[87923] in Discussion of MIT-community interests
These 4 Things Happen Before A Heart Attack
daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (Heart Attack Defender)
Thu Sep 1 20:38:58 2016
Date: Thu, 1 Sep 2016 20:32:46 -0400
From: "Heart Attack Defender" <heart-attack-defender@moms.stream>
To: <mit-talk-mtg@charon.mit.edu>
<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>=20
<title>These 4 Things Happen Before A Heart Attack</title>=20
<meta content=3D"text/html; charset=3DUTF-8" http-equiv=3D"Content-=
Type" />=20
</head>=20
<body style=3D"width: 600px; font-family:Segoe, 'Segoe UI', 'DejaVu =
Sans', 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; ">=
=20
<p>Attention:</p>=20
<p>Right now, there is a silent killer sweeping our great Nation at an ev=
er-increasing speed.</p>=20
<p>And if you are over 60 years old, you' re a prime target, and in immed=
iate danger of becoming the next victim.</p>=20
<p>WARNING: Don' t think for a minute that feeling fine now means you can=
shrug this off until tomorrow.</p>=20
<p>There are absolutely no symptoms.</p>=20
<p>No warning signs.</p>=20
<p>No chance to say goodbye.</p>=20
<p>This is a <strong>serious threat</strong>, and is being ignored by mos=
t mainstream media outlets.</p>=20
<p>So to learn how to protect yourself and those you love, <a href=3D"=
http://www.moms.stream/593B86Z70P7qOG128OhvVdVKyxdhVtFMuKmji0hvV0ONWa73/spiraled">please click here for this shocking presentation.</a></p>=20
<p>Again, please don' t think this only affects others and not you.</p>=
=20
<p>According to many highly-respected research facilities, and our own US=
Government, this threat <strong>allegedly kills an estimated 600,000 Ameri=
cans every single year.</strong> <a href=3D"http://www.moms.stream/593B86Z70P7qOG128OhvVdVKyxdhVtFMuKmji0hvV0ONWa73/spiraled">The full details ar=
e right here.</a></p>=20
<p>If you value your life and care about those around you, please do not =
dismiss this.</p>=20
<p>Get the complete details <a href=3D"http://www.moms.stream/593B86Z70P7qOG128OhvVdVKyxdhVtFMuKmji0hvV0ONWa73/spiraled">here.</a></p>=20
<p>P.S. According to the United States Centers for Disease Control and Pr=
evention, this killer takes an American life roughly <strong>EVERY 34-60 SE=
CONDS</strong>! Please protect yourself by going <a href=3D"http://www.moms.stream/593B86Z70P7qOG128OhvVdVKyxdhVtFMuKmji0hvV0ONWa73/spiraled">her=
e</a><br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> </p>=20
<p style=3D"font-size: 10px; text-align: center; margin-top: =
50px; ">If you wish to stop future mailings, please <a href=3D"=
http://www.moms.stream/e99xY8670No8w128ChvVdVKyxdhVtFMuKmji0hvV0ONWacc/examiner-degradations">click here</a>.<br /> <br /> Or send mail to:<br /> OmegaK, Inc<br /> =
3959 Van Dyke Rd #148<br /> Lutz, FL 33558</p>=20
<div style=3D"font:normal 10px Arial, Times New Roman, sans-serif; col=
or:#ffffff; ">=20
<p>These 4 Things Happen Before A Heart Attack<br /> Napoleon, finding h=
is proffers of peace rejected by England with contumely and scorn, and decl=
ined by Austria, now prepared, with his wonted energy, to repel the assault=
s of the allies. As he sat in his cabinet at the Tuileries, the thunders of=
their unrelenting onset came rolling in upon his ear from all the frontier=
s of France. The hostile fleets of England swept the channel, utterly annih=
ilating the commerce of the Republic, landing regiments of armed emigrants =
upon her coast, furnishing money and munitions of war to rouse the partisan=
s of the Bourbons to civil conflict, and throwing balls and shells into eve=
ry unprotected town. On the northern frontier, Marshal Kray, came thunderin=
g down, through the black Forest, to the banks of the Rhine, with a mighty =
host of 150,000 men, like locust legions, to pour into all the northern pro=
vinces of France. Artillery of the heaviest calibre and a magnificent array=
of cavalry accompanied this apparently invincible army. In Italy, Melas, a=
nother Austrian marshal, with 140,000 men, aided by the whole force of the =
British navy, was rushing upon the eastern and southern borders of the Repu=
blic. The French troops, disheartened by defeat, had fled before their foes=
over the Alps, or were eating their horses and their boots in the cities w=
here they were besieged. From almost every promontory on the coast of the R=
epublic, washed by the Channel, or the Mediterranean, the eye could discern=
English frigates, black and threatening, holding all France in a state of =
blockade. One always finds a certain pleasure in doing that which he can do=
well. Napoleon was fully conscious of his military genius. He had, in beha=
lf of bleeding humanity, implored peace in vain. He now, with alacrity and =
with joy, roused himself to inflict blows that should be felt upon his mult=
itudinous enemies. With such tremendous energy did he do this, that he rece=
ived from his antagonists the most complimentary sobriquet of the one hundr=
ed thousand men . Wherever Napoleon made his appearance in the field, his p=
