Chapter 1430: This is the Industrial Revolution
As Queen Mary stepped out of the canning workshop, she felt a profound sense of disorientation.
According to the manager, this factory alone could produce nearly five million cans of two-kilogram fish, or 6.1 million cans of 1.35-kilogram fish, each year.
Just two years prior, Saint-Malo had been a small town of merely seven or eight thousand residents, surviving on fishing and smuggling.
Now, it was home to France's second-largest cannery, a factory so vast it resembled a city. The canned goods produced here alone could meet one-tenth of Paris's meat consumption.
It was a marvel she could never have imagined within the confines of Versailles!
Suddenly, she puffed out her chest proudly. Her son had just mentioned that several of the patents for these canning machines belonged to her own husband!
In her mind, 'Old Louis' seemed to instantly transform back into the handsome, gentle, and wise man he had once been.
Meanwhile, Joseph was discussing expansion with Delattre. "The Brittany railway line should begin construction within five years. After all, there's also an important shipbuilding industry here."
Delattre immediately exclaimed excitedly, "Your Highness, if we had a railway connecting us to Paris, I believe our annual output could soon exceed ten million cans!"
"That, Mr. Régis, is precisely one of the railway's greatest advantages," Joseph explained. "The towns and villages along the railway will send a large number of young people to work here in Saint-Malo.
"Within a few years, the villages within a ten-kilometer radius will gradually become part of Saint-Malo itself."
As the group spoke, a clamor of shouts and cries suddenly erupted from a workshop ahead and to their side.
Delattre's brow furrowed. He hastily dispatched his assistant to investigate, regretting that he hadn't informed the foremen of the Crown Prince's impending visit.
A moment later, his assistant returned, mumbling a few hurried words.
Delattre's expression softened. He turned and bowed slightly to Joseph. "Your Highness, it's just a minor incident. A new worker failed to secure the oil press's guide rod, causing it to bend.
"Fortunately, we have spare parts, so it should be repaired quickly."
"An oil press?" Joseph couldn't help but recall a certain machine 'emitting a foul odor', and instinctively asked, "What kind of oil press is it?"
"It's the latest model produced in Paris, Your Highness. It's steam-driven and can press rapeseed as dry as wood."
His assistant added in a low voice, "It was invented by a Mr. Schramm."
'So it was him.' Joseph remembered the name. He had once instructed Schramm to convert his 'manure press' into an oil press, and it seemed he had succeeded.
What Joseph didn't know was that he himself was one of the inventors of this oil press — Schramm had insisted on listing him as a co-inventor, but as was his custom, it hadn't been publicly announced.
After eight months in production, the revolutionary oil press had already sold over forty units — the upper limit of its production capacity, with orders backlogged for three years.
Joseph's account had also increased by over 50,000 francs as a result.
Joseph glanced towards the now quiet workshop. "Let's go take a look inside."
Delattre hurried to lead the way, still worried that the previous commotion might have displeased the Crown Prince, so he tried to change the subject. "Your Highness, to improve the flavor of our cod, our chefs suggested soaking the fish meat in oil.
"You see, our premium canned goods now contain over 30 grams of linseed oil.
"Previously, we had to purchase large quantities of oil from Saint-Brieuc, and the transportation costs were exorbitant.
"Later, the board decided to purchase this oil press. Now it extracts 360 kilograms of linseed oil daily, saving us a considerable sum."
Linseed oil has a fishy smell, making it unpopular in the edible oil market and relatively inexpensive. However, when mixed with canned fish, the fishy smell is no issue at all; on the contrary, it greatly enhanced the canned fish's texture and flavor.
As Joseph entered the oil pressing workshop, he saw a young man of sixteen or seventeen standing with his head bowed in a corner, tear stains still streaking his terrified face. He had clearly just caused trouble.
Several technicians were dismantling and replacing the damaged part.
Queen Mary felt a pang of pity. She tugged on her son's sleeve and gestured towards the young man with her eyes.
Joseph nodded and asked Delattre, "How much does that broken guide rod cost?"
"Ah, well..."
The latter had to pull over a technician and inquire, then reported to Joseph, "32 francs, Your Highness."
"Please don't blame that young man," Joseph said, gesturing towards the corner. "I'll compensate the factory on his behalf."
"Oh, Your Highness, that won't do! Rest assured, I won't make him pay."
According to the custom of the era, workers who damaged factory property were expected to pay for it.
A entourage had already slipped several franc notes into Delattre's hand.
Joseph then continued his inquiry. "By the way, have you purchased insurance for expensive machinery like this oil press?"
"Ah? Forgive my ignorance, Your Highness, but is there such a type of insurance?"
"Equipment insurance. It's been available for almost two years," Joseph nodded calmly. "In the future, insure all your major machinery. Thirty-odd francs, if that young man were forced to pay, it would likely bankrupt him."
'Indeed,' he thought to himself, 'equipment insurance was one of the coverage policies he personally had added to the Royal French Insurance Company's claims projects.' Now, accident insurance, workers' compensation, liability insurance, and a host of others were all available.
'It seems these factories haven't taken out any policies.' Joseph thought to himself. 'Looks like I'll have to add a mandatory insurance purchase requirement to the Factory Act.'
The young man who had caused the mishap immediately burst into tears of gratitude again when he learned that a nobleman had paid for the damaged oil press part on his behalf. As Joseph had said, he could not possibly produce 32 francs and would have been forced to take out a high-interest loan, which would ultimately cost him everything.
The sudden appearance of the nobleman had saved him.
He wanted to approach to thank him, but seeing the guards beside Joseph, he was too nervous to approach. In the end, he remained in his corner, bowing repeatedly towards Joseph and muttering incoherent words of thanks.
Joseph smiled and offered a few comforting words. The foreman nearby had already approached, pointing to the oil press and motioning for him to resume work.
Soon, the oil press's guide rod was repaired, and the technicians attempted to engage the gears. The massive iron disc immediately began to slowly descend under hydraulic pressure.
The workers busied themselves, pouring the freshly pressed oil-water mixture into enormous ceramic vats, which were then moved to an adjacent room for cooling and sedimentation.
Delattre continued his explanation to the Crown Prince. "Your Highness, the oil extracted by this machine is exceptionally pure. Bottled and wax-sealed, it will not turn rancid or sour for three or four months."
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