prefer their feet to remain safely on the ground!

Public Spectacles, Amusements, and Objects Deserving Notice, June

June was the middle of the Season in London during the nineteenth century. Everyone who was anyone was in town, enjoying weather that tended to be more often on the pleasant side. And they had many choices for outdoor entertainments. For example, Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens generally opened in early June in the earlier part of the century, horse races popped up around the country, and the Thames was full of rowing matches and sailing regattas.

But the big event for most of the first two decades of the century was His Majesty’s birthday celebration, centered around June 4th. Even though George III was growing stranger and his son would end up the Regent and later king, every major city in England, many small hamlets, and every territory and embassy world-wide held events on the King’s birthday.

In London, tradesmen with royal warrants illuminated their shops in the evening. Special illuminations (painted panels with lanterns behind and between them) glowed in public places as well. Mail coaches paraded from the Post Office to the St. James’s Palace and back. Famous composers and musicians held concerts. The King’s Master of Music on occasion even composed a new Ode for the celebration (although that was falling out of favor). Those of particularly high rank and favor were invited to a grand drawing room at the palace.

On the Thames, rowing matches and regattas brought out the boats. Areas of the country where garrisons were stationed held military reviews; ports held naval maneuvers. Church bells rang throughout the nation. Can you tell it was a party? The English loved their “Farmer George”!

Now, more than 200 years later, one organization still celebrates. The students at Eton commemorate the birthday of George III with special lectures, cricket
matches, and a procession of boats on the river. According to the school, no monarch except the Founder (Henry VI) was more involved and took more pride in the school. Eton is located near Windsor Castle, and apparently George III invited students to visit from time to time and was known to pop into the school for a visit whenever he was passing nearby.

May your June be as memorable!

P.S.—I will be taking a short break next week, so look for a post from Marissa on Tuesday, but no post from me until June 22.

Midst the Rockets' Yellow Glare

We’ve discussed various holidays on the blog before, but Independence Day wasn’t one of them (because it started in the eighteenth century and the British, um, lost). However, with the Fourth of July so close at hand, my mind turned to the traditional method of celebrating here in the states: fireworks.

Nineteenth century lads and lasses celebrated major events with fireworks too. Little Chinese crackers, then as now, were popular for lighting and throwing about. But the bigger shows were also a big hit.

Then as now, one of the safest places to light off the rockets was over water. Vauxhall Pleasure Garden, located as it was near the River Thames and boasting its own water features, let off fireworks at the end of each night’s party. Handel’s Music for the Royal Fireworks was first played there in 1749 in a grand spectacular. Fireworks also burst overhead as millions of people turned out for the crowning of Queen Victoria.

Then too, fireworks could mark private celebrations. Many an aristocrat ended a evening’s dinner or ball with fireworks over their private gardens. The fire masters, as the pyrotechnic engineers were often called, were much in demand to develop ever larger and more elaborate displays, from dragons fighting to a temple that transformed in billows of smoke! Even the Prince Regent’s favorite architect, John Nash, got involved in building “machines” to house the displays.

Until the middle of the century, however, the primary colors were orange and white. The photo at the top by Tim Parkin gives you a good idea what they probably looked like. In the 1830s, fire masters discovered that burning metallic salts with potassium chlorate would give them many more colors to play with. You might say they went forth with a bang.

May your celebrations be safe but just as merry!

In the Night Garden

No, that’s not a title to a M. Night Shyamalan movie, and I’m not going to discuss the children’s television program. There was a different kind of garden in the nineteenth century, a garden that was truly best by night: the Pleasure Garden.

The idea was that landscaped grounds illuminated by lanterns were both breathtaking and mysterious. People paid to come and walk around, perhaps listen to a concert, perhaps sneak off for a little kiss behind the willow. Who knows what could happen under the canopy of the stars?

The most famous of the Pleasure Gardens was Vauxhall, on the south bank of the Thames near London. It opened generally in May and ran Monday, Wednesday, and Friday starting at 7:00pm hrough the summer months. Like Disneyland today, the entire arrangement was designed to transport you to another place, a fairy land, for one night.

