nacity that nothing could shake. Had he fallen, in five minutes that battle would have been a rout. On his life hung victory, and yet it seemed not worth a hope, in the awful fire through which he constantly galloped. From eleven in the morning till eight at night, did he press with an army, first of six, then of twelve thousand, on one of eighteen thousand, for nine long hours, without intermission or relief. It was one succession of onsets and repulses, till darkness began to gather over the scene. One fourth of his army had sunk on the field where they fought. At length Riviaud, having carried the heights, came down like an avalanche on the centre, while Watrin led his intrepid column for the last time on the artillery. Both were carried, and the Austrians were compelled to retreat. Bonaparte arrived just in time to see the battle won.* He rode up to Lannes, surrounded by the remnants of his guard, and found him drenched with blood-his sword dripping in his exhausted handhis face blackened with powder and smoke and his uniform looking more as if it had been dragged under the wheels of the artillery during the day, than worn by a living man. But a smile of exultation passed over his features, as he saw his commander gazing with pride and affection upon him, while the soldiers, weary and exhausted as they were, could not restrain their joy at the victory they had won.

Such was the terrible battle of Montibello; and Lannes, in speaking of it afterwards, said, in referring to the deadly fire of the artillery, before which he held his men with such unflinching firmness, "I could hear the bones crash in my division, like hail-stones against windows." A more terrific description of the effect of cannon shot on a close column of men, we never remember to have seen. We have heard of single-handed sea-fights of frigate with frigate, where the firing was so close and hot that the combatants could hear the splitting of the timbers in the enemy's ship at every broadside, but we never be fore heard of a battle where the bones could be heard breaking in the human body, as cannon balls smote through them. Yet no one would ever have thought of that expression, had it not been suggested to him by what he actually heard. At all

events, Lannes never fought a more desperate battle than this, and as evidence that Napoleon took the same view of it, he gave him the title of Duke of Montihello, which his family bear with just pride to this day.

Bonaparte did not forget the great qualities of a commander he exhibited on this occasion, and ever afterwards placed him in the post of danger. In the battle of Marengo, which took place a few days after, he performed prodigies of valor. Wandering over this renowned battle-field, Lannes was recalled to our mind at almost every step. The river Bormida crosses the plain between the little hamlet, of some half a dozen houses, of Marengo, and Alessandria, where the Austrians lay encamped. Coming out from the city in the morning, and crossing the Bormida under a severe fire of the French, they deployed into the open field, and marched straight on Victor, posted just before Marengo. He had stationed himself behind a deep and muddy stream

resembling, indeed, in its banks and channel, a narrow canal rather than a rivulet-and sustained the shock of the enemy with veteran firmness, for two hours; but overpowered by superior numbers, he was fast losing his strength, when Lannes came up and restored the combat. There, divided only by this narrow ditch-across which the front ranks could almost touch bayonets-did the tiralleurs stand for two hours, and fire into each other's bosoms, while the cannon, brought to within pistol shot, opened horrible gaps in the dense ranks at every discharge, which were immediately filled with fresh victims. It did not seem possible, as I stood beside this narrow stream, across which I could almost leap, that two armies had stood and fired into each other's bosoms, hour after hour, across it.

But we do not design to go into the particulars of this battle. Austrian numbers, and the two hundred Austrian cannon, were too much for Victor and Lannes both together. The little stream of Fontanone was carried, and these two heroes were compelled to fall back on the second line. This, after a desperate resistance, was also forced back. Victor's corps, exhausted by four hours' fighting, finally gave way, and broke and fled towards

Lannes' division, which alone was left to stay the reversed tide of battle. Seeing that all now rested on him, he put forth one of those prodigious efforts for which he was remarkable in the hour of extreme danger. Forming his men into squares, he began slowly to retreat. The Austrian army moved en masse upon him, while eighty pieces of cannon sent an incessant shower of round and grape shot through his dense ranks, mowing them down at every discharge like grass. Still he held the brave squares firm. Against the charge of cavalry, the onset of infantry, and the thunder of eighty cannon, he opposed the same adamantine front. When pressed too hard by the infantry, he would stop and charge bayonet-then commence again his slow and heroic retreat. Thus he fought for two hours retreating only two miles in the whole time-leaving entire ranks of men on almost every foot of ground he traversed. But between the steady onset of the Hungarian infantry, which halted every ten rods and poured a deadly volley on his steady squares, and the headlong charge of the Imperial cavalry, sweeping in a fierce gallop around them, and the awful havoc of those eighty cannons, incessantly playing on the retreating masses, no human endurance could longer withstand the trial. Square after square broke and fled, and the field was covered with fugitives crying, "Tout est perdu, sauve qui peut." Still Lannes, unconquered to the last, kept those immediately about him unshaken amid the storm and devastation. Scorning to fly, unable to stand, he allowed his men to melt away before the destructive fire of the enemy; while the blowing up of his own caissons, which he could not bring away, added tenfold terror to the thunder of cannon that shook the field. He and the consular guard, also in a square, moved like "living citadels" over the plain, and furnished a wall of iron behind which Bonaparte was yet to rally his scattered army, and turn a defeat into a victory.

