HANNIBAL CROSSES THE ALPS.
B.C. 217
The Alps.--Their sublimity and grandeur.--Perpetual cold in the
upper regions of the atmosphere.--Avalanches.--Their terrible
force.--The glaciers.--Motion of the ice.--Crevices and
chasms.--Situation of the Alps.--Roads over the Alps.--Sublime
scenery.--Beauty of the Alpine scenery.--Picturesque
scenery.--Hannibal determines to cross the Alps.--Hannibal's
speech to his army.--Its effects.--His army follows.--Scipio moves
after Hannibal.--Sad vestiges.--Perplexity of Scipio.--He sails back
to Italy.--Hannibal approaches the Alps.--A dangerous defile.--The
army encamps.--The mountaineers.--Hannibal's stratagem.--Its
success.--Astonishment of the mountaineers.--Terrible conflict in
the defile.--Attack of Hannibal.--The mountaineers defeated.--The
army pauses to refresh.--Scarcity of food.--Herds and flocks upon
the mountains.--Foraging parties.--Collecting cattle.--Progress of
the army.--Cantons.--An embassage.--Hostages.--Hannibal's
suspicions.--Treachery of the mountaineers.--They attack
Hannibal.--The elephants.--Hannibal's army divided.--Hannibal's
attack on the mountaineers.--They embarrass his march.--Hannibal's
indomitable perseverance.--He encamps.--Return of straggling
parties.--Dreary scenery of the summit.--Storms in the mountains.--A
dreary encampment.--Landmarks.--A snow storm.--The army resumes its
march.--Hannibal among the pioneers.--First sight of Italy.--Joy of
the army.--Hannibal's speech.--Fatigues of the march.--New
difficulties.--March over the glacier.--A formidable barrier.--Hannibal
cuts his way through the rocks.--The army in safety on the plains of
Italy.
It is difficult for any one who has not actually seen such mountain
scenery as is presented by the Alps, to form any clear conception of
its magnificence and grandeur. Hannibal had never seen the Alps, but
the world was filled then, as now, with their fame.
Some of the leading features of sublimity and grandeur which these
mountains exhibit, result mainly from the perpetual cold which reigns
upon their summits. This is owing simply to their elevation. In every
part of the earth, as we ascend from the surface of the ground into
the atmosphere, it becomes, for some mysterious reason or other, more
and more cold as we rise, so that over our heads, wherever we are,
there reigns, at a distance of two or three miles above us, an intense
and perpetual cold. This is true not only in cool and temperate
latitudes, but also in the most torrid regions of the globe. If we
were to ascend in a balloon at Borneo at midday, when the burning sun
of the tropics was directly over our heads, to an elevation of five
or six miles, we should find that although we had been moving nearer
to the sun all the time, its rays would have lost, gradually, all
their power. They would fall upon us as brightly as ever, but their
heat would be gone. They would feel like moonbeams, and we should be
surrounded with an atmosphere as frosty as that of the icebergs of the
frigid zone.
It is from this region of perpetual cold that hail-stones descend upon
us in the midst of summer, and snow is continually forming and falling
there; but the light and fleecy flakes melt before they reach the
earth, so that, while the hail has such solidity and momentum that it
forces its way through, the snow dissolves, and falls upon us as a
cool and refreshing rain. Rain cools the air around us and the ground,
because it comes from cooler regions of the air above.
Now it happens that not only the summits, but extensive portions of
the upper declivities of the Alps, rise into the region of perpetual
winter. Of course, ice congeals continually there, and the snow which
forms falls to the ground as snow, and accumulates in vast and
permanent stores. The summit of Mount Blanc is covered with a bed of
snow of enormous thickness, which is almost as much a permanent
geological stratum of the mountain as the granite which lies beneath
it.
Of course, during the winter months, the whole country of the Alps,
valley as well as hill, is covered with snow. In the spring the snow
melts in the valleys and plains, and higher up it becomes damp and
heavy with partial melting, and slides down the declivities in vast
avalanches, which sometimes are of such enormous magnitude, and
descend with such resistless force, as to bring down earth, rocks, and
even the trees of the forest in their train. On the higher
declivities, however, and over all the rounded summits, the snow still
clings to its place, yielding but very little to the feeble beams of
the sun, even in July.
