Post by Catsmate on Aug 9, 2014 12:09:49 GMT
From the BBC.
The distinguished gentleman ran for his life - his clothes ripped, his hair dishevelled, a furious mob hot on his heels, baying for blood. Behind him lay the ripped-up, burning remnants of his livelihood. What with one thing and another, his balloon display hadn't gone quite as well as he'd expected.
It had all started so promisingly, too. A crowd of about 50,000 people had gathered on the racecourse in Leicester that summer's day in 1864 to see the feted aeronaut take to the skies. Henry Coxwell wasn't just an aviation pioneer, he was something of a celebrity too. Two years earlier, accompanied by the meteorological scientist Dr James Glaisher, he'd soared up to the stratosphere, curious as to what might happen next.
What actually happened next was Dr Glaisher went temporarily blind, then passed out. Coxwell, who had lost all sensation in his gloveless hands, could well have followed suit, had he not saved them both by opening the valve-cord with his teeth.
Such shivering dash and derring-do made him a hero, so when he agreed to appear with his fancy new balloon Britannia at the Order of Forester's fete in Leicester, admirers arrived from as far and wide to see him soar into the skies. But as the punters gathered, and Coxwell made his pre-flight preparations, there was trouble afoot.
"Early in the afternoon, a gentleman, reported to be a professional man, gave it out that the balloon then present was not my largest and newest balloon but a small one," Coxwell would later write to the Times.
"This was a cruel libel," he added, but the rumour spread all the same. "This Coxwell," they muttered, darkly, "he's taking us for mugs."
As the mood soured, the masses pressed in. With barely any police on duty to control the huge throng, "a perfect sea of clamouring spectators" broke into his enclosure, "everybody demanding an instantaneous ascent".
If he expected better behaviour from the well-to-do Leicester folk who were to accompany him into the air, he was sorely disappointed.
There's more over at the BBC page, including some pictures. Fascinating event, suitable from dropping into a campaign (Just why were the Balloonatics so easily enraged? Had someone been harvesting chemicals from their brains perhaps?) or just as background.
If I've time I might expand on this sometime.
The distinguished gentleman ran for his life - his clothes ripped, his hair dishevelled, a furious mob hot on his heels, baying for blood. Behind him lay the ripped-up, burning remnants of his livelihood. What with one thing and another, his balloon display hadn't gone quite as well as he'd expected.
It had all started so promisingly, too. A crowd of about 50,000 people had gathered on the racecourse in Leicester that summer's day in 1864 to see the feted aeronaut take to the skies. Henry Coxwell wasn't just an aviation pioneer, he was something of a celebrity too. Two years earlier, accompanied by the meteorological scientist Dr James Glaisher, he'd soared up to the stratosphere, curious as to what might happen next.
What actually happened next was Dr Glaisher went temporarily blind, then passed out. Coxwell, who had lost all sensation in his gloveless hands, could well have followed suit, had he not saved them both by opening the valve-cord with his teeth.
Such shivering dash and derring-do made him a hero, so when he agreed to appear with his fancy new balloon Britannia at the Order of Forester's fete in Leicester, admirers arrived from as far and wide to see him soar into the skies. But as the punters gathered, and Coxwell made his pre-flight preparations, there was trouble afoot.
"Early in the afternoon, a gentleman, reported to be a professional man, gave it out that the balloon then present was not my largest and newest balloon but a small one," Coxwell would later write to the Times.
"This was a cruel libel," he added, but the rumour spread all the same. "This Coxwell," they muttered, darkly, "he's taking us for mugs."
As the mood soured, the masses pressed in. With barely any police on duty to control the huge throng, "a perfect sea of clamouring spectators" broke into his enclosure, "everybody demanding an instantaneous ascent".
If he expected better behaviour from the well-to-do Leicester folk who were to accompany him into the air, he was sorely disappointed.
There's more over at the BBC page, including some pictures. Fascinating event, suitable from dropping into a campaign (Just why were the Balloonatics so easily enraged? Had someone been harvesting chemicals from their brains perhaps?) or just as background.
If I've time I might expand on this sometime.