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Updated: June 17, 2025
The Lunardi, mounting through a stagnant calm in a line almost vertical, had pierced the morning mists, and now swam emancipated in a heaven of exquisite blue.
Pitt and other chief officers of State, continued to view Lunardi through telescopes as long as he remained in the horizon. The public Press, notably the Morning Post of September 16, paid a worthy tribute to the hero of the hour, and one last act of an exceptional character was carried out in his honour, and remains in evidence to this hour.
It has been said that the honour of making the first ascent in a balloon from British soil must be awarded to Mr. Tytler. This took place in Scotland. In this chapter we will relate the almost romantic story of the first ascent made in England. This was carried out successfully by Lunardi, the Italian of whom we have previously spoken.
The first ascent of a balloon in England was deserving of some record, and an account alike circumstantial and picturesque is forthcoming. The novel and astonishing sight was witnessed by a Hertfordshire farmer, whose testimony, published by Lunardi in the same year, runs as follows:
In consequence of this failure, and the riots with which it was followed, the Governor forbade Signor Lunardi to make his ascent from Chelsea Hospital grounds. He writes again to his friend, "The national prejudice of the English against France is supposed to have its full effect on a subject, from which the literati of England expect to derive but little honour.
The journey was uneventful; there was a moderate northerly breeze, and the aeronaut attained a considerable altitude, so that he and his animals were in danger of frost-bite. Indeed, one of the animals suffered so severely from the effects of the cold that Lunardi skilfully descended low enough to drop it safely to earth, and then, throwing out ballast, once more ascended.
"With my tol-de-rol," Mr. Sheepshanks murmured. "Pretty very pretty." I cast a look aloft. The Lunardi was transformed: every inch of it frosted as with silver. All the ropes and cords ran with silver too, or liquid mercury. And in the midst of this sparkling cage, a little below the hoop, and five feet at least above reach, dangled the broken valve-string.
As one of the gentry concerned, I may be permitted to remark that I am unmoved. I care not a Tinker's Damn for his ascension. No more I breathe in your ear does anybody else. The business is stale, sir, stale. Lunardi did it, and overdid it. A whimsical, fiddling, vain fellow, by all accounts for I was at that time rocking in my cradle. But once was enough.
It marks the spot where Lunardi landed, and on it is cut a legend which runs thus: Let Posterity know And knowing be astonished that On the 15th day of September 1784 Vincent Lunardi of Lusca in Tuscany The first aerial traveller in Britain Mounting from the Artillery Ground In London And Traversing the Regions of the Air For Two Hours and Fifteen Minutes In this Spot Revisited the Earth.
A Frenchman of the name of Moret, designing to turn to his own advertisement the attention attracted by Lunardi's approaching trials, attempted to forestall the event by an enterprise of his own, announcing that he would make an ascent with a hot air balloon in some gardens near Chelsea Hospital, and at a date previous to that fixed upon by Lunardi.
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