Joseph submitted the "Four-Color Problem" to the Academy of Sciences, and sure enough, it left everyone, including Laplace, stumped. They studied it for a while but couldn't come up with a solution, not even a viable approach. Everyone, including Laplace, had their own research to attend to, and they couldn't afford to spend all their time on such a problem. So, as Joseph suggested, the Academy decided to make the problem public and solicit solutions from all around the world.
Joseph originally posed this problem to trap Marat. Based on his past experiences, he knew that amateur scientists were more inclined towards physics and chemistry than mathematics. However, he didn't anticipate that in the future, the mathematical problems would become so complex that amateurs wouldn't understand them. So, the scarcity of amateur mathematicians in the future wasn't due to their reverence for math but because they couldn't comprehend the problems.
However, the "Four-Color Problem" happened to be a question that everyone, including amateurs like Marat, could understand. So, as soon as the announcement was made, the Academy received a perfect solution from Marat. But when Laplace glanced at it, he found numerous errors, and the paper found its way to the bin where it belonged.
Marat, however, didn't give up and sent the "paper" to Joseph, believing that Joseph would recognize its value. This was when Joseph realized he had dug himself into a hole.
Marat's "paper," like all "amateur papers," was riddled with problems, from incorrect deductions to flawed concepts. Joseph, after a cursory look, found seven or eight issues.
"If this were written by Napoleon or any of my other students, I'd have given them a good scolding!" Joseph muttered through gritted teeth, pondering how to respond to Marat.
"Finding something 'valuable' in this 'paper' is not easy. If I must point out something 'valuable,' it's the audacity. Ignorance truly has no fear," Joseph sarcastically thought.
"However, I can't keep praising his 'audacity' in my reply, right? Marat may take it as a mockery," Joseph reasoned. So, he had to study Marat's flawed paper meticulously to find something praiseworthy. "Well, this section's deduction, while not rigorous, has some interesting ideas. Let's focus on that for now," Joseph decided.
With that in mind, Joseph started composing his response to Marat's letter. In this letter, Joseph dedicated two full pages to praising the small section Marat had analyzed. The tone of his praise gave even himself goosebumps.
"I've sunk to such levels just to make a living. Well, business is business," Joseph muttered while working on his response.
"Now, it's time to change the tone a bit," Joseph thought. So he wrote, "However, this paper does have a few minor issues, such as... Mr. Laplace believes that the logic in this part is flawed, and it overlooks... You may not know this, but mathematicians tend to be quite stubborn about these matters. Mr. Laplace, in particular, is very rigid when it comes to such issues, and he thinks this paper fails to successfully prove this conjecture."
He concluded the "but" section, slyly shifting the blame toward Laplace. With that, Joseph had completed his letter, which he then carefully blotted to remove excess ink and sent back. As for how Marat would react to the letter and how he'd hold a grudge against Laplace, that wasn't Joseph's concern. Considering the headaches Laplace had caused him in his previous life with his theories, Joseph felt that his conscience was clear this time.
This strategy worked. Shortly after, Marat sent a response, expressing gratitude for Joseph's affirmation and expressing anger towards the "conservative old men" in the Academy. He hinted at his future ambitions, saying that one day he would expel these individuals from the Academy and replace them with young, forward-thinking people like Joseph, believing they would revitalize France's scientific community.
"Is this 'If I become the young emperor in years to come, I will repay the peach blossoms'?" Joseph couldn't help but chuckle.
Marat did indeed rise to prominence, but that was a story for another day. For now, Joseph's attention shifted back to his younger brothers.
Napoleon didn't require Joseph's help anymore and had returned to Corsica. He wouldn't be coming back anytime soon. Louis, still a child, attended a decent primary school. Joseph arranged for Lucien to enter his alma mater, the College of Louis the Great.
Lucien didn't shine academically like Joseph, but he did reasonably well. He also demonstrated talent in public speaking and acting. Joseph had left his role as a playwright for the Dragon and Rose Theatre, but he still maintained connections. Using these connections, he occasionally had Lucien play minor roles in the theatre. According to the troupe leader Denard, "He's a natural actor." Joseph had never seen Lucien perform, so he wasn't sure if Denard was exaggerating.
In addition, Joseph hired an Austrian musician named Fraser to teach Lucien the piano. According to Fraser, Lucien started learning the piano a bit late, but he showed promise. With effort, he might reach a level where he could perform on stage.
Joseph didn't expect Lucien to become a piano virtuoso. In his vision, Lucien would handle artistic and cultural promotion, not necessarily mastering all the arts. Nevertheless, Lucien displayed some innate talents, and he recently started creating a few short scripts and composing some melodies. Joseph had seen and heard them; they weren't remarkable but still decent.
Thanks to these accomplishments, Armand invited Lucien to his "Spartacus" creative group. On weekends, they discussed script issues.
Time passed, and before they knew it, it was 1789. In the past two years, France's finances had reached a critical point, forcing King Louis XVI to propose new taxes to prevent a complete government bankruptcy. France was divided into three estates: the clergy, the nobility, and the commoners. The first two estates held a significant portion of the country's wealth but paid minimal taxes. They vehemently opposed any tax increases on them and used their political power to resist. Consequently, the commoners, the third estate, became the primary target for increased taxation.
To address the financial crisis, King Louis XVI reluctantly convened the Estates-General, which had been dormant for 175 years. He hoped to find a solution.
"France's king is a fool! Can't he see the discontent and anger among the third estate? Opening the Estates-General at this time is a ridiculously foolish move!" Napoleon wrote in a letter to Joseph. "Doesn't he realize how much resentment and fury have built up among the third estate? If he doesn't call the Estates-General, these grievances will remain dormant and not pose a significant threat. But now, he's given these opposition groups an opportunity to organize. He's foolishly provided them with a chance to unite, transforming them from crickets into locusts. The king probably believes that the third estate will submit to higher taxes or, at worst, make some noise. Yet, there are others watching from the sidelines..."
Joseph completely agreed with Napoleon's assessment. As the third estate's representatives gathered in Paris, the entire city grew restless. Pamphlets began circulating among the citizens, introducing them to the Estates-General and subtly directing their focus towards the king's intentions to raise taxes. These pamphlets, while informative, were also designed to provoke a specific reaction, feeding the population's worries about their already challenging lives.
Meanwhile, due to a spring drought affecting many provinces in the north, some grain merchants, mostly under the patronage of aristocrats, began withholding grain to hedge against potential crop failures. As more and more merchants joined this strategy, the availability of grain in the market diminished, causing prices to soar. The rising prices further incentivized grain hoarding, making the situation worse and intensifying public discontent.
In these circumstances, Armand once again sought Joseph's counsel.