The Fox of France

Chapter 264: A Spectacle

As one of Britain's most prominent steam engine manufacturers, the Bolton-Watt Company couldn't afford to miss out on an event as grand as the Paris Expo. So, as soon as they received news that France would host the Expo, they hurried to the French embassy, requesting to reserve an exhibition space at the event. Given their prior business dealings with France, they received special attention and secured a prominent spot within the exhibition hall, while many other merchants who applied had to settle for what was referred to as "semi-open" booths.

Having paid the exhibition deposit, Bolton sent his son, Young Bolton, along with Watt, to France. Watt was incredibly knowledgeable about various machinery, but he wasn't particularly fond of haggling in business. It wasn't because Watt was inept at business—after all, he had been in partnership with Bolton for years and conducted numerous transactions. However, he preferred investing his time in studying machines rather than negotiating deals.

Rumors suggested that the Expo would showcase many mechanical wonders never seen before, and Watt was brimming with excitement. So, it was a certainty that he had to attend. Meanwhile, Bolton, as the head of the company, had to remain at the helm. Furthermore, given Bolton's advanced age, venturing far from home was a risk – the last thing he needed was to catch a chill, develop the flu, and, with no respirators in that era, face the grim prospect of pneumonia. Bolton senior wouldn't live to see the day when respirators would be available in England.

However, sending Watt alone wasn't the solution either. Once Watt arrived in France and laid eyes on the myriad of machines on display, he'd hardly have time to haggle. So, Bolton decided to send his son, Young Bolton, with Watt to the Expo.

Accompanied by a group of assistants and carrying numerous samples and prototypes, they disembarked at Calais. They spent a night at the "Expo Participant Reception" in Calais and then took two four-wheeled carriages arranged by the reception to head toward Paris.

During their journey to Paris, Watt noticed more electric pumping engines and small workshops powered by electricity. Most of the various metal products featured in the "London Businessman" newspaper were being manufactured in these small workshops.

"What secrets do electric motors and generators hold? I'm genuinely curious to find out," Watt said to Young Bolton inside the carriage.

"Yeah, but the French are quite secretive about these things. They don't allow these items to be sold to foreign countries," Young Bolton whispered, lowering his voice. "A friend of mine told me that the Navy tried to sneak away an electric motor from here and several people died in the process."

"What happened next?" Watt inquired.

"After we managed to sneak the sample back, we tried connecting it to a battery, only to discover that it had three wires. No matter which two we connected, the motor wouldn't turn. When we attempted to disassemble it, the motor exploded, claiming several more lives. Now, all we know is that it's filled with copper wires coated in a special way, wound in some peculiar manner. As for how it moves and why, it remains a mystery. Word has it that folks from the Navy and Cambridge University are working hard to figure it out, but with little success so far."

"Oh," Watt replied and then added, "Actually, I think small steam engines aren't that bad."

As a businessman who held numerous steam engine patents, he naturally didn't favor these unorthodox electric motors. Unfortunately, his knowledge of electric motors was limited, making it challenging to find specific reasons to criticize them. However, learning that the folks at the Navy hadn't made much progress on this issue pleased Watt.

A few days later, Watt and his party arrived in Paris.

Watt's first impression of Paris was its cleanliness. In that era, European cities, in general, were quite dirty, and Paris was no exception. People in those days would sometimes toss waste, even excrement, directly onto the streets. Over time, this practice left the streets elevated above the surrounding buildings, and the smell, dust, and filth were unimaginable.

Things had changed somewhat after the revolution. Due to the scarcity of saltpeter, an essential component for gunpowder, the revolutionary government started considering human waste as a strategic resource (it could be used to produce saltpeter) and enforced compulsory collections of this resource. Discarding excrement and urine directly onto the streets became illegal, even a criminal offense during Robespierre's time.

By the time Napoleon came into power, the saltpeter problem had been mostly resolved, but the waste collection system remained, only now it was repurposed for composting. Furthermore, as part of preparing the ground for the future "Roman Empire," the Ministry of Truth had continuously celebrated the level of civilization of the Roman Empire in various ways, attributing many sensible, nonsensical, and even unfounded inventions to the Romans.