resence alone was considered equivalent to that force. The following procla=
mation rang like a trumpet charge over the hills and valleys of France. &qu=
ot;Frenchmen! You have been anxious for peace. Your government has desired =
it with still greater ardor. Its first efforts, its most constant wishes, h=
ave been for its attainment. The English ministry has exposed the secret of=
its iniquitous policy. It wishes to dismember France, to destroy its comme=
rce, and either to erase it from the map of Europe, or to degrade it to a s=
econdary power. England is willing to embroil all the nations of the Contin=
ent in hostility with each other, that she may enrich herself with their sp=
oils, and gain possession of the trade of the world. For the attainment of =
this object she scatters her gold, becomes prodigal of her promises, and mu=
ltiplies her intrigues." At this call all the martial spirit of France=
rushed to arms. Napoleon, supremely devoted to the welfare of the State, s=
eemed to forget even his own glory in the intensity of his desire to make F=
rance victorious over her foes. With the most magnanimous superiority to al=
l feelings of jealousy, he raised an army of 150,000 men, the very elite of=
the troops of France, the veterans of a hundred battles, and placed them i=
n the hands of Moreau, the only man in France who could be called his rival=
Napoleon also presented to Moreau the plan of a campaign in accordance wi=
th his own energy, boldness, and genius. Its accomplishment would have adde=
d surpassing brilliance to the reputation of Moreau. But the cautious gener=
al was afraid to adopt it, and presented another, perhaps as safe, but one =
which would produce no dazzling impression upon the imaginations of men. &q=
uot;Your plan," said one, a friend of Moreau, to the First Consul, &qu=
ot;is grander, more decisive, even more sure. But it is not adapted to the =
slow and cautious genius of the man who is to execute it. You have your met=
hod of making war, which is superior to all others. Moreau has his own, inf=
erior certainly, but still excellent. Leave him to himself. If you impose y=
our ideas upon him, you will wound his self-love, and disconcert him."=
Napoleon, profoundly versed in the knowledge of the human heart, promptly =
replied. "You are right, Moreau is not capable of grasping the plan wh=
ich I have conceived. Let him follow his own course. The plan which he does=
not understand and dare not execute, I myself will carry out, on another p=
art of the theatre of war. What he fears to attempt on the Rhine, I will ac=
complish on the Alps. The day may come when he will regret the glory which =
he yields to me." These were proud and prophetic words. Moreau, was mo=
derately victorious upon the Rhine, driving back the invaders. The sun of N=
apoleon soon rose, over the field of Marengo, in a blaze of effulgence, whi=
ch paled Moreau's twinkling star into utter obscurity. But we know not wher=
e, upon the page of history, to find an act of more lofty generosity than t=
his surrender of the noblest army of the Republic to one, who considered hi=
mself, and who was deemed by others, a rival--and thus to throw open to him=
the theatre of war where apparently the richest laurels were to be won. An=
d he know where to look for a deed more proudly expressive of self-confiden=
ce. "I will give Moreau," said he by this act, "one hundred =
and fifty thousand of the most brave and disciplined soldiers of France, th=
e victors of a hundred battles. I myself will take sixty thousand men, new =
recruits and the fragments of regiments which remain, and with them I will =
march to encounter an equally powerful enemy on a more difficult field of w=
arfare." Marshal Melas had spread his vast host of one hundred and for=
ty thousand Austrians through all the strongholds of Italy, and was pressin=
g, with tremendous energy and self-confidence upon the frontiers of France.=
Napoleon, instead of marching with his inexperienced troops, two-thirds of=
whom had never seen a shot fired in earnest, to meet the heads of the triu=
mphant columns of Melas, resolved to climb the rugged and apparently inacce=
ssible fastnesses of the Alps, and, descending from the clouds over path-le=
ss precipices, to fall with the sweep of the avalanche, upon their rear. It=
was necessary to assemble this army at some favorable point; --to gather i=
n vast magazines its munitions of war. It was necessary that this should be=
done in secret, lest the Austrians, climbing to the summits of the Alps, a=
nd defending the gorges through which the troops of Napoleon would be compe=
lled to wind their difficult and tortuous way, might render the passage utt=
erly impossible. English and Austrian spies were prompt to communicate to t=
he hostile powers every movement of the First Consul. Napoleon fixed upon D=
ijon and its vicinity as the rendezvous of his troops. He, however, adroitl=
y and completely deceived his foes by ostentatiously announcing the very pl=
an he intended to carry into operation. Of course, the allies thought that =
