Lost amid the greater and more important successes which since that time have immortalized the glory of the French arms, it is almost impossible to credit the celebrity attached at that time to this brilliant achievement, whose highest merits probably were rapidity and resolution. Moreau had long been jealous of the fame of his great rival, Bonaparte, whose tactics, rejecting the colder dictates of prudent strategy, and the slow progress of scientific manoeuvres, seemed to place all his confidence in the sudden inspirations of his genius, and the indomitable bravery of his troops. It was necessary, then, to raise the _morale_ of the army of the Rhine, to accomplish some great feat similar in boldness and heroism to the wonderful achievements of the Italian army. Such was the passage of the Rhine at Strasbourg, effected in the face of a great enemy, advantageously posted, and supported by one of the strongest of all the frontier fortresses. The morning broke upon us in all the exultation of our triumph, and as our cheers rose high over the field of the late struggle, each heart beat proudly with the thought of how that news would be received in Paris. “You’ll see how the bulletin will spoil all,” said a young officer of the army of Italy, as he was getting his wound dressed on the field. “There will be such a long narrative of irrelevant matter—such details of this, that, and t’other—that the public will scarce know whether the placard announces a defeat or a victory.” “Parbleu!” replied an old veteran of the Rhine army, “what would you have? You’d not desire to omit the military facts of such an exploit?” “To be sure I would,” rejoined the other. “Give me one of our young general’s bulletins, short, stirring, and effective—‘Soldiers! you have crossed the Rhine against an army double your own in numbers and munitions of war. You have carried a fortress, believed impregnable, at the bayonet. Already the great flag of our nation waves over the citadel you have won. Forward, then, and cease not till it float over the cities of conquered Germany, and let the name of France be that of Empire over the continent of Europe.’ ” “Ha! I like that,” cried I, enthusiastically; “that’s the bulletin to my fancy. Repeat it once more, mon lieutenant, that I may write it in my note-book.” “What! hast thou a note-book?” cried an old staff-officer, who was preparing to mount his horse; “let’s see it, lad.” With a burning cheek and trembling hand, I drew my little journal from the breast of my jacket, and gave it to him.