There are vast ravines and valleys among the higher Alps where the
snow accumulates, being driven into them by winds and storms in the
winter, and sliding into them, in great avalanches, in the spring.
These vast depositories of snow become changed into ice below the
surface; for at the surface there is a continual melting, and the
water, flowing down through the mass, freezes below. Thus there are
valleys, or rather ravines, some of them two or three miles wide and
ten or fifteen miles long, filled with ice, transparent, solid, and
blue, hundreds of feet in depth. They are called _glaciers_. And what
is most astonishing in respect to these icy accumulations is that,
though the ice is perfectly compact and solid, the whole mass is found
to be continually in a state of slow motion down the valley in which
it lies, at the rate of about a foot in twenty-four hours. By standing
upon the surface and listening attentively, we hear, from time to
time, a grinding sound. The rocks which lie along the sides are
pulverized, and are continually moving against each other and falling;
and then, besides, which is a more direct and positive proof still of
the motion of the mass, a mark may be set up upon the ice, as has been
often done, and marks corresponding to it made upon the solid rocks on
each side of the valley, and by this means the fact of the motion, and
the exact rate of it, may be fully ascertained.
Thus these valleys are really and literally rivers of ice, rising
among the summits of the mountains, and flowing, slowly it is true,
but with a continuous and certain current, to a sort of mouth in some
great and open valley below. Here the streams which have flowed over
the surface above, and descended into the mass through countless
crevices and chasms, into which the traveler looks down with terror,
concentrate and issue from under the ice in a turbid torrent, which
comes out from a vast archway made by the falling in of masses which
the water has undermined. This lower end of the glacier sometimes
presents a perpendicular wall hundreds of feet in height; sometimes it
crowds down into the fertile valley, advancing in some unusually cold
summer into the cultivated country, where, as it slowly moves on, it
plows up the ground, carries away the orchards and fields, and even
drives the inhabitants from the villages which it threatens. If the
next summer proves warm, the terrible monster slowly draws back its
frigid head, and the inhabitants return to the ground it reluctantly
evacuates, and attempt to repair the damage it has done.
The Alps lie between France and Italy, and the great valleys and the
ranges of mountain land lie in such a direction that they must be
_crossed_ in order to pass from one country to the other. These ranges
are, however, not regular. They are traversed by innumerable chasms,
fissures, and ravines; in some places they rise in vast rounded
summits and swells, covered with fields of spotless snow; in others
they tower in lofty, needle-like peaks, which even the chamois can
not scale, and where scarcely a flake of snow can find a place of
rest. Around and among these peaks and summits, and through these
frightful defiles and chasms, the roads twist and turn, in a zigzag
and constantly ascending course, creeping along the most frightful
precipices, sometimes beneath them and sometimes on the brink,
penetrating the darkest and gloomiest defiles, skirting the most
impetuous and foaming torrents, and at last, perhaps, emerging upon
the surface of a glacier, to be lost in interminable fields of ice and
snow, where countless brooks run in glassy channels, and crevasses
yawn, ready to take advantage of any slip which may enable them to
take down the traveler into their bottomless abysses.
And yet, notwithstanding the awful desolation which reigns in the
upper regions of the Alps, the lower valleys, through which the
streams finally meander out into the open plains, and by which the
traveler gains access to the sublimer scenes of the upper mountains,
are inexpressibly verdant and beautiful. They are fertilized by the
deposits of continual inundations in the early spring, and the sun
beats down into them with a genial warmth in summer, which brings out
millions of flowers, of the most beautiful forms and colors, and
ripens rapidly the broadest and richest fields of grain. Cottages, of
every picturesque and beautiful form, tenanted by the cultivators, the
shepherds and the herdsmen, crown every little swell in the bottom of
the valley, and cling to the declivities of the mountains which rise
on either hand. Above them eternal forests of firs and pines wave,
feathering over the steepest and most rocky slopes with their somber
foliage. Still higher, gray precipices rise and spires and pinnacles,
far grander and more picturesque, if not so symmetrically formed, than
those constructed by man. Between these there is seen, here and there,
in the background, vast towering masses of white and dazzling snow,
which crown the summits of the loftier mountains beyond.