this was a foolish attempt to draw their attention from the real point of a=
ttack. The more they ridiculed the imaginary army at Dijon, the more loudly=
did Napoleon reiterate his commands for battalions and magazines to be col=
lected there. The spies who visited Dijon, reported that but a few regiment=
s were assembled in that place, and that the announcement was clearly a ver=
y weak pretense to deceive. The print shops of London and Vienna were fille=
d with caricatures of the army of the First Consul of Dijon. The English es=
pecially made themselves very merry with Napolcon's grand army to scale the=
Alps. It was believed that the energies the Republic were utterly exhauste=
d in raising the force which was given to Moreau. One of the caricatures re=
presented the army as consisting of a boy, dressed in his father's clothes,=
shouldering a musket, which he could with difficulty lift, and eating a pi=
ece of gingerbread, and an old man with one arm and a wooden leg. The artil=
lery consisted of a rusty blunderbuss. This derision was just what Napoleon=
desired. Though dwelling in the shadow of that mysterious melancholy, whic=
h ever enveloped his spirit, he must have enjoyed in the deep recesses of h=
is soul, the majestic movements of his plans. On the eastern frontiers of F=
rance there surge up, from luxuriant meadows and vine-clad fields and hill =
sides, the majestic ranges of the Alps, piercing the clouds and soaring wit=
h glittering pinnacles, into the region of perpetual ice and snow. Vast spu=
rs of the mountains extend on each side, opening gloomy gorges and frightfu=
l detiles, through which foaming torrents rush impetuously, walled in by al=
most precipitous cliffs, whose summits, crowned with melancholy firs, are i=
naccessible to the foot of man. The principal pass over this enormous ridge=
was that of the Great St. Bernard. The traveler, accompanied by a guide, a=
nd mounted on a mule, slowly and painfully ascended a steep and rugged path=
, now crossing a narrow bridge, spanning a fathomless abyss, again creeping=
along the edge of a precipice, where the eagle soared and screamed over th=
e fir tops in the abyss below, and where a perpendicular wall rose to giddy=
heights in the clouds above. The path at times was so narrow, that it seem=
ed that the mountain goat could with difficulty find a foothold for its sle=
nder hoof. A false step, or a slip upon the icy rocks would precipitate the=
traveler, a mangled corpse, a thousand feet upon the fragments of granite =
in the gulf beneath. As higher and higher he climbed these wild and rugged =
and cloud-enveloped paths, borne by the unerring instinct of the faithful m=
ule, his steps were often arrested by the roar of the avalanche and he gaze=
d appalled upon its resistless rush, as rocks, and trees, and earth, and sn=
ow, and ice, swept by him with awful and resistless desolation, far down in=
to the dimly discerned torrents which rushed beneath his feet. At God's bid=
ding the avalanche fell. No precaution could save the traveler who was in i=
ts path. He was instantly borne to destruction, and buried where no voice b=
ut the archangel's trump could ever reach his ear. Terrific storms of wind =
and snow often swept through those bleak altitudes, blinding and smothering=
the traveler. Hundreds of bodies, like pillars of ice, embalmed in snow, a=
re now sepulchred in those drifts, there to sleep till the fires of the las=
t conflagration shall have consumed their winding sheet. Having toiled two =
days through such scenes of desolation and peril, the adventurous traveler =
stands upon the summit of the pass, eight thousand feet above the level of =
the sea, two thousand feet higher than the crest of Mount Washington, our o=
wn mountain monarch. This summit, over which the path winds, consists of a =
small level plain, surrounded by mountains of snow of still higher elevatio=
n. The scene here presented is inexpressibly gloomy and appailing. Nature i=
n these wild regions assumes her most severe and sombre aspect. As one emer=
ges from the precipitous and craggy ascent, upon this Valley of Desolation,=
as it is emphatically called, the Convent of St. Bernard presents itself t=
o the view. This cheerless abode, the highest spot of inhabited ground in E=
urope, has been tenanted, for more than a thousand years, by a succession o=
f joyless and self-denying monks, who, in that frigid retreat of granite an=
d ice, endeavor to serve their Maker, by rescuing bewildered travelers from=
the destruction with which they are ever threatened to be overwhelmed by t=
he storms, which battle against them. In the middle of this ice-bound valle=
y, lies a lake, clear, dark, and cold, whose depths, even in mid-summer, re=
flect the eternal glaciers which soar sublimely around. The descent to the =
plains of Italy is even more precipitous and dangerous than the ascent from=
the green pastures of France. No vegetation adorns these dismal and storm-=
swept cliffs of granite and of ice. Even the pinion of the eagle fails in i=
