At Wurmser's approach, Bonaparte exclaimed, "We are now to watch each other; bad luck to him who makes a mistake!"

Bonaparte made no mistake. His army consisted of only forty-two thousand men; that of his adversary, of sixty thousand. The foes of France uttered cries of joy. At Venice, the soldiers thronged the public places and held out their hands to the passers-by, asking for the price of the French blood which they were about to shed. At Rome, the French agents were insulted. The court of Naples broke the armistice. Italy was called the grave of the French.

On hearing that the Austrians were about to cross the Adige at every point, that retreat on Milan was cut off, that the position at Rivoli was to be forced as well as at Corona, Bonaparte, July 3, called a council of war. The generals favored a retreat. Augereau alone held out for fighting: this was also Bonaparte's opinion.

The town of Castiglione, which lies ten leagues to the northeast of Mantua, and three leagues south of Lonato, is within reach of two Tyrolese passes -- that of the Adige, to the eastward of Lake Garda, and that of the west shore of this lake. Although the enemy had forced the line of the Adige, the position was so favorable that it presented many advantages to a man of Bonaparte's audacious genius.

Raising the siege of Mantua, because he knew that in moments of great peril, to try to save everything is the sure way to lose everything, he concentrated all his forces at the end of the lake. Then, pursuing his usual tactics, he, by his swift movements, doubled his strength, and wherever he gave battle it was with equal or superior force.

Successful at Lonato, August 3d, and on the 5th at Castiglione, he wrote on the 8th to the Directory that the Austrian army had vanished like a dream and that Italy was tranquil. Wurmser had just withdrawn, leaving ninety cannon, and twentyfive thousand picked men killed or captured.

August 9, Bonaparte wrote a letter thanking the city of Milan for remaining faithful to him. "The ardor and the character which the city has displayed," he said, "have won the esteem and the love of France; its population, which is ever becoming more energetic, becomes every day more worthy to be free: some day, without doubt, it will enter on the stage of the world with glory."

Marmont wrote to his father: "In the last week I have not slept four hours. There are none of the enemy left for us to fight with, and we are going, I hope, to enjoy our triumphs."

Bonaparte, who had returned to Brescia August 10, wrote that same evening to Josephine, who, after the victory at Castiglione, had been able to return to Milan without difficulty. "I have just arrived, and my first thought is to write to you. All the way I have been thinking of nothing but your health and your image. I shall not be easy till I have heard from you. I am waiting impatiently; I can't express my uneasiness. I left you sad, depressed, and half ill. If the sincerest and tenderest love can make you happy, you must be so... I am up to my ears in work. Good by, my sweet Josephine; love me well, keep well, and think of me often."

After renewing the siege of Mantua, Bonaparte went to Milan, where he spent a fortnight with his wife. Wurmser, who had fled to the Tyrol, wanted to resume the offensive; and Austria was about to raise a new army, that of Alvinzy. Bonaparte had to begin the campaign once more.

He left Josephine at Milan, and started again for the war with that untiring zeal which was the amazement and the despair of his enemies. All these preoccupations, dangers, and battles could not distract him from his love, which was continually growing in intensity. It was a perpetual fever.

When he had reached Brescia, he wrote to Josephine, August 31: "I leave at once for Verona. I had hopes of finding a letter from you; this leaves me in horrible anxiety. You were not very well before I left; I beg of you, don't leave me in such anxiety. You had promised to be more thoughtful; yet your words then agreed with your heart... You, to whom nature has given sweetness, gentleness, and every attractive quality, how can you forget one who loves you so warmly? Three days without a word from you, and I have written to you several times. This absence is horrible; the nights are long, tiresome, dull; the days are monotonous. To-day, alone with my thoughts, my work, my writing, with men and their tedious plans, I have not even one note from you to press against my heart. Headquarters have gone on; I follow in an hour. I have received an express from Paris this evening; there was nothing for you but the enclosed letter, which will give you pleasure. Think of me; live for me; be often with your loving one; and believe that the only misfortune he dreads is to be loved no longer by Josephine. A thousand gentle, loving, exclusive kisses!"

