Chapter 486: Breaking the Sky First
Involving clergy in politics has a long history in France. There were outstanding political figures like Cardinal Richelieu in the past, and current ministers like Briand and Talleyrand are also "active" members of the clergy. So, giving the Church some positions in the government wouldn't have a significant impact on French politics.
In fact, based on past experiences, once clergy members enter politics, they tend to become pure bureaucrats, gradually distancing themselves from the Church. After all, one's position often determines one's mindset.
Moreover, the clergy appointed to these positions would certainly be among the first to enroll in the Royal Administrative University—after all, it's their own Church's university, and they'd want to support it.
When Archbishop Beaumont heard that the Church could "appoint" officials, his face lit up with joy. "Helping His Majesty govern his subjects is also the duty of the Church," he said, smiling.
He cautiously asked, "Your Highness, how many positions might be available? The Church would like to prepare in advance."
In the past, clergymen were appointed to government positions primarily based on their exceptional abilities, and such appointments were not common. It was especially rare for clergy to hold local positions.
But Beaumont knew that over 40 officials had been arrested, all of them high-ranking local officials. This was an excellent opportunity for the Church!
Joseph glanced at him and slowly said, "Hmm, at least 10 positions, including roles like municipal commissioner assistants. Depending on the progress of the Administrative University, there might be more."
Beaumont was overjoyed. If the Church's estate by the Seine was converted, the cost of building the university wouldn't exceed 200,000 francs. The initial estimate of 500,000 francs included a lot of "padding," so this deal was very favorable.
He quickly replied, "Rest assured, Your Highness, I will personally oversee the construction of the Administrative University and ensure it meets your satisfaction!"
Joseph continued, "By the way, the positions the Church will fill are those left vacant by the corrupt officials we've dealt with. I also intend to take this opportunity to reorganize the bureaucracy, and I hope the Church will cooperate."
Beaumont immediately put on a solemn expression befitting a man of the cloth. "Those corrupt officials will not enter heaven. The Church has always taught people according to the Holy Word, and one of the Ten Commandments is against coveting wealth. This time, the Church will sternly denounce their sins and praise His Majesty for his just punishments."
"Thank you for your wise words," Joseph nodded with a smile. Then, taking the Archbishop by the arm, he added, "There might also be a need for the Church's help in setting up branch campuses of the Administrative University in Lyon and Bordeaux…"
A week later, nearly a thousand people gathered outside the Paris High Court, eagerly trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening inside through the iron gates.
Today was the day the Governor of Poitou, the Earl of Norfolk, was being tried.
Although the trial wasn't public, the newspapers had done extensive coverage leading up to it, and even the Church had publicly condemned the recent surge in corruption twice. As a result, the public was very interested in the trial, and they gathered early in the morning to await the outcome.
In the courtroom on the first floor of the High Court, the presiding judge, de Borel, listened to the calls for "severe punishment for the corrupt" coming from outside. He then looked at the faltering Earl of Norfolk as he made his way to the defendant's stand, and de Borel couldn't help but sigh inwardly.
It was clear that the Crown intended to make an example of him, but handing down a severe sentence to a governor would inevitably bring backlash from the bureaucracy. They would see it as a warning to all of them. In the past, high-ranking noble officials who were found guilty of embezzling tens of thousands of livres would only be required to repay the money and might be dismissed, but they were rarely prosecuted.
He took a deep breath, recited the opening statement, and began the trial.
While he was still pondering how to satisfy the Crown while being as lenient as possible with Norfolk, the prosecutor finished his statement, and it was time for the defense attorney to speak.
The lawyer glanced at the Governor of Poitou and said to de Borel, "Your Honor, my client wishes to speak."
Norfolk gritted his teeth and loudly declared, "I want to confess in hopes of reducing my sentence."
He then began recounting the names he had provided to the Prince earlier. "First, there's Baron Berlant, the financial assistant in Angoumois. He bribed me with 8,000 livres to help him…"
The courtroom fell silent as the ten or so nobles in the audience widened their eyes in shock, unable to speak.
Such public betrayal was absolutely taboo in the political world! Norfolk wasn't just offending Baron Berlant; he was declaring war on the entire bureaucratic system. From now on, he could forget about holding office, and whether he went into business or farming, as long as he remained in France, someone would make sure he suffered, perhaps even fatally.
But Norfolk seemed to have fully embraced a "scorched earth" strategy. After implicating Berlant, he moved on to expose the municipal assistant in Angoumois…
The nobles in the audience sat in stunned silence, listening as Norfolk continued to list name after name, losing track of how many people he had implicated. It was clear that the entire political landscape of Poitou would be decimated.
De Borel's hands began to tremble. Why did this have to happen in his courtroom?
Would the officials Norfolk was dragging down blame him for this? Who am I? Why am I here? What am I supposed to do?
After listening to several hours of confessions, de Borel, his mind in a daze, announced a temporary recess, saying the trial would continue the next day. Then he fled the courtroom as if he had seen a ghost, heading straight for the Tuileries Palace.
Meanwhile, the court clerk stared blankly at the dozens of pages of testimony he had transcribed, unsure of what to do next.
At the same time, in several nearby courtrooms, similar scenes were playing out—officials involved in corruption were frantically implicating their colleagues. In just one morning, over a hundred high-ranking officials were dragged down.
As news from the courtrooms spread, the crowd outside the High Court erupted.
Journalists pounced on the nobles who had witnessed the trials, demanding details about the implicated officials, nearly tearing them apart in their frenzy.
The public, enraged, began chanting for executions and calling for corrupt officials to be sent to hell. They started marching along the streets outside the High Court.
As more citizens joined the march, the crowd quickly swelled.
When someone shouted, "Let's petition His Majesty!" the marchers turned and headed towards Versailles.
That afternoon, a remarkably efficient newspaper published the names of the officials who had been implicated during the trials—following Joseph's orders, the press bureau had given the green light to this kind of news coverage.
…
On the second floor of the Tuileries Palace, Supreme Court Chief Justice de Borel entered the Prince's office, pale-faced and trembling. He was so shaken that he forgot to bow, blurting out, "Your Highness, this is terrible! Norfolk implicated more than 30 people—no, it could be 50! All on charges of embezzlement, dereliction of duty…"
Joseph simply smiled at him. "Your Honor, if I'm not mistaken, you have another trial this afternoon, correct? Please have a seat, enjoy a cup of tea, and then you'd best hurry back to court."
(End of Chapter)
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