ts rarified air, and the chamois ventures not to climb its steep and slippe=
ry crags. No human beings are ever to be seen on these bleak summits, excep=
t the few shivering travelers, who tarry for an hour to receive the hospita=
lity of the convent, and the hooded monks, wrapped in thick and coarse garm=
ents, which their staves and their dogs, groping through the storms of slee=
t and snow. Even the wood which burns with frugal faintness on the hearths,=
is borne, in painful burdens, up the mountain sides, upon the shoulders of=
the monks. Such was the barrier which Napoleon intended to surmount, that =
he might fall upon the rear of the Austrians, who were battering down the w=
alls of Genoa, where Massena was besieged, and who were thundering, flushed=
with victory, at the very gates of Nice. Over this wild mountain pass, whe=
re the mule could with difficulty tread, and where no wheel had ever rolled=
, or by any possibility could roll, Napoleon contemplated transporting an a=
rmy of sixty thousand men, with ponderous artillery and tons of cannon ball=
s, and baggage, and all the bulky munitions of war. England and Austria lau=
ghed the idea to scorn. The achievement of such an enterprise was apparentl=
y impossible. Napoleon, however was as skillful in the arrangement of the m=
inutest details, as in the conception of the grandest combinations. Though =
he resolved to take the mass of his army, forty thousand strong, across the=
pass of the Great St. Bernard, yet to distract the attention of the Austri=
ans, he arranged also to send small divisions across the passes of Saint Go=
thard, Little St. Bernard, and Mount Cenis. He would thus accumulate sudden=
ly, and to the utter amazement of the enemy, a body of sixty-five thousand =
men upon the plain of Italy. This force, descending, like an apparition fro=
m the clouds, in the rear of the Austrian army, headed by Napoleon, and cut=
ting off all communication with Austria, might indeed strike a panic into t=
he hearts of the assailants of France. The troops were collected in various=
places in the vicinity of Dijon, ready at a moment's warning to assemble a=
t the point of rendezvous, and with a rush to enter the defile. Immense mag=
azines of wheat, biscuit, and oats had been noiselessly collected in differ=
ent places. Large sums of specie had been forwarded, to hire the services o=
f every peasant, with his mule, who inhabited the valleys among the mountai=
ns. Mechanic shops, as by magic, suddenly rose along the path, well supplie=
d with skillful artisans, to repair all damages, to dismount the artillery,=
to divide the gun-carriages and the baggage-wagons into fragments, that th=
ey might be transported, on the backs of men and mules, over the steep and =
rugged way. For the ammunition a vast number of small boxes were prepared, =
which could easily be packed upon the mules. A second company of mechanics,=
with camp forges, had been provided to cross the mountain with the first d=
ivision, and rear their shops upon the plain on the other side, to mend the=
broken harness, to reconstruct the carriages, and remount the pieces. On e=
ach side of the mountain a hospital was established and supplied with every=
comfort for the sick and the wounded. The foresight of Napoleon extended e=
ven to sending, at the very last moment, to the convent upon the summit, an=
immense quantity of bread, cheese, and wine. Each soldier, to his surprise=
, was to find, as he arrived at the summit, exhausted with Herculean toil, =
a generous slice of bread and cheese with a refreshing cup of wine, present=
ed to him by the monks. All these minute details Napoleon arranged, while a=
t the same time he was doing the work of a dozen energetic men, in reorgani=
zing the whole structure of society in France. If toil pays for greatness, =
Napoleon purchased the renown which he attained. And yet his body and his m=
ind were so constituted that this sleepless activity was to him a pleasure.=
The appointed hour at last arrived. On the 7th of May, 1800, Napoleon ente=
red his carriage at the Tuileries, saying, "Good-by, my dear Josephine=
! I must go to Italy. I shall not forget you, and I will not be absent long=
" At a word, the whole majestic array was in motion. Like a meteor he=
swept over France. He arrived at the foot of the mountains. The troops and=
all the paraphernalia of war were on the spot at the designated hour. Napo=
leon immediately appointed a very careful inspection. Every foot soldier an=
d every horseman passed before his scrutinizing eye. If a shoe was ragged, =
or a jacket torn, or a musket injured, the defect was immediately repaired.=
His glowing words inspired the troops with the ardor which was burning in =
his own bosom. The genius of the First Consul was infused into the mighty h=
ost. Each man exerted himself to the utmost. The eye of their chief was eve=
ry where, and his cheering voice roused the army to almost super-human exer=
tions. Two skillful engineers had been sent to explore the path, and to do =
