provisioned for an army of fifty
thousand men halting there for a day.

Consequently, toward the end of April the whole of the artillery was
advanced to Lauzanne, Villeneuve, Martigny, and Saint-Pierre. General
Marmont, commanding the artillery, had already been sent forward to
find a means of transporting cannon over the Alps. It was almost an
impracticable thing to do; and yet it must be achieved. No precedent
existed as a guide. Hannibal with his elephants, Numidians, and Gauls;
Charlemagne with his Franks, had no such obstacles to surmount.

During the campaign in Italy in 1796, the army had not crossed the Alps,
but turned them, descending from Nice to Cerasco by the Corniche road.
This time a truly titanic work was undertaken.

In the first place, was the mountain unoccupied? The mountain without
the Austrians was in itself difficult enough to conquer! Lannes was
despatched like a forlorn hope with a whole division. He crossed
the peak of the Saint-Bernard without baggage or artillery, and took
possession of Chatillon. The Austrians had left no troops in Piedmont,
except the cavalry in barracks and a few posts of observation. There
were no obstacles to contend with except those of nature. Operations
were begun at once.

Sledges had been made to transport the guns; but narrow as they might
be, they were still too wide for the road. Some other means must be
devised. The trunks of pines were hollowed and the guns inserted. At one
end was a rope to pull them, at the other a tiller to guide them. Twenty
grenadiers took the cables. Twenty others carried the baggage of those
who drew them. An artilleryman commanded each detachment with absolute
power, if need be, over life and death. The iron mass in such a case was
far more precious than the flesh of men.

Before leaving each man received a pair of new shoes and twenty
biscuits. Each put on his shoes and hung his biscuits around his neck.
The First Consul, stationed at the foot of the mountain, gave to each
cannon detachment the word to start.

A man must traverse the same roads as a tourist, on foot or on
mule-back, he must plunge his eye to the depth of the precipice, before
he can have any idea of what this crossing was. Up, always up those
beetling slopes, by narrow paths, on jagged stones, which cut the shoes
first, the feet next!

From time to time they stopped, drew breath, and then on again without a
murmur. The ice-belt was reached. Before attempting it