Hannibal's determination to carry an army into Italy by way of the
Alps, instead of transporting them by galleys over the sea, has always
been regarded as one of the greatest undertakings of ancient times. He
hesitated for some time whether he should go down the Rhone, and meet
and give battle to Scipio, or whether he should leave the Roman army
to its course, and proceed himself directly toward the Alps and
Italy. The officers and soldiers of the army, who had now learned
something of their destination and of their leader's plans, wanted to
go and meet the Romans. They dreaded the Alps. They were willing to
encounter a military foe, however formidable, for this was a danger
that they were accustomed to and could understand; but their
imaginations were appalled at the novel and awful images they formed
of falling down precipices of ragged rocks, or of gradually freezing,
and being buried half alive, during the process, in eternal snows.
Hannibal, when he found that his soldiers were afraid to proceed,
called the leading portions of his army together, and made them an
address. He remonstrated with them for yielding now to unworthy fears,
after having successfully met and triumphed over such dangers as they
had already incurred. "You have surmounted the Pyrenees," said he,
"you have crossed the Rhone. You are now actually in sight of the
Alps, which are the very gates of access to the country of the enemy.
What do you conceive the Alps to be? They are nothing but high
mountains, after all. Suppose they are higher than the Pyrenees, they
do not reach to the skies; and, since they do not, they can not be
insurmountable. They _are_ surmounted, in fact, every day; they are
even inhabited and cultivated, and travelers continually pass over
them to and fro. And what a single man can do, an army can do, for an
army is only a large number of single men. In fact, to a soldier, who
has nothing to carry with him but the implements of war, no way can be
too difficult to be surmounted by courage and energy."
After finishing his speech, Hannibal, finding his men reanimated and
encouraged by what he had said, ordered them to go to their tents and
refresh themselves, and prepare to march on the following day. They
made no further opposition to going on. Hannibal did not, however,
proceed at once directly toward the Alps. He did not know what the
plans of Scipio might be, who, it will be recollected, was below him,
on the Rhone, with the Roman army. He did not wish to waste his time
and his strength in a contest with Scipio in Gaul, but to press on and
get across the Alps into Italy as soon as possible. And so, fearing
lest Scipio should strike across the country, and intercept him if he
should attempt to go by the most direct route, he determined to move
northwardly, up the River Rhone, till he should get well into the
interior, with a view of reaching the Alps ultimately by a more
circuitous journey.
It was, in fact, the plan of Scipio to come up with Hannibal and
attack him as soon as possible; and, accordingly, as soon as his
horsemen, or, rather, those who were left alive after the battle had
returned and informed him that Hannibal and his army were near, he put
his camp in motion and moved rapidly up the river. He arrived at the
place where the Carthaginians had crossed a few days after they had
gone. The spot was in a terrible state of ruin and confusion. The
grass and herbage were trampled down for the circuit of a mile, and
all over the space were spots of black and smouldering remains, where
the camp-fires had been kindled. The tops and branches of trees lay
every where around, their leaves withering in the sun, and the groves
and forests were encumbered with limbs, and rejected trunks, and trees
felled and left where they lay. The shore was lined far down the
stream with ruins of boats and rafts, with weapons which had been lost
or abandoned, and with the bodies of those who had been drowned in the
passage, or killed in the contest on the shore. These and numerous
other vestiges remained but the army was gone.
There were, however, upon the ground groups of natives and other
visitors, who had come to look at the spot now destined to become so
memorable in history. From these men Scipio learned when and where
Hannibal had gone. He decided that it was useless to attempt to pursue
him. He was greatly perplexed to know what to do. In the casting of
lots, Spain had fallen to him, but now that the great enemy whom he
had come forth to meet had left Spain altogether, his only hope of
intercepting his progress was to sail back into Italy, and meet him as
he came down from the Alps into the great valley of the Po. Still, as
Spain had been assigned to him as his province, he could not well
entirely abandon it. He accordingly sent forward the largest part of
his army into Spain, to attack the forces that Hannibal had left
there, while he himself, with a smaller force, went down to the
sea-shore and sailed back to Italy again. He expected to find Roman
forces in the valley of the Po, with which he hoped to be strong
enough to meet Hannibal as he descended from the mountains, if he
should succeed in effecting a passage over them.
