"At least so far, I haven't found any mathematical problems. His little tools are also quite impressive," Laplace said. "But there are still many phenomena that are difficult to explain by treating light as a wave. For instance, what properties would the ether need in order to transmit waves as fast as light? And if he explains light as a transverse wave, why are there no longitudinal waves in the ether?"
"Ah, my friend, you have far too many questions, and not one of them is a problem that can be solved in a short time. In fact, I don't think we'll see the answers in our lifetimes," Lavoisier said. "This is indeed a major problem for the wave theory. The ether is simply too unique; it's almost as incomprehensible as God. It can transmit light at an inconceivably high speed—I mean, if light is a wave—which means it must be extremely rigid, many times harder than diamond. It fills the entire universe and is so rigid, yet it doesn't obstruct anything in the universe. It doesn't hinder the movement of even the tiniest speck of dust—in fact, we can't find any resistance from the 'ether' at all. It's enough to give you a headache... Ah, my friend, I suggest we put aside that damned 'ether' for now. Our knowledge and methods are still far too limited to tackle it. Trying to study it now would be like a kitten that's only just been weaned trying to figure out how to catch a whale."
"Mr. Lavoisier, whales aren't fish," Laplace said with a smile.
"I know that, of course," Lavoisier said, smiling too. "But... but the kitten doesn't."
"Yes, the kitten doesn't know," Laplace said. "Aren't we kittens ourselves, really? We don't know either."
"That's why I've always believed that experiments come first. Every theory must ultimately be tested by experiment. At least his calculations hold up well when tested with that 'Bonaparte Spot.' As for the 'ether,' the 'Bonaparte Spot,' 'Double-slit Interference,' and 'Newton's Rings,' whether they might also have explanations from the particle perspective—that's for others to figure out," Lavoisier said. "But even if he's ultimately wrong on this question, the error itself has value."
"I agree," Laplace said. He lowered his head to look at the paper, then continued, "I'll come up with a new explanation. But for now, please let me finish checking the calculations in this paper. Then we can take it together to Monge, Coulomb, and Mr. Condorcet to have a look..."
But things took a turn when they brought it to Monge and Coulomb.
"To be frank, those little mathematical tools in this paper are fascinating, and there are even more interesting things later on. If only the paper had stuck to discussing mathematics. Then it really would be a worthy..." Monge said with a frown. "But he's using them to prove such an absurd idea. It's just..."
"It would be better if he were willing to revise the paper," Coulomb said.
"We should invite him here and ask him to revise it. Then we can give him the prize," Laplace said, glancing at Lavoisier before adding, "After all, those few little tools alone are worth six hundred francs."
"This isn't about the six hundred francs," Monge said. "It's about how he could possibly hold such a bizarre view—that light is a wave! The ether that carries it should have smashed us to pieces long ago! If something this absurd wins a prize, we'll become a laughingstock. Unless he thoroughly revises the paper and removes all the unnecessary material, I oppose awarding him the prize."
"I don't think it would be rigorous to award the prize right now. After all, this isn't really conclusive evidence. I mean, those two experiments could surely have other, better explanations. I think we should be more cautious about this..." Coulomb said.
"Oh, come on, Coulomb! Do you have a better explanation? Or have you found a flaw in his argument?" Condorcet said, glaring at him. "The wave theory certainly has many unresolved problems, such as the question of the ether you brought up. But does the particle theory have no problems? For that matter, how does the particle theory explain Double-slit Interference and the 'Bonaparte Spot'? One of the purposes of science is to discover the unknown and raise questions. Asking questions—especially valuable ones—can sometimes be more important than reaching conclusions! Since the birth of science, how many times have we seen old ideas and beliefs overturned? But can we say that those ideas and beliefs, now disproven, had no value? Even if the views in this paper are ultimately proven to be complete nonsense, even if tomorrow morning you, Coulomb, come up with a new explanation that utterly overturns his ideas, can't the error itself still inspire thought and reveal the truth? So even an error has value. And besides, it may not be an error at all! Is Sir Newton beyond question? Is that the spirit of science? If a paper like this can't win the prize, that would be the Academy of Sciences' disgrace!"
