Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 156 Time Makes Everything Perfectly Vulnerable

"Actually, I never thought that the one who would receive this money would necessarily be a native Montiel child!"

Lionel's words stunned Guy de Maupassant and Paul Pigut, the editor of Le Petit Parish.

They weren't in a salon or café in Paris, but in the only bistro in Montière, "Black Oak".

A month ago, the owner here had just taken down the wooden sign that had been hanging for over a hundred years and officially closed down; but with the sudden increase in "outsiders" and the concern of "the esteemed young master Sorel," old Langk has put the sign back up.

Fortunately, there were still a few barrels of wine and absinthe in the cellar, which prevented young master Sorel and his distinguished guests from Paris from being disappointed.

It was nine o'clock in the morning, and Count Rohan, the deputy minister of the Ministry of Public Education and Fine Arts, along with his entourage and reporters from various newspapers, were still on their way from Larané to Montière.

Maupassant and Pigut, who were acquainted with Lionel, wanted to have a good chat with him, so they arrived a day early.

Yesterday, one of them slept at the mayor's house and the other at the priest's house, which thrilled both the mayor and the priest.

After the tavern owner, Old Langke, brought the wine, they sent him away; the place was entirely theirs.

The "one-time scholarship of 20,000 francs" caused a sensation throughout France and even the whole of Europe a week ago.

Although France had a widespread scholarship system at this time, most scholarships only ranged from tens to hundreds of francs.

The maximum was no more than 1000-1200 francs, which was equivalent to covering a student's living expenses for a year.

The figure of "20,000 francs" was so sensational that everyone initially thought it was a joke.

It was only after Lionel Sorel, the "conscience of the Sorbonne," and Rothschild Bank of Gape endorsed the figure that people realized it was actually true.

Even Jules Ferri, the Minister of Public Education and Fine Arts, couldn't sit still and instructed his deputy, Louis-Philippe de Rohan, to lead a delegation to Monttier for an inspection.

For the Ministry of Education, this is both an opportunity to gain recognition and, if not handled well, a potential embarrassment.

Lionel had attended the Rohan family's ball, and outsiders generally believed that the two families had a good relationship, so it was most appropriate for Count Rohan to come.
Count Rohan then took along the cattle and horses from his department, as well as Maupassant, who was a friend of Lionel.

Accompanying them was a large group of reporters, including journalists from The Times of London and The Prussian Herald of Germany.

Paul Pigutt swirled his wine glass: "Seriously, Lionel, twenty thousand francs is no small sum. Isn't your approach a bit extreme?"

Lionel smiled slightly: "Extreme? Perhaps. Paul, we must face a reality—20,000 francs is a very awkward number."

Maupassant gave an exaggerated look: "Embarrassing? That's an astronomical figure! I only make less than 4000 francs a year at the Ministry of Education! Besides, this isn't Paris!"

Lionel nodded affirmatively: "Yes, it seems like a lot, enough to instantly change the fate of any Montiel family—building a house, buying land, paying off debts..."

But on the other hand, it's not enough—

If it were used to build bridges, roads, or schools, it would be a drop in the ocean.

How much would it cost to completely rebuild the road from Larané to Montière? Probably many times 20,000 francs.

Expanding St. Joseph's School? Hiring better teachers? These all require continuous investment!
The one-time investment of 20,000 francs will soon be swallowed up, after all…

He gestured with his lip. Through the tavern window, he could see the mayor and the priest, along with several members of Montiel's "high society," standing anxiously at the crossroads, occasionally gazing into the distance.

Lionel shook his head helplessly, while the other two exchanged knowing smiles.

As a journalist, Pigut was used to such shady dealings. Maupassant, working in the Ministry of Education, was equally familiar with local tricks.

Maupassant offered a sound suggestion: "Why not set up a fund and use the interest to pay scholarships? A steady stream of income will provide continuous incentives!"

Lionel laughed: "Because 20,000 francs is 'too little'! Guy, do the math, 20,000 francs, even at an annual interest rate of 5%—which is already quite high—is 1000 francs a year."