In the mean time Hannibal went on, drawing nearer and nearer to the
ranges of snowy summits which his soldiers had seen for many days in
their eastern horizon. These ranges were very resplendent and grand
when the sun went down in the west, for then it shone directly upon
them. As the army approached nearer and nearer to them, they gradually
withdrew from sight and disappeared, being concealed by intervening
summits less lofty, but nearer. As the soldiers went on, however, and
began to penetrate the valleys, and draw near to the awful chasms and
precipices among the mountains, and saw the turbid torrents descending
from them, their fears revived. It was, however, now too late to
retreat. They pressed forward, ascending continually, till their road
grew extremely precipitous and insecure, threading its way through
almost impassable defiles, with rugged cliffs overhanging them, and
snowy summits towering all around.
At last they came to a narrow defile through which they must
necessarily pass, but which was guarded by large bodies of armed men
assembled on the rocks and precipices above, ready to hurl stones and
weapons of every kind upon them if they should attempt to pass
through. The army halted. Hannibal ordered them to encamp where they
were, until he could consider what to do. In the course of the day he
learned that the mountaineers did not remain at their elevated posts
during the night, on account of the intense cold and exposure,
knowing, too, that it would be impossible for an army to traverse such
a pass as they were attempting to guard without daylight to guide
them, for the road, or rather pathway, which passes through these
defiles, follows generally the course of a mountain torrent, which
flows through a succession of frightful ravines and chasms, and often
passes along on a shelf or projection of the rock, hundreds and
sometimes thousands of feet from the bed of the stream, which foams
and roars far below. There could, of course, be no hope of passing
safely by such a route without the light of day.
The mountaineers, therefore, knowing that it was not necessary to
guard the pass at night--its own terrible danger being then a
sufficient protection--were accustomed to disperse in the evening, and
descend to regions where they could find shelter and repose, and to
return and renew their watch in the morning. When Hannibal learned
this, he determined to anticipate them in getting up upon the rocks
the next day, and, in order to prevent their entertaining any
suspicion of his design, he pretended to be making all the
arrangements for encamping for the night on the ground he had taken.
He accordingly pitched more tents, and built, toward evening, a great
many fires, and he began some preparations indicating that it was his
intention the next day to force his way through the pass. He moved
forward a strong detachment up to a point near the entrance to the
pass, and put them in a fortified position there, as if to have them
all ready to advance when the proper time should arrive on the
following day.
The mountaineers, seeing all these preparations going on, looked
forward to a conflict on the morrow, and, during the night, left their
positions as usual, to descend to places of shelter. The next morning,
however, when they began, at an early hour, to ascend to them again,
they were astonished to find all the lofty rocks, and cliffs, and
shelving projections which overhung the pass, covered with
Carthaginians. Hannibal had aroused a strong body of his men at the
earliest dawn, and led them up, by steep climbing, to the places which
the mountaineers had left, so as to be there before them. The
mountaineers paused, astonished, at this spectacle, and their
disappointment and rage were much increased on looking down into the
valley below, and seeing there the remainder of the Carthaginian army
quietly moving through the pass in a long train, safe apparently from
any molestation, since friends, and not enemies, were now in
possession of the cliffs above.
The mountaineers could not restrain their feelings of vexation and
anger, but immediately rushed down the declivities which they had in
part ascended, and attacked the army in the defile. An awful scene of
struggle and confusion ensued. Some were killed by weapons or by rocks
rolled down upon them. Others, contending together, and struggling
desperately in places of very narrow foothold, tumbled headlong down
the rugged rocks into the torrent below; and horses, laden with
baggage and stores, became frightened and unmanageable, and crowded
each other over the most frightful precipices. Hannibal, who was
above, on the higher rocks, looked down upon this scene for a time
with the greatest anxiety and terror. He did not dare to descend
himself and mingle in the affray, for fear of increasing the
confusion. He soon found, however, that it was absolutely necessary
for him to interpose, and he came down as rapidly as possible, his
detachment with him. They descended by oblique and zigzag paths,
wherever they could get footing among the rocks, and attacked the
mountaineers with great fury. The result was, as he had feared, a
great increase at first of the confusion and the slaughter. The horses
were more and more terrified by the fresh energy of the combat, and by
the resounding of louder shouts and cries, which were made doubly
terrific by the echoes and reverberations of the mountains. They
crowded against each other, and fell, horses and men together, in
masses, over the cliffs to the rugged rocks below, where they lay in
confusion, some dead, and others dying, writhing helplessly in agony,
or vainly endeavoring to crawl away.
