This evolution applies just as well to the Lesser Antilles, whose geological condition, for Verne, was nothing less than conclusive:
It is not impossible that the submarine floor, which is coralline in nature, might someday rise up to the surface of the sea through the persevering work of coral polyps or even as the result of a plutonic upthrust. In such conditions, Saint Martin and Anguilla would then form only one island. […] Could they imagine a future time, very distant no doubt, where these islands would be joined to each other, forming a sort of vast continent at the mouth of the Gulf of Mexico, and, who knows! even connecting with the American territories? Under such conditions, how could England, France, the Netherlands, and Denmark maintain their claims to have their national flags on these lands? (Part I, chap. 15)
In the Extraordinary Voyages, volcanic action is an ever-present geological force that mercilessly and indifferently reveals the limits of human power, even when supported by science and industry. Volcanism destroys as it creates and creates as it destroys