Lycée Louis-le-Grand not only offered generous scholarships, its teaching was also widely recognized as excellent. Its predecessor was a Jesuit school called Clermont School, founded in 1563. From the moment it opened, its policy of charging day students nothing had drawn the ire of the University of Paris.
For the next two hundred years, Lycée Louis-le-Grand remained locked in a struggle with the University of Paris. In 1762, the university emerged victorious: the Parlement of Paris passed a resolution expelling the Jesuit administrators and placing the school under the university's control. To curry favor with the king at the time, Louis XV, the school was also renamed Lycée Louis-le-Grand. The University of Paris seemed to have won the two-hundred-year marathon. But what it could never have imagined was that, under its own control, this secondary school would produce its true rival.
In 1766, Lycée Louis-le-Grand began holding examinations for teaching qualifications. To help candidates prepare, the school later opened a teacher-training college. That college would become the predecessor of the École Normale Supérieure, one of France's most famous institutions of higher learning.
This was the kind of secondary school Joseph now hoped to apply to.
Generally speaking, it was quite difficult for students from the provinces to pass the entrance examination for Lycée Louis-le-Grand. First, a student needed a recommendation from the bishop of a local diocese. Then he had to pass the school's selection process. But for Joseph, neither posed much of a problem. As Bishop Minier's godson, getting a recommendation would not be hard, and passing the examination would be no great challenge for someone who had earned a master's degree in a later era. The expense of attending the school, however, was the obstacle standing in his way.
After the University of Paris took control of Lycée Louis-le-Grand, the policy of free tuition for day students met its end. To be fair, the fees were still low—almost symbolic. But everything in Paris was expensive, and making a living there was no easy matter. Even as a day student, Joseph would have to spend a great deal on food and lodging. Though Lycée Louis-le-Grand offered generous scholarships, nobody received one the moment they walked through the door. Joseph urgently needed some start-up money.
Joseph knew his father had little money. Carlo had once served as Paoli's adjutant and fought the French for Corsican independence. Though he later submitted to the French, he had to curry favor with the governor of Corsica to preserve his noble status, which had eaten away at much of his savings. He also had six other children to support now, so he probably couldn't give Joseph much.
Joseph wrote to Bishop Minier and asked for his help. He knew the bishop was a priest sympathetic to the Jesuits (by then, the Jesuits had been suppressed by Pope Clement XIV, but their influence lingered, and many of Bishop Minier's ways clearly reflected it). So in his letter, Joseph made a point of calling Lycée Louis-le-Grand "Clermont School" and hinted that he was interested in theology.
Before long, Bishop Minier replied. The bishop praised Joseph's piety, but also told him that he did not think Joseph should give himself to the Church just yet.
"Child, God lays out many paths for people. Becoming a priest is not the only path that accords with His will. I believe you are still too young, and it may not be wise to make such a decision so soon. Perhaps you should experience a few more things first, such as love, wealth, and power. Only then might you truly understand what kind of path God has prepared for you.
"I also wholeheartedly support your wish to receive an education at a better school. Child, you know that in my heart, you are my son. What father would not be overjoyed to see his son so eager to better himself? And when that son reaches out for help, what father would refuse to lend him a hand? But you know I am not a wealthy man, so for now I can only scrape together one hundred and fifty francs. I hope it will be of some help.
"Considering that you are only an eleven-year-old child (sometimes I keep forgetting that), and that Paris is so far away, I cannot help worrying about you making such a long journey alone. Father Alfonso happens to have business in Paris. I worked out the dates, and they are close to when you plan to set out, so I have asked him to bring you the one hundred and fifty francs and travel to Paris with you.
"Living expenses in Paris are very high. Under normal circumstances, one hundred and fifty francs would not last long at all—unless you lived in one of those districts full of the lower classes. In truth, living there would not be so bad. When I was young, I lived in a place like that myself. There, you can see darkness darker than darkness itself, and find, amid all that darkness, a purity whiter than white. A place like that can broaden your horizons considerably, and even temper your soul. If you were a little older—say, sixteen—I would think you could spend some time living in such a place. But now... the streets there are lawless. Tossing you there as you are would be like dropping a little lamb into a wolf's den. So I have found somewhere for you.