The mountaineers were, however, conquered and driven away at last, and
the pass was left clear. The Carthaginian column was restored to
order. The horses that had not fallen were calmed and quieted. The
baggage which had been thrown down was gathered up, and the wounded
men were placed on litters, rudely constructed on the spot, that they
might be borne on to a place of safety. In a short time all were ready
to move on, and the march was accordingly recommenced. There was no
further difficulty. The column advanced in a quiet and orderly manner
until they had passed the defile. At the extremity of it they came to
a spacious fort belonging to the natives. Hannibal took possession of
this fort, and paused for a little time there to rest and refresh his
men.
One of the greatest difficulties encountered by a general in
conducting an army through difficult and dangerous roads, is that of
providing food for them. An army can transport its own food only a
very little way. Men traveling over smooth roads can only carry
provisions for a few days, and where the roads are as difficult and
dangerous as the passes of the Alps, they can scarcely carry any. The
commander must, accordingly, find subsistence in the country through
which he is marching. Hannibal had, therefore, now not only to look
out for the safety of his men, but their food was exhausted, and he
must take immediate measures to secure a supply.
The lower slopes of lofty mountains afford usually abundant sustenance
for flocks and herds. The showers which are continually falling there,
and the moisture which comes down the sides of the mountains through
the ground keep the turf perpetually green, and sheep and cattle love
to pasture upon it; they climb to great heights, finding the herbage
finer and sweeter the higher they go. Thus the inhabitants of mountain
ranges are almost always shepherds and herdsmen. Grain can be raised
in the valleys below, but the slopes of the mountains, though they
produce grass to perfection, are too steep to be tilled.
As soon as Hannibal had got established in the fort, he sent around
small bodies of men to seize and drive in all the cattle and sheep
that they could find. These men were, of course, armed, in order that
they might be prepared to meet any resistance which they might
encounter. The mountaineers, however, did not attempt to resist them.
They felt that they were conquered, and they were accordingly
disheartened and discouraged. The only mode of saving their cattle
which was left to them, was to drive them as fast as they could into
concealed and inaccessible places. They attempted to do this, and
while Hannibal's parties were ranging up the valleys all around them,
examining every field, and barn, and sheepfold that they could find,
the wretched and despairing inhabitants were flying in all directions,
driving the cows and sheep, on which their whole hope of subsistence
depended, into the fastnesses of the mountains. They urged them into
wild thickets, and dark ravines and chasms, and over dangerous
glaciers, and up the steepest ascents, wherever there was the readiest
prospect of getting them out of the plunderer's way.
These attempts, however, to save their little property were but very
partially successful. Hannibal's marauding parties kept coming home,
one after another, with droves of sheep and cattle before them, some
larger and some smaller, but making up a vast amount in all. Hannibal
subsisted his men three days on the food thus procured for them. It
requires an enormous store to feed ninety or a hundred thousand men,
even for three days; besides, in all such cases as this, an army
always waste and destroy far more than they really consume.
During these three days the army was not stationary, but was moving
slowly on. The way, though still difficult and dangerous, was at least
open before them, as there was now no enemy to dispute their passage.
So they went on, rioting upon the abundant supplies they had obtained,
and rejoicing in the double victory they were gaining, over the
hostility of the people and the physical dangers and difficulties of
the way. The poor mountaineers returned to their cabins ruined and
desolate, for mountaineers who have lost their cows and their sheep
have lost their all.
The Alps are not all in Switzerland. Some of the most celebrated peaks
and ranges are in a neighboring state called Savoy. The whole country
is, in fact, divided into small states, called _cantons_ at the
present day, and similar political divisions seem to have existed in
the time of the Romans. In his march onward from the pass which has
been already described, Hannibal, accordingly, soon approached the
confines of another canton. As he was advancing slowly into it, with
the long train of his army winding up with him through the valleys, he
was met at the borders of this new state by an embassage sent from the
government of it. They brought with them fresh stores of provisions,
and a number of guides. They said that they had heard of the terrible
destruction which had come upon the other canton in consequence of
their effort to oppose his progress, and that they had no intention of
renewing so vain an attempt. They came, therefore, they said, to offer
Hannibal their friendship and their aid. They had brought guides to
show the army the best way over the mountains, and a present of
provisions; and to prove the sincerity of their professions they
offered Hannibal hostages. These hostages were young men and boys, the
sons of the principal inhabitants, whom they offered to deliver into
Hannibal's power, to be kept by him until he should see that they were
faithful and true in doing what they offered.