From early in the morning till three o'clock in the afternoon, the battle had raged with ceaseless fury, and now the head of Desaix's column, with banners flying and trumpets sounding, was seen advancing with rapid step over the plain. Immediately at the commencement of the battle, Bonaparte dispatched his aides-decamp with urgent haste forDesaix. But as the report of the first cannon fired on Marengo, rose dull and heavy on the morning

air, the hero of Egypt stood and listened; and as he heard the distant and heavy cannonading, like the roll of far-off thunder, come booming over the plain, he suspected the enemy he was after at Novi, was on the plains of Marengo, and dispatched Savary in haste to the former place to see. Finding his suspicions true, he immediately put his army in motion, and was miles on his way, when the dust of fierce riders in the distance told him he was wanted. Sending forwards his aides-de-camp on the fleetest horses to announce his approach, he urged his excited army to the top of its speed. At length as he approached the field and saw the French army in a broken mass, rolling back over the field, and the Austrians in full pursuit, he could restrain his impatience no longer, and dashing away from the head of his column, spurred his war-steed over the plain, and burst with a headlong gallop into the presence of Napoleon. A short council of the generals was immediately held, when most advised a retreat. "What think you of it?" said Napoleon to Desaix. Pulling out his watch he replied, "The battle is lost, but it is only three o'clock; there is time to gain another." Delighted with an answer corresponding so well with his own feelings, he ordered him to advance, and with his 6,000 men hold the whole Austrian force in check, while he rallied the scattered army behind him. Riding among them, be exclaimed, "Soldiers, you have retreated far enough; you know it is always my custom to sleep on the field of battle." The charge was immediately beat, and the trumpets sounded along the lines. A masked battery of twelve cannon opened on the advancing column of the Austrians, and before they could recover their sur prise, Desaix was upon them in a desperate charge. "Go," said he to his aidde-camp, tell the First Consul I am charging and must be supported by the cavalry." A volley of musketry was poured in his advancing column, and Desaix fell pierced through the heart by a bullet. His fall, instead of disheartening his men, inspired them with redoubled fury, and they rushed on to avenge his death. Napoleon, spurring by where the fallen hero lay in death, exclaimed, "It is not permitted me to weep now." No, every thought and feeling was needed to wring victory from that defeat. The battle again raged with its wonted fury. But the tide was turned by a sudden charge of Kellerman at the head of his cavalry,

which cutting a column of two thousand men in two, made fearful havoc on the right and left. Soon the whole Austrian army were in full retreat, and being without a commanding officer, broke and fled in wild confusion over the plain. "To the bridge! to the bridge!" rose in terrified shouts, as the turbulent mass rolled back towards the Bormida. Their own cavalry, also in full retreat, came thundering through the broken ranks, and trampling down the fugitives, added to the destruction that already desolated the field. All were hurrying to the bridge, which was soon choked by the crowds that sought a passage; and horses, and riders, and artillery, and infantry, were rolled in wild confusion into the Bormida. that grew purple with the slain. Melas the Austrian general, who at three o'clock, supposing the battle won, had retired to his tent, now rallied the remnants of his few hours before victorious, but now overthrown army, on the farther shores of the river. Twelve thousand had disappeared from his ranks since the morning sun shone upon them, flushed with hope and confident of victory. The combat had lasted for twelve hours, and now the sun went down on the field of blood. Over the heaps of the slain, and across the trampled field, Savary, the aid-de-camp and friend of Desaix, was seen wandering in search of the fallen chief. He soon discovered him by his long and flowing hair, (he had already been stripped naked by those after the spoils,) and carefully covering his body with the mantle of a hussar, had him brought to the head-quarters of the army. Desaix saved Bonaparte from a ruinous defeat at Marengo, and saved him, too, by not waiting for orders, but moving immediately towards where the cannonading told him the fate of the army and Italy was sealing. Had Grouchy acted thus, or had Desaix been in his place at Waterloo, the fate of that battle and the world would have been different.

Lannes wrought wonders on this day, and was selected by Napoleon in consideration of his service, to present to government the colors taken from the enemy. Soon after this, he was sent as ambassador to Portugal, and feeling too much the power Bonaparte and France wielded, treated with that independent nation, as if its king and ministers had been subordinates in the army. He was better at the head of a column than in the Cabinet, and got no honor to himself from his office as ambassador.

This very bluntness and coarseness, which rendered him fit only for the camp and the battle-field, and which indeed was the cause of his receiving this appointment, were sufficient reasons for his not having it. Being commander of the Consular guard, he administered its chest and disbursed the money intrusted to him with such prodigality and recklessness that there was a general complaint. It was done with the full knowledge and authority of Napoleon, yet he reproved him for it when the excitemenl became too great to be any longer disregarded. This exasperated Lannes so much that he indulged in the most abrupt language towards the First Consul, and resolved to replace the money that had been expended. But from all his victories he had little left, and Augereau was compelled to loan him the sum he needed, saying, "There, take this money; go to that ungrateful fellow for whom we have spilt our blood; give him back what is due to the chest, and let neither of us be any longer under obligations to him." But Napoleon could not afford to lose two of his best generals, and thinking it was better to keep such turbulent spirits apart, sent Augereau to the army and Lannes as amhassador to Portugal.

We shall not follow Lannes through his after engagements. He became one of the firmest props of Napoleon, and fought at Austerlitz, Jena, Eylau, and Friedland with his accustomed valor. In the campaign of Eylau, at the battle of Pultusk, he advanced with his corps of 35,000 men in the midst of driving snowsqualls, and knee-deep in mud, up to the very muzzles of a hundred and twenty cannon. In 1808, we find him on his way to join the army in Spain. In crossing the mountains near Mondragon he came very near losing his life. His horse stumbled and in the effort to rally fell back on him, crushing his body dreadfully by his weight. He who had stormed over so many battle-fields, and been hurled again and again from his seat amid trampling squadrons as his horse sunk under him, and yet escaped death, was here on a quiet march well nigh deprived of his life.

The surgeon, who had seen a similar operation performed by the Indians in Newfoundland, ordered a sheep to be skinned immediately, and the warm pelt sewed around the wounded Marshal's body. His extremities in the meantime were wrapped in hot flannels, and warm drinks were given him. In ten minutes he was asleep, and shortly after broke into