Chapter 109: Debating the Clergy

Chapter 109: Debating the Clergy

In the guest room on the west side of the cathedral, Archbishop Beaumont wore a look of disbelief. "Your Highness, how could that be possible? Potatoes could never have been on the table during the Passover meal."

He was referring to the scene depicted in The Last Supper—the painting showing Jesus and his twelve disciples sharing their final meal during Passover, where Jesus famously announced that one of them would betray him.

Joseph smiled. "Archbishop Beaumont, how do you know there weren't any potatoes on that table?"

"Well…"

"I recall that in the earliest depictions of The Last Supper, the Lord was only holding a piece of bread. It wasn't until Da Vinci's famous painting that various foods were added to the scene. So adding one more item should be acceptable, right?"

A high-ranking priest nearby carefully interjected, "Your Highness, as far as I know, there were no potatoes in Jerusalem before the Crucifixion…"

Joseph immediately stood up, his tone indignant. "What are you saying? Are you questioning the Lord's omniscience? How could there be anything in this world that the Lord hasn't seen or tasted? Especially something as common as a potato!"

The priest was startled and quickly retreated, crossing himself repeatedly and muttering prayers, asking the Lord to forgive his sin—he had no intention of questioning the Lord.

Archbishop Beaumont was stunned for a moment but then found his counterargument. "Your Highness, potatoes are not mentioned anywhere in the Bible. Therefore, I believe they are not suitable to include in such a painting."

Joseph turned to him with a warm smile. "Archbishop, the tea you drink every day is also not mentioned in the Bible. The corn that Paris's poor rely on for sustenance is similarly absent. Yet these are also gifts from the Lord, and we should be thankful to Him for them. Amen."

He crossed himself, and the surrounding priests quickly followed suit, echoing, "Amen."

"But," Archbishop Beaumont, who had spent decades interpreting scripture for the faithful, had never faced such a challenging argument. Summoning his clerical expertise, he countered, "Your Highness, while some things aren't mentioned in the Bible, we can find their equivalents within it.

"For example, tea leaves fall under the category of leaves, and corn is a type of grain. As long as they belong to similar categories…"

Joseph, having prepared for this on the way over, quickly responded, "Archbishop, you are correct. The Bible mentions that the roots of the broom tree can be used as food, and potatoes belong to the same category as those. You see, they're both tubers that grow underground."

"That's not…"

Another high-ranking priest chimed in softly, "Your Highness, all edible crops in this world are the result of the union of male and female, producing offspring. Grains, corn, and tea leaves are all like that. But potatoes reproduce without such union—just cut a piece, and it grows into a new plant. This suggests they are a blasphemous creation…"

Joseph turned to him with a smile. "You might want to discuss that with Count Lamarck. I'm sure he would be happy to explain it to you."

Archbishop Beaumont shot the priest a glare. Being well-versed in knowledge, he knew that potatoes do indeed produce flowers and seeds, but people didn't grow them because they were too slow.

Seeing that the clergy had fallen silent, Joseph waved his hand emphatically. "Everything in this world is created and given to us by the Lord, including potatoes.

"As you all know, potatoes have saved countless lives in Prussia, Austria, and other places. This shows that they are a food the Lord has provided to save mankind—a sign of His mercy.

"Your mission is to help people accept the Lord's gifts, leading them to be more grateful and devout, isn't that so?"

He glanced at the large number of lower-ranking priests who had gathered to eavesdrop outside the room and then raised his voice. "This is not just about adding potatoes to a painting. The government has decided to promote potato cultivation throughout France, and we need the Church's help to inform the farmers that this is the Lord's gift. All clergy who assist in this effort will receive a monthly stipend of 10 livres.

"Additionally, if the people in your areas accept potatoes well, your churches will receive a bonus of 300 livres."

Seeing the excitement among the priests outside, Beaumont hesitated for a moment before sighing deeply and saying to Joseph, "Your Highness, perhaps you are right. Potatoes could be added to The Last Supper."

He shook his head silently to himself, thinking: But this won't make much difference. Even if the Church agrees, the people still won't plant potatoes in their fields.

Soon, the new version of The Last Supper appeared in art shops across Paris. In the painting, there were two potatoes on the plate in front of Jesus, and a small bowl of mashed potatoes in front of Peter.

The major newspapers in Paris also began printing this image. Although the illustrations were in black and white and the engraving was not very detailed, anyone could tell that the two round, lumpy objects were potatoes.

Meanwhile, at Chef Barnabe's "Spiral Potato Tower" stand, people remained hesitant. After all, it was difficult to change habits formed over a century.

However, some people in dire straits noticed that the street children who had eaten potatoes days earlier were still healthy and lively, showing no signs of poisoning or illness. This made them consider trying it themselves.

Finally, someone mustered the courage, resigned to whatever might happen, and ate a free fried potato skewer. The delicious taste made them smack their lips in delight.

Elsewhere in Paris, dishes like mashed potatoes and French fries, made by royal chefs, were also quickly claimed. Although there were still few willing to try, cracks had begun to form in the invisible barrier of fear and superstition.

Meanwhile, the Tuileries Palace was abuzz with activity.

Hundreds of carpenters, masons, and glaziers were busy repairing doors, walls, and chandeliers. After being abandoned for so long, more than eighty percent of the palace's two thousand rooms needed repairs.

Flesselles, the president of the Paris Chamber of Commerce, who wore fine clothes but whose tricorn hat was now dust-covered, was directing his men, coordinating the deployment of people and materials.

As the newly appointed chairman of the "Paris Fashion Week Organizing Committee," Flesselles' brown eyes were bloodshot, but he had no intention of resting.

Under the Prince's orders, the committee had drawn up a plan to complete the restoration of the Tuileries Palace within a month. With the funds now allocated, everyone was working tirelessly to meet the deadline.

On the east side of the palace square, a massive catwalk over 50 meters long, made of maple wood, was nearly halfway complete. Workers, moving like ants, were constantly hauling materials up and down.

Flesselles watched this with excitement. He knew exactly what this fashion event would bring to Paris.

It was prosperity!

It was prestige!

And most of all, it was enormous profits!

In a hall in the west wing of the Tuileries Palace, Joseph looked at the dozens of beautiful women before him, all with awkward gaits and strange movements. He couldn't help but sigh and shake his head.

(End of Chapter)

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