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Black Republic of Letters

"A baton rompus" / "Meandering"

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"Meandering" Translation:

We have accepted the task of putting together, every other week, for the readers of La Fraternité, news from the world of science. It is hardly necessary to mention that, in the diverse questions about which we will speak, we will never deal with long theoretical explanations, abstract discussions, which are only appropriate in special publications. We will consider, as is proper here, only the practical side of things. It may nevertheless come to pass that we will dwell on details that seem insignificant to some of our readers. We ask that they would always remember that we are writing for a very diverse public.

Haiti is not at the pinnacle of progress, not by a long shot. We come to Paris for illumination. The country of the Yankees, although only six or seven days away from Haiti, seems to us... a bit further than France. Optical illusion, if you like; the illusion is dear to us. Furthermore, in the Americas all minds are not swept up by the very real but limited power of the Yankees. And if we say here a country rich with wonders, it is only to use the current language of Europe. We believe, moreover, that of a long list of inventions of the century, the United States [in English] owe a lot to the States of the old continent. But the prejudice is real. Yet one will not be too surprised to discover, one day, that European inventors have exploited it to their benefit. They look to the American flag, the Americana patent. Look! Look! And such a great American inventor—worthy of the admiration of the rest of the world—is perhaps twice the patenter of inventions...

Do you know what Edison gave Stanley as a wedding gift? You guessed it, a phonogram engraved with the march played in Westminster Abbey during the bridal blessing ceremony. For an end of the century gift, that was very fin de siècle.

A word of advice: the day of your wedding, buy a phonograph. Later, after the honeymoon, you can tell me the news.

This little instrument has more than one surprise; one never tires of saying it. Thus it can be said that stenographers are sleeping with one eye open. Phonographs are threatening them with a fearful competition. Consider what happened at the Chicago Auditorium, where Mr. Depew, the well known New York orator, recently gave a speech on the 1893 Exposition. Operators placed in front of phonographs to record the words of the speaker, repeated them quietly into the tube of their device. And Mr. Depew, it seems, had yet to finish his speech when the city's newspapers had already received printed proofs of the first part. In effect, when the wax cylinder is fully engraved it is brought to another operator who has the speech repeated at the desired speed, and draws out the proofs with the help of a printing machine. But, with the help of progress, instead of passing the cylinders on to another operator, they will soon put them in immediate communication with telephones, connected to the printers of the city's newspapers. Time is money [English in original]. By that time, we will describe typographical work thus: a telephonic tube arranging characters in a composing stick, by way of a high school graduate...The way things are going...

The "Time is money" [English in original] applied to the question of the pain of death already preoccupied the inventors of the guillotine. They approached the problem thus: given the unlimited number of aristocrats, the best way to get rid of as many as possible in a limited number of hours. It was all there. Carrier found the solution in the use of flat bottom boats.

Today, to shield from the inconveniences of the "Kemmler chair," one would use.... the complete antithesis, a compressed air chamber. It is true that this device was invented higher outcomes. The workers fixed into it, far from being victims, are all conquerors. The members of the press that took part in the underwater banquet, whose guests included the director of the of the workers of the bridge at Ciotat, emerged safe and sound. I believe, however, that if—over champagne—they had been reminded that they had eight metres of salt water over their heads and that the slightest lapse in the the function of the air pumps would have instantly made killed the guests, one would have been met with disapproving cries of "Shame" [English in original].

But the example will be followed. Before long you will hear people talking about underwater restaurants, and that's when the expression sous-l'eaugraphie will acquire its true sense. I'm actually shocked that, to complement the Eiffel Tower, they have not yet dug an 800-metre well, with a platform elevator, etc.

From one extreme to the other. They relate, for that matter. Consider the way Europe is avoiding war: armed peace. The States are staring each other down. It is up to the one who portrays itself as the most fearsome, who has the most perfected engines of war. And as soon as one country has finished arming its troupes with a new model gun, another newer model suddenly appears. Thus, the Italian war committee has just been presented with an automatic weapon that has the speed of 51 shots per minute.

There is also Mr. Paul Giffard's gas pistol. It's a clever idea. The principle behind the invention is the expansion force of liquified gasses coming back to the gaseous state.

A heavy-duty case, containing liquid carbonic acid, is placed under the barrel. The movement of the trigger acts on a valve system to let a drop of liquid through, which turns to gas in the bore of the gun, and shoots the bullet forward.

Let's hope that the inventor hurries to make the necessary perfections for it to be adopted in use.

F. Doret