♦His rapid march to the Danube.♦ On the 15th of August he quitted Cracow, accompanied by his son James, and having reviewed his troops at Tarnowitz, in Silesia (August 18), pushed on for the Danube. Leaving his main body at the head of 2,000 horse, he traversed like a whirlwind the plains of Moravia, and arrived at Tuln on the 2nd of September. The prince who was reported too infirm to take the field, had covered on horseback 350 miles in little more than ten days. Finding the bridge unfinished and scarcely half the Imperial forces assembled, he could not restrain his impatience. “Does the Emperor take me for an adventurer?” he exclaimed angrily. “I have left my army to command his. It is not for myself, but for him I fight.” Three days later (September 5th) the Polish army under Jablonowski appeared, and soon afterwards the succours from Bavaria and Saxony. ♦Forces of the allies.♦ Before the king’s arrival there had been divisions of opinion among the imperial generals; now all men cheerfully obeyed his orders. The whole force amounted to 70,000 men, of whom 21,000 were from Austria, 18,000 from Poland, and 31,000 from Bavaria, Saxony, and the Circles. Of these at least 38,000 were cavalry. John had never commanded an army of nearly this strength, and he was confident of success. He bade the Imperialists consider not the vast numbers of the enemy but the incapacity of their general. “Would any of you,” he asked, “have suffered the construction of this bridge within five leagues of your camp? The man cannot _fail_ to be beaten.” ♦Exertions of the king.♦ In his letters to the queen, which have most fortunately been preserved,[88] we can follow the inmost thoughts of the great commander during these most anxious days. He twice remarks with evident pleasure that the German troops obey him better than his own. At the same time he is disgusted with the trifling squabbles over etiquette which occupy so much of his time. Even his necessary duties allow him no leisure. “Continual harangues, my interviews with the Duke of Lorraine and the other chiefs, innumerable orders to be given, prevent me not only from writing, but from taking food and rest.”[89] Yet his unreasonable consort, for whom his devoted fondness appears in almost every line,[90] complains that he does not read her letters. “I must complain of you, my dear, my incomparable Mariette.... Can you say seriously that I do not read your letters? The fact is that I read each of them three times at least; first, when they arrive, secondly, as I go to bed, when at last I am free, and, thirdly, when I set myself to answer them.... If sometimes I fail to write at length, can you not explain my haste without the help of injurious suppositions? The armies of two continents are but a few miles from each other. I must think of everything; I must provide for the smallest detail.”