On the 26th of November, the balloon, fitted with its network, and having the car attached to it, was sent away from the hall of the Tuileries, where it had been exhibited. The ascent was fixed for the 1st of December, 1783, a memorable day for the Parisians.
At noon upon that day, the subscribers, who had paid four louis for their seats, took their places within the enclosure outside the circle, in which stood the casks employed for making the gas. The humbler subscribers, at three francs a-head, occupied the rest of the garden. The number of spectators, as we read underneath the numerous coloured prints which represent this spectacle, was 600,000; but though, without doubt, the gardens of the Tuileries are very large, it is probable this figure is a considerable overstatement, for this number would have been three-fourths of the whole population of Paris.
The roofs and windows of the houses were crowded, whilst the Pont Royal and the square of Louis XV. were covered by an immense multitude. About mid-day a rumour was spread to the effect that the king forbade the ascent. Charles ran to the Chief Minister of State, and plainly told him that his life was the king’s, but his honour was his own: his word was pledged to the country and he would ascend. Taking this high ground, the bold professor gained an unwilling permission to carry out his undertaking.
A little afterwards the sound of cannon was heard. This was the signal which announced the last arrangements and thus dissipated all doubt as to the rising of the balloon, There had during the day been considerable disturbance among the crowd, between the partisans of Charles and Montgolfier; each party extolled its hero, and did everything possible to detract from the merits of the rival inventor. But whatever ill-feeling might have existed was swept away by Professor Charles with a compliment. When he was ready to ascend, he walked up to Montgolfier, and, with the true instinct of French politeness, presented him with a little balloon, saying at the same time—
“It is for you, monsieur, to show us the way to the skies.”
The exquisite taste and delicacy of this incident touched the bystanders as with an electric shock, and the place at once rang out with the most genuine and hearty applause The little balloon thrown up by Montgolfier sped away to the north-east, its beautiful emerald colour showing to fine effect in the sun.
From this point let us follow the narrative of Professor Charles himself.
“The balloon,” he says, “which escaped from the hands of M. Montgolfier, rose into the air, and seemed to carry with it the testimony of friendship and regard between that gentleman and myself, while acclamations followed it. Meanwhile, we hastily prepared for departure. The stormy weather did not permit us to have at our command all the arrangements which we had contemplated the previous evening; to do so would have detained us too long upon the earth. After the balloon and the car were in equilibrium, we threw over 19 lbs. of ballast, and we rose in the midst of silence, arising from the emotion and surprise felt on all sides.
“Nothing will ever equal that moment of joyous excitement which filled my whole being when I felt myself flying away from the earth. It was not mere pleasure; it was perfect bliss. Escaped from the frightful torments of persecution and of calumny, I felt that I was answering all in rising above all.
“To this sentiment succeeded one more lively still—the admiration of the majestic spectacle that spread itself out before us. On whatever side we looked, all was glorious; a cloudless sky above, a most delicious view around. ‘Oh, my friend,’ said I to M. Robert, ‘how great is our good fortune! I care not what may be the condition of the earth; it is the sky that is for me now. What serenity! what a ravishing scene! Would that I could bring here the last of our detractors, and say to the wretch, Behold what you would have lost had you arrested the progress of science.’