Joseph submitted the "Four Color Theorem" to the Academy of Sciences, and sure enough, he stumped all those fellows, Laplace included. They studied it for a while, but none of them could come up with an answer. For the time being, they couldn't even think of a viable approach. Since everyone, Laplace included, had their own research to pursue, they couldn't spend all their time on a problem like this. In the end, just as Joseph had suggested, the Academy of Sciences publicly announced the problem and called on the world to submit solutions.
Joseph had originally tossed out the problem because he wanted to trap Marat. Based on his experience in his previous life, amateur cranks were generally more common in physics and chemistry, while there were very few in mathematics. But he hadn't realized that there were fewer amateur mathematicians in later generations because the problems themselves were already beyond their ability to understand. Their scarcity wasn't due to any reverence for mathematics; they couldn't even make sense of the problems!
But the "Four Color Theorem" happened to be a problem anyone could understand—including amateurs like Marat. So as soon as the reward notice went up, the Academy of Sciences received a paper from Marat, supposedly offering a perfect solution. Laplace only had to glance at it to spot seven or eight errors. After that, the paper naturally went where it belonged.
Marat, however, refused to give up. He sent the "paper" to Joseph as well, writing that he was sure Joseph would recognize its value. Only then did Joseph realize that his clever scheme had backfired: he'd dug a pit and buried himself in it.
Like all "amateur papers," Marat's "paper" was riddled with every kind of problem, from errors in the derivation to errors in the concepts. It had the whole lot. Joseph only had to glance at it to find seven or eight mistakes, too.
"If Napoleon had written this, or any of my other students, I'd have beaten his backside black and blue!" Joseph grumbled through clenched teeth, fretting over how to reply to Marat.
It's no easy task to find anything "valuable" in this "paper." If I absolutely had to say there's something "valuable" in it, it would have to be the author's fearless courage. After all, ignorance is bliss. Joseph couldn't help thinking.
But I can't just keep praising his "courage" in my reply, can I? Marat may be an amateur, but he isn't stupid. If I praise him like that, he'll think I'm mocking him.
So Joseph had no choice but to pore over Marat's error-ridden "paper" again and again. At last, he managed to find something worth praising. "Hmm, this derivation isn't rigorous, but some of the ideas are interesting. Ah, I'll just lay it on thick about this part."
Then Joseph began writing his reply to Marat. He spent two whole pages praising that brief bit of analysis. Even he got goosebumps from how cloying his praise sounded.
I'm practically groveling like the King of Lotus Root Diggers, aren't I? Never thought I'd stoop this low just to put food on the table. Ah well, earning money is business. Nothing shameful about it. Joseph mocked himself as he continued writing.
Now it's time to turn the corner and get to the "but." With that in mind, he wrote: "But this paper does still have a few minor problems. For instance, regarding... Mr. Laplace believes that the argument here contains a logical flaw and overlooks... You may not know this, but mathematicians can be rather obsessive. Mr. Laplace is particularly fixated on issues of this kind, and therefore believes that this paper has not successfully proved the conjecture..."
After writing a few lines for the "but," he smoothly redirected the blame to Laplace. Then Joseph finished his reply, carefully blotted the excess ink from the page, sealed the letter, and sent it off. What Marat might think of Laplace after receiving it was no concern of his. Considering how much trouble Laplace's methods had caused him in his previous life, Joseph felt his conscience grow considerably lighter.
The ploy did work. Before long, Marat sent another letter, thanking him for his approval and expressing anger at the "hidebound fellows" in the Academy of Sciences. He even hinted that when he eventually rose to power, he'd drive those men out of the Academy and put bold, forward-thinking young men like Joseph in charge. He was sure that would make French science shine brilliantly.
"Is this his way of saying, 'If one day I become the Green Emperor, I'll make all the peach blossoms bloom together'?" Joseph couldn't help laughing.
Marat would indeed have his day, but that was still in the future. And as things stood, even if he did rise to power, he wouldn't bear much ill will toward Joseph. So for now, the matter of Marat the amateur could be put to rest. Joseph could turn his attention back to his younger brothers.
