In the dark depths of the winter of 1870 the tiny Cornish fishing village of Cadgwith made the national newspapers when it became unwittingly embroiled in the ongoing Franco-Prussian war. The strange story of the lost balloon post brings to life a forgotten period of history, a time when the postal service (and a speedy delivery) could be a matter of life and death.

The Seige
The Siege of Paris began in September 1870 when the Prussia Army surrounded the city effectively cutting off all means of communication for those inside the perimeter. Telegraph lines were cut and any messengers intercepted by the enemy were imprisoned or shot and their often sensitive mail seized. Initially pigeons were used to carry microfilms of important messages and military plans but the poor birds did not seem to fare very well as the weather worsened, illustrated by this letter from France printed in the Falmouth Packet.
“THE PIGEON POST. No pigeon has come into Paris since the 28th of October —that is a fortnight ago. What keeps them back ? Some say the Prussians shoot them; others believe that hawks have been let loose upon them, for many hawks, unknown before, have lately been seen about Paris; and the general opinion is that the pigeons will not fly at this time of year. The birds have peculiar ways. They refuse to fly late in the afternoon, and at this time of year also they are unwilling to travel, especially against the wind. However this be, it is a fact that two dozen balloons (not counting the one which carries this) have been started from Paris; that 173 pigeons have gone off in these balloons; that only 22 pigeons have returned, and not one in the last fortnight, in which the weather has been exceptionally bad . . .”
Falmouth Packet, 3 December 1870
It was clear that another solution was desperately needed to enable the nation’s post to make it out of the besieged city. It was not just a matter of official communications, ordinary people also needed something positive to boost their faulting morale as time passed and the conditions became more desperate.

Hot air balloons became the perhaps unlikely solution. It was decided that although there was no way to actually steer these craft, they would be manned by ‘Aeronauts’ who would hopefully help to facilitate the cargoes safe delivery and protect the mail onboard.
Sixty Six Balloons
Between November 1870 and January 1871 a total of sixty six Balloon Posts made it out of Paris, often taking off at night, and amazingly, against all odds, most of them achieved their objective! Drifting on the winds across France, Norway, Switzerland, Belgium and even across the channel into England . . . and to Cornwall.

Some transported individuals escaping the conflict, such as Monsieur Fonvielle, the editor of the French publication ‘Liberte’ who escaped in late November, but most of the balloons carried letters.
Many of these letters described the increasingly dire circumstances of those trapped in Paris but, in contradiction to many newspaper reports, it appeared that those under siege, though running short of food, believed that they could hold out for several more months. (Though this could have been propaganda as there were also reports of the Parisians resorting to eating their pets . . .)

And as for the small but fascinating part that Cornwall played – Between the 1st and 3rd December 1870 several local papers reported that a balloon had been spotted by fishermen not far from the Eddystone Lighthouse.
“A Balloon Seen from the Channel.—Captain Thomas Bunt, of the schooner ‘Welcome’, which arrived at Falmouth on Wednesday, reports that on the previous day, about four o’clock in the afternoon, he saw a large balloon coming from the direction of Paris; wind about S.E. The wind veered to the E.N.E., and Captain Burt is of the opinion that the balloon is driven to sea, unless dropped at Scilly. Capt. Foster, of the smack ‘Arrow’, also saw a balloon nine miles south of the Eddystone, on Tuesday evening. The balloon descended close to the ‘Arrow’ that Capt. Foster saw the car and its ropes. As it descended ballast was thrown out, and, again rising, it was carried along at very swift rate, in direct easterly direction, right up channel. The throwing out of the ballast leaves doubt car occupied by some one.”
The West Briton, 1st December 1870
In some accounts this balloon had then been driven west by the wind (though there may have been more than one in the air that day) and had next been seen off the coast of the Lizard.
What had happened to it and it’s crew was, for a while at least, something of a mystery but four bundles of letters, marked BALLOON POST and dated 28th November, were fished out of the water at Cadgwith. According to the Falmouth Packet the post had been picked up by “pilchard seine huer” who was employed by Messrs Fox & co and he had then brought them as speedily as he could to Falmouth. The paper noted that all the envelopes were to addresses in France and that the bundles contained more than 1000 letters. In the coming days a further 500 letters were washed up, again near Cadgwith.