"Between the Latin Quarter and Faubourg Saint-Marcel, there is a small Franciscan chapel. Its parish priest, Jean-Jacques, is a friend of mine. I think he can provide you with a humble but relatively safe little room..."
The very day Joseph received the letter, his younger brother Napoleon also got his admission notice from Brienne Military School. Ten-year-old Napoleon happily said goodbye to his brother, ready to head for the school he had been longing to attend.
"My foolish brother." Seeing Napoleon's beaming face, Joseph couldn't resist taking another jab at him. "Do you think the crows at Brienne Military School are white? I'll bet that place is just like here, full of self-important fools who think they're highborn. You're just jumping from one fire pit into another."
"Sancho, what do you know? I'm going to Brienne Military School to learn. What does it matter whether there are fools there? Just because they're all fools, does that mean the sum of a triangle's interior angles in their textbooks won't be one hundred and eighty degrees? As long as I can learn something useful, what do any of those things matter?"
"Of course they matter," Joseph said. "My foolish brother, even a Damascus blade needs a hammer and an anvil to take shape. If all you have around you is a sea of muck, where are you supposed to forge your blade? So remember to write to me often once you get there, and I'll make sure to teach you properly. That way, you won't rust and rot away in the mud."
"You're the biggest mud pit in the world," Napoleon shot back, still as sharp-tongued as ever.
"Hahahaha..." Joseph laughed without a care in the world.
After Napoleon left, another half month passed, and the entrance examination for Lycée Louis-le-Grand was drawing near. Around then, Father Alfonso, whom Bishop Minier had mentioned in his letter, arrived at Autun College.
After getting leave from the school, Joseph accompanied Father Alfonso onto a stagecoach bound for Avignon.
It was already May, the loveliest time of the year. The stagecoach left Marseille and raced along the main road to Paris. Warm spring breezes blew in through the windows, sweeping the jumbled scents of the roadside wildflowers into the carriage all at once. Looking out, Joseph saw flowers blooming in every color along both sides of the road and among the gaps in the dark green wheat fields. The deep pink ones were sainfoin, the pale purple ones rose campion, and there were wild roses in red and yellow. Now and then, a few short lilacs appeared beside the road, their deep purple flower clusters swaying in the spring breeze.
There were six people in the carriage, including Joseph: a priest, a child, two merchants in their thirties, and a young couple. All except the woman wore trousers. (In France, nobles always wore tight breeches and stockings below the knee; commoners wore trousers.)
With nothing else to do, the passengers began chatting.
"Father, are you going to Paris too?" asked a thin merchant.
"I have some business at Notre-Dame," Father Alfonso replied. "This is our bishop's godson. He's going to Paris to take the entrance examination for Lycée Louis-le-Grand. We're headed the same way, so I'm taking him."
"Ah, leaving home to study in Paris at such a young age can't be easy," the thin merchant said.
"It costs quite a bit to study in Paris," the other merchant added. "I expect it must be several hundred francs a year."
"It doesn't cost much to study at Lycée Louis-le-Grand itself," said the husband of the young couple. "The school offers generous scholarships, but it has high standards for its students. First, they need a recommendation from the Church; second, they have to pass the entrance examination."
Then he turned to Joseph and asked, "Which subjects are you good at, my boy?"
Joseph replied, "I can read and write Latin, and I'm very fond of mathematics and natural philosophy."
"Mathematics is the language God used to create the world. Natural philosophy is another path by which we may draw closer to God," the young man said. "It's good that you enjoy those subjects."
"There is only one path to God: through the Church, sir!" Father Alfonso said sternly.
"You're quite right," the thin merchant hastily agreed, making the sign of the cross over his chest.
"The Church and the Bible are, of course, the only way to draw closer to God," the young man said quickly, taking back what he had said earlier. But he seemed reluctant to let the matter rest, and added, "Still, isn't this world God's creation? In the end, to marvel at the world is to marvel at God."
"I like that way of putting it," Joseph interjected.
Father Alfonso had been about to say more, but after hearing Joseph's remark, he fell silent.
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