Another letter, from Ala, September 3, 1796: "We are in the midst of the campaign, my dear one; we have overthrown the enemy's posts and have captured eight or ten horses with as many men. I hope that we shall have good luck, and enter Trent the 19th [Fructidor]. No letters from you, and this makes me really uneasy; still I hear that you are well, and that you have even been out sailing on Lake Como. I am impatiently expecting every day the courier with word from you; you know how much I want to hear from you. I do not really live, away from you; my life's happiness is only to be with my sweet Josephine. Think of me! write to me often, very often: it is the only balm in absence, which is cruel, but I hope will be short."

Bonaparte's soldiers rivalled the Alpine hunters in boldness and activity: they clambered over the rocks to the mountain tops, and thence sent a plunging fire upon the enemy below. The swiftness of their heroic deeds was most remarkable. September 4, the victory of Roveredo; the 5th, entrance into Trent; the pursuit of Wurmser in the gorges of the Brenta; the seizure of the defile of Primolano; September 8th, the victory of Bassano.

Two hours later, the successful general wrote to the Directory: "In six days we have fought two battles and four skirmishes; we have taken twenty-one flags from the enemy; made sixteen thousand prisoners, including several generals; the rest have been killed, wounded, or scattered to the four winds. In these six days, continually fighting in inexpugnable gorges, we have made fortyfive leagues, captured seventy cannon with their caissons and horses, a great part of the ammunition, and large stores."

September 10, Bonaparte wrote from Montebello to his wife: "My dear, the enemy has had eighteen thousand men taken prisoner: the rest are killed or wounded. Wurmser, with a column of five hundred horse and five thousand men, has no resource but to throw himself into Mantua. Never have we had such constant and important success. Italy, Trieste, and the Tyrol are secured for the Republic. The Emperor will have to raise a second army; artillery, pontoons, baggage, everything has been captured. In a few days we shall meet; that is the sweetest reward of my fatigue and my cares. A thousand ardent and loving kisses."

While Bonaparte was winning these astounding victories, what was Josephine's state of mind at Milan? To tell the truth, Josephine was bored.

M. Aubenas has published a letter which she wrote at this time to her aunt, Madame de Renaudin, who had just married the Marquis of Beauharnais. This letter, which has been preserved among the papers of the Tascher de la Pagerie family, betrays the melancholy which came over Josephine in her separation from her children and her Paris friends. The Duke of Serbelloni who was going to Paris, was the bearer of this letter, which ran thus:

"M. Serbelloni will tell you, my dear aunt, how I have been received in Italy, feted everywhere, all the Italian princes giving me entertainments, even the Grand Duke of Tuscany, the Emperor's brother. Well! I had rather be a simple private person in France. I don't like the honors of this country. I am frightfully bored. It is true that the state of my health has something to do with my low spirits; I am often ailing. If happiness could make me well, I ought to be in the very best health; I have the best husband that can be imagined. I have no chance to want anything. My wishes are his. He adores me all day long, as if I were a goddess; there cannot be a better husband. M. Serbelloni will tell you how much I am loved. He often writes to my children; he loves them much. He sends to Hortense, by M. Serbelloni a handsome watch, a repeater, enamelled and set in small pearls; to Eugene, a fine gold watch... Good by, my dear aunt, my dear mamma; do not forget how much I love you. I shall try to send you a little money for the purpose you mentioned at the first opportunity."

At the same time Josephine wrote to her daughter Hortense from Milan, September 6, 1796, as follows: "The Duke of Serbelloni is leaving for Paris, and has promised to go to Saint Germain, my dear Hortense, the day after his arrival. He will tell you how much I think and speak of and how much I love you! Eugene also partakes of these feelings, my dear girl; I love you both very dearly. M. Serbelloni will bring you from Bonaparte and me some little souvenirs for you, Emilie, Eugene, and Jerome. Give my love to Madame Campan; I am going to send her some fine engravings and drawings from Italy. Kiss my dear Eugene, Emilie, and Jerome for me. Good by, my dear Hortense, my dear girl. Think often of your mamma; write to her often; your letters and your brother's will console me for my absence from my dear children; I kiss you affectionately."