You might arrive by carriage after crossing Westminster Bridge, but just as often you would take a ferry across to Vauxhall Stairs. The dark water crossing was part of the show. Once at the garden gate, you paid the entrance fee of a few shillings. Such a low fee guaranteed that people from all walks of life could enter. That also was part of the show. You never knew who you’d be rubbing shoulders with at Vauxhall—the laundress who did your shirts or the Prince of Wales himself.

Vauxhall consisted acres of trees, hedges, and charming little pavilions. Some areas of the garden were illuminated by the glow of colored lanterns. One contemporary account claims the garden boasted 37,000 such lanterns. Other areas were intentionally dark, giving cover to secret lovers. You might stroll along a particular walk, nodding to acquaintances, stopping to chat or enjoy a piece of art or statue that was being illuminated that night. You also scurried to secure your own pavilion for the evening’s entertainment. Each pavilion featured a table and chairs as well as paintings by some of the most popular artists of the day, including Hogarth and Hayman.

While every attempt was made to keep the garden safe and secure, the possibility of danger was part of the thrill of attendance. The stories told in dozens of books are only too right: a lady had to be careful where she walked in Vauxhall. It was just as easy to lose your purse as your virtue.

But as long as you were careful in your connections, you could have a great time! Every night an orchestra performed a concert of the latest songs from the most popular composers, and sometimes renowned singers joined them. Half way through the concert a bell signaled the illumination of the Cascade, which was a huge waterfall display in the center of the garden. Apparently it was only lit for 15 minutes. Given the technology difficulties of uniting lanterns and water, one can imagine why. The night finished with a brilliant fireworks display.

Special occasions called for a grander show, and steeper ticket prices. In 1813 Vauxhall held a massive party to celebrate Wellington’s victory at the Battle of Vittoria. In 1814, the gardens featured a mock naval battle, complete with canon fire and ships sinking under billows of smoke.

You know, I’m thinking the Disney analogy isn’t that far off!

Bonus: When I was confirming some facts for this post, I ran across an outstanding online resource. If you are interested in learning more about Vauxhall, point your browser to David Coke’s Vauxhall Garden’s page. The author’s credentials appear impeccable, and the details, including links to more information, are all a lover of history could want.

The Ball: A Primer

A ball is a ball is a ball. Right?

Well, not quite. There were actually a few different types of balls that we ought to go over...so here we go!

Public Balls: Also known as "assemblies." Most towns of any size from the 1770s onward had "assembly rooms", often located at an inn in smaller towns or in their own building in larger, where local society met for lectures, concerts, and other cultural events (some even included lending libraries)... and of course, dancing! (That's the Bath Assembly room at left). The wealthier local families would often pay a subscription fee to defray maintenance costs and pay for the services of a master of ceremonies, who ran all events (hiring an orchestra, arranging refreshments, etc.) Tickets were required for admission, with cost varying. Jane Austen was an avid assembly-goer, as can be seen from her letters...as were her beloved creations, the Bennett sisters. Attendance at these assemblies was generally self-limited to the gentry--that class of smaller landed families and professionals who could be considered "gentlemen" (the clergy, military officers, physicians, barristers), though assemblies for other classes might also be held. This may sound strange to modern American ears, but don't forget that in the 19th century, class distinctions were very real and accepted, and members of different social classes did not, on the whole, like to mingle socially.

In London, public balls were also held at places like Vauxhall (the orchestra stand is seen here at right) and Ranelagh, a cross between a public garden and a circus/carnival fairway. Most notorious were the masked balls held here, where all wore dominoes (voluminous hooded cloaks with masks) that concealed identity and promoted flirtation and secret assignations in the shrubbery for clandestine lovers. Again, anyone who could pay the admission fee could come.

That certainly wasn't the case with private balls, which were, of course, by invitation only (though gate-crashing was certainly a common phenomenon!) The season was prime ball-giving time, and a ball given by her family was often part of a debutante's presentation to society. Of course those were the most elaborate: the flowers and other decorations, the food and drink, the musicians must be the best. But elaborate balls were also part of entertaining in the country, either for the neighboring "families" or during the house parties that were common during the times when Parliament was not in session and the ton vacated London for their country estates.

Next week I'll be chatting about that early 19th century institution, Almack's-- a peculiar cross between a public and private ball...but in the meanwhile, stay tuned for Friday's dance lesson from Regina. White gloves prefered but not required.