Chapter 1343: The Archbishop Must Be Profound
The church hierarchy watched as Archbishop Brienne was seized by a violent coughing fit, stumbling and almost toppling over. They rushed to help him back into bed, urging him to rest and recover before discussing anything further.
Meanwhile, in the Monastery of the Brothers of Saint-Prodo in the eastern suburbs of Paris, Archbishop Boulogne was facing his theological re-examination.
Four other priests were also taking the re-examination with him, but to preserve the Archbishop's dignity, he was permitted to answer the questions privately in the abbot's office.
In truth, Archbishop Boulogne held the examination in complete disdain. His theological scores had been among the best in all of France's seminaries back in his day, and he had frequently authored works on the Bible over the years, marking him as a quintessential academic priest.
He had already made up his mind: once he achieved an excellent score on the assessment, he would continue to rally others to resist the committee sent by the Holy See.
Soon, two censors placed the examination papers before him, bowing respectfully. "You have two hours to complete these, esteemed Archbishop. Please feel free to command us if you require anything."
Archbishop Boulogne ignored them, glancing at the first question.
"But sanctify the Lord God in your hearts: and be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you with meekness and fear."
He immediately smiled. This was a passage from the New Testament—1 Peter. Skillfully, he picked up his pen and completed the quote: "having a good conscience; that, whereas they speak evil of you, as of evildoers, they may be ashamed that falsely accuse your good conversation in Christ."
He scoffed softly, his pen flying across the page as he quickly completed the first seven questions.
All of them were passages from scripture, posing no difficulty for him whatsoever.
Archbishop Boulogne turned over the first page of the examination, internally confident he could finish the assessment within forty minutes, when he suddenly froze.
The question read: "Please briefly describe the climate and characteristics of the indigenous people of the Allegheny Mountains in North America."
He immediately looked at the censor standing beside him. "Have you perhaps given me the wrong examination paper?"
The latter leaned over to glance at it, shaking his head with a smile. "No mistake, Your Grace. These questions were personally formulated by the Holy Father."
"There's absolutely nothing about this in the Bible!" Archbishop Boulogne exclaimed angrily. "Why on earth would I need to know about some mountain?!"
The other censor politely explained, "It is quite necessary. Father Vigne's missionary efforts in North America have brought more than a hundred thousand faithful into the fold for the Holy See.
"His Holiness says, 'If we lack understanding of the geography and demographics of various regions across the world, how can we hope to achieve such outstanding missionary success?'"
Frustration welled up in Archbishop Boulogne, and he nearly blurted out, 'I'm not going to be out there proselytizing!' but he managed to bite his tongue.
After all, Father Vigne's achievements were too brilliant to dismiss, and missionary work had always been one of the Catholic Church's most vital missions.
Archbishop Boulogne shook his head and skipped the eighth question. He reasoned that passing required only 80% correct answers; at worst, he simply wouldn't achieve an 'excellent' score.
However, the ninth question once again blindsided him.
"What are the limitations and shortcomings of Thomas Aquinas's Four Principles of Natural Law?"
He only knew that Aquinas was a great philosopher from six centuries ago, whose thought had merged Aristotelian philosophy and theology to construct the Thomism framework.
His philosophy grades in school had been decent, but his studies primarily focused on cutting-edge theories from thinkers like Descartes and Spinoza; he hadn't truly delved into Aquinas.
This time, Archbishop Boulogne didn't protest to the examiner. After all, Aquinas's philosophical theories were closely tied to theology; for instance, he had proposed the "Five Ways" to prove the existence of God.
Archbishop Boulogne racked his brain, but he couldn't even recall what the 'Four Principles' were, so he was forced to skip it once more.
The next question was about the laws of celestial motion.
At this, he could no longer hold back, practically growling, "Why are there astronomy questions?!"
"Please calm yourself," the censor said in Latin. "As qualified clergy, you have a duty to prevent events like the Copernicus affair from impacting the Church, and that first requires a sufficient store of theoretical knowledge."
The two-hour examination quickly concluded, and Archbishop Boulogne emerged from the abbot's office, his face ashen.
Aside from the scriptural content on the first page, he had barely answered a single question correctly, estimating his completion rate was likely below forty percent.
He noticed two priests who had come for the re-examination chatting cheerfully, seemingly having performed well. In his astonishment, he stopped them and asked, "Do you know what Aquinas's Four Principles of Natural Law are?"
"Uh... I don't know, Your Grace."
"How does the Kant-Laplace nebular hypothesis explain the formation of the solar system?"
Both men shook their heads vigorously. "We've never heard of it at all—"
"Then how did you complete the examination?"
"Huh? What does that have to do with the examination?"
"You mean you didn't answer these questions either?"
The two priests exchanged puzzled glances. "There weren't any such questions, Your Grace," they said in confusion.
"How could that be? What were your questions about, then?"
"Content from the New Testament and the Old Testament—"
Archbishop Boulogne bristled with fury, charging toward the censor like a bull seeing red, loudly demanding to know why his questions were different from everyone else's.
"Please compose yourself," the censor said unhurriedly. "The questions vary for different holy orders, Your Grace. The higher the office, the greater the difficulty. This is to demonstrate your erudition."
Indeed, Crown Prince Joseph naturally wouldn't make things difficult for lower and middle-ranking clergy; priests and archbishops of his caliber were his true targets.
The following day, the second round of examinations by the Holy See's Review Committee began.
Simultaneously, the results of the first round of examinations were released. A total of six individuals, including Archbishop Boulogne and three priests, had failed the re-examination.
Through various channels, Archbishop Boulogne eventually learned that the committee would likely send a tutor from Rome to supervise his serious study of theology.
He and the other priests who had failed the re-examination felt their world collapsing, and they hurried to consult with Archbishop Beaumont and others about possible countermeasures.
However, by this time, nearly all high-ranking clergy had heard about the terrifying nature of the examinations and were frantically cramming on various subjects: philosophy, astronomy, geography, and even medicine. They had no time to spare for him.
As for Robespierre's proposal to take over the tithes, it had long since been cast to the back of their minds.
During this same period, the Ministry of Finance quietly approved the Tax Bureau's request to establish a 'Tithes Department.'
After the second round of examinations 'took down' two more archbishops, Brienne finally managed to recover his health, albeit weakly, under the constant visits from the church hierarchy.
However, his weakened body could not endure the tremendous noise of the train, so he had to travel to Baden by carriage.
By the time he slowly arrived in Strasbourg, he received news that His Royal Highness the Crown Prince had already concluded matters concerning the Kehl Railway Bridge and might be heading to Cologne.
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