Chapter 1058: France, A Paradise for Technicians!
Whitney turned around and saw one of the judges from the panel. Thinking the man had come to deliver the news that his application had been rejected, he bowed dejectedly. "Mr. Vaucanson, it is quite alright..."
Vaucanson, however, was flipping through his application. "Ah, I noticed you proposed a concept for a 'turret milling machine,' but there was very little detail. If it is convenient for you..."
Whitney’s eyes lit up instantly. "Of course! I have plenty of time to explain it to you in detail."
He followed Vaucanson into an adjacent room, his words flowing like a rushing river. "Oh, it is an incredibly versatile milling machine.
"As you know, current milling machines can only process one side of a workpiece, and milling a slope is extremely difficult."
Vaucanson was a mechanical expert and nodded in agreement. "Indeed. One has to repeatedly remove the workpiece, change the clamping angle, and then resume milling."
Whitney grew excited. "That is why I have conceptualized a 'multi-directional feed device.' The workbench is no longer fixed; instead, it is mounted on three sets of axes, allowing for transverse, longitudinal, and vertical movement.
"This way, once the workpiece is clamped, it can perform complex movements along the cutting tool. Oh, and if an indexing device is added, the workpiece can even rotate along its own axis!
"Wait, I must write this idea down."
"And the precision won't rely on a craftsman's repeated measurements—it will be ten times more precise than current milling machines!
"Since the cutting tool does not need to move, precision can be further improved."
He closed his notebook, extending his index finger then laying it flat. "Furthermore, I believe the tool spindle should be oriented horizontally. This would significantly increase the depth the workpiece can reach.
"Moreover, a horizontal tool can be fixed with a very thick frame, providing much higher stability..."
After he finished his explanation in one breath, Vaucanson nodded repeatedly. "An excellent design. It is clear your knowledge in the field of mechanics is very solid."
He stood up. "Please wait here for a moment."
Ten minutes later, Vaucanson returned and placed a form in front of Whitney. "Congratulations, your 'turret milling machine' has convinced us."
Whitney was about to cheer when the judge added, "However, since this machine is still just a concept, I can only grant you the status of a 'Temporary Talent.' The term is two years.
"If you can complete the design of the 'turret milling machine' during this period—at least partially—or publish an influential paper in 'Natural Science Magazine,' then you will obtain official talent status."
Whitney replied with immediate confidence, "You will see what I am capable of!"
"Then I congratulate you in advance," Vaucanson said with a smile. "Please fill out this registration form as soon as possible and hand it to Mr. François. He is in the office next door."
The two exchanged a few more pleasantries. As Vaucanson was about to leave, he suddenly thought of something and turned back. "By the way, perhaps you could change the new milling machine's drive from a water wheel to a steam engine. The rotation of a steam engine is more stable, and it would allow your milling machine to be moved anywhere."
"Thank you for the suggestion, I will consider it seriously."
That afternoon, Whitney finished the formalities at the French Academy of Sciences. Led by a servant assigned to him, he headed to a luxury hotel provided by the Academy.
"The review process might take a few days," the servant explained helpfully as he hailed a carriage. "After that, you will be a prestigious Grade-E Talent. You will be given a house in the Palace of Great Scholars."
Whitney asked impatiently, "And the stipend?"
"Two thousand two hundred francs per year, my master."
Whitney pumped his fist. This was more than triple what he earned in America.
'It was definitely the right move not to pay those last few coins to my lawyer.'
He had invented the cotton gin years ago, but due to his unfamiliarity with American patent laws, others had jumped in to register parts of the patent first.
Afterward, he had been trapped in endless patent lawsuits.
But he was just an ordinary man from a blacksmith family, still owing Yale University for his tuition at the time. He could not afford famous lawyers. Ultimately, the lawsuits were a total disaster, and he ended up owing the counterfeiters a huge sum of money.
Just then, he heard from a friend about a Bavarian named Achard. When Achard was destitute, he had gone to France and obtained talent status.
Now, Achard had not only been granted a title of nobility and a fortune of over a hundred thousand francs, but he had also married a noble lady. This year, he even won the Supreme Louis Prize, reaching the pinnacle of success.
After much internal struggle, Whitney sold his cotton gin workshop for two hundred dollars and boarded a ship for France.
As for Lawyer Drake's hundred-and-thirty-dollar legal fee—Whitney hadn't paid a cent. That lawyer had hardly won a single case for him.
And now, relying solely on the ideas in his head, he had secured an annual stipend equivalent to eight hundred and eighty dollars.
Plus a house. He heard those houses were worth tens of thousands of francs!
As they traveled, he spoke with the servant about patents and felt even more satisfied.
French patent law stipulated that the first to apply was not necessarily the owner. The Patent Office conducted strict tracing of the invention's origin, including a full technical evaluation. Malicious patent squatting was almost impossible.
However, Whitney soon forced himself to calm down and began to think seriously about the new milling machine.
After all, if he couldn't produce results within two years, he would have to tuck his tail and head back to his hometown in Massachusetts.
Before the carriage even reached the hotel, Whitney's heart sank again.
To develop a milling machine, he first needed a workshop.
In America, he could use his father's blacksmith shop to process parts, but now he was empty-handed.
Furthermore, the research and development process required a massive investment.
Leaving aside the fact that research often involved repeated failures, even if he succeeded on the first try, building one machine of his design would cost at least four or five thousand francs.
His two-year stipend wouldn't even be enough to cover it.
'Perhaps I should find a job at a machine shop first and conduct experiments while I work.'
'But that would waste a tremendous amount of time.'
In the midst of such worries, Whitney drifted into a deep sleep.
The next day, the first thing he did upon waking was ask the servant to take him to a blacksmith shop.
A set of handy tools was the most basic requirement for any technician.
His previous tools were all left in America—those items were far too heavy to carry with him.
He had been somewhat worried about whether French craftsmen could meet his standards, but the moment he stepped into the blacksmith shop, he was stunned.
The shelves behind the counter were filled with pliers, wrenches, hammers, drill bits, and various other tools. The workmanship was exquisite, and they came in every possible size.
Moreover, he hadn't even seen half of the tools on display before.
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