HALS image DE-X1025-2-39-139
The scene opposite was captured by Hertford’s renowned photographer, Arthur Elsden, and it remains one of his most memorable pictures. The date was 2 July 1891, the time about six o’clock in the evening, and the location the cricket field at Christ’s Hospital. The photo shows a balloon on the point of being released into a cloudless evening sky, an event eagerly awaited by a large crowd of spectators. But it also begs a lot of questions. Balloon ascents were often held to mark some particular event. Was this the case here, and if so, what was it? Who were the personalities behind the event and in particular, who was the man standing in the basket beneath the balloon? And most intriguing of all – what happened next?
The St Andrew’s Grand Bazaar
The balloon ascent formed the main feature in a grand three-day bazaar which was formally opened on Wednesday 1 July 1891. Its organisation was the product of a considerable community effort, led by the Rector of St Andrew’s, Hertford, the Reverend Canon Woolmore Wigram.
Wigram’s family home was Moor Place, Much Hadham. His father was head of a shipbuilding company and a director of the Bank of England. Educated at Rugby School, Woolmore attended Trinity College, Cambridge, and was ordained priest in 1856. He served initially as curate of Hampstead. His superior there was the Rev. Thomas Ainger and in 1863 Woolmore married his daughter Harriet Mary, by whom he had four sons and three daughters, though one of the girls died in infancy. In 1864 he became vicar of the joint Hertfordshire parishes of Furneaux and Brent Pelham, and remained there till 1876 when he was appointed rector of St Andrew’s. He was also made rural dean of Hertford in 1877 and an honorary canon of St Albans in 1886. He belonged to the High Church wing of the Church of England. He was also an enthusiastic campanologist and a recognised authority on the subject.
By the time he arrived in Hertford, the finishing touches were just being made to the new church of St Andrew’s. The rebuilding had been carried out in two phases, the main body of the church being built in 1869-70 and the tower added in 1876. An infant school had also just been built on a site in Hertingfordbury Road. Plenty of scope remained, however, for further improvements in the parochial life of the area and in this work Wigram was to prove a model Victorian parish priest. Under his leadership, the schools were enlarged, new vestries provided, the chancel enlarged, the church embellished with a new pulpit, font, organ and stained glass windows, the cemetery improved and a new cemetery lodge erected. To assist him in these endeavours there existed a stalwart body of gentlemen drawn from the town’s shopkeepers, tradesmen and professional bodies. Behind them stood a veritable army of wives, daughters, widows and genteel spinster ladies, all ready to give their support.
There had long been a perceived need for a suitable hall in which to hold meetings, entertainments and social gatherings, but for many years other priorities had taken precedence. However, by the beginning of 1891 a firm proposal had been drawn up. The actual design of the building was handled by Wigram’s eldest son Edgar, a professional architect. The building was to be given the name “St Nicholas Hall” and would be located as near to the church as possible. It would comprise a large public hall capable of accommodating 200 people, class rooms, a residence for a caretaker, and also a residence for the assistant mistresses at the day schools. The sum needed for its construction was £1000.
The Entertainment Society of St Andrew’s was very active during 1890, and as a consequence it was able to hand over a balance of £12 to the building fund. This brought the total sum in the fund to £120. Then, quite unexpectedly, the church received a contribution of £110 in cash from the residents of Hartford, Connecticut, offered – according to the Hertfordshire Mercury – in a spirit of “Auld Lang Syne”. This major addition to the building fund galvanised the community into making an all-out effort to raise the remaining £800, and they sought to do this by holding a Grand Bazaar.
The preparations were handled by a Management Committee and a host of sub-committees. Canon Wigram was Chairman and Treasurer of the Management Committee, but his contribution proved to be limited as he was struck down in the spring with a sharp attack of influenza and did not fully regain his strength till late June. In the meantime the church workers managed to acquire a convenient venue, thanks to the Governors of Christ’s Hospital who placed the school gymnasium, cricket field and adjoining meadow at their disposal. Meanwhile the ladies of the parish were busy obtaining all the materials needed for furnishing the stalls, and they soon realised the gymnasium would not be large enough to contain it all. Special tents were therefore obtained and erected in the meadow.