When it came to eloquence, there were few people at the Academy of Sciences who could match Condorcet, and Coulomb was no exception. Knowing he couldn't win an argument with Condorcet, Coulomb simply shut his mouth and said nothing.
Seeing Coulomb fall silent, Condorcet turned to Monge. "Monge, what do you think?"
Monge had less influence at the Academy of Sciences than Condorcet, and his command of language was nowhere near as strong. But he was a very stubborn man. Hearing Condorcet's question, he replied, "I can't agree to award him the prize until I've spoken with him face-to-face."
Then he shut his mouth and said nothing. Condorcet knew Monge's character and understood that this was the greatest concession he could make, so he said no more. Instead, he turned to Laplace again. "What about you, Laplace? What do you think?"
Laplace looked at Condorcet, then at Monge and Coulomb. "I think... those few mathematical tools alone are enough to earn the paper the prize... But I also think it has some flaws in rigor. I agree that we should invite him here for a discussion."
Condorcet looked at Laplace and couldn't help shaking his head. There was no doubting Laplace's talent, but his nature was somewhat weak and changeable.
"Then that's settled. We'll invite this Mr. Bonaparte here. We'll talk with him, and then award him the prize," Condorcet said. He paused briefly, then added, "Does anyone still think that someone capable of writing a paper like this isn't qualified to receive such a prize?"
No one said anything. Condorcet looked around, then said, "Excellent. Then that's settled."
Although the Academy of Sciences was in Paris, the postal service in this era was quite inefficient. Joseph didn't receive the invitation until three days later. In fact, he'd already heard about it from Armand two days earlier.
Now that he had received the invitation, Joseph made a few preparations, put on a formal suit he wore perhaps once a year, and took a public carriage toward the Louvre. (His main reason was to keep too much dust from getting on his leather shoes.)
The Louvre stood on the north bank of the Seine River. It had been built in the twelfth century and was one of France's oldest royal palaces. When Louis XIII was king, Richelieu founded the Royal Academy of Sciences and established it in the Louvre. During the later years of Louis XIV's reign, riots frequently broke out in Paris. Louis XIV expanded the Palace of Versailles outside the city and moved there. From then on, the kings of France no longer lived in the Louvre, but the Academy of Sciences remained there.
When he reached the Louvre's entrance, Joseph got out of the carriage, straightened his clothes, and walked toward the palace gates. This wasn't his first visit to the Louvre. In his previous life, Joseph had visited as a tourist. Back then, the Louvre had been one of the world's four great museums, filled with precious artifacts. But at this time, it was merely a palace. Of the famous three treasures of the Louvre in later generations, only the Mona Lisa was housed there now.
Joseph approached the palace entrance. In later generations, the Louvre's entrance would be the postmodern glass pyramid. But such a thing didn't exist yet. The Louvre's entrance was still an ordinary, proper doorway.
At the door, Joseph showed the invitation to the gatekeeper. The man put on his reading glasses and looked down at the letter. Without raising his head, he peered at Joseph through the gap above the frames, then said, "Mr. Bonaparte, please wait here a moment. I need to verify the details."
Joseph nodded and waited outside for a little while. Soon, a servant in a red coat and wig came over, opened the door, and said to him, "Are you Mr. Bonaparte? Please come with me."
Joseph followed the servant into the Louvre. The servant led him through one hall after another, then finally stopped in front of a small reception room.
"Mr. Bonaparte," the servant said, turning to bow to Joseph, "Mr. Condorcet, Mr. Lavoisier, and the others are waiting for you inside."
With that, he opened the door, which was covered in calfskin, and gestured for Joseph to enter on his own.
Joseph went inside and saw three men already seated in the room. When they saw him enter, they stood up. One of them, a rather thin, middle-aged man with a high forehead, said, "You must be Mr. Joseph Bonaparte. I'm Lavoisier. This is my friend Mr. Condorcet, a member of the Academy, and this is my friend Laplace."
Joseph exchanged greetings with each of them. Condorcet was a little sturdier than Lavoisier, with a broader face. He smiled warmly at Joseph and seemed to have a gentle nature. The other man, somewhat younger and with a slight hook to his nose, was the mathematician Laplace, who had once terrified Joseph in his previous life.
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