The Problem of Money

Lycée Louis-le-Grand was not only known for its generous scholarships but also for its universally acknowledged high quality of instruction. Its predecessor was a Jesuit-affiliated institution established in 1563 known as the Clermont School. From its very inception, the school's policy of providing completely free education to day students 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 of Paris emerged victorious; the Parlement of Paris passed a resolution expelling the Jesuit administrators and placing the school under the management of the University. To curry favor with the reigning King Louis XV, the school was renamed Lycée Louis-le-Grand. The University of Paris seemed to have won this two-hundred-year marathon, yet it never imagined that, under its own control, this very secondary school would produce the University's true rival.

In 1766, Lycée Louis-le-Grand began implementing a teacher qualification examination, and subsequently, to assist candidates, the school established a corresponding normal college. This normal college would become the predecessor to one of the most famous universities in France: the École Normale Supérieure.

This was the very type of secondary school that Joseph now hoped to enter.

Generally speaking, it was quite difficult for students from the provinces to pass the qualification examination for Lycée Louis-le-Grand. First, the student had to obtain a recommendation from a local diocesan bishop, and then they had to pass the school's own selection process. However, these were not particularly significant hurdles for Joseph. As the godson of Bishop Minier, obtaining a recommendation was not difficult, and passing the selection process was no challenge for a transmigrator who had already earned a master's degree in his previous life. The real obstacle facing Joseph was the cost of attending the school.

After the University of Paris took control of Lycée Louis-le-Grand, the original policy of free tuition for day students had come to an end. To be fair, the current fees were not high—almost symbolic—but the problem was that everything in Paris was expensive, and living there was no easy feat. To be a day student in Paris, the cost of room and board alone was substantial. Although Lycée Louis-le-Grand offered high scholarships, no one received them the moment they stepped through the gates. Thus, Joseph was in urgent need of startup capital.

Joseph knew his father did not have much money. Carlo had once served as an adjutant to Paoli and had fought against the French for Corsican independence. Although he later submitted to the French, he had to curry favor with the Governor of Corsica to maintain his noble status, which had drained much of his savings. With six other children to support, he likely had little to spare.

Joseph wrote a letter to Bishop Minier requesting his assistance. He knew that Bishop Minier was a clergyman who sympathized with the Jesuits (at this time, the Jesuit Order had already been suppressed by Pope Clement XIV, but its influence remained, and many of the Bishop's habits were clearly influenced by the Order). In the letter, he specifically referred to Lycée Louis-le-Grand as the "Clermont School" and vaguely hinted at an interest in theology.

Soon, Bishop Minier replied to Joseph. The Bishop praised Joseph's piety highly, but he also advised him that he did not advocate for Joseph to throw himself into the arms of the Church just yet.

"Child, God has arranged many paths for people; becoming a priest is not the only way to fulfill God's will. I believe you are still too young, and making such a decision too early may not be correct. Perhaps you should experience more of life—love, wealth, power. Only after that might you truly understand what path God has prepared for you.

Furthermore, I fully support your desire to receive an education at a better school. You know, child, in my heart, you are my own son. What father would not feel gratified to see his son so ambitious? At a time like this, when he reaches out a hand for help, what father would not be willing to reach out and pull him up? However, you know that I am not a wealthy man, so I can only manage one hundred and fifty francs for the time being, and I hope it will be of some help to you.

Considering you are only an eleven-year-old child (sometimes I easily forget this) and Paris is so far away, I cannot rest easy with you traveling such a long distance alone. Father Alfonso happens to have business in Paris, and I have calculated the dates; it is not far from when you intend to depart. Therefore, I have entrusted him to bring you the one hundred and fifty francs and to accompany you to Paris.

In Paris, the cost of living is extremely high; under normal circumstances, one hundred and fifty francs would not last long unless you lived in those neighborhoods filled with the lower classes. Actually, living there is not entirely bad; when I was young, I lived in such places. There, you can see darkness darker than darkness, and in that darkness, you can find purity whiter than white. Such places can broaden your horizons and even temper your soul. If you were older, say sixteen, I would think it fine for you to live there for a time. But now... the public order there is chaotic, and throwing you there now is like throwing a little lamb into a wolf's den. Therefore, I have found a place for you.