what could be done in the removal of obstructions. They returned with an ap=
palling recitasl of the apparently insurmountable difficulties of the way. =
"Is it possible ," inquired Napoleon, "to cross the pass?&qu=
ot; "Perhaps," was the hesitating reply, "it is within the l=
imits of possibility ." "Forward, then," was the energetic r=
esponse. Each man was required to carry, besides his arms, food for several=
days and a large quantity of cartridges. As the sinuosities of the precipi=
tous path could only be trod in single file, the heavy wheels were taken fr=
om the carriages, and each, slung upon a pole, was borne by two men. The ta=
sk for the foot soldiers was far less than for the horsemen. The latter cla=
mbered up on foot, dragging their horses after them. The descent was very d=
angerous. The dragoon, in the steep and narrow path, was compelled to walk =
before his horse. At the least stumble he was exposed to being plunged head=
long into the abysses yawning before him. In this way many horses and sever=
al riders perished. To transport the heavy cannon and howitzers pine logs w=
ere split in the centre, the parts hollowed out, and the guns sunks into gr=
ooves. A long string of mules, in single file, were attached to the pondero=
us machines of war, to drag them up the slippery ascent. The mules soon beg=
an to fail, and then the men, with hearty good-will, brought their own shou=
lders into the harness--a hundred men to a single gun. Napoleon offered the=
peasants two hundred dollars for the transporation of a twelve-pounder ove=
r the pass. The love of gain was not strong enough to lure them to such tre=
mendous exertions. But Napoleon's fascination over the hearts of his soldie=
rs was a more powerful impulse. With shouts of encouragement they toiled at=
the cables, successive bands of a hundred men relieving each other every h=
alf hour. High on those craggy steeps, gleaming through the midst, the glit=
tering bands of armed men, like phantoms appeared. The eagle wheeled and sc=
reamed beneath their feet. The mountain goat, affrighted by the unwonted sp=
ectacle, bounded away, and paused in bold relief upon the cliff to gaze upo=
n the martial array which so suddenly had peopled the solitude. When they a=
pproached any spot of very especial difficulty the trumpets sounded the cha=
rge, which re-echoed, with sublime reverberations, from pinnacle to pinnacl=
e of rock and ice. Animated by these bugle notes the soldiers strained ever=
y nerve as if rushing upon the foe. Napoleon offered to these bands the sam=
e reward which he had promised to the peasants. But to a man, they refused =
the gold. They had imbibed the spirit of their chief, his enthusiasm, and h=
is proud superiority to all mercenary motives. "We are not toiling for=
money," said they, "but for your approval, and to share your glo=
ry." Napoleon with his wonderful tact had introduced a slight change i=
nto the artillery service, which was productive of immense moral results. T=
he gun carriages had heretofore been driven by mere wagoners, who, being co=
nsidered not as soldiers, but as servants, and sharing not in the glory of =
victory, were uninfluenced by any sentiment of honor. At the first approach=
of danger, they were ready to cut their traces and gallop from the field, =
leaving their cannon in the hands of the enemy. Napoleon said, "The ca=
nnoneer who brings his piece into action, performs as valuable a service as=
the cannoneer who works it. He runs the same danger, and requires the same=
moral stimulus, which is the sense of honor." He therefore converted =
the artillery drivers into soldiers, and clothed them in the uniform of the=
ir respective regiments. They constituted twelve thousand horsemen who were=
animated with as much pride in carrying their pieces into action, and in b=
ringing them off with rapidity and safety, as the gunners felt in loading, =
directing, and discharging them. It was now the great glory of these men to=
take care of their guns. They loved, tenderly, the merciless monsters. The=
y lavished caresses and terms of endearment upon the glittering, polished, =
death-dealing brass. The heart of man is a strange enigma. Even when most d=
egraded it needs something to love. These blood-stained soldiers, brutalize=
d by vice, amidst all the honors of battle, lovingly fondled the murderous =
machines of war, responding to the appeal "call me pet names, dearest.=
" The unrelenting gun was the stern cannoneer's lady love. He kissed i=
t with unwashed, mustached lip. In rude and rough devotion he was ready to =
die rather than abandon the only object of his idolatrous homage. Consisten=
tly he baptized the life-devouring monster with blood. Affectionately he na=
med it Mary, Emma, Lizzie. In crossing he Alps, dark night came on as some =
cannoneers were floundering through drifts of snow, toiling at their gun. T=
hey would not leave the gun alone in the cold storm to seek for themselves =
a dry bivouac; but, like brothers guarding a sister, they threw themselves,=
