1873. 8vo, pp. 8; with large woodcut vignette; small split along joint of second leaf, p. 3 and 6 somewhat dust-soiled, with some minor spotting, evidence of previous horizontal folds leading to some soiling; unstitched, extremities a little nicked with a few small marginal tears; despite minor faults an appealing copy of a scarce chapbook. Scarce and appealing chapbook, promoting the forthcoming aeronautical exploits of the Belgian balloonist and aviation pioneer, Vincent de Groof (1830-1874), one of the first men to have attempted and briefly taken flight in an aircraft.
Details about de Groof’s early life are somewhat vague - as indeed appear to be later accounts of his various aeronautic attempts which frequently contradict themselves - but what seems undisputed was his determination to achieve human flight, by imitating that of a bird. As such, in 1862 he designed an early ‘ornithopter’, a machine with seven-meter-long bat-shaped wings made out of cane and waterproof silk, attached to a small wooden platform, and moved by arm-operated levers. He made his first successful launch from a house in Bruges.
His famous flying machine is depicted on the title-page of the present chapbook, which was published a few days before a planned demonstration in Brussels, presumably to drum up further support. Penned in a style reminiscent of a circus ringmaster’s patter, it humorously looks forward to the forthcoming event, which we are told ‘all of Brussels’ is a buzz with, ‘everyone seeking to predict the happy or unhappy outcome’. Whilst informally penned, it nevertheless contains a few prophetic overtones: ‘It is nothing less than a complete revolution in human and social existence that is being prepared and that the nineteenth century will bring about. Farewell to taxes, barriers, borders, limits of all kinds. Morals, politics, nationalities, legislation, everything is to be recast and remade with the flying man’ (p. 4). Or again: ‘I think I can already hear the dialogues of the future ringing in my ear: - Is Mr. Van Muler at home? - No, but he will be back soon. He left for China this morning, and tomorrow without fail he will be back’ (p. 5). It concludes with the rallying cry ‘To Monsieur Vincent de Groot, the flying man, will return the glory of an invention that will give humanity a new power’ (p. 8).
The anticipated Brussels experiment to land in the Grand-Place ultimately ended in failure, though de Groot was uninjured. Undeterred, in the following year in travelled to England to seek financial backing for his invention, where he partnered with the balloonist Joseph Simmons, with the plan that they would ascend in his balloon with the flying machine suspended underneath, and then launch from altitude. On June 29th 1874, the pair ascended from Cremorne Gardens to an altitude of between 300 and 400 feet, before the machine was dropped. Though it plummeted violently, de Groot was able to recover and land safely in Epping Forest. A few days later on July 9th, the pair launched again. After hovering over the Thames for some time, Simmons reduced the height to around 90 metres in preparation for separation. The decent came so low, in fact, that de Groof's ‘bat’ contraption was swinging dangerously close to the tower of St Luke's church, just north of King's Road. At this point, press reports again diverge in detail. Perhaps sensing he would hit the church, perhaps by accident, or maybe because he was ready to begin his stunt, de Groof cut the rope. His machine immediately flipped over and de Groot tumbled to the ground, landing in what is now Sydney Street. Some accounts suggest that he was killed immediately. Others say he lived long enough for his distraught wife to race to his side, before being carried to Chelsea hospital where he later died. There was almost a second tragedy. As soon as de Groof was loosed to his death, the unburdened balloon shot into the air, eventually reaching such a height that the pilot, Mr Joseph Simmons of Regent Street, passed out. On regaining consciousness, he found himself over Victoria Park, eventually coming down on railway tracks a mile from Chingford, narrowly missing a train.
We have found no record of any earlier edition, and indeed the present pamphlet is extremely scarce.