land, so proud of her woven stuffs, is here obliged to acknowledge the superiority of the French goods, for we consider the manufacture of shawls as entirely nationalized in France. Our designers have in no small degree contributed to the riches of the country, and it is one of the most brilliant conquests made by us since the beginning of the nineteenth century."

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

THE SIMPLON AND MONT CÉNIS.

MONG the great public works executed during the first years of the empire, the most astonishing were, without doubt, in regard to difficulties vanquished, the roads of Mont Cénis and of the Simplon, which were constructed upon the bold plan of the engineer Céard.

The military movements of our victorious armies during the memorable campaigns in Italy, had created a necessity for these great and important labours. At that time both Mont Cénis and the Simplon were as yet only furrowed by the foot-paths worn by the country people. Napoleon spoke, and the most magnificent roads that ever existed. were opened to astonished travellers.

I will borrow from the Annuaire of the Bureau of Longitudes, for the year 1809, a few details which will give an idea. of these admirable roads, where nature and art strike the imagination by turns.

In the passage of Mont Cénis it was necessary, from the bridge of Lanslebourg up to the summit near Ramasse, to ascend to a distance of six hundred and ninety-two metres, on a horizontal and direct length of two thousand eight hundred and fifty-five metres. Six winding slopes have reduced this abrupt declivity to a gentle descent, over which carriages of all sizes can easily ascend and descend, passing over a space of ten thousand two hundred and twelve metres. The whole descent on the Suze side is one thousand four hundred and fifty metres in height, on a horizontal and direct length of seventeen thousand eight hundred and sixty-six metres; the whole distance tra

ROAD OVER THE SIMPLON.

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versed in the length of these slopes twenty-five thousand six hundred and sixty-three metres. The southern side of the mountain, although its declivity is not so steep, has presented difficulties at least equal to those of the northern. The whole road travelled over between Lanslebourg and Suze, which is thirty-five thousand eight hundred and sixty-five metres long, only exceeds by little more than one-fifth in length, the old road, which was only fit for beasts of burden, and was twenty-seven thousand nine hundred and fifty-six metres long. An extensive hospital has been erected on the table-land of this mountain, and inducements have been offered to all those who would take up their residence in this vicinity.

The barbarous condition of the greater part of the former road crossing the district of Mont Blanc, which was not only inconvenient, but also dangerous in some places, being inconsistent with the magnificent improvements on Mont Cénis, repairs were made in it whenever it was necessary. The passage of the Echelles, as it is called, which has been so much boasted of, and which the lightest carriages were unable to cross without additional horses, was replaced by a subterranean gallery, which has removed all difficulties.

Proceeding from Glitz, on the French side, to cross the Simplon, one meets with an elevation of one thousand three hundred and four metres up to the highest point, where it has been intended to build a hospital, travelling over a gradual descent of twenty-two thousand five hundred metres, the horizontal and direct length being ten thousand four hundred and ninety metres. The village of Simplon, which is situated at the distance of nine thousand three hundred metres from the Italian side, is lower than that point by five hundred and fifty-two metres. The works of art, consisting of propped walls, bridges, and subterranean galleries, are on a more extensive scale on this road than on that of Mont Cénis.

During the execution of these vast works, worthy to be compared with the most wonderful monuments of the ancients, a

military spirit was more and more diffused throughout the nation by the reports of our victories. In all the work-shops nothing was heard but animated accounts of battles and skirmishes. Far from dreading the hour which was to enrol them under the banner, the young mechanics considered it a festival to go in search of their share of the laurels reserved for the brave; and, as if to prepare themselves in advance for warlike habits, assumed a bold bearing, wore their caps on one ear, and strove to exhibit various little soldier-like gestures.

When the day of departure arrived, the conscript, at the summit of his ambition, and in the words of the popular songs of the times, "Impatient to fly to glory," was eager to escape from the sorrowful embraces of his family, and, imagining himself to be already in possession of a uniform, the helmet of a dragoon, or the fur cap of a grenadier, took a proud leave of his fellowworkmen. They, on their side, failed not to drink to the health and prosperity of the future hero. Many of them, particularly the younger ones, envied him his lot and his dress; and all, full of the warlike enthusiasm which was kept up by the glorious news received from the theatre of war, surrounded their brave comrade, and escorted him in triumph to the outskirts of the city.

These farewell scenes were of frequent occurrence, as is well known. They displayed, even to the last years of the empire, the same warmth, the same patriotic ardour, the same devotion, but more especially among the working classes, who had always been accustomed to consider the soldier's life as a sure road to honour and distinction.

It was strange to behold the changes effected by the air of the camp and the smell of gunpowder, in a few months, upon our young men so enamoured of the glory of war. New soldiers, they did not require any length of time to accustom them to the soldier's duties. They advanced boldly upon the fire of cannon as if to some amusement. Having left home young conscripts, for a campaign, they returned thither veterans in experience. Numerous circumstances gave rise to the dis

play of valour and of skill,—and this valour, this skill was generally found in those of obscure rank,—in those who had been mechanics. How many of our most intrepid officers, of the most able generals of that brilliant epoch began life as apprentices in the workshops of our suburbs!

The wars of that time mowed down a great number of men. But of what consequence was death to the heroic recruits of our cities and our provinces? To behold them marching gayly forward to the storming of a dangerous redoubt, or sustaining the shock of a powerful charge of cavalry, would not any one say that these men believed themselves invulnerable? When we hear the dramatic recital of the great imperial expeditions, when we figure to ourselves the columns of Austrians, of Prussians, and of Russians, broken down and destroyed almost instantaneously, when we learn that the most strongly fortified places yielded after a few days to the efforts of our arms, we are inclined to think that the French troops, so universally formidable, were composed of veterans grown gray in the service of their country. But this was by no means the case. They consisted only of the youth of our manufactories and work-shops; that ardent youth, intrepid, and often rash, and which three or four years before was playing at ball and top in the public squares. Now they were playing a much more interesting game, that of war. Before them arose the ladder of promotion, rousing and cherishing their noble emulation. The cross of honour and the epaulette, those rewards of merit and bravery, were the twofold ambition of our young troopers.

And when, after one of those rapid campaigns which opened the gates of Berlin and Vienna to us, the young soldier, profiting by a short truce, was able to return and pass a few days under the humble roof where he was born, how glorious it was to reappear amongst his family clothed in the insignia of command! How brilliant a family triumph! The young officer had the joy of receiving the congratulations of all his relations; he pressed them by turns to his heart, with an unrestrained outpouring of