Distributing funds annually involves statistics, review, and disbursement, all of which require costs and manpower. Furthermore, who will oversee the process?
Therefore, I would rather turn this money directly into a special allowance for Professor Renault—

For the past forty years, he has taught all grades and all subjects, while receiving only an annual salary of 720 francs.

"This is a disgrace to France, a disgrace to the Ministry of Education!" Maupassant, a low-level clerk in the Ministry of Education, shrugged: "Hey, don't look at me like that, I've only been in the ministry for six months!"

Then he gave a knowing smile: "Actually, the owners of this money—those 'friends in Paris'—can handle these tedious procedures."

They have plenty of time and money, and accountants and lawyers are readily available..."

Before Lionel could answer, Pigut scoffed, "Ha, getting the ladies into this kind of trouble? This money isn't even enough for them to throw a ball."

And if Lionel brings it up, guess what they'll say?

Piglet covered his mouth with his palm, like a noblewoman's small fan, and then shrieked, "Oh ho ho ho ho, little Leon has grown up—"

He's learned to swindle money from us under all sorts of pretexts. 'Sorbonne's conscience' is no different from any other handsome young man..."

All three of them laughed—Leonard laughed out of embarrassment, while Maupassant laughed out of envy.

Lionel took another sip of his drink, pondered for a moment, and then offered a more practical consideration: "Let me do the math for you—"

I am the first person from Montiel to be admitted to the Sorbonne in fifty years. And now, there isn't a single child from Montiel studying at a secondary school elsewhere!

This means that even the brightest fifth grader in the school right now will have to wait at least seven years to graduate from high school.

(Note: At that time, secondary school in France was a seven-year system.)
Getting into one of those four universities in Paris is even more difficult, and it might be ten or fifteen years from now.

All your perfect ideas about 'equal distribution' and 'slow and steady wins the race' are utterly inadequate in the face of this brutal timeframe!

Maupassant and Pigut were stunned.

Lionel’s tone slowed and became serious: “For ordinary families in Montiel, sending their children to school is an extremely ‘expensive’ investment.”

The children can stay at home to herd sheep, chop wood, milk cows, and cook. When they get older, they can even work in the fields, which means they have an extra half of the labor force.
Alternatively, they could be sent to Laranée, Gap, or Lyon as apprentices, which would save the family at least 200 francs a year on food expenses.

The parents could also deduct 100 francs from the meager allowance that Rick gave to his child.

After ten years of apprenticeship, one could earn at least 3000 francs.

Now you're telling them that after their children have studied hard for over a decade, they only have a very slim chance of getting a few thousand francs after the average distribution.

"How attractive do you think that figure, even if it were increased to ten thousand francs, would be to Montiel's parents?"

The tavern fell silent as Pigut and Maupassant both fell into deep thought.

They came from Paris, accustomed to the narrative that knowledge changes destiny, but overlooked the suffocatingly high opportunity cost of education in 19th-century rural France.

Lionel sighed: "Only when the bait is big enough, big enough to ignore the long period and the extremely small probability, big enough to make people have the urge to 'take a gamble'..."

Only then can the parents of Montiel truly make up their minds to send their children to school instead of to workshops.

Twenty thousand francs, paid in full at once, is like a golden apple hanging at the finish line—distant yet dazzlingly bright.

Only when this golden apple is hanging there can people start running.

After all, we are the nation most enthusiastic about speculation and gambling in all of Europe…

Pigut fell into deep thought, and after a long while, he raised a new question: "So this might ultimately benefit families who already have some money."

Furthermore, it is unfair to the poor local children if some opportunistic out-of-town parents temporarily relocate to Montiel with their children for the sake of bonuses.

How can you guarantee that this situation will never happen again?

Lionel seemed to have anticipated this question, and looked puzzled: "Why should we eliminate it? And how is it even possible to eliminate it?"

"What?" Maupassant and Pigut were surprised again.

　Those who wish to criticize the author can join the group: 650939535
　　
　
(End of this chapter)