The untiring Bonaparte continued his victorious course. September 15, he compelled Wurmser to take refuge in Mantua. But amid all his successes, he was unhappy because Josephine's letters were too rare.

He wrote to her, September 17, from Verona, this melancholy epistle: "I write to you very often, woman, as ugly as you are frivolous. It is a bit of perfidy to deceive a husband, a doting lover, in this way! Must he lose all his rights because he is away, overwhelmed with work, fatigue, and trouble? How can he help it? Yesterday we had a very hot fight; the enemy lost heavily and was thoroughly beaten. We captured the suburb of Mantua. Good bye, dear Josephine. One of these nights your door will be burst open, as if a jealous husband were breaking in, and I shall be in your arms. A thousand loving kisses."

A letter from Modena, October 17, is likewise filled with sadness. "Day before yesterday I was in the field all day. Yesterday I stayed in bed. A fever and a raging headache prevented me from writing to my dear one; but I received her letters. I pressed them to my heart and my lips; and the pang of absence, a hundred miles apart, vanished. At that moment, I saw you with me, not capricious and vexed, but gentle, loving, with that grace of kindness which belongs to Josephine alone. It was a dream; judge for yourself whether it relieved my fever. Your letters are as cold as fifty years of age; one would think they had been written after we had been married fifteen years. They are full of the friendliness and feelings of life's winter. Shame! Josephine. It is very wicked, very bad, very traitorous of you. What more can you do to distress me? Stop loving me? That you have already done. Hate me? Well, I wish you would: everything degrades me except hatred; but indifference with a calm pulse, fixed eyes, monotonous walk . . . A thousand kisses, tender, like my heart. I am a little better, and shall leave to-morrow. The English are evacuating the Mediterranean. Corsica is ours. Good news for France and for the army!"

Between Wurmser's entrance into Mantua, September 18, and Alvinzy's arrival on the Brenta and the Adige, early in November, there was a respite in the military movements of about five or six weeks. During this time Bonaparte was opposing the policy of the Directory, which was hostile to his views, and failed to send him the necessary re-enforeements.

The troops who had been often promised failed to arrive. There was no money to pay the soldiers. The Army of Italy was reduced to thirty-three thousand men: and it was with this insufficient force that he was expected to retake Corsica; control the whole peninsula; besiege twenty-two thousand Austrians who had taken refuge in Mantua; intimidate the Roman and Neapolitan courts, which were driven to extremities by the unreasonable demands of the Directory; and, in addition, oppose the new and formidable Austrian force under the command of Alvinzy.

Bonaparte became impatient. October 6, he wrote to the Directory: "Everything in Italy is going to ruin. The glory of our forces is fading away. Our numbers are counted. The influence of Rome is incalculable. It was very unwise to break with that power. If I had been consulted on all that, I should have continued negotiations with Rome, as with Genoa and Venice. Whenever your general in Italy is not the centre of everything, you will run great risks. This language must not be ascribed to ambition; I have all the honors I want, and my health is so shattered that I fancy I shall have to ask to have someone put in my place."

Was this demand sincere, or a feint? And would Bonaparte have been pained if the Directory had taken him at his word? However this may be, he had already written to Carnot, August 9: "If there is in France a single man, honest and true, who can suspect my political intentions, I at once resign the pleasure of serving my country. Three or four months of retirement will silence envy, restore my health, and enable me to fill to better advantage whatever position the government may entrust to me. When the time shall have come, it will only be by leaving the Army of Italy in season, that I shall be able to devote the rest of my life to the defence of the Republic. Not to let men grow old is the whole art of government. When I entered a public career, I adopted for my principle: Everything for my country! I beg of you to believe in the feelings of esteem and friendship which I have avowed to you."

When Alvinzy was advancing with an army of apparently overwhelming force, and nothing short of a miracle could save the French troops, the young commander-in-chief, who, for the first time perhaps, doubted of his star, possibly regretted that the Directory had not accepted his resignation. But the lot was thrown! he had to try the impossible. Bonaparte was a man of dauntless audacity. He did not lose heart; his genius grew with the danger.