Travel Scholarships. Jules Verne

by the hypothesis that the typographers accidentally used an earlier proof for these ten chapters instead of the final one, or that Verne continued correcting the Magasin proofs, whereas the grand in-octavo version had already been given to the printer. However, as noted above, these variations have no significance in the translation itself. In both parts, the in-18 edition constitutes an intermediate state, mostly agreeing with the text of the in-octavo. When a variant might be of real interest to the reader—as is the case for several peculiarities mentioned above—it is listed in the Notes.

       Volker Dehs

      Trans. Matthew Brauer

      Part I

       Upon the calling of his name, each laureate had come up to the platform.

       1 The Competition

      “First place, ex aequo,¹ goes to Louis Clodion and Roger Hinsdale,” proclaimed the director Julian Ardagh in a resounding voice. The two laureates were welcomed by loud cheers, multiple hurrahs, and a big round of applause.

      Then, from atop the platform raised in the center of the Antillean School’s main courtyard, the director continued to read the list before him, announcing the following names:

      “Second place: Axel Wickborn.”

      “Third place: Albertus Leuwen.”

      A new round of applause was heard, weaker than the first, but just as sympathetic.

      Mr. Ardagh continued:

      “Fourth place: John Howard.”

      “Fifth place: Magnus Anders.”

      “Sixth place: Niels Harboe.”²

      “Seventh place: Hubert Perkins.”

      The momentum having been set, the bravos now prolonged with the pace acquired. There remained one last name to announce to complete the nine laureates included in this very special competition.³

      The director finally revealed the name to the audience:

      “Eighth place: Tony Renault.”

      Even though Tony Renault was the last name to be called, the bravos and the cheers were just as strong. A good classmate, as obliging as he was daring, and spontaneous by nature, he had only friends among the Antillean School’s boarders.

      Upon the calling of his name, each laureate had come up to the platform to shake hands⁴ with Mr. Ardagh; then, each had regained his place among the less-fortunate classmates who celebrated them wholeheartedly.

      One cannot help but notice the diversity in the names of the nine laureates, indicating their different national origins. This diversity was explained by the fact that the academic establishment that Mr. Julian Ardagh directed, at 314 Oxford Street in London, was known, and with great repute, by the name of the Antillean School.

      This institution, founded fifteen years earlier, was for the sons of colonists from the Greater and Lesser Antilles—or Antilie,⁵ as it is currently known. It was here that the students came to begin, continue, or finish their studies in England. They generally stayed until their twenty-first birthday and received a very practical as well as a very complete education in all matters literary, scientific, industrial, and commercial. The Antillean School was home to about sixty boarders who paid a substantial tuition. They came out of it prepared for any career, whether they planned to remain in Europe or return to the Antilles, if their families had not left that part of the West Indies.

      During the course of the academic year, it was rare not to find—in unequal⁶ numbers—Spaniards, Danish, English, French, Dutch, Swedish, even Venezuelans, all originating from the Windward and Leeward archipelago whose control was shared by both European and American powers.

      Mr. Julian Ardagh, along with the help of some very distinguished teachers, directed this international school designed for young Antilleans. At fifty years old, he was a serious and cautious administrator who justly deserved the trust of his students’ families. He had a faculty of undeniable merit who worked under his direction, whether in the humanities, the sciences, or the arts. The Antillean School also did not neglect physical fitness and engaged in sports recommended and played in the United Kingdom such as cricket, boxing, water jousting,⁷ fencing, croquet, soccer, swimming, dancing, horseback-riding, cycling, rowing, and finally all the styles of modern gymnastics.

      Mr. Ardagh also tried to strengthen and fuse the young men’s diverse temperaments and mixed personalities, which such different nationalities present. He tried to turn his boarders into “Antilleans” and to inspire in them a lasting friendship for each other. He was not as successful as he would have liked. Sometimes, racial⁸ instincts, more powerful than good examples and good advice, won the day. All in all, however, even if only traces of this integration remained after they left the school, it should yield results in the future, and the system of co-education was praiseworthy and a great credit to the Oxford Street establishment.

      Needless to say, the boarders were fluent in the multiple languages used in the West Indies. Mr. Ardagh even had the ingenious idea to impose their use, one at a time, during classes and recreation. One week, English was spoken; the next, French was spoken; then Dutch, Spanish, Danish, and Swedish. Without a doubt, the Anglo-Saxon students were the majority at this establishment, and perhaps they tried to impose a sort of physical and moral domination.

      But the other Antillean islands were represented in adequate proportion. Even the island of Saint Barthélemy, the only Scandinavian colony, claimed several students, among whom was Magnus Anders, fifth-place winner in the competition.

      All in all, the task of Mr. Ardagh and his peers was not exempt from certain practical difficulties. It was necessary to have a true spirit of justice, a sure and consistent method, an apt and firm hand in order to prevent rivalries springing up among these wealthy young heirs.

      In fact, concerning the competition, one might have feared that, when the laureates were announced, personal ambitions might have caused some disagreement, protests, or jealousy. In the end, the results had been satisfactory: a Frenchman and an Englishman earned first place, having received the same number of points. It is also true that, even if it were one of Queen Victoria’s subjects who came in the next-to-the-last place, it was again a citizen of the French Republic who arrived in last place, Tony Renault, of whom none of the boarders appeared to be jealous. In between, diverse natives of the English, French, Danish, Dutch, and Swedish Antilles followed in the rankings. Yet there were no winners from Venezuela or Spain, even though there were about fifteen of them at the school at that time. One may remark, as an aside, that this particular year, the students from Cuba, Santo Domingo, Puerto Rico—that is, the Greater Antilles—who numbered between twelve and fifteen at the school, were among the youngest ones and had been restricted from participating in the competition, which required them to be at least seventeen years old.

      Indeed, the exam had covered not only scientific and literary subjects, but also—to no one’s surprise—questions of ethnology, geography, and commerce that dealt with the Antillean archipelago; its history, past, present, and future; and its relations with the different European states who, after the haphazard nature of the first discoveries, had later attached some of them to their colonial empires.

      So then, what was the purpose of this contest? What prizes did the laureates gain? It made a series of travel scholarships available to them that would allow them to quench, for a few months, their thirst for exploration and travel, so natural in young men who had not yet celebrated their twenty-first birthdays.

      So there were nine of them who, thanks to their ranking, were able to go, perhaps not around the whole globe, as the majority among them would have liked, but to some interesting region