Chapter 235: The Indulgence Deal
After hearing the Crown Prince’s question, Talleyrand’s face immediately twisted into an expression of constipation. “Your Highness, I do know a little, but such matters…”
Joseph smiled and said, “Don’t worry, I bear no ill will. I only wish to present some gifts.”
Talleyrand wrestled internally for a moment, but in the end, the allure of being a Foreign Minister won out. He picked up pen and paper, pondering as he began to write.
A short while later, he handed a sheet of paper listing more than ten names to Joseph. “Your Highness, this is all I know. Please, don’t say I told you. As for the gatherings you mentioned...”
His expression became somewhat unnatural. “They are typically held on the second Sunday of each month. In Paris, the gathering place is a manor in Montmartre. The bishops of Valois and Reims often attend as well.”
“The second Sunday of each month?” Joseph recalled the calendar. “That’s tomorrow, isn’t it?”
“Indeed, fortunate timing. I was planning to send someone to invite the bishops from the neighboring provinces, but now that won’t be necessary.”
Something else crossed his mind as he turned to Talleyrand with a teasing smile. “You seem quite knowledgeable about such matters.”
“Ah? I’m not, I didn’t, don’t—” Talleyrand nearly sputtered out a triple denial but quickly composed himself. “Ahem, Your Highness, I’ve merely heard rumors. You know, I have a good memory.”
Joseph nodded, letting the matter drop. After some thought, he said, “In that case, there won’t be time to visit the police academy. Let’s go straight to Montmartre. Oh, and we’ll need to procure some gifts.”
Originally, he had planned to attend a war-readiness mobilization meeting at the police academy.
This matter involved military figures, so Joseph had to prepare the troops to respond to potential unrest. Additionally, any sporadic riots that hadn’t been quelled would also require military intervention.
...
By 6 PM the following evening, over twenty mid- to high-ranking clergy members had gathered at the “White Maple Grove” estate in Montmartre, located in the northern suburbs of Paris. Among them were notable figures such as Archbishop Beaumont of Paris and Archbishop D’Aveleur of Valois.
Each of them was accompanied by a young “servant,” all of whom were strikingly handsome.
Soothing music filled the air, and the clergymen greeted each other warmly.
A broad-faced bishop, chatting with his colleague from the Nemours district, suddenly noticed the jeweled cufflink on the wrist of the young man leaning against the latter.
Surprised, he lifted the arm of his own “servant,” who wore an identical accessory.
The clergyman opposite raised an eyebrow. “Achille has one too?”
The broad-faced bishop nodded. “It was given to him yesterday. What about yours?”
“It was gifted anonymously to Ococet.”
Neither seemed overly concerned. After all, given their positions, it wasn’t uncommon for people to curry favor by sending gifts. When unable to contact the clergy directly, these individuals often approached their “servants” instead.
However, as more clergy exchanged words, they made a surprising discovery: almost all the “servants” present were wearing the same cufflinks.
Gradually, the clergy stopped teasing their “servants” and set down their wine glasses. They began discussing who might have distributed these cufflinks and for what purpose. Even those who had taken their “handsome servants” to the upstairs rooms for private entertainment quickly returned to the main hall, dressed again, upon hearing the news.
Catholic clergy were bound by strict vows of celibacy, but mid- to high-ranking members often found ways to “relax.” Many maintained secret mistresses, but keeping a male “companion” had become increasingly fashionable.
Such behavior, though an open secret within church circles, would severely damage their reputations if exposed. Especially tonight, at a gathering devoted to “cherishing young servants,” discretion was paramount.
Yet, the person behind the cufflinks clearly knew each “servant’s” identity.
The bishops and priests quickly lost their mood to continue the evening. One by one, they left the “White Maple Grove” estate discreetly.
...
Archbishop Beaumont’s carriage had just exited the estate’s manicured grounds when he noticed a neatly dressed young man with golden hair signaling by the roadside.
He ordered the coach to stop immediately, recognizing the man as a close attendant of the Crown Prince.
Eymond approached with a polite bow, smiling. “Your Grace, His Highness the Crown Prince wishes to invite you for a drink.”
