A New Teacher

After that experiment, life once again became full and tedious. Joseph now had basically only one thing to do each day: study the mathematics of this era. Partly, this was to avoid accidentally introducing something far ahead of its time because he didn't know enough about contemporary mathematics; partly, it was to prepare for his future teaching work.

Amid all this busyness, winter slowly passed. The winter that had just ended had been cold and dry; not a single snowflake had fallen all season. This was bad news for France, because it meant that in the coming year, French agriculture might once again face a poor harvest. Across the Channel, Britain faced the same problem. But having lost North America and India in the Seven Years' War, the French couldn't rely on colonial supplies to get by the way the British could. A poor harvest would clearly pose a greater danger to them than it would to the British.

Joseph, however, wasn't too concerned. Even if food prices soared, teachers at the Paris Military Academy wouldn't go hungry. His family still had some land in Corsica, where droughts were practically unheard of on the Mediterranean, so it should still produce something. If they could ship it over, they might even make a small profit. But whether they traveled overland or by sea, the journey from Corsica to Paris came with a mountain of taxes. If they honestly paid them all, they'd be lucky just to break even.

Unless I find a way to smuggle grain aboard a warship later, this money won't be easy to make. But for now, there's still time to stock up on a few things. Hmm, I remember that Old Grandet in Balzac's writing made his fortune by hoarding goods and selling them when prices rose. That was what Joseph thought.

But that was only wishful thinking, since Joseph had very little money. Some of it had to be sent home, and what remained was just enough to get by. Even if he wanted to speculate, he couldn't afford to.

Besides, speculation is risky. Even if you know the general course of history, there's still risk in the specifics of carrying it out. And I'm not quite willing to take that kind of risk. So for now, I really can't do anything. I can only wait for my steady salary.

That was the sorrow of the poor. For the rich, a failed gamble—even one that cost them a fortune—was merely a lesson learned. But for the poor, one bad investment could leave the whole family with only one way out... According to Christian doctrine, suicide was out of the question; one couldn't kill oneself, not in this life. So they either had to find a way to sneak off to the Americas or India, or get caught by creditors and be forced into all sorts of ancient, illegal trades to pay off their debts.

All in all, the risks the poor faced in economic activity were always greater than those faced by the rich, because they had no capital—only their lives. And Joseph, for his part, was a man who was very much afraid of dying.

There are still a few years before the Revolution. I've got time to build up my savings, Joseph thought.

With winter behind him, Joseph had only one semester of secondary school left. In fact, there were hardly any classes left to attend that final semester. Those planning to continue their studies went on to the preparatory program at Lycée Louis-le-Grand. Those who weren't planning to continue their education were already roaming all over Paris, looking for work. Only those like Joseph, who didn't plan to go to university and didn't need to find a job, still came to school every day to bury themselves in books in the library.

But he wouldn't be there much longer. The graduation exams had actually taken place during the winter, so before long, Joseph received his diploma from Lycée Louis-le-Grand. Then he could report to the Paris Military Academy.

"Mr. Bonaparte, I'd already heard from Mr. Monge and Mr. Laplace that you were young, but I never expected you to be this young. Still, since you have the joint recommendation of Mr. Monge and Mr. Laplace, your abilities must be beyond question—especially in Mr. Monge's view. He believes you'll accomplish far more than he ever did. You may not know this, but we're in particular need of teachers who can teach descriptive geometry." That was what Count Dupont, the headmaster, told Joseph when he reported for duty.

"Thank you for your confidence," Joseph said with a nod.

"Young man, strictly speaking, I don't have confidence in you. I simply have a great deal of confidence in Mr. Monge. He can be stubborn, but he's an exceptionally reliable man. At first, I wanted to bring him over from the Royal Military Engineering Academy. But he's stubborn... and he doesn't much care for some of the students at the Paris Military Academy. Hmm, perhaps I should warn you as well: our school is quite different from the Royal Military Engineering Academy. Many of our students come from the highest aristocratic families, and quite a few of them are here only because it's a family tradition... Mr. Bonaparte, do you understand what I mean?"

