Chapter 161: The Father of Chemistry
Joseph hadn't merely heard of Lavoisier; the name resonated like thunder in his mind.
The greatest French chemist of the 18th century, he was hailed as the "Father of Modern Chemistry" and the "Newton of Chemistry."
He was the founder of modern chemistry, proving the law of conservation of mass, defining the concept of "elements," inventing modern chemical nomenclature—the precursor to the periodic table—and establishing the oxidation theory, thus ending the "phlogiston theory."
Simply put, he was a titan in the field of chemistry.
Joseph immediately felt enlightened. It was no wonder the Royal Powder Bureau couldn't function without their director—any department with a technical powerhouse like Lavoisier as its pillar of support would inevitably develop a dependency. He surmised that all previous R&D work at the bureau had revolved around Lavoisier. When he took leave, everyone else lost their central guiding figure.
The Powder Bureau's assistant director cautiously looked at the Crown Prince:
"Your Royal Highness, I'll go inform the director to come meet you then."
"No need," Joseph said, rising to his feet.
Whether out of admiration for a scholar whose name would be etched in history, or respect for a current academic titan, he felt it only proper to personally visit Lavoisier.
Less than a kilometer from the Palace of Versailles, one could already see crowds transferring to rail carriages in the distance—the British track-laying technicians were remarkably fast. The wooden tracks now reached the western suburbs of Paris, and in another month at most, one could travel directly from the Palace of Versailles to Paris by rail carriage.
Nobles queuing to change carriages all made way for the Crown Prince. Joseph didn't demur, directly boarding a four-person rail carriage.
The carriage sped along the wooden tracks at an exceptionally high speed, more than twice as fast as a regular carriage. And because the wooden tracks offered very little resistance, it was clear that the horses pulling the carriage were extremely relaxed, almost as if running unladen.
In the past, horses would have to slow down and rest once or twice on the journey from Versailles to Paris. This time, not only did the horses not rest, but when they encountered downhill sections, they even frolicked and sprinted, accelerating so much that the coachman had to repeatedly shout 'Whoa!' to rein them in.
Joseph watched the trees rapidly flashing past outside the window, estimating that the carriage's speed was already approaching that of a modern electric scooter.
He mused that they should first build a wooden track encircling Paris, and then another running north-south directly through the city center. The east-west wooden track had already been completed before Fashion Week.
By then, Paris's overall traffic efficiency would be unrivaled in all of Europe, leading to a significant increase in the city's overall efficiency.
As for construction costs, with the current wooden track serving as a demonstration, funds could entirely be raised from the private sector, granting operating rights for the rail transport as a means of repayment, much like the highway model of later generations.
Once Paris's rail transport gained renown, they could then try building rail lines connecting Paris to industrial areas like Lyon, to boost product sales.
It was important to remember that although these wooden tracks could only be used by carriages, they wouldn't be wasted in the future, as the underlying foundations and sleepers were compatible with iron rails.
Once France's steel production increased and steam trains were invented, they could dismantle the wooden tracks and replace them with iron rails, allowing trains to run on them in a very short time.
In about an hour, the carriage arrived at the west side of Paris's Saint-Germain-des-Prés district. Joseph disembarked and walked a short distance, soon spotting a gray and white villa not far away.
Eman looked around at the street signs and said to him, "Your Royal Highness, this should be the place."
Joseph gazed at the exquisitely designed villa, and the three to four hundred square meters of garden and children's play area within its walls, only then recalling Lavoisier's other identity—a Tax Farmer.
If he remembered correctly, Lavoisier contracted the salt and tobacco taxes for 500,000 Livres, with an annual income likely between 80,000 and 100,000, making him a very wealthy man.
However, it was precisely this identity that caused him to lose his life during the Great Revolution. Lagrange once lamented over this, saying:
"They could cut off his head in a blink, but a mind like his wouldn't appear again in a hundred years!"
Joseph sighed inwardly. 'As long as I am around, I will never allow a scientific gem like Lavoisier to suffer harm.'
Lavoisier had never expected the Crown Prince to suddenly pay a visit and, both surprised and nervous, he hastily led his entire family—young and old—and his servants out to greet him.
"Ah, Your Royal Highness, I am truly honored!" Lavoisier bowed respectfully at the doorway. "I never imagined you would grace us with your presence."
Joseph smiled, nodded, and returned the greeting, leading the chemist into the house as he asked with concern:
"I heard you've taken an extended leave. Are you feeling unwell?"
"Thank you for your concern, Your Royal Highness," Lavoisier replied with a smile, shaking his head. "I'm quite alright, as you can see, robust as ever!
"I merely needed to focus my efforts on completing the paper I'm working on, which is why I temporarily set aside my duties at the Royal Powder Bureau."
Joseph asked curiously, "Oh? And what grand work are you writing?"
"Oh, I am naming it 'Elements of Chemistry'," Lavoisier said with a look of pride. "It is the culmination of all my ideas about chemistry. I believe it will surely bring new life to the field!"
Joseph's heart stirred. No wonder Lavoisier had taken such a long leave; it was because the foundational work of modern chemistry was about to be unveiled.
'Elements of Chemistry' was a monumental work, hailed by later generations as one of the "Three Great Masterpieces" of world natural science, alongside Newton's 'Principia Mathematica' and Darwin's 'On the Origin of Species'.
Joseph was ushered by Lavoisier to the sofa, settling onto the cushion that the hostess had meticulously tidied. He then said to Lavoisier:
"Please, sit down as well."
Thinking of the main purpose of his visit, he said with some hesitation, "Monsieur Lavoisier, although this might affect your research, there is something that only you can help with right now."
"Oh, Your Royal Highness, please feel free to command. It would be my honor."
"I need the Powder Bureau to quickly produce mercury fulminate, but they've indicated that without your supervision of the experiments, they likely wouldn't be able to produce a finished product for another four months."
Lavoisier nodded slightly:
"You're referring to that explosive that detonates easily upon impact, aren't you? I've seen it mentioned in British papers. It should be made from mercury and nitric acid. I estimate a crystallization method would be used to obtain a purer final product, and it might also require a catalyst."
Joseph mentally gave a thumbs-up. Truly an academic titan; he had estimated the preparation process almost perfectly just by looking at public papers.
Lavoisier continued:
"Clovis and his colleagues might not be very adept at such delicate experimental procedures. Your Royal Highness, I can help you with the trial production of mercury fulminate, but I can only visit the Powder Bureau two days a week."
Joseph thought, 'Two days is fine too; I can't delay the publication of 'Elements of Chemistry' for this.'
He asked, "How long do you estimate you'll need to complete the experiments?"
"About a month," Lavoisier said, looking softly at his wife standing nearby. "Provided Marie-Anne is willing to help."
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