Beaumont naturally couldn’t refuse. When he followed Eymond to the villa in the center of Montmartre, he was startled to see that the Archbishops of Nemours, Reims, and three others from the gathering were also present.
Talleyrand, feeling guilty for leaking the information, had wisely refrained from attending.
Sensing something amiss, Beaumont maintained a composed facade and bowed respectfully to the Crown Prince.
Joseph gestured for the archbishops to sit, idly toying with one of the cufflinks. After a brief cough, he began, “Ahem, I assume you’ve all heard about the riots in over ten southern provinces?”
The clergy glanced uneasily at the cufflink, nodding. “Yes, Your Highness, we’ve heard.”
“May the Lord calm the savagery in their hearts.”
“May the Lord forgive them…”
Joseph motioned for Eymond to distribute wine to the archbishops. “As you all know, the riots stem from food shortages.
“And as representatives of God’s mercy, I hope...”
Archbishop Beaumont was the first to react, interjecting eagerly, “Your Highness, I’m willing to donate 10,000 livres for disaster relief!”
Archbishop D’Aveleur of Valois quickly followed suit. “I’ll also donate 10,000 livres.”
Joseph, however, merely smiled and shook his head. He wasn’t after small sums of money—his sights were set on the church’s “hidden reserves.”
“Thank you for your generosity,” he said bluntly. “But I’m requesting that the church release its stored grain to aid the victims.”
The archbishops exchanged uneasy glances, forcing smiles. “Your Highness, the church’s grain supplies are far from sufficient for such a task.”
“Indeed, they might not even compare to what 10,000 livres could buy.”
Joseph responded with a calm smile. “There’s no need for modesty. I’m well aware that your cellars contain enough grain to feed the disaster-stricken regions for at least half a month.”
The clergy’s faces turned pale with shock. “Who… who told you that?”
“Your Highness, this is completely unfounded…”
“Your Highness, if you don’t believe us, you can ask Archbishop Brienne…”
Joseph knew that most of the church's grain reserves came from either skimmed portions of the tithe or unreported harvests from church-owned lands. While these revenues officially belonged to the church and were accounted for in public ledgers meant for education, charity, and religious activities, the grain in the cellars was a different story.
Those stores were amassed privately by mid- and high-ranking clergy through their own means and were considered part of their personal wealth. Naturally, they were loath to let anyone—least of all the royal family—discover these secret hoards.
In truth, very few people even knew of these private reserves, and the church's careful practices made it nearly impossible to uncover them. It wasn’t until the Great Revolution that they were forcibly revealed.
Joseph raised his hand in a calming gesture, still smiling as he spoke. “In the name of His Majesty the King, I assure you that no one will investigate the origin of this grain.”
Glancing briefly at his cufflink, he added, “Of course, I hope you won’t be stingy. I happen to have some idea of the quantity of grain and wine stored in the church cellars.”
This was a bluff. Joseph only knew the church had substantial reserves, but he had no precise details.
Yet, hearing that the Crown Prince even knew about their wine stockpiles, Beaumont and the others believed him at least 80%.
After exchanging uneasy glances, Beaumont spoke on behalf of the group, “Your Highness, if you truly need grain, we are willing to sell it to you at market price.”
Joseph exhaled quietly in relief. This was the minimum outcome he’d hoped for—it meant he could resolve the riots using money.
But this wasn’t his ultimate goal.
The food supply needed to stabilize the western and southern provinces of France was no small matter. Moreover, relying on the church to determine how much grain they would release left him vulnerable to being shortchanged.
He took a deep breath and continued, “I hope the church will donate the grain.”
“What? That’s impossible…” The archbishops were immediately alarmed. To them, it sounded like outright robbery.
Joseph gestured for calm. “If the church donates enough grain to sustain the riot-affected provinces for a month, I can allow the church to resume selling indulgences.”
The doctrine of Catholicism held that all humanity bore original sin. Starting in the Middle Ages, the Vatican had introduced indulgences, which promised to reduce time in purgatory for those who purchased them.