As the day of opening approached, the weather prospects became increasingly gloomy and sure enough, heavy persistent rain started to fall early on the morning of 1 July and continued to do so till just before the time fixed for the opening ceremony. But then things began to improve and after 2.00, apart from a couple of slight showers, there was nothing to mar the visitors’ enjoyment.
The opening ceremony itself was a grand affair – much grander than was usually the case at such an event, for it was to be performed by the wife of the Prime Minister, Lady Georgina, Marchioness of Salisbury. She was accompanied by two of her children – her daughter, Lady Gwendolen Cecil, and her son, the Reverend Lord William Cecil, Rector of Hatfield. She also brought along her seven year old niece, Mabel Palmer. For the townsfolk of Hertford, the truly remarkable thing about the occasion was the presence amongst the Hatfield House party of the United States Minister and his wife, Mr and Mrs Robert Todd Lincoln. They had been invited in recognition of the generous contribution made to the building fund by the people of Hartford, Connecticut. Robert Lincoln was the eldest son of President Abraham Lincoln. A lawyer by profession, he had served as Secretary of War from 1881-85 and then in 1889 had been appointed US Ambassador to the United Kingdom.
Lady Salisbury and her party made their way from Hatfield House in a carriage drawn by four horses with postilions. On reaching Hertford they made their way round to the Great Eastern Railway Station. Opposite the station lay the entrance to the cricket field of Christ’s Hospital, and there the pupils were all ready to welcome them, standing in a double file that stretched for some distance across the field. As the party made their way forward, the Hertford Town Band played the general salute.
Waiting at the end of the line was the Mayor and Corporation, who had earlier walked in procession from the Town Hall, decked out in their civic robes, and preceded by the sword and mace bearer. Speeches of welcome were delivered by Canon Wigram, the Mayor and the Town Clerk, and Lord William Cecil and the US Minister made appropriate responses. After that, the party was conducted over to a group of children waiting close by. Most of them were dressed appropriately to represent different nations. “England” was represented by Granville Sharp, a 13-year old Bluecoat boy and son of the school’s Steward, who delivered an address to Lady Salisbury “with considerable elocutionary effect.” Then four-year old Ethel Cook, dressed as a fairy, stepped forward to present her Ladyship with a basket which the other children then filled to overflowing with bouquets. And with that “pleasing ceremony” concluded, the Town Band struck up a lively tune and the crowds headed into the bazaar.
The items displayed on the various stalls included perfumery, baskets, flowers, china, knitted and woollen articles, plain needlework, art and photography, and confectionary. There was a stall containing dolls of “every kind, sort and description”, but its main feature was a huge shoe in which sat the “Old Woman”, played by eight-year old Kathleen Wigginton, with her numerous progeny around her, many of whom were dressed as Bluecoat boys. The items offered for sale at the fancy work stall included “some excellent specimens of embroidered and crewel work, painted sofa cushions, tea cosies, ornamental fans, and the usual assortment of fancy goods.” Amidst all this activity the Rector’s family played their part. His wife helped out on the household rummage stall. His daughter Adelaide could be found on the stall of Indian and foreign wares, while his daughter Katherine was engaged on a stall entitled “Fairyland” which offered the children “an excellently arranged fairy glen, nursery rhymes illustrated by miniature toys,” and a place where “the inquisitive could have their fortunes or characters told by fairies.”
To assist in making the bazaar a success, several prominent companies in Hartford, Connecticut had sent over samples of their wares or details of their services. These were now displayed on one of the stalls and included the products of the Colt Arms Manufacturing Co., the Cheney Silk Works, Billings & Spencer (edge tools), and the Travellers’ Insurance Co. It was later rumoured that one of the Hatfield party had bought an axe from the Hartford, Connecticut stall, with the aim of presenting it to Mr William E. Gladstone, the Liberal leader, in recognition of his well known penchant for felling trees on his Cheshire estate.
HALS image DE-X1025-2-39-141
In addition to its stalls, the Grand Bazaar offered a variety of amusements. Just inside the entrance to the bazaar field there was a shed which served as the venue for a cat show. Here and there amongst the stalls were to be found Lucky Dips as well as an automatic slot machine called the Wheel of Fortune. There was a shooting gallery where visitors could demolish bottles and pipes. One “decided novelty” was a machine “which enabled cyclists and non-cyclists to practice on the ‘home track’, an index finger on a large dial opposite pointing the number of yards ridden.” This machine was extensively patronised. Then, “after having ridden and strained one’s nerves to a high tension”, visitors were guided to a table containing a series of galvanic batteries where they were invited to receive an electric shock – “a capital thing after unwonted exertions.”