for the night, upon the bleak and frozen snow, by its side. It was the gen=
ius of Napoleon which thus penetrated these mysterious depths of the human =
soul, and called to his aid those mighty energies. "It is nothing but =
imagination," said one once to Napoleon. "Nothing but imagination=
!" he rejoined. "Imagination rules the world." When they arr=
ived at the summit each soldier found, to his surprise and joy, the abundan=
t comforts which Napoleon's kind care had provided. One would have anticipa=
ted there a scene of terrible confusion. To feed an army of forty thousand =
hungry men is not a light undertaking. Yet every thing was so carefully arr=
anged, and the influence of Napoleon so boundless, that not a soldier left =
the ranks. Each man received his slice of bread and cheese, and quaffed his=
cup of wine, and passed on. It was a point of honor for no one to stop. Wh=
atever obstructions were in the way were to be at all hazards surmounted, t=
hat the long file, extending nearly twenty miles, might not be thrown into =
confusion. The descent was more perilous than the ascent. But fortune seeme=
d to smile. The sky was clear, the weather delightful, and in four days the=
whole army was reassembled on the plains of Italy. Napoleon had sent Bertl=
ier forward to receive the division, and to superintend all necessary repai=
rs, while he himself remained to press forward the mighty host. He was the =
last man to cross the mountains. Seated upon a mule, with a young peasant f=
or his guide, slowly and thoughtfully he ascended those silent solitudes. H=
e was dressed in the gray great coat which he always wore. Art pictured him=
bounding up the cliff, proudly mounted on a prancing charger. But truth pr=
esents him in an attitude more simple and more sublime. Even the young peas=
ant who acted as his guide was entirely unconscious of the distinguished ra=
nk of the plain traveler whose steps he was conducting. Much of the way Nap=
oleon was silent, abstracted in thoughts. And yet he found time for human s=
ympathy. He drew from his young and artless guide the secrets of his heart.=
The young peasant was sincere and virtuous. He loved a fair maid among the=
mountains. She loved him. It was his heart's great desire to have her for =
his own. He was poor and had neither house nor land to support a family. Na=
poleon struggling with all his energies against combined England and Austri=
a, and with all the cares of an army, on the march to meet one hundred and =
twenty thousand foes, crowding his mind, with pensive sympathy won the conf=
idence of his companion and elicited this artless recital of love and desir=
e. As Napoleon dismissed his guide, with an ample reward, he drew from his =
pocket a pencil and upon a loose piece of paper wrote a few lines, which he=
requested the young man to give, on his return, to the Administrator of th=
e Army, upon the other side. When the guide returned, and presented the not=
e, he found, to his unbounded surprise and delight, that he had conducted N=
apoleon over the mountains; and that Napoleon had given him a field and a h=
ouse. He was thus enabled to be married, and to realize all the dreams of h=
is modest ambition. Generous impulses must have been instinctive in a heart=
, which in an hour so fraught with mighty events, could turn from the toils=
of empire and of war, to find refreshment in sympathizing with a peasant's=
love. This young man but recently died, having passed his quiet life in th=
e enjoyment of the field and the cottage which had been given him by the ru=
ler of the world. The army now pressed forward, with great alacrity, along =
the banks of the Aosta. They were threading a beautiful valley, rich in ver=
dure and blooming beneath the sun of early spring. Cottages, vineyards, and=
orchards, in full bloom, embellished their path, while upon each side of t=
hem rose, in majestic swell, the fir-clad sides of the mountains. The Austr=
ians pressing against the frontiers of France, had no conception of the sto=
rm which had so suddenly gathered, and which was, with resistless sweep, ap=
proaching their rear. The French soldiers, elated with the Herculean achiev=
ement they had accomplished, and full of confidence in their leader, presse=
d gayly on. But the valley before them began to grow more and more narrow. =
The mountains, on either side, rose more precipitous and craggy. The Aosta,=
crowded into a narrow channel, rushed foaming over the rocks, leaving bare=
ly room for a road along the side of the mountain. Suddenly the march of th=
e whole army was arrested by a fort, built upon an inaccessible rock, which=
rose pyramidally from the bed of the stream. Bristling cannon, skillfully =
arranged on well-constructed bastions, swept the pass, and rendered further=
advance apparently impossible. Rapidly the tidings of this unexpected obst=
ruction spread from the van to the rear. Napoleon immediately hastened to t=
he front ranks. Climbing the mountain opposite the fort, by a goat path, he=
threw himself down upon the ground, when a few bushes concealed his person=
