private, were wounded. In a moment all was changed. "We returned to camp," wrote Coutelle, "soldiers of the army."
And now the work began in earnest. Furnaces were lighted; the balloon—l'Entreprenant it had been named—was filled in fifty hours; and ascents were made daily. On each occasion Coutelle was accompanied by an officer of the état major. The observations were usually made with the naked eye, as the oscillatory motion of the car was found oftentimes to interfere with the use of a telescope. The Austrians now and then amused themselves by firing at the aeronauts; but without effect. On one occasion a field-piece, placed in ambuscade in an adjoining ravine, opened on the balloon; but likewise without effect.
Presently, the company received orders to join the army under Jourdan, who was moving on Charleroi. L'Entreprenant now performed its first march. The car, with the guy-ropes coiled away in it, was placed on a waggon, which carried also an awning to cover the balloon at night, grapnels wherewith to anchor it, tools, spare ropes, and so forth. The balloon floated over the line of march at a sufficient height to permit of the passage of cavalry and artillery along the road beneath it; it was guided and stayed by twenty ballooners, who marched in Indian file on either side of the road, each man having a running tackle made fast to the balloon, of which the end was coiled round his waist. This balloon-guiding was no child's play. Not only had the men to contend with the ascensional power of the machine—which, as before said, was considerable—but also, and in a far greater degree, with the wind: to which the balloon presented a surface of some thirty feet in diameter. Again, without great vigilance and much judicious handling of the running gear, puffs of wind would carry the balloon against passing objects, or beat it down and bump it along the ground, to the serious detriment of its gas-retaining properties. But, despite all obstacles, the cortége arrived safely at Charleroi on June 22nd, having left Maubeuge at noon on the 19th. On the 26th occurred the battle of Fleurus, during which the balloon was eight hours in the air, observing, sometimes upon one point, sometimes upon another. The wind being high, thirty horses—fifteen to each guy-rope—were attached to it (how we are not told) to aid its movements from one part of the field to another. Morlot, one of the generals of division, was two hours with Coutelle, observing the Austrians from the car of the balloon; Guyton-Morveau, who was present at the battle, writing on the following day to the Committee of Public Safety, observed: "I have had the satisfaction of seeing the general approve the use of this machine of war." Carnot also wrote to one of his colleagues: "The balloon is an important aid that must not be neglected."
About this time, there occurred to the balloon, two accidents, which may be cited as examples of the dangers to which it was constantly exposed. A puff of wind drove a splinter of wood into the lower portion of the machine, and caused a slight escape of gas. Another unexpected gust of wind drove the balloon against a tree, ripping open the envelope. The balloon had then to be sent back to the furnaces at Maubeuge for repair, and Coutelle returned to Paris, to superintend the organisation of an additional company of aérostiers. Eventually, l'Entreprenant (having been safely carried across the Meuse with the aid of boats) joined the army near Aix-la-Chapelle, where new furnaces were built. It rendered important services at the battle of Chartreuse, and subsequently took part in the battle of Aldenhoven, at the capture of Bonn, and at the operations before Ehrenbreitstein. Here the Austrians attacked it with musketry and shells, but without damaging it.
The second company of ballooners were sent, in charge of Coutelle, with another balloon, named le Télémaque, to join the army of the Rhine. Coutelle's letters give a graphic picture of the nature of their duties, which, from the advanced season, had become more arduous than ever.
"I received orders," he writes on one occasion, "to make a reconnaissance of Mayence. I accordingly posted myself between our lines and the town, at about half-cannon shot distance. The wind was very high, so, to counteract its effects as far as lay in my power, I ascended alone, with two hundred pounds additional buoyancy. I was at a height of five hundred mètres, when three successive gusts dashed me to the ground with such violence that several portions of the car were smashed to bits. Each time, the balloon darted up again with so much force that sixty-four men—thirty-two at each guy-rope—were dragged to some distance. Had the guys been made fast to grapnels, as had been suggested to me, they must infallibly have given way. . . . The wind lulled a little after a while, and I was enabled to count the number of guns."
Again he writes: "The enemy's soldiers were fully persuaded that every movement of theirs was observed by us. A like idea prevailed among our own men, who had by this time discovered in the ballooners a novel sort of courage, which gained their confidence and won their admiration. In our marches, which were rendered terribly fatiguing by the constant vigilance they demanded, forbidding any man to quit even for an instant the ropes holding the balloon, we frequently found refreshments awaiting our arrival in camp. Oftentimes, too, en route, the men of the tirailleurs would bring us their rations of wine."
A violent fever, caught during these operations, obliged Coutelle to give up the command of the second company to his lieutenant; on the very first night after the passage of the Rhine, le Télémaque broke loose, and was so seriously injured as to become unserviceable.
Some time afterwards, l'Entreprenant, which was at Frankfort, was found riddled with balls. The mischief was assigned, by rumour, to the