A large marquee erected in the meadow was the setting for a variety of entertainments. A conjuring and puppet show was performed at intervals by Professor and Mrs Clarence, the most interesting feature being apparently some trained doves which under the directions of Mrs Clarence “rode bicycles, turned windmills, worked a see-saw, went out to tea, and did other exceedingly clever things.” The Hertford Town Band was very much in evidence, their selections rendered “in capital style”. On the Wednesday and Thursday evenings the marquee was taken over by the town’s amateur artistes for concerts of popular songs, interspersed with recitations. The most colourful of the entertainments was a six-a-side polo match which took place on Thursday afternoon. Each contestant was mounted on a donkey and attired in a grotesque costume. The teams thus included “clowns, harlequins, Irishmen, Jack Tars, and a fashionably-attired lady.”
The Balloon Ascent
Undoubtedly the main attraction of the Grand Bazaar was the balloon ascent, which took place on Thursday evening. Such an event had not been seen in Hertford for nearly 50 years.
Its inclusion in the programme of entertainments was probably due to the fact that a professional aeronaut had recently moved into St Andrew’s parish. His name was Thomas Richard Lythgoe and he styled himself a “Professor” although, as with Professor Clarence and his performing doves, the title denoted his talent for showmanship rather than academic achievement. By this time he was approaching his 60th year and this was to be his 400th ascent. As a sport, ballooning involved an exciting mix of adventure and danger which could well have appealed to Canon Wigram personally. In his childhood his greatest pleasures had been riding and hunting, while as a young man he had been an enthusiastic alpine climber. He was a founder member of the Alpine Club and prior to his marriage in 1863, had spent many of his holidays mountain climbing in Switzerland. Around the time of the bazaar, he decided to take up cycling, even though he was now in his sixties. Whatever the case, he was clearly successful in prevailing upon Thomas Lythgoe to play a key role in the Grand Bazaar.
Thomas was born in Manchester in 1832. His father was a schoolmaster who died in 1846, leaving a widow, four sons and a daughter. His mother remarried in 1851, this time to a printer, and the family moved out to Glossop. Thomas seems to have started taking up engagements as a professional balloonist from about the age of 17. This obviously entailed him in a great deal of travelling on the ground as well as in the air, and as a consequence the details of his life are somewhat patchy. He appears to have lived at home till he was nearly 30, and in between his flights he earned his keep at various occupations – one census lists him as a railway porter, another as an artist.
He was twice married, though no children were born to either marriage. His first wife was Frances Ann Tilson whom he married in 1861 in the Chelsea Registration District. She came from Boston in Lincolnshire, where her father worked as a shipwright. At the census of 1871 they were living in Manchester. Thomas now styled himself as an “aeronaut” while Frances worked as a mantle maker. They subsequently moved down to south London where Thomas became a meter inspector for the Metropolitan Gas Company. Frances died in 1874 and the following year Thomas married Mary Elizabeth Swain. She was about 20 years his junior and, though born in Waltham Abbey, had been brought up in Aston, Hertfordshire, where her family ran the Beehive Public House. In 1885 Thomas resigned from his job with the Metropolitan Gas Company and the couple moved to St Albans where for the next four years they ran The Duke Inn. They then moved to Hertford and took over The Oak at 35 Hertingfordbury Road.
By this time men had been taking to the skies in balloons for just over 100 years. The pioneers were the French who made the first manned ascent in 1783. The first ascent in England took place on 15 September the following year, when a glamorous Italian dandy named Vincenzo Lunardi took off from the training ground of the Honourable Artillery Company at Moorfields in a red and blue striped hydrogen-filled balloon, watched by a crowd of 100,000, including the Prince of Wales.1 His flight lasted about two hours and he eventually came down at Standon. The ascent caused immense excitement and other adventurous young men soon followed in Lunardi’s wake.