Napoleon no longer needed much looking after. He had gone back to Corsica and wouldn't be returning anytime soon. Louis was still young, so Joseph had found him a decent primary school and arranged for him to study there. As for Lucien, Joseph had enrolled him in his own alma mater, Louis-le-Grand School.
Lucien naturally wasn't as conspicuous at Louis-le-Grand School as Joseph had been, but he was doing well in his studies and showed a knack for public speaking and acting. Joseph had since stepped down as the playwright for the Dragon and Rose Troupe, but he had stayed in touch with it. Thanks to those connections, he had Lucien drop by now and then to play a few small parts. According to the troupe's director, Thenardier, "He's a natural-born actor." Joseph hadn't actually gone to see Lucien perform, though, so he had no idea how much Thenardier might have been exaggerating.
In addition, Joseph had hired an Austrian musician named Frazer to teach Lucien piano. According to the musician, Lucien had started learning a little late, but he had a gift for it. If he was willing to work hard, he still had a chance of reaching the level required to perform onstage.
In truth, Joseph didn't expect Lucien to reach that level. In his plans, Lucien would eventually handle cultural and artistic propaganda. He didn't need to master every art; a little familiarity would be enough.
Still, Lucien seemed to have a genuine talent in these areas. Recently, he had even written a few short plays and composed a handful of little tunes. Joseph had read and listened to them all. To be honest, they weren't particularly impressive, but they were decent enough.
Thanks to these performances, Armand simply pulled him into his own "Spartacus writing group" and often took him along to discuss the script on weekends.
Time slipped by. Before long, it was 1789. Over the past two years, France's finances had become impossible to sustain. To keep the royal government from going completely bankrupt, King Louis XVI had no choice but to propose raising taxes. French society was divided into three estates: the clergy, the nobility, and the commoners. The first two estates held vast amounts of the nation's wealth but paid little in taxes. They naturally opposed any tax increase on themselves, and with the political power they held, they had the means to resist. So the only possible target for higher taxes was the Third Estate.
To raise taxes, the king had no choice but to reconvene the Estates-General, which had not met for 175 years, and seek a way out of the financial crisis.
"The king of France is an idiot. He actually came up with the utterly foolish idea of convening the Estates-General at a time like this!" Napoleon wrote to Joseph, mocking the king without mercy. "Does he have any idea how much resentment the Third Estate has been harboring toward him? If he didn't convene the Estates-General, all that anger would remain hidden, and for now, it wouldn't pose much danger. But he had to go and call the Estates-General! Doesn't he realize this will give his opponents a chance to organize? People are always timid and weak on their own. Even if they're full of resentment, they don't dare do anything. But once they gather and organize, they find courage and strength. They dare to fight lions, even dragons. People are like locusts: when they're not in a swarm, they're nothing but insignificant grasshoppers. But once they gather, they become an unstoppable plague of locusts. And that idiot has foolishly given his opponents the chance to unite, to turn from grasshoppers into locusts. He must think that if he gives the Third Estate a scare, they'll obediently cough up the money—or, at worst, that even if they refuse, they won't cause any trouble. But there are others watching hungrily from the sidelines..."
Joseph completely agreed with Napoleon's assessment. In fact, as representatives of the Third Estate gradually gathered in Paris, the whole city grew restless. Pamphlets began circulating among the townspeople. Some explained the workings of the Estates-General, but the "information" in most of them was pointedly slanted. They described what new taxes the king planned to impose and how he meant to squeeze the people even harder. Such propaganda left the already struggling commoners of Paris deeply worried.
Meanwhile, a spring drought struck the northern provinces. Fearing a possible disastrous harvest, grain merchants—starting with those under several great nobles—began holding back their stock. Before long, nearly every grain merchant was doing the same. Less and less grain appeared on the market, and prices naturally climbed. Rising prices only encouraged more hoarding and withholding, and the ever-increasing cost of grain filled Paris with complaints. It was then that Armand came to Joseph once again.
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