[Illustration: HANNIBAL ON THE ALPS.]
Hannibal was so accustomed to stratagem and treachery himself, that he
was at first very much at a loss to decide whether these offers and
professions were honest and sincere, or whether they were only made to
put him off his guard. He thought it possible that it was their design
to induce him to place himself under their direction, so that they
might lead him into some dangerous defile or labyrinth of rocks, from
which he could not extricate himself, and where they could attack and
destroy him. He, however, decided to return them a favorable answer,
but to watch them very carefully, and to proceed under their guidance
with the utmost caution and care. He accepted of the provisions they
offered, and took the hostages. These last he delivered into the
custody of a body of his soldiers and they marched on with the rest of
the army. Then, directing the new guides to lead the way, the army
moved on after them. The elephants went first, with a moderate force
for their protection preceding and accompanying them. Then came long
trains of horses and mules, loaded with military stores and baggage,
and finally the foot soldiers followed, marching irregularly in a long
column. The whole train must have extended many miles, and must have
appeared from any of the eminences around like an enormous serpent,
winding its way tortuously through the wild and desolate valleys.
Hannibal was right in his suspicions. The embassage was a stratagem.
The men who sent it had laid an ambuscade in a very narrow pass,
concealing their forces in thickets and in chasms, and in nooks and
corners among the rugged rocks, and when the guides had led the army
well into the danger, a sudden signal was given, and these concealed
enemies rushed down upon them in great numbers, breaking into their
ranks, and renewing the scene of terrible uproar, tumult, and
destruction which had been witnessed in the other defile. One would
have thought that the elephants, being so unwieldy and so helpless in
such a scene, would have been the first objects of attack. But it was
not so. The mountaineers were afraid of them. They had never seen
such animals before, and they felt for them a mysterious awe, not
knowing what terrible powers such enormous beasts might be expected to
wield. They kept away from them, therefore, and from the horsemen, and
poured down upon the head of the column of foot soldiers which
followed in the rear.
They were quite successful at the first onset. They broke through the
head of the column, and drove the rest back. The horses and elephants,
in the mean time, moved forward, bearing the baggage with them, so
that the two portions of the army were soon entirely separated.
Hannibal was behind, with the soldiers. The mountaineers made good
their position, and, as night came on, the contest ceased, for in such
wilds as these no one can move at all, except with the light of day.
The mountaineers, however, remained in their place, dividing the army,
and Hannibal continued, during the night, in a state of great suspense
and anxiety, with the elephants and the baggage separated from him and
apparently at the mercy of the enemy.
During the night he made vigorous preparations for attacking the
mountaineers the next day. As soon as the morning light appeared, he
made the attack, and he succeeded in driving the enemy away, so far,
at least, as to allow him to get his army together again. He then
began once more to move on. The mountaineers, however, hovered about
his way, and did all they could to molest and embarrass his march.
They concealed themselves in ambuscades, and attacked the
Carthaginians as they passed. They rolled stones down upon them, or
discharged spears and arrows from eminences above; and if any of
Hannibal's army became, from any reason, detached from the rest, they
would cut off their retreat, and then take them prisoners or destroy
them. Thus they gave Hannibal a great deal of trouble. They harassed
his march continually, without presenting at any point a force which
he could meet and encounter in battle. Of course, Hannibal could no
longer trust to his guides, and he was obliged to make his way as he
best could, sometimes right, but often wrong, and exposed to a
thousand difficulties and dangers, which those acquainted with the
country might have easily avoided. All this time the mountaineers were
continually attacking him, in bands like those of robbers, sometimes
in the van, and sometimes in the rear, wherever the nature of the
ground or the circumstances of the marching army afforded them an
opportunity.
Hannibal persevered, however, through all these discouragements,
protecting his men as far as it was in his power, but pressing
earnestly on, until in nine days he reached the summit. By the summit,
however, is not meant the summit of the mountains, but the summit of
the _pass_, that is, the highest point which it was necessary for him
to attain in going over. In all mountain ranges there are depressions,
which are in Switzerland called _necks_,[A] and the pathways and roads
over the ranges lie always in these. In America, such a depression in
a ridge of land, if well marked and decided, is called a _notch_.