A major difficulty in those early days was the expense of manufacturing the hydrogen. It was produced by pouring sulphuric acid and water onto iron filings in a barrel, the gas then being fed into the balloon through a connecting hose. This meant the balloonist had to cart around a great deal of equipment, which could easily get damaged in the process. The breakthrough came with the introduction of gas street lighting which took place in London from about 1807 onwards. An Englishman named Charles Green recognised that coal gas was not only cheaper than hydrogen, but it was less affected by changes in temperature, which meant that a balloon could stay in the air for longer. And as the network for manufacturing and distributing coal gas developed, so it became possible for a balloon to be inflated directly from the local gas main. Green made his first ascent with a balloon filled with coal gas on 19 July 1821 from Green Park in London, during the celebrations for the coronation of King George IV.
Although some attempts were made during the 19th century to exploit balloons for military and scientific purposes, they served primarily as a source of entertainment. No large scale celebration or exhibition anywhere in the world was complete unless it included a balloon ascent in the programme. But people soon tired of just watching the balloon rise up and disappear into the clouds. Novelties had to be added to the event, these becoming more elaborate and ludicrous as the years went by. And there, ready to serve this need, was the professional aeronaut.
A typical venue for balloon ascents was Cremorne Gardens in Chelsea. The grounds contained a circus, maze, gypsy’s tent, side-shows, shooting galleries, two theatres (one of which staged marionette shows), and a monster pagoda which could accommodate up to 4000 dancers. On the east side of the gardens was a broad lawn from where a balloon ascent would be made usually once a week. These ascents often included a dangerous element. In 1852, for instance, a balloon launched from the gardens carried a Madame Poitevin, dressed in the character of Europa, seated on the back of a live heifer. In 1874 a balloon went up transporting a bat-like flying machine, piloted by a visiting Belgian aeronaut named Vincent de Groof. The plan was for the flying machine to be released from the balloon, whereupon de Groof would fly it back down to the gardens. On being released, however, the machine collapsed in on itself and fell like a stone into a nearby street. De Groof died later in the Chelsea Infirmary.
All this would have been very familiar to Thomas Lythgoe. In fact, he himself once conducted an ascent from Cremorne Gardens which turned into a most hair-raising experience. It took place on the 24 July 1861. It was his 94th ascent and was made in a balloon called the Royal Normandie, constructed for Mr Simpson, the manager of the gardens, at a cost of £600. On that day a special aristocratic fête had been held at the gardens, and two young bloods from amongst the guests, Arthur Vivian and Noel Anderson, had secured seats in the car. The balloon was released at 11.00 that night, shot up into the air and soon disappeared into the clouds.
After travelling for some miles, Thomas decided it was time to drop down below the clouds and effect a landing. The country below could be dimly discerned in the darkness and appeared to be fairly flat. He thus made preparations to let go the grappling-iron at the first favourable opportunity. However, as the balloon descended, Thomas realised they were travelling much faster than he had first thought. Thus, when he finally released the grappling-iron, the balloon was checked for just an instant. Then a sharp snap was heard and it burst back into the air.
With the grappling-iron lost, Thomas’ only course was to try and steer the balloon into a tree and burst it. Just ahead of him he could make out a bank of trees, so he let the balloon descend until it was nearly touching the ground. But then, as they hurtled towards the trees, the car suddenly hit the ground and Anderson was thrown out. Being suddenly lightened, the balloon shot up into the air, leaving Anderson marooned in a field of beans. By then it was nearly midnight. He walked through the night for about two miles until he came upon a village, where he found shelter in a labourer’s cottage. The village turned out to be Roding in Essex.
The balloon meanwhile had been driven back up into the clouds to a height of some three miles. Thomas eventually got it under control again and was able to start a gradual descent. As they dropped down, they became aware of a dull grumbling sound and when they finally emerged from the clouds, they saw the sea below them and in the distance the surf breaking upon a shore. To their relief the wind was driving them towards the land and, as they passed over the shore, Thomas decided to let out the gas and effect a landing as quickly as possible.
The wind was still blowing fiercely and the balloon made the most tremendous bounds, dragging the car over more than two miles of country, crashing through hedges and other obstacles, and with the two occupants hanging on by the ropes. Finally, at an agreed signal, both men let go the ropes and somersaulted out of the car, landing on their backs on some marshy ground. The balloon carried on for a few hundred yards before it was brought up against a windmill, but it very soon escaped from there and disappeared. The travellers made their way across country and eventually they too found an amenable labouring family, who gave them shelter. By then it was 2.00 in the morning and they learnt they had come down in the neighbourhood of Lowestoft, nearly 100 miles from Cremorne Gardens. The balloon was subsequently recovered.