In the end, when wireless technology was invented, a joke went around: one day, Lucien received a report stating that an archaeology team had found copper wires at a Roman excavation site. Lucien was thrilled and exclaimed, "Great Rome, they've even started using electricity!" However, when he rushed to the scene, he found that it was a misunderstanding – those things weren't copper wires. Lucien was even more delighted and proclaimed, "Great Rome, they've already started using wireless!"

The Ministry of Truth extolled various aspects of Roman civilization, one of which was Roman public hygiene. So, as part of reviving the "Roman spirit," public hygiene was elevated to a crucial level. After the discovery of pathogenic bacteria, the issue gained even more significance, and Napoleon seized the opportunity to push the so-called Paris Renovation Movement. He encouraged the people of Paris to engage in voluntary labor for half a day every week, cleaning up the accumulating waste. The First Consul himself would often join the labor, and each time, the chant of "Long live Napoleon!" would echo through the skies.

Compared to other cities, clean streets were Watt's first impression of Paris. But he soon noticed another difference between Paris and London – there were far fewer chimneys in Paris. Even in the industrial districts, the difference was apparent.

"It must be those cursed electric motors," Watt muttered. While the air in Paris had considerably less coal smoke than London, both Watt and Young Bolton now harbored the desire to eradicate the electric heresy just as the English once burned Joan of Arc.

After spending two nights in Paris, the following day, Watt took a detour to visit Paris University and ended up having a lively discussion on scientific matters with Armand Lavasie, who happened to be at Paris University. Watt actually wanted to meet another French scientist, Joseph Bonaparte, but Lavasie informed him that Joseph was currently away in the south.

"Probably related to electricity. He should return soon, and you'll surely catch him at the Expo. After all, many businesses there are related to his work," Lavasie explained.

As Watt left Lavasie, the scientist advised him, "When you visit the Expo tomorrow, take notice of the road leading to the venue. It's quite fascinating."

These words kept Watt guessing throughout the night about what made that road so "fascinating."

When the next morning arrived, and the carriage moved along that road, Watt immediately noticed what set it apart. This whitish road appeared to be a single, massive piece of stone, cut so smoothly that the carriage hardly bumped or jolted while traveling on it.

Watt signaled the coachman to halt. He got off the carriage, and without minding appearances, knelt down halfway, took a single-lens eyepiece from his coat pocket, and fixed it over his right eye. He closely examined the road.

"It must be concrete," Watt said.

Concrete wasn't anything particularly astonishing; the Romans had used natural volcanic ash concrete centuries ago. And the British had even developed "Roman cement." But given the sheer length and width of this road, it raised a question: how much concrete had been used? It would have been a costly endeavor if they'd used "Roman cement" for such a long stretch.

"Indeed, it's concrete," William Murdoch, one of Watt's assistants who had joined him, concurred.

"With a road this wide and long, think of the amount of concrete they've used. The French must be...," Young Bolton remarked.

"Perhaps the French have discovered a more cost-effective method," Watt suggested. "Matthew, keep an eye out at the Expo. If this material is available, it should find a significant market. While our primary focus is promoting our steam engines, we won't let a good opportunity slip by. Of course, it's even better if we can acquire the technology and produce it ourselves."

Young Bolton nodded in agreement. Watt then pocketed his single-lens eyepiece and, along with Young Bolton and William Murdoch, climbed back into the carriage.

During the remaining journey, the group continued discussing the potential market for low-cost concrete.

An hour later, they reached the Expo. As they disembarked from the carriage, a colossal Roman-style structure unfolded before them.

It resembled the Roman Pantheon, with a rectangular colonnade boasting twenty-six massive columns on the façade. The interior remained partially obscured from their view at that point, but it was undoubtedly a grander version of the original Pantheon.

"Napoleon's only been in power for a short while, even if he started building it as soon as he took office, completing such a structure in such a brief period involves truly astonishing technological prowess. It's a wonder of this era," Watt remarked to Young Bolton, his mood oddly growing heavier as he spoke.