Descending On France 1780
Chapter 51 - 51 047 Audience and Storyteller

51: 047 Audience and Storyteller 51: 047 Audience and Storyteller Anning was shocked by Napoleon’s apology when Napoleon said, “But I still have to write a letter to my father.”

Anning: “Why?”

“I just want to try,” Napoleon answered, “Even though there are enjoyable things in Briena, such as reading Plutarch’s works and talking to you, the rest is just depressing.”

Anning was dumbfounded, to think themselves on par with Plutarch, the ancient Roman era Greek writer.

Plutarch wrote “Heroes of Ancient Greece and Rome,” and according to various versions of Napoleon’s biographies, Napoleon was very obsessed with this book as a youth.

Anning, flattered at the success of being ranked alongside the ancient Greek writer, said in astonishment: “Well, you can try.”

So, that night, Napoleon sent a long letter to his father.

A few weeks later, a reply from Napoleon’s father, Carlo Buonaparte, arrived.

The morning after receiving the reply, Anning ran into Napoleon on the way to school.

The little fellow looked somewhat sad, like an eggplant beaten by frost.

Napoleon: “Father asked me to stay in Briena because we lack money—exactly as we predicted.”

Anning smiled: “Congratulations, you can spend more time with your favorite Plutarch.”

Napoleon shook his head: “I’ve read ‘Heroes of Ancient Greece and Rome’ several times already, and can even recite some passages by heart.”

“Then you can try reading ‘Spartacus’…

uh…”

Anning suddenly realized, the novelized version of “Spartacus” by an Italian wasn’t written until the 19th century and didn’t exist yet.

Napoleon frowned: “Spartacus?

The slave who rebelled?

What’s so interesting about a slave?”

Anning replied, “He’s like us, part of the oppressed class.

I’m a commoner, constantly mocked by noble masters, and although you’re registered as a noble in the enrollment bureau, you’re also despised and bullied for being poor.

Therefore, we should empathize with Spartacus’ plight.”

Napoleon was taken aback: “Alright, where can I read more about this slave’s story?”

Anning fell silent, at this moment Spartacus was still an ordinary historical figure, the famous work by Giovanni that shaped him into a revolutionary of the ancient Roman era hadn’t been born yet.

Anning: “You can listen to me; I also heard it from my grandfather when I was a child.”

Anning had not only read the widely praised novel by Giovanni but had also seen the famed work by director Kubrick, and later watched the American TV series version.

Though the TV series degraded a bit compared to Kubrick’s work.

But it didn’t matter, now Anning could vividly narrate Spartacus’ life to Napoleon.

Napoleon frowned: “Interesting, your grandfather was also a leatherworker, wasn’t he?

How did he know about the slave rebellion during the Roman era?”

Anning: “Many stories are passed down orally among the people.”

Napoleon shrugged and didn’t pursue further.

From that day on, in addition to discussing Rousseau, Montesquieu, and Voltaire with Napoleon, Anning also started narrating the uprising of Spartacus.

Only then did Anning discover that they had a bit of a storyteller’s talent; if it were this era, they could go to the tavern with a lute and be a minstrel, and if in modern times they could drive a cab.

Time passed uneventfully, and Anning entered their third year at the Briena military academy.

This year, the instructors began teaching the cadets how to construct fortifications and handle explosives.

There was a specific branch of the military called grenadiers who were generally chosen from the more physically imposing and stronger soldiers, as they had to throw bombs, heavy like petite cannonballs, onto the enemy’s heads.

Because of this, grenadiers were formidable in close combat, often tasked with ceremonial duties as well.

Briena Military Academy didn’t know which graduate would be assigned to lead a grenadier unit, so everyone was taught how to handle explosives and grenades.

During the grenade-throwing class, Napoleon was mocked again by the nobles for his short stature, which made it impossible for him to be selected into a grenadier unit.

The stubborn Napoleon nonetheless managed to throw an unlit bomb as far as the “French rubbish,” causing him to pull a muscle in his arm.

In the following days, whenever Napoleon used his habitual hand, he would grimace in pain, and eventually, like any normal person, he had to try using his right hand to hold the pen.

Anning teased, “You look quite normal this way.”