The ascent made from Hertford on 2 July 1891 was to be a much less dramatic affair. The preparations began at about 2.30pm when, under Thomas’ supervision, the balloon was laid out at the centre of the Christ’s Hospital meadow, and he started to inflate it with gas laid on from the main of the Hertford Gas Company. The process took three and a half hours to complete.
HALS image DE-X1025-2-39-139
Arrangements had been made for Thomas to be accompanied on the flight by a young man named Tom Dodderidge. He came from a Hertford family, the son of John and Elizabeth Dodderidge of 35 Currie Street. John was a plasterer by trade. Born in Devon, he had come to Hertford in the early 1850s, married a girl from Butcherley Green, and had raised a family of 12 children. By now only three of the children were still living at home. His sons Richard and Tom were living down at Enfield Lock, Richard working as a plasterer, Tom a carpenter. Despite these apparently humble circumstances, however, Tom had somehow been able to come up with a sum of three pounds for the privilege of riding in the balloon – the equivalent of about £100 in today’s terms. He was clearly desperate to savour the experience. However, Thomas Lythgoe surmised that the gas provided by the local Gas Company was much less buoyant than that normally used for inflating balloons, and it would not have sufficient lift to carry two passengers. He was therefore obliged to ask young Mr Dodderidge to leave the car.
Thomas did not intend to travel more than about 12 miles. Round about 5.40pm he released two pilot balloons and, from the direction they took, he concluded that he would terminate the journey somewhere just beyond Bishop’s Stortford. The final adjustments were made to the ballast and then, at 6.00, amidst loud cheers from the spectators, the balloon rose into the sky “slowly but quietly and gracefully.” The evening breeze being so light, the crowd were able to watch its progress for a considerable time before it finally moved out of sight in a north-easterly direction.
Before the balloon passed out of view, Thomas threw out a “paper Professor Baldwin with no neck to break” which slowly descended to the earth. This was a reference to Thomas Scott Baldwin, an American aeronaut and showman. Orphaned at a young age, Baldwin had become a circus trapeze artist at the age of 14. He made his first balloon ascent in 1875 and spent the next ten years performing at shows and fairs all over the country. To spice up his performance, he started doing parachute jumps, and in January 1887 he set a record by jumping a thousand feet from a balloon over Golden Gate Park, San Francisco – a feat that was clearly still celebrated amongst his fellow aeronauts.
The balloon continued to drift sedately through the evening sky and at about 6.30 it passed just to the north of Bishop’s Stortford. Thomas had intended to land some three or four miles beyond the town, but he could see only cultivated ground ahead. The breeze carried him along the Essex border and up the valley of the River Stort. He passed by the village of Stansted, all the time looking for a favourable spot to descend, but finding it difficult to select one in the midst of such well-cultivated countryside. Finally, about four miles beyond Standsted, he spied a long narrow strip of ground on the Rickling Hall Estate and decided to make for that spot. Once there, he threw out the grapnel. It caught on a quickset hedge and held very firmly. After that he simply waited for someone to come to his assistance, the balloon all the while jumping and rolling in the breeze.
It was five minutes before anyone appeared, but then people came flocking towards him, many of them having followed the balloon for several miles. By 6.55 Thomas was on terra firma once again. It took him little more than 10 minutes to get the balloon fully deflated and packed away. He partook some refreshments in the village of Rickling Green, after which he was driven to Stansted Station and was back in Hertford by 10.36. So all in all, it was a most agreeable way to spend a fine summer’s evening.
St Nicholas Hall
The Grand Bazaar succeeded in its prime objective of adding a substantial sum of money to the building fund for St Nicholas Hall. Overall, the profits came to just over £400 which, with the cash in hand, brought the total amount in the fund to £630. Thereafter, things moved ahead very swiftly. Within a fortnight of the bazaar, the St Andrew’s Committee had secured a site adjoining the church from Lord Salisbury. The price of the land was £480, which included some old timber-framed and semi-derelict cottages on the St Andrew Street frontage. The price was considered very reasonable, especially as Lord Salisbury also contributed £50 towards the building fund. The land purchase greatly depleted the fund, but the Committee was able to raise a loan of £1000 on a mortgage on the building, this sum being guaranteed personally by Earl Cowper, Canon Wigram and the Churchwardens. The two cottages were to be restored as part of the scheme. It was thus considered that the rents from these cottages, plus the proceeds of the entertainments to be held in the hall, would adequately cover the annual repayments on the loan.