Hannibal attained the highest point of the _col_, by which he was to
pass over, in nine days after the great battle. There were, however,
of course, lofty peaks and summits towering still far above him.
[Footnote A: The French word is _col_. Thus, there is the Col de
Balme, the Col de Geant, &c.]
He encamped here two days to rest and refresh his men. The enemy no
longer molested him. In fact, parties were continually coming into the
camp, of men and horses, that had got lost, or had been left in the
valleys below. They came in slowly, some wounded, others exhausted
and spent by fatigue and exposure. In some cases horses came in alone.
They were horses that had slipped or stumbled, and fallen among the
rocks, or had sunk down exhausted by their toil, and had thus been
left behind, and afterward, recovering their strength, had followed
on, led by a strange instinct to keep to the tracks which their
companions had made, and thus they rejoined the camp at last in
safety.
In fact, one great reason for Hannibal's delay at his encampment on or
near the summit of the pass, was to afford time for all the missing
men to join the army again, that had the power to do so. Had it not
been for this necessity, he would doubtless have descended some
distance, at least, to a more warm and sheltered position before
seeking repose. A more gloomy and desolate resting-place than the
summit of an Alpine pass can scarcely be found. The bare and barren
rocks are entirely destitute of vegetation, and they have lost,
besides, the sublime and picturesque forms which they assume further
below. They spread in vast, naked fields in every direction around the
spectator, rising in gentle ascents, bleak and dreary, the surface
whitened as if bleached by the perpetual rains. Storms are, in fact,
almost perpetual in these elevated regions. The vast cloud which, to
the eye of the shepherd in the valley below, seems only a fleecy cap,
resting serenely upon the summit, or slowly floating along the sides,
is really a driving mist, or cold and stormy rain, howling dismally
over interminable fields of broken rocks, as if angry that it can make
nothing grow upon them, with all its watering. Thus there are seldom
distant views to be obtained, and every thing near presents a scene of
simple dreariness and desolation.
Hannibal's soldiers thus found themselves in the midst of a dismal
scene in their lofty encampment. There is one special source of
danger, too, in such places as this, which the lower portions of the
mountains are less exposed to, and that is the entire obliteration of
the pathway by falls of snow. It seems almost absurd to speak of
pathway in such regions, where there is no turf to be worn, and the
boundless fields of rocks, ragged and hard, will take no trace of
footsteps. There are, however, generally some faint traces of way, and
where these fail entirely the track is sometimes indicated by small
piles of stones, placed at intervals along the line of route. An
unpracticed eye would scarcely distinguish these little landmarks, in
many cases, from accidental heaps of stones which lie every where
around. They, however, render a very essential service to the guides
and to the mountaineers, who have been accustomed to conduct their
steps by similar aids in other portions of the mountains.
But when snow begins to fall, all these and every other possible means
of distinguishing the way are soon entirely obliterated. The whole
surface of the ground, or, rather, of the rocks, is covered, and all
landmarks disappear. The little monuments become nothing but slight
inequalities in the surface of the snow, undistinguishable from a
thousand others. The air is thick and murky, and shuts off alike all
distant prospects, and the shape and conformation of the land that is
near; the bewildered traveler has not even the stars to guide him, as
there is nothing but dark, falling flakes, descending from an
impenetrable canopy of stormy clouds, to be seen in the sky.
Hannibal encountered a snow storm while on the summit of the pass, and
his army were very much terrified by it. It was now November. The army
had met with so many detentions and delays that their journey had been
protracted to a late period. It would be unsafe to attempt to wait
till this snow should melt again. As soon, therefore, as the storm
ended, and the clouds cleared away, so as to allow the men to see the
general features of the country around, the camp was broken up and the
army put in motion. The soldiers marched through the snow with great
anxiety and fear. Men went before to explore the way, and to guide the
rest by flags and banners which they bore. Those who went first made
paths, of course, for those who followed behind, as the snow was
trampled down by their footsteps. Notwithstanding these aids, however,
the army moved on very laboriously and with much fear.