If it were anyone else teasing him, Napoleon would have roared at them already, but it was no issue with Anning saying so, and the young Corsican just smiled.

In the third year, another change occurred; the Brienne military academy divided its large garden into sections and assigned them to the cadets to maintain.

Anning had asked the supervising officer what this was meant to cultivate in the students.

The supervising officer replied that the school wanted to save money on hiring gardeners, so the students were tasked with the upkeep.

The officer would grade everyone’s garden weekly, and those who didn’t maintain it diligently would be confined to their quarters.

Anning wasn’t too keen on gardening work and thought to dump the task onto Vanni, but on Vanni’s first day taking care of the garden at school, the principal happened to spot her.

So Anning got a good talking-to.

Later on, Napoleon said that if Anning didn’t want to do the gardening work, he could take over, especially since Anning’s section was right next to his.

From then on, one could occasionally see Napoleon taking care of the garden and reading there after he was done with the work.

Anyone who tried to approach this small patch of paradise would be chased away by Napoleon, wielding a hoe.

Another year went by, and Napoleon, now fourteen, had caught up in height with everyone else—though he was still slightly short, the others gradually stopped using the derogatory term “shorty.”

One holiday noon, Napoleon suddenly found Anning: “Hey, Andy, are you free at noon?”

Anning: “What, you want to hear stories again?”

Recently, Anning had started telling Napoleon stories from “Heroic Tales of Sui and Tang” and “Seven Heroes and Five Righteous,” tales from the East that utterly fascinated the Corsican youth.

“No, it’s about my brother Joseph; he wrote to tell me that he doesn’t plan to become a Priest after graduating from the Divinity School but instead wants to join the military.”

Anning responded with an “Oh,” recalling this from “Napoleon’s Life”; Napoleon had written a letter sharply criticizing Joseph.

Thus, Anning had a clue: “What do you think?

What kind of person is your brother Joseph?”

Napoleon pursed his lips: “He’s a lightweight fellow, he could become a fine garrison officer—I mean, the showy type, good-looking but not much use.

He’s handsome, humorous, and can navigate social gatherings with ease, making frivolous jokes, but he would definitely not hold up on the battlefield.”

Anning nodded: “The battlefield is no place for lightweights.”

“Also, he would earn a hefty salary as a Priest, and we need that salary.

You know, Andy, my family is poor, relying solely on the little salary my father makes managing the King’s nursery for our family of five.

“My brother Lucian and Louis are due to start school, and my sister Pauline also needs an education and a dowry for marriage.

The King only let Joseph and me attend school for free; my siblings’ education costs money.”

Anning: “Your sister Pauline could come to Brienna military school…

just like the daughters of those impoverished noble families.”

Napoleon looked at Anning with dissatisfaction: “What are you talking about, I want my sister to live like a normal girl.”

Anning: “But your family can’t afford Pauline’s dowry.”

Napoleon fell silent, took a breath, and glared at Anning: “Sometimes, Andy, you can be quite annoying.”

“I’m just stating the facts,” Anning shrugged; with his current relationship with Napoleon, being occasionally annoying was not a problem.

Napoleon shook his head: “Back to Joseph, he should become a Priest for the sake of our siblings; now he’s telling me that he wants to be an officer.

An officer’s salary is nowhere near as generous as a Priest’s!”

Anning: “After all, a Priest is First Class.”

“Exactly!

I can’t even imagine Joseph as an officer, which branch of the military could he join?

Artillery?

But the Artillery requires proficiency in mathematics, and my brother is a dunce who doesn’t understand math.

As for the navy, could my flower-loving brother endure the monotony of a sailor’s life?

No, he could not!”

Anning laughed: “See, you’ve already made up your own mind, you don’t need my advice at all.”

Napoleon fell silent for a few seconds, then took a deep breath: “Yes, I’ve made my decision.

I think I just needed someone to listen, and you’re a good listener, Andy.”

Anning: “Of course.

If you ever have any troubles, you can always come to me to vent.”

After saying this, Anning could already imagine a future scene where Napoleon, having become the Emperor of France, would come to him fuming, slamming the table and complaining, “Why are the affairs in Spain always such a mess?”

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