This innovation made the church exceedingly wealthy but also drew intense resentment from secular authorities. Under mounting pressure, the church officially ceased selling indulgences in the 16th century.
D’Aveleur’s eyes lit up instantly. “Are you serious?”
If the Crown allowed the church to sell indulgences, the grain reserves they’d hoarded would pale in comparison to the potential profits.
Beaumont and the others, however, hesitated. “Your Highness, even if the Crown consents, the opposition will surely be substantial...”
Joseph nodded. “You’re correct. That’s why we need to innovate.
“The old claim that buying an indulgence keeps you out of hell no longer persuades—cough, I mean, inspires—people.”
The archbishops exchanged uncertain glances. “What do you propose?”
“First, we need a rebrand. Call them ‘Blessing Cards,’ ‘Longevity Vouchers,’ or ‘Tokens of True Love.’
“Their purposes should also evolve. For example, as the names suggest, some could strengthen a lover’s devotion, while others might bring blessings for one’s parents.
“You must realize that the promise of heaven is too distant and abstract. But parents and lovers are right before people’s eyes—they harbor many hopes and frustrations about them. If we can address immediate concerns, people will be willing to spend money.
“Oh, and pricing is critical. The old indulgences were far too expensive. If buying one meant going without meat for two years, dissatisfaction was inevitable. A card priced at 4 sous, equivalent to two newspapers, is far more accessible. Even if it doesn’t—cough—show immediate results, the Lord’s blessings ensure its efficacy.”
“In short, the concept of ‘low profit, high volume’ must be embraced. Don’t kill the business in one go...”
As Joseph elaborated, the archbishops’ eyes grew brighter. They could already envision young couples visiting churches, spending 4 sous on a “Token of True Love” to have God bless their union.
The Archbishop of Nemours hesitated. “Your Highness, can this really work?”
Joseph thought to himself, You’re sitting on the IP of God and still rely on tithes to get by. In the 21st century, people would laugh at you. Do you have any idea how much Shaolin Temple and Wudang Mountain earn with their branding alone?
He smiled. “I guarantee that if you follow my plan, the sale of various cards in Paris alone will bring in at least 500,000 livres annually—and that’s a conservative estimate.”
“500,000! Are you serious?”
“Of course. We’ll need some promotion and marketing. For instance, the ‘Token of True Love’ should be tied to Valentine’s Day—though that name’s too clunky; let’s just call it Love Day.”
By the late 18th century, February 14th was recognized as a day for romance, though it hadn’t yet reached its modern prominence.
“First, we’ll strengthen the association with Love Day, spreading ideas like, ‘If you don’t celebrate it, you don’t truly love them,’ or, ‘Buying the year’s first Token of True Love guarantees perfect love.’ Then, create stories like, ‘Only church-blessed tokens can ensure everlasting love.’
“Finally, spend on festivities like celebrations, balls, or matchmaking events that day. After that, just wait for the crowds to flood your doors.
“For operations, I suggest the church and I co-found a ‘Church Cultural Development Company’ to handle packaging and promotion. We’ll sort out investment and share distribution later.
“As for other cards, like the Longevity Voucher, tie them to Father’s and Mother’s Days. Those holidays don’t exist yet, so the church can decide appropriate dates.
“The Prosperity Card could align with Business Day, and the Blessing Card with Easter. That’s the general idea. Once the company is established, we’ll develop a full plan.”
The archbishops were astonished. They had never imagined indulgences could evolve into such a multifaceted enterprise—or that a company might emerge from it.
But upon reflection, Joseph’s approach seemed highly feasible.
Joseph wasn’t worried they’d try to cut him out. These business strategies might sound simple, but without firsthand experience, they would be nearly impossible to implement.
After a brief discussion, Beaumont spoke again on behalf of the group. “Your Highness, let’s consider the grain for disaster relief as our initial investment in this Church Cultural Development Company.”
By their calculations, if they followed the Crown Prince’s plan, the grain they released would pay for itself within two years. Everything afterward would be pure profit.
Moreover, they no longer had to fear exposure of their involvement in tonight’s… unique gathering.