At length, however, after descending a short distance, Hannibal,
perceiving that they must soon come in sight of the Italian valleys
and plains which lay beyond the Alps, went forward among the pioneers,
who had charge of the banners by which the movements of the army were
directed, and, as soon as the open country began to come into view, he
selected a spot where the widest prospect was presented, and halted
his army there to let them take a view of the beautiful country which
now lay before them. The Alps are very precipitous on the Italian
side. The descent is very sudden, from the cold and icy summits, to a
broad expanse of the most luxuriant and sunny plains. Upon these
plains, which were spread out in a most enchanting landscape at their
feet, Hannibal and his soldiers now looked down with exultation and
delight. Beautiful lakes, studded with still more beautiful islands,
reflected the beams of the sun. An endless succession of fields, in
sober autumnal colors, with the cottages of the laborers and stacks of
grain scattered here and there upon them, and rivers meandering
through verdant meadows, gave variety and enchantment to the view.
Hannibal made an address to his officers and men, congratulating them
on having arrived, at last, so near to a successful termination of
their toils. "The difficulties of the way," he said, "are at last
surmounted, and these mighty barriers that we have scaled are the
walls, not only of Italy, but of Rome itself. Since we have passed the
Alps, the Romans will have no protection against us remaining. It is
only one battle, when we get down upon the plains, or at most two, and
the great city itself will be entirely at our disposal."
The whole army were much animated and encouraged, both by the
prospect which presented itself to their view, and by the words of
Hannibal. They prepared for the descent, anticipating little
difficulty; but they found, on recommencing their march, that their
troubles were by no means over. The mountains are far steeper on the
Italian side than on the other, and it was extremely difficult to find
paths by which the elephants and the horses, and even the men, could
safely descend. They moved on for some time with great labor and
fatigue, until, at length, Hannibal, looking on before, found that the
head of the column had stopped, and the whole train behind was soon
jammed together, the ranks halting along the way in succession, as
they found their path blocked up by the halting of those before them.
Hannibal sent forward to ascertain the cause of the difficulty, and
found that the van of the army had reached a precipice down which it
was impossible to descend. It was necessary to make a circuit in hopes
of finding some practicable way of getting down. The guides and
pioneers went on, leading the army after them, and soon got upon a
glacier which lay in their way. There was fresh snow upon the surface,
covering the ice and concealing the _crevasses_, as they are
termed--that is, the great cracks and fissures which extend in the
glaciers down through the body of the ice. The army moved on,
trampling down the new snow, and making at first a good roadway by
their footsteps; but very soon the old ice and snow began to be
trampled _up_ by the hoofs of the horses and the heavy tread of such
vast multitudes of armed men. It softened to a great depth, and made
the work of toiling through it an enormous labor. Besides, the surface
of the ice and snow sloped steeply, and the men and beasts were
continually falling or sliding down, and getting swallowed up in
avalanches which their own weight set in motion, or in concealed
crevasses where they sank to rise no more.
They, however, made some progress, though slowly, and with great
danger. They at last got below the region of the snow, but here they
encountered new difficulties in the abruptness and ruggedness of the
rocks, and in the zigzag and tortuous direction of the way. At last
they came to a spot where their further progress appeared to be
entirely cut off by a large mass of rock, which it seemed necessary to
remove in order to widen the passage sufficiently to allow them to go
on. The Roman historian says that Hannibal removed these rocks by
building great fires upon them, and then pouring on vinegar, which
opened seams and fissures in them, by means of which the rocks could
be split and pried to pieces with wedges and crowbars. On reading this
account, the mind naturally pauses to consider the probability of its
being true. As they had no gunpowder in those days, they were
compelled to resort to some such method as the one above described for
removing rocks. There are some species of rock which are easily
cracked and broken by the action of fire. Others resist it. There
seems, however, to be no reason obvious why vinegar should materially
assist in the operation. Besides, we can not suppose that Hannibal
could have had, at such a time and place, any very large supply of
vinegar on hand. On the whole, it is probable that, if any such
operation was performed at all, it was on a very small scale, and the
results must have been very insignificant at the time, though the fact
has since been greatly celebrated in history.
In coming over the snow, and in descending the rocks immediately
below, the army, and especially the animals connected with it,
suffered a great deal from hunger. It was difficult to procure forage
for them of any kind. At length, however, as they continued their
descent, they came first into the region of forests, and soon after to
slopes of grassy fields descending into warm and fertile valleys. Here
the animals were allowed to stop and rest, and renew their strength by
abundance of food. The men rejoiced that their toils and dangers were
over, and, descending easily the remainder of the way, they encamped
at last safely on the plains of Italy.