Joseph understood Count Dupont perfectly. His brother Napoleon had mentioned more than once that the Paris Military Academy had the best teachers but the worst classmates. The aristocratic students came here solely to polish their credentials, then join the army as officers and quickly rise through the ranks on the strength of their family connections—either becoming generals or leaving the military to become some other kind of official. The military knowledge taught at school mattered very little to their life goals. To put it in the language of logic, mastering the material was neither a necessary nor a sufficient condition. Given that, one could easily imagine their actual ability. Yet these students all had powerful backgrounds, and one couldn't exactly refuse to give them good grades. Mathematics was a difficult subject, and if you didn't know it, you simply didn't know it; you couldn't even bluff your way through with a few words. Giving high marks to a bunch of people who knew nothing was, to say the least... Joseph guessed this was one major reason Monge had refused to leave the Military Engineering Academy for the Paris Military Academy.

"I understand," Joseph said.

"Good." Count Dupont nodded, then went on. "Still, Mr. Bonaparte, you can't let the aristocratic students get away with too much. You should do your best to make sure they learn at least a little. Otherwise... it won't do the school's reputation any good."

Joseph understood what Count Dupont meant: no matter what, he had to get the aristocratic students to learn as much as he reasonably could. He couldn't let them all turn into complete fools who knew nothing. That would do great damage to the school's reputation.

"I'll place greater emphasis on teaching the concepts," Joseph replied.

By "placing greater emphasis on the concepts," he meant cutting down as much as possible on the parts of mathematics that required quantitative analysis and teaching the students to understand only the basic ideas. After all, these fellows weren't likely to go to battle for real. For them, it was enough to be able to spout a few half-baked opinions in a salon. And even if they did go to battle, the quantitative analysis would be handled by staff officers who weren't born aristocrats.

Besides, the Revolution isn't far off. Most of these great nobles won't escape the fate of swinging from a lamppost, and the final imperial wars won't need them anyway. All I need to do for now is collect my salary in peace. Better still if I can make a little extra money off these fellows who are destined to flutter in the wind from lampposts. Joseph thought to himself.

"Excellent." Count Dupont was pleased to see that Joseph understood the situation. "We've prepared a dormitory room and an office for you. You can also draw one month's salary in advance, and you'll receive two uniforms each year... You can see Marcel in the supplies office about all of that. He'll take care of the arrangements."

"Thank you for your consideration," Joseph replied.

After leaving the headmaster's office, Joseph went to see Mr. Marcel, who was in charge of supplies, and spent the afternoon getting settled. Then he spent the evening preparing his lessons, ready to teach the students in a few days.

Napoleon sat in the front row—he was short, and couldn't see from the back. There was a new subject on the timetable this semester: "Military Geometry." Napoleon knew the subject included some knowledge that had to be kept secret. Everyone taking the class first had to swear to keep it confidential, and the school had informed them that anyone who leaked what they learned would be tried by a military court for treason.

Many of the aristocratic students didn't take this seriously, but the restriction had especially piqued Napoleon's interest. He had always been keenly interested in geometry and had done quite well in it. On top of that, geometry was extremely important to artillerymen, so he took the subject very seriously. He arrived in the classroom early. A long while passed, and it was nearly time for class before his classmates finally drifted in at their leisure and found seats. The classroom quickly grew lively, as noisy as a marketplace.

The bell rang, and everyone quieted down. After all, this was a new class, and they didn't yet know what kind of teacher would be teaching it, so they didn't dare act too rowdy just yet.

As soon as the bell stopped ringing, a young man in a brand-new uniform strode up to the podium. He set his lecture notes down, looked around at the students, and began, "I'm your Military Geometry teacher, Joseph..."