I, NAPOLEON (eBook)

Creator of New Reality

Mary Zupan (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2023 | 1. Auflage
312 Seiten
10-10-10 Publishing (Verlag)
978-1-77277-586-0 (ISBN)

Step into a tumultuous time of revolution, conquest, and the indomitable spirit of one of history's most enigmatic figures in 'I, Napoleon: Creator of New Reality.' This historical masterpiece delves into the turbulent era of the French Revolution and the extraordinary life of Napoleon Bonaparte. In the midst of the storming of the Bastille and the chaos of revolutionary France, a singular visionary emerges-one whose ambitions would forever redefine the course of history. From the sun-drenched landscapes of Corsica to the opulent palaces of imperial France, witness the incredible odyssey of a man who dared to believe that he could reshape the world. Follow his meteoric rise from a young Corsican artillery officer to the indomitable leader whose name would echo through the annals of history. Through the eyes of Napoleon himself, you'll embark on a thrilling journey into the heart and mind of the man who defied the odds and rose to become an icon of ambition and legacy. This masterfully crafted novel brings history to life with its evocative prose and meticulous attention to detail. Whether you're a history aficionado or a lover of riveting storytelling, this book will unveil to you the secrets of Napoleon's strategic brilliance, his magnetic charisma, and the forces that drove him to pursue his audacious dreams. Yet, 'I, Napoleon: Creator of New Reality' isn't just a recounting of history; it's a rallying call for those seeking inspiration and empowerment. Napoleon's life is a testament to the boundless potential that lies within each of us when we dare to dream boldly and pursue our goals relentlessly. This book will set your ambitions ablaze, offering guidance on how to overcome life's challenges and carve your unique path toward a new reality.

Chapter 1

France, 1787

He bent down and picked up a handful of dirt, kneading it gently between his fingers. He brought it close to his face, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath to inhale the sun-scorched earth. The smell of soil, filled with lavender and immortelle essences, penetrated the blood and every cell of his small, eighteen-year-old body. A sense of peace came over him, but the very next moment, his fist was clenched and he frowned.

“You are Napoleon Bonaparte in your world again,” he heard a powerful voice say.

Napoleon opened his eyes. The sun was high up on the horizon, and the pleasant coolness of the August morning was resisting the first rays of warmth. Napoleon tore off a sunburnt brown leaf from the vine. He looked around the plantation, starting on a hill and slowly descending towards the sea. The diligent members of his family had been cultivating the plantation for the past two centuries. The Buonapartes were an old noble family who had immigrated to Corsica from Italy. They lived a humble life, made a living by selling crops from their mulberry, olive, and chestnut plantations, and had pastures where the sheep and the goats grazed.

“This view of the vineyards and the mountains, where our ancestors used to live freely, torments my heart,” Napoleon said as he turned to his brother Joseph. Joseph was inspecting the black grapes and removing the mouldy ones, not thinking much of his brother’s words as he had heard them many times before.

“It looks like another bad harvest this year,” he said.

Namely, the weather had not been favourable for many years and the harvests were poor. Not just on the island but in France as well, as drought had taken away most of the crop.

“When are you leaving? Will you stay for the harvest?” Joseph asked his brother.

“Yes. I am not going back to the mainland for three months,” Napoleon said reluctantly.

“You always miss our land, don’t you?”

Napoleon nodded. “Paris has its flair, but my brother, my happiness remains on this land.” Napoleon bent down again and picked up another handful of soil.

“Look!” He brought his palm closer to his and his brother’s face.

“Happiness equals love for the fertile soil. For one’s own people. For friends. For family,” he continued with fire in his eyes. “However, this happiness is constantly accompanied by a sense of humility as we are not rulers of our own land. I despise the French who rule over us!” As soon as he uttered the word French, he threw the soil onto the ground with all his strength.

“Corsicans should be free!” he continued vigorously. “Freedom is of the essence to who you are as a person. Every human is born free, a master of himself and not to be subdued by anyone. To renounce your freedom is to give up being human!”

“Your books have gone to your head; your words bear the essence of Rousseau,” Joseph teased his brother, but he immediately stopped when he noticed Napoleon’s serious gaze. He knew Napoleon had a temper. When they were children, he often experienced his angry fists, even though Joseph was the older one. It was not a good idea to make fun of Napoleon. If provoked, he would take down a whole group of boys fearlessly.

“Rousseau is a man I would fight for until my last breath,” Napoleon said firmly.

Jean Jacques Rousseau was a philosopher whose ideas were discussed a great deal in bourgeois salons all over the country. He questioned the absolute authority of the kings and the division of society into estates. Napoleon started reading his essays at the age of nine.