The correspondence were dried out as quickly as possible and then passed on to Falmouth’s postmaster, Mr Cox, to be delivered. The balloon post letters were dispatched (free of charge) on the next mail steamer headed for France and arrived in St Malo in Brittany on the 6th December 1870, just 6 days after the balloon had left Paris – which actually seems quicker that our current Airmail service!
Continued local curiosity in the balloon post found at Cadgwith led to an extract from one of the rescued letters being published in the Cornish Telegraph a few days after the events. The name of the author is not given and presumably the missive was translated from its original French:
“THE LIZARD EXTRACTS FROM A BALLOON LETTER, WASHED ASHORE AT THE LIZARD. SUFFERINGS OF THE FRENCH TROOPS, HEALTHY OR SICK, IN PARIS. Foodless Volunteers. The battalion of volunteers which left Passy on Wednesday morning to go the outposts at Noisy-le-Sec, close to Bondy, were not only left without meat from Wednesday to Friday afternoon, and were called on to attack the enemy with empty stomachs; I also found that these young and old interesting [?] citizens had been placed in empty houses without chair or even a bundle of straw to lie on.
Sick. In one infirmary the doctors assured me that for ten long days the wounded and the sick bad been left without either linen or lint, and that notwithstanding the chief of the infirmary had daily demanded these indispensable articles, and that on each demand wore written the words “urgent, most urgent.” I found in another that, although 80 unfortunate beings were either desperately wounded or eaten with fever, only two aids had been named by the Government to attend them. One infirmary inspector had given positive orders to remove seventeen beds, and peremptorily told the chief doctor to refuse receive the sick and wounded which might be brought to him. The beds were packed up and stored away in a garret. Whilst visiting an ambulance at Passy, a doctor came in, sent for with instructions not to lose minute’s time coming. He arrived, and he was told that a serious operation was necessary. “Bring the necessary surgical instrument,” said the doctor. “We have none,” was the laconic reply, and the doctor was obliged to return home and fetch his own. In the course of the morning a National Guard was brought in more dead than alive. The tale he told would hardly credited, and does little honour to city which the Parisians call the head and centre of civilisation – Having met with an accident on the ramparts, he fell down and swooned away. His comrades carried him to a private ambulance, where he was refused admittance, and was ordered taken to the military infirmary on the ramparts. On arriving there it was found that neither doctor nor aids were present. He was then taken to another infirmary, and there again refused admittance; and it was after being dragged through the streets in pelting rain that he was admitted into the hospital in my presence. I have said enough on this question, although I could say more.”

The Fate of the Lost Aeronaut
For some time there was speculation about what might have happened to the balloon and to the aeronaut(s) manning it. Some hoped that the bundles of letters might have been thrown into the sea and that the balloon and its pilot had then returned across the channel. But on 17th December it was reported that a man from Cadgwith had been walking along the coast and had seen something strange floating in the water. His description of what he saw led the newspapers to conclude that the balloon and its unfortunate aeronaut had crashed into the sea. Sadly by the time the witness made it to Cadgwith to alert anyone to his discovery was already dark and a search could not take place until the next day, by which time no trace of the balloon or its aeronaut could be found.

Transporting Hope
After months of near starvation and bombardment the Siege of Paris finally ended when the French surrendered on 28th January 1871. But during the city’s blockade it is estimated that the Balloon Post transported 110 passengers to safety and delivered around 1 million messages and letters! And it also delivered something else too – hope to a beleaguered population. In 1965 John Fisher wrote in his book ‘Airlift 1870’
“As the siege went on, as ascent followed ascent, the balloons, in the eyes of Parisians and in the eyes of the world, came to be regarded not merely as useful carriers but as symbols of French daring and enterprise and success. Each flight accomplished, each letter delivered, was in a sense another little victory over the great German war-machine; a defiance, a gesture made by an individual.”

And the people of Cadgwith, and of Falmouth, by salvaging, protecting and delivering those letters added and amplified that defiance!
Further Reading:
The Forgotten Ruin of St Rumon’s Church, Ruan Major
Buried Pirate Treasure at Kennack Sands
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Thank you for your fruitfull and creative efforts. I did not expect to meet such an interesting page of history today.
Thank you!! Glad you enjoyed!