Site works began almost immediately and on Tuesday 21 July 1891 the foundation stone of the hall was formally laid by Mr Thomas Halsey, MP for the Watford Division, in his capacity as Right Worshipful Provincial Grand Master of Freemasons. The construction of the hall and refurbishment of the cottages was carried out by the local building firm of Richard Ginn & Son, and took some 18 months to complete. The formal opening finally took place on the afternoon of Wednesday 5 April 1893.
St Nicholas Hall 2022
The person invited to perform the ceremony was Miss Erica Mildred Robertson, who had lived at Sele Grange in North Road. She had a very high standing in the locality, derived in part from her father having been the first Chief Constable of Hertfordshire. She had been closely involved in the life of St Andrew’s Church for over 30 years and, as Canon Wigram said in his address at the opening of the hall, she had been “throughout her life a warm and cordial sympathiser and consistent helper in the work of the parish.” Also, unlike many such charitable ladies, she did not insist on always being the “Queen Bee”. At the Grand Bazaar, for example, she was just one of a clutch of ladies manning the refreshment tent.
The opening ceremony was attended by a large number of parishioners. Miss Robertson was met at the entrance to the hall by Canon Wigram and one of the Churchwardens, George Durrant. The latter was carrying a silver key, and also a miniature key in gold set with pearls, which Canon Wigram asked her to accept as a memento of the occasion. Then, taking the silver key, Miss Robertson unlocked the main door of the hall and invited the parishioners to follow her into the building. There, following a speech from the Rector, she declared the building open and trusted that “both the present generation, and those who should follow them, would find it a centre where all ages and ranks might meet together for their common good.”
The formalities of the afternoon were followed in the evening by a parish supper attended by some 110 persons and after the cloth was removed, the evening was, in the words of the Mercury, “devoted to sentiment.” There were toasts to the success of the hall, to the architect and builders, the Entertainment Society, and the residents of Hartford, Connecticut. The evening was then rounded off with songs and instrumental pieces performed by members of the Entertainment Society.
One absentee at the festivities was Thomas Lythgoe, for he had died just two weeks before at the age of 61. He was still undertaking ballooning engagements, and was due to make his 406th ascent at Bradford on Whit Monday. However, on Sunday 19 March he suddenly fell ill from a variety of internal complaints and died the following evening. Having thus diced with death for 44 years, Thomas duly expired in his bed and on the following Friday was buried at the St Andrew’s cemetery.
Canon Wigram continued to serve as the Rector of St Andrew’s until 1897 when, being now 66 years of age, he felt he no longer had sufficient energy and drive to meet the needs of his parish. His resignation, though not unexpected, came as a great blow to his parishioners and, as a mark of their deep respect, they presented him with a Victoria carriage and a gold chain and pendant. On leaving Hertford, the Wigrams took up residence at Watling House in St Albans. There Woolmore took a close interest in the conduct of cathedral services and in the organisation of the newly formed chapter, to which he acted as librarian. Then just before Christmas 1906 he had a sharp attack of influenza. He eventually started to recover, but then symptoms of heart failure supervened and he died on 19 January 1907.
As for St Nicholas Hall, it served as a popular venue for meetings and entertainments for the next 70 years, before being sold, together with the cottages, and replaced by a new hall erected to the rear of the church. The building still survives, however, incorporated within the premises of Beckwith & Son, antique dealers of 43 St Andrew Street.
Notes:
1 Strictly speaking the first manned balloon flight in the British isles was made by a Mr. J. Tytle of Edinburgh on 27th August 1784 but, since he had none of Lunardi’s glamour, he failed to make it into the history books.
Sources of Reference
Wigram, Harriet, M. 1908 Memoirs of Woolmore Wigram, Canon of St Albans,
1831-1907 London
Hertfordshire Mercury 4, 11, 18 & 25 July 1891; 1 & 8 April 1893; 10 March 1894;
26 January 1907; 26 January 1926.
Illustrated London News 10 August 1861
Add your comment about this page