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—I'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 fieldpiece,
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 earned 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