“The principles laid in his works are the cornerstone for the freedom of our island. For the freedom of every nation! In his opinion, it was unnatural for a man to have power over another. The basis of any legitimate authority could only come from an agreement. And such a voluntary agreement had never been made between the Corsicans and the French twenty years ago. If someone subdues another by force, that someone is not the leader but a master. And the people are not his people but his slaves. Do you know what else Rousseau writes?”

Joseph shook his head.

“He wrote that it is us, the Corsicans, who have all the means to create a state based on the power of the people,” Napoleon explained. “A state where the people would make the laws and follow them. The opposite of what is happening now, when the king makes the laws that suit him and a handful of those he rules over. All the privileges are written in favour of the nobility and the clergy, and all the responsibilities fall on the people. The third estate should have the same rights and opportunities as the first two estates. All citizens should have the same rights and obligations stipulated by laws that they themselves adopted, meaning that the state would only know of the nation as a whole and would not differentiate between citizens. Estate division is unfair and ought to be abolished!”

Napoleon let out an exasperated sigh. Whenever they spoke of Corsican dependence of France, he became agitated.

“Let’s go,” he said.

The brothers descended on the gently sloping path overgrown with sun-scorched grass, next to the vineyard. At the end of the vineyard, it turned left and began to further descend the hill, where the olive trees grew.

“Look at these olive trees!” Napoleon said to his brother.

Napoleon pointed to three large olive trees whose roots clung to the rocky earth, and whose trunks were covered in scars, indicating the high age of this source of liquid gold.

“These olive trees have witnessed the entire history of this island. We Corsicans have always fought for our independence. Against the Carthaginians, Romans, Goths. Twenty years ago, we managed to ward off the Genoese, only to see Corsican freedom perish again under the new, French rule. Under the pretext that their power will ensure our survival and peace. But are we not slaves once again? Peace under the weight of high taxes is worse than war.”

Napoleon was well-acquainted with the history of Corsica, as well as his own family history. Twenty years ago, his family took part in the Corsican rebellion against the French, led by a local by the name of Pasquele Paoli. The rebellion was quelled. Napoleon was born soon after, on the day of the Assumption of Mary, in 1769.

“I was born when my motherland was dying,” he added. There are only two options in my mind: to live in freedom or to die. There is nothing in between. Death is nothing! Whereas to live like a loser means to die every day. I vow to cause havoc to the French as much as it is in my power.”

“But my brother, you are now a French soldier—artillery lieutenant Napoleon Bonaparte,” his brother stated, trying to calm him down.

Napoleon regained his composure. He looked up at the steep mountains he loved so much and sighed with relief: “I can finally breathe easier. The uniform freed me from the school walls that confined me. But my achievement is chipped away by my anger, that I will forever remain an artillery lieutenant, no matter what I do. Have I any chances of promotion? All the high military ranks are reserved for the boys from prominent noble families. Those who made fun of me the most at school. Boys who had no ambition whatsoever, much less possessed any virtues of a true soldier. Already, as cadets, they had servants, indulged themselves in large meals, and they had horses and horsemen. If they act like this when they become generals, it will have a negative effect on the army’s morale. As generals, they should perform the same tasks as their soldiers. Scrub the clothes, polish the shoes, and eat the same bread. Moderation and perseverance would make them strong and help them endure the harshness of the seasons, the hardships of war, and instil respect and obedience in the soldiers under their command.”

Joseph was not a soldier himself, but his brother’s thinking made sense. The young men further descended along the bank and arrived at the courtyard of a small stone house. The house was a temporary residence for the Buonaparte family during work in the vineyard. A beautiful stone well stood to the left of the house, with a wild rose growing behind it. An outbuilding was to the right, leaning on one side against the coolness of the slope. Two horses were tethered beside it.

“It is time to go. Bourrienne will be here any minute,” Napoleon said.

The brothers mounted the horses and galloped to town. The hooves raised dust behind them, bellowing over the thorny bushes encroaching the road. They skilfully avoided the goats that crossed their path here and there.

The sun was already high in the sky, baking the surrounding Corsican hills, when the young men arrived in relief to the cool streets of Ajaccio. A gentle sea breeze pleasantly cooled their sweaty faces. They turned to the harbour at the very moment when the ship with Bourrienne on board was moored to the pier.

“There he is.” Napoleon pointed to the handsomely dressed young man. He wore a deep brown frock coat to his knees, where his breeches met white hosiery. His black shoes were adorned by gilded cuffs. He was sweating...

Erscheint lt. Verlag	2.11.2023
Sprache	englisch
Themenwelt	Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
ISBN-10	1-77277-586-X / 177277586X
ISBN-13	978-1-77277-586-0 / 9781772775860

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