On the 24th of May 1796 Bonaparte wrote to, Carnot respecting, this plan,
which was far from being agreeable to him. He said, "Whether I shall be
employed here or anywhere else is indifferent to me: to serve the
country, and to merit from posterity a page in our history, is all my
ambition. If you join Kellerman and me in command in Italy you will undo
everything. General Kellerman has more experience than I, and knows how
to make war better than I do; but both together, we shall make it badly.
I will not willingly serve with a man who considers himself the first
general in Europe."

Numbers of letters from Bonaparte to his wife have been published.
I cannot deny their, authenticity, nor is it my wish to do so. I will,
however, subjoin one which appears to me to differ a little from the
rest. It is less remarkable for exaggerated expressions of love, and a
singularly ambitious and affected style, than most of the correspondence
here alluded to. Bonaparte is announcing the victory of Arcola to
Josephine.

VERONA, the 29th, noon.

At length, my adored Josephine, I live again. Death is no longer
before me, and glory and honour are still in my breast. The enemy
is beaten at Arcola. To-morrow we will repair the blunder of
Vaubois, who abandoned Rivoli. In eight days Mantua will be ours,
and then thy husband will fold thee in his arms, and give thee a
thousand proofs of his ardent affection. I shall proceed to Milan
as soon as I can: I am a little fatigued. I have received letters
from Eugene and Hortense. I am delighted with the children. I will
send you their letters as soon as I am joined by my household, which
is now somewhat dispersed.

We have made five thousand prisoners, and killed at least six
thousand of the enemy. Adieu, my adorable Josephine. Think of me
often. When you cease to love your Achilles, when your heart grows
cool towards him, you wilt be very cruel, very unjust. But I am
sure you will always continue my faithful mistress, as I shall ever
remain your fond lover ('tendre amie'). Death alone can break the
union which sympathy, love, and sentiment have formed. Let me have
news of your health. A thousand and a thousand kisses.

It is impossible for me to avoid occasionally placing myself in the
foreground in the course of these Memoirs. I owe it to myself to answer,
though indirectly, to certain charges which, on various