from the shot of the enemy, and with his telescope long and carefully exam=
ined the fort and the surrounding crags. He perceived one elevated spot, fa=
r above the fort, where a cannon might by possibility be drawn. From that p=
osition its shot could be plunged upon the unprotected bastions below. Upon=
the face of the opposite cliff, far beyond the reach of cannon-balls, he d=
iscerned a narrow shelf in the rock by which he thought it possible that a =
man could pass. The march was immediately commenced, in single file, along =
this giddy ridge. .......... And even the horses, insured to the terrors of=
the Great St. Bernard, were led by their riders upon the narrow path, whic=
h a horse's hoof had never trod before, and probably will never tread again=
The Austrians, in the fort, had the mortification of seeing thirty-five t=
housand soldiers, with numerous horses, defile along this airy line, as if =
adhering to the side of the rock. But neither bullet nor ball could harm th=
em. Napoleon ascended this mountain ridge, and upon its summit, quite exhau=
sted with days and nights of sleeplessness and toil, laid himself down, in =
the shadow of the rock, and fell asleep. The long line filed carefully and =
silently by, each soldier hushing his comrade, that the repose of their bel=
oved chieftain might not be disturbed. It was an interesting spectacle, to =
witness the tender affection, beaming from the countenances of these bronze=
d and war-worn veterans, as every foot trod softly, and each eye, in passin=
g, was riveted upon the slender form, and upon the pale and wasted cheek of=
the sleeping Napoleon. The artillery could by no possibility be thus trans=
ported; and an army without artillery is a soldier without weapons. The Aus=
trian commander wrote to Melas, that he had seen an army of thirty-five tho=
usand men and four thousand horse creeping by the fort, along the face of M=
ount Albaredo. He assured the commander-in-chief, however, that not one sin=
gle piece of artillery had passed or could pass beneath the guns of his for=
tress. When he was writing this letter, already had one half of the cannon =
and ammunition of the army been conveyed by the fort, and were safely and r=
apidly proceeding on their way down the valley. In the darkness of the nigh=
t trusty men, with great caution and silence, strewed hay and straw upon th=
e road. The wheels of the lumbering carriages were carefully bound with clo=
ths and wisps of straw, and, with axles well oiled, were drawn by the hands=
of these picked men, beneath the very walls of the fortress, and within ha=
lf pistol-shot of its guns. In two nights the artillery and the baggage-tra=
ins were thus passed along, and in a few days the fort itself was compelled=
to surrender. Melas, the Austrian commander, now awoke in consternation to=
a sense of his peril. Napoleon--the dreaded Napoleon--had, as by a miracle=
, crossed the Alps. He had cut off all his supplies, and was shutting the A=
ustrians up from any possibility of retreat. Bewildered by the magnitude of=
his peril, he no longer thought of forcing his march upon Paris. The invas=
ion of France was abandoned. His whole energies were directed to opening fo=
r himself a passage back to Austria. The most cruel perplexities agitated h=
im. From the very pinnacle of victory, he was in danger of descending to th=
e deepest abyss of defeat. It was also with Napoleon an hour of intense sol=
icitude. He had but sixty thousand men, two-thirds of whom were new soldier=
s, who had never seen a shot fired in earnest, with whom he was to arrest t=
he march of a desperate army of one hundred and twenty thousand veterans, a=
bundantly provided with all the most efficient machinery of war. There were=
many paths by which Melas might escape, at leagues' distance from each oth=
er. It was necessary for Napoleon to divide his little band that he might g=
uard them all. He was liable at any moment to have a division of his army a=
ttacked by an overwhelming force, and cut to pieces before it could receive=
any reinforcements. He ate not, he slept not, he rested not. Day and night=
, and night and day, he was on horseback, pale, pensive, apparently in feeb=
le health, and interesting every beholder with his grave and melancholy bea=
uty. His scouts were out in every direction. He studied all the possible mo=
vements and combinations of his foes. Rapidly he overran Lombardy, and ente=
red Milan in triumph. Melas anxiously concentrated his forces, to break thr=
ough the net with which he was entangled. He did every thing in his power t=
o deceive Napoleon, by various feints, that the point of his contemplated a=
ttack might not be known. Napoleon, in the following clarion tones, appeale=
d to the enthusiasm of his troops: "Soldiers! when we began our march,=
one department of France was in the hands of the enemy. Consternation perv=
aded the south of the Republic. You advanced. Already the French territory =
is delivered. Joy and hope in our country have succeeded to consternation a=
