Worlds Best Histories - France, vol 7 | Page 8

command of
General Moncey had not yet arrived; they were to pass by the St.
Gothard. General Marescot had been ordered to reconnoitre the Alps;
the pass of the St. Bernard, more difficult than that of the Simplon or
Mont Cenis, was much shorter, and the passage from it could be much
more easily defended. "Difficult it may be," replied the First Consul to
the report of Marescot, "but is it possible?" "I think so," said the
general, "with extraordinary efforts." "Ah, well! let us set out," said
Bonaparte.
From Geneva to Villeneuve the journey was easy, and vessels carried
provisions to that point. The First Consul had carefully arranged places
for revictualling all along the road. At Montigny half the mules,
requisitioned at great cost in the neighborhood, were loaded with
victuals and munitions of war; the other half were attached to the gun
carriages relieved of the cannon, which were to be again put in working
order at San Remi, on the other side of the pass. The cannon
themselves were enveloped in the hollowed trunks of trees; they could
then be dragged over the ice and snow. The number of mules proving
insufficient, and the peasants refusing to undertake this rough work, the
soldiers yoked themselves to the cannon, and dragged them across the
mountain without wishing to accept the rewards promised by the First
Consul. He rode on a mule at the head of the rear-guard, wrapped in a
gray greatcoat, chatting familiarly with his guide, and sustaining the
courage of his soldiers by his unalterable coolness. After a few hours'

rest at the hospice of St. Bernard commenced the descent, more
difficult still than the ascent. From the 15th to the 20th of May the
divisions followed each other. Lannes and Berthier, who commanded
the vanguard, had already advanced to Aosta, when they found
themselves stopped by the little fort of Bard, built upon a precipitous
rock, and with artillery commanding the defile. It was now night; a
layer of straw and refuse was spread over the frozen foot-path; the
wheels of the gun-carriages were encased in tow; at the break of day
the passage had been safely cleared. The French army, descending like
a torrent into the valley, seized upon Ivry, and repulsed the Austrians at
the Chiusella on May 26th. All the divisions of Bonaparte's army
assembled by degrees; the corps of Moncey debouched by the St.
Gothard, 4000 men under the orders of General Thureau crossed by
Mont Cenis. General Mélas still refused to believe in the danger which
menaced him, and already an imposing army was advancing against his
scattered and divided forces. Already Lannes had beaten General Ott at
Montebello, after a hotly disputed engagement. "I heard the bones
crackle like a hailstorm on the roofs," said the conqueror.
Bonaparte threw himself upon Milan, neglecting Genoa, which he
might have delivered without risk; thereby condemning Masséna and
his army to the sufferings of a prolonged siege, terminated by a sad
defeat. He had conceived vaster projects, and the design of annihilating
the Austrian army by a single blow. Everything had to give way to the
consideration of personal success and his egotistical thirst for glory.
The Lombard populace received the First Consul with transport, happy
to see themselves delivered from the Austrian yoke, and beguiled in
advance with the hope of liberty. General Mélas was at Alessandria,
summoning to his aid the forces that were attacking Suchet on the Var,
and the troops of General Ott, detained by the siege of Genoa. He was
assured of the impossibility of any succor being sent by Marshal Kray.
It was necessary to conquer or die. In the prison in which the Austrian
army detained him, Masséna had divined the situation of the enemy. He
was still hoping for the assistance that had been promised him; already
General Ott had sent him a flag of truce. "Give me only provisions for
two days, or one day," said he to the Genoese, "and I will save you
from the Austrian yoke, and spare my army the sorrow of surrender."

All resources were exhausted; the horrors of famine had worn out the
courage of the inhabitants; even the soldiers were yielding to
discouragement. "Before he will surrender," said they, "the general will
make us eat his boots." For a long time the garrison had lived on
unwholesome bread made with starch, upon linseed and cocoa, which
scarcely sufficed to keep the soldiers alive; the population, reduced to
live on soup made of herbs gathered on the ramparts, died by hundreds;
the prisoners cantoned in the port in old dismasted vessels, uttered cries
that reached the ears of their old generals. The latter had refused to
send in provisions for the prisoners, in spite of the promise of