Actually, I never thought that the recipient of this money had to be a native-born Montiel child!"
Lionel's words astonished Guy de Maupassant and Paul Pigout, the editor-in-chief of Le Petit Parisien, who were in front of him.
At this moment, they were not in a salon or cafe in Paris, but in Montiel's only small tavern, "The Black Oak."
A month ago, the owner here had just taken down the wooden sign that had hung for over a hundred years, officially closing down; however, with the sudden increase in "outsiders" and the concern of "the esteemed Young Master Sorel," Old Lanque rehung the sign.
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 in the morning, and Count Rohan, the Deputy Minister of the Ministry of Public Education and Fine Arts, along with his retinue and reporters from various newspapers, were still on the road from Lalagne to Montiel.
Maupassant and Pigut had arrived a day early because they had a good relationship with Lionel and wanted to have a good chat with him.
Yesterday, one of them slept at the mayor's house and the other at the priest's house, which greatly excited both the mayor and the priest.
After the tavern owner, Old Lanque, brought them drinks, they sent him away, leaving the place entirely to the three of them.
The "20,000 franc one-time scholarship" had caused a sensation throughout France, and even all of Europe, a week earlier.
Although France had already popularized the scholarship system in this era, most scholarships only ranged from tens to hundreds of francs.
The highest was no more than 1000-1200 francs, which was equivalent to covering a student's living expenses for one year.
The figure of "20,000 francs" was so sensational that at first everyone thought it was a joke.
It was only after "the conscience of the Sorbonne," Lionel Sorel, and the Rothschild Bank in Gap jointly endorsed this figure that people realized it was actually true.
Even Jules Ferry, the Minister of the Ministry of Public Education and Fine Arts, could not sit still and instructed Deputy Minister Louis Philippe de Rohan to lead a team to inspect Montiel.
For the Ministry of Education, this was both an opportunity to shine; of course, if not handled well, it could also become a source of embarrassment.
Lionel had attended the Rohan family's ball, and outsiders generally believed that their relationship was good, so having Count Rohan come was most appropriate;
Count Rohan took the opportunity to also bring along Maupassant, who was a workhorse in the ministry but also a good friend of Lionel.
Accompanying them was a large contingent of reporters, including some from The Times in England and the Preußische Zeitung in Germany.
Paul Pigout swirled the wine glass in his hand: "Honestly, Lionel, 20,000 francs is not a small sum. Isn't your method a bit extreme?"
Lionel smiled slightly: "Extreme? Perhaps. Paul, we must face a reality—these 20,000 francs are a very awkward amount."
Maupassant made an exaggerated expression: "Awkward? That's an astronomical figure! I only make less than 4,000 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 houses, buying land, paying off debts…
But on the other hand, it's not enough—
If it were used to build bridges, pave roads, or construct schools, it would be a drop in the ocean.
How much would it cost to completely rebuild the road from Lalagne to Montiel? Probably many times 20,000 francs.
Expand Saint Joseph School? Hire better teacher? These all require continuous investment!
A one-time investment of 20,000 francs would quickly be swallowed up, after all…"
He gestured with his lips, and outside the tavern window, the mayor and the priest, along with several members of Montiel's "upper society," could be seen standing anxiously at the crossroads, occasionally looking into the distance.
Lionel shook his head helplessly, and the other two exchanged knowing smiles.
As a journalist, Pigut was accustomed to such schemes. Maupassant, working at the Ministry of Education, was equally familiar with local tricks.
Maupassant offered a sensible suggestion: "Then why not establish a fund and use the interest to award scholarships? A steady stream, continuous incentive!"
Lionel laughed: "Because 20,000 francs is 'too little'! Guy, if you calculate, 20,000 francs, even at an annual interest rate of 5%—which is already very high—would only be 1,000 francs a year.
Distributing it annually involves statistics, auditing, and disbursement, all of which require costs and manpower. Furthermore, who would supervise it?
So I'd rather have this money directly become Teacher Renault's special allowance—
For the past forty years, he has taught all grades and all subjects, while only earning an annual salary of 720 francs.
This is a disgrace to France, a disgrace to the Ministry of Education!"
Maupassant, a junior employee at the Ministry of Education, shrugged: "Hey, don't look at me like that, I've only been at the ministry for half a year!"
Then he showed an ambiguous smile: "Actually, the owners of this money—those 'Parisian friends'—could handle these tedious processes.
They have plenty of time, are not short on money, and accountants and lawyers are readily available…"
Before Lionel could reply, Pigut scoffed: "Ha, let noble ladies get into such trouble? This money isn't even enough for them to host a ball.
And once Lionel suggests it, what do you think they'll say?"
Pigut covered his mouth with his palm, like a lady's small fan, then sharpened his voice: "Oh ho ho ho ho, little Lionel has grown up—
He's learned to trick money out of us under various pretexts; 'the conscience of the Sorbonne' is no different from any other handsome young man…"
All three of them laughed—Lionel out of embarrassment, Maupassant out of envy.
Lionel took another sip of wine, pondered for a moment, and then offered a more realistic consideration: "Let me give you another calculation—
I am the first person from Montiel to be admitted to Sorbonne in fifty years. And now, in all of Montiel, there isn't a single child studying in middle school outside!
This means that even the smartest fifth-grader in school right now, if he were to study until middle school graduation, it would be at least seven years from now.
(Note: At that time, French middle schools had a seven-year system)
And to get into one of those four universities in Paris, it would be even more difficult; it might be ten or fifteen years before such a thing happens.
All your perfect ideas about 'equal distribution' and 'a steady stream' are vulnerable in the face of this brutal time cycle!"
Maupassant and Pigut were stunned.
Lionel's tone became slow and solemn: "For ordinary families in Montiel, sending a child to school is an extremely 'expensive' investment.
A child at home can tend sheep, chop firewood, milk cows, cook, and when a bit older, can work in the fields, which is like having half an extra laborer;
Or, if sent to Lalagne, Gap, or Lyon as an apprentice, they can save the family at least 200 francs in food expenses annually.
Parents can also deduct 100 francs from the meager pocket money the master gives the child.
After ten years of apprenticeship, this can be calculated as at least 3,000 francs.
Now you tell them to let their child study hard for more than ten years, only to have a very slim chance of getting a few thousand francs after it's been averaged out.
Do you think, even if that number were raised to 10,000 francs, how much appeal would it have for parents in Montiel?"
The tavern fell silent, and both Pigut and Maupassant sank into thought.
They came from Paris, accustomed to the narrative of knowledge changing destiny, but they overlooked the suffocatingly high opportunity cost of education in 19th-century rural France.
Lionel sighed: "Only if the bait is big enough, big enough to ignore the long cycle and extremely small probability, big enough to create an impulse to 'take a gamble'…
Only then can it truly motivate Montiel parents to decide to send their children to school, rather than to a workshop.
20,000 francs, paid in one lump sum, is like a golden apple hanging at the finish line; though distant, its glow is dazzling enough.
Only with this golden apple suspended there will people start to run.
After all, we are the most speculative and gambling-prone nation in all of Europe…"
Pigut fell into deep thought, and after a long while, he raised a new question: "Then this might ultimately benefit families who already have some money.
Also, if some speculative outsider parents temporarily move to Montiel with their children for the prize money, that would be unfair to the local poor children.
How can you ensure that this situation is prevented?"
Lionel seemed to have anticipated this question, and he looked puzzled: "Why prevent it? And how could it be prevented?"
"What?" Maupassant and Pigut were surprised again.