own; inflicted on them in killed, wounded and prisoners, a loss of
25,000 men; taken eighty guns and twenty-one standards; reduced the
Austrians to inaction; utterly destroyed the Sardinian king's army; and
lastly, wrested from his hands Coni and Tortona, the two great
fortresses called "the keys of the Alps,"--and indeed, except Turin
itself, every place of any consequence in his dominions. This
unfortunate prince did not long survive such humiliation. He was
father-in-law to both of the brothers of Louis XVI., and, considering
their cause and his own dignity as equally at an end, died of a broken
heart, within a few days after he had signed the treaty of Cherasco.

Buonaparte meanwhile had paused for a moment to consolidate his columns
on the heights, from which the vast plain of Lombardy, rich and
cultivated like a garden, and watered with innumerable fertilising
streams, lay at length within the full view of his victorious soldiery.
"Hannibal forced the Alps," said he gaily, as he now looked back on
those stupendous barriers, "and we have turned them."

"Hitherto" (he thus addressed his troops) "you have been fighting for
barren rocks, memorable for your valour, but useless to your country;
but now your exploits equal those of the armies of Holland and the
Rhine. You were utterly destitute, and you have supplied all your wants.
You have gained battles without cannon, passed rivers without bridges,
performed forced marches without shoes, bivouacked without strong
liquors, and often without bread. None but republican phalanxes,
soldiers of liberty, could have endured such things. Thanks for your
perseverance! But, soldiers, you have done nothing--for there remains
much to do. Milan is not yet ours. The ashes of the conquerors of
Tarquin are still trampled by the assassins of Basseville."