Between the Latin Quarter and the Faubourg Saint-Marcel, there is a small Franciscan chapel. The parish priest there, Jean-Jacques, is a friend of mine, and I believe he can provide you with a humble but relatively safe room..."

On the very day Joseph received this letter, his younger brother Napoleon also received his admission notice for the Brienne Military School. The ten-year-old Napoleon said goodbye to his brother, full of joy, preparing to head to the school he yearned for.

"My foolish brother," seeing Napoleon's joyful expression, Joseph could not help but jump in to dampen his spirits. "Do you really think the crows at Brienne Military School are white? I am certain that in that so-called Brienne Military School, it is just like here—filled with fools who think themselves noble. You are merely jumping from one fire pit into another."

"Sancho, what do you know? I am going to Brienne Military School to learn knowledge; what does it matter if there are fools there? Just because there are fools there, does that mean the sum of the interior angles of a triangle in their textbooks is no longer one hundred and eighty degrees? As long as I can learn useful knowledge, what do these things matter?"

"Of course it matters," Joseph said. "My foolish brother, even a Damascus blade requires a hammer and an anvil to take shape. When you are surrounded by a pile of mud, where will you forge your blade? So, once you are there, remember to write to me often so I can properly guide you, lest you rust and rot away in that mud pit."

"You are the biggest mud pit in the world," Napoleon retorted stubbornly.

"Hahahaha..." Joseph laughed heartlessly.

After sending off Napoleon, another half-month passed, and the time for the Lycée Louis-le-Grand examination was approaching. By this time, Father Alfonso, whom Bishop Minier had mentioned in his letter, had arrived at Autun College.

After obtaining leave from the school, Joseph boarded the stagecoach to Avignon with Father Alfonso.

It was already May, the most beautiful season of the year. The stagecoach departed from Marseille and sped along the main road toward Paris. The warm spring breeze blew through the carriage windows, sweeping the chaotic fragrance of various wildflowers blooming along the roadside into the cabin. Looking out from the carriage, the roadsides and the gaps between the dark green wheat fields were covered in flowers of all colors: the deep pink of soapwort, the pale purple of corn cockle, and red and yellow wild roses. Occasionally, one could see short common lilacs by the roadside, swaying their deep purple inflorescences in the spring breeze.

Including Joseph, there were six people in the carriage: a priest, a child, two middle-aged men dressed as merchants in their thirties, and a young couple. Except for the lady, all were wearing trousers. (In France, nobles always wore tight breeches and stockings below the knee, while commoners wore trousers.)

With nothing else to do, the group chatted casually in the carriage.

"Father, are you also heading to Paris?" asked a thin merchant.

"I have some business at Notre-Dame," Father Alfonso replied. "This is the godson of our Bishop; he is going to Paris to take the entrance examination for Lycée Louis-le-Grand. I am traveling the same way, so I am accompanying him."

"Ah, leaving home to study in Paris at such a young age, that is not easy," the thin merchant said.

"Studying in Paris costs quite a bit of money," the other merchant added. "I fear it will cost several hundred francs a year."

"Studying at Lycée Louis-le-Grand itself does not require much money," the husband of the young couple spoke up. "Lycée Louis-le-Grand offers high scholarships, but it has high requirements for students: first, one must have a recommendation from the Church, and second, one must pass the entrance selection."

Having said this, he turned to Joseph and asked, "Child, which subjects do you excel in?"

Joseph replied, "I can read and write Latin, and I am very fond of mathematics and natural philosophy."

"Mathematics is the language in which God created the world. Natural philosophy is another path for us to draw closer to God," the young man said. "It is truly wonderful that you enjoy these."

"There is only one path to draw closer to God, and that is through the Church, sir!" Father Alfonso said sternly.

"You are right," the thin merchant quickly agreed, crossing himself on his chest.

"The Church and the Bible are, of course, the only way to draw closer to God," the young man also quickly retracted his previous statement, but he added somewhat reluctantly, "However, is this world not the work of God? Praise for the world is, in the final analysis, praise for God."

"I like that way of putting it," Joseph interjected.

Father Alfonso had originally intended to say more, but after hearing Joseph's remark, he remained silent.