nd fear. The enemy, terror-struck, seeks only to regain his frontiers. You =
have taken his hospitals, his magazines, his reserve parks. The first act o=
f the campaign is finished. Millions of men address you in strains of prais=
e. But shall we allow our audacious enemies to violate with impunity the te=
rritory of the Republic? Will you permit the army to escape which has carri=
ed terror into your families? You will not. March, then, to meet him. Tear =
from his brows the laurels he has won. Teach the world that a malediction a=
ttends those who violate the territory of the Great People. The result of o=
ur efforts will be unclouded glory, and a durable peace!" The very day=
Napoleon left Paris, Desaix arrived in France from Egypt. Frank, sincere, =
upright, and punctiliously honorable, he was one of the few whom Napoleon t=
ruly loved. Desaix regarded Napoleon as infinitely his superior, and looked=
up to him with a species of adoration; he loved him with a fervor of feeli=
ng which amounted almost to a passion. Napoleon, touched, by the affection =
of a heart so noble, requited it with the most confiding friendship. Desaix=
, upon his arrival in Paris, found letters for him there from the First Con=
sul. As he read the confidential lines, he was struck with the melancholy a=
ir with which they were pervaded. "Alas!" said he, "Napoleon=
has gained every thing, and yet he is unhappy. I must hasten to meet him.&=
quot; Without delay he crossed the Alps, and arrived at the head-quarters o=
f Napoleon but a few days before the battle of Marengo. They passed the who=
le night together, talking over the events of Egypt and the prospects of Fr=
ance. Napoleon felt greatly strengthened by the arrival of his noble friend=
, and immediately assigned to him the command of a division of the army. &q=
uot;Desaix," said he, "is my sheet anchor." "You have h=
ad a long interview with Desaix," said Bourrienne to Napoleon the next=
morning. "Yes!" he replied; "but I had my reasons. As soon =
as I return to Paris I shall make him Minister of War. He shall always be m=
y lieutenant. I would make him a prince if I could. He is of the heroic mou=
ld of antiquity!" Napoleon was fully aware that a decisive battle woul=
d soon take place. Melas was rapidly, from all points, concentrating his ar=
my. The following laconic and characteristic order was issued by the First =
Consul to Lannes and Murat: "Gather your forces at the river Stradella=
On the 8th or 9th at the latest, you will have on your hands fifteen or e=
ighteen thousand Austrians. Meet them, and cut them to pieces. It will be s=
o many enemies less upon our hands on the day of the decisive battle we are=
to expect with the entire army of Melas." The prediction was true. An=
Austrian force advanced, eighteen thousand strong. Lannes met them upon th=
e field of Montebello. They were strongly posted, with batteries ranged upo=
n the hill sides, which swept the whole plain. It was of the utmost moment =
that this body should be prevented from combining with the other vast force=
s of the Austrians. Lannes had but eight thousand men. Could he sustain the=
unequal conflict for a few hours, Victor, who was some miles in the rear, =
could come up with a reserve of four thousand men. The French soldiers, ful=
ly conscious of the odds against which they were to contend, and of the car=
nage into the midst of which they were plunging, with shouts of enthusiasm =
rushed upon their foes. Instantaneously a storm of grape-shot from all the =
batteries swept through his ranks. Said Lannes, " I could hear the bon=
es crash in my division, like glass in a hail-storm ." For nine long h=
ours, from eleven in the morning till eight at night, the horrid carnage co=
ntinued. Again and again the mangled, bleeding, wasted columns were rallied=
to the charge. At last, when three thousand Frenchmen were strewn dead upo=
n the ground, the Austrians broke and fled, leaving also three thousand mut=
ilated corpses and six thousand prisoners behind them. Napoleon, hastening =
to the aid of his lieutenant, arrived upon the field just in time to see th=
e battle won. He rode up to Lannes. The intrepid soldier stood in the midst=
of mounds of the dead--his sword dripping with blood in his exhausted hand=
--his face blackened with powder and smoke--and his uniform soiled and tatt=
ered by the long and terrific strife. Napoleon silently, but proudly smiled=
upon the heroic general, and forgot not his reward. From this battle Lanne=
s received the title of Duke of Montebello, a title by which his family is =
distinguished to the present day.</p>=20
</div>=20
<hr width=3D"50%" />=20
<div style=3D"text-align: center; ">
<font size=3D"2">Change your options by visiting <a href=3D"=
http://www.moms.stream/Ridgefield/3b48P9i70J9D128FhvVdVKyxdhVtFMuKmji0hvV0ONWe4f/inker-lacerates">here</a><br /> 2220 Meridian Blvd.,Suite #763, Minden, NV 89423</fo=
nt>
</div> =20
<img src=3D"http://www.moms.stream/bellyfull-doublers/8aKJ85rqs70aY128yhvVdVKyxdhVtFMuKmji0hvV0ONWa54/Ridgefield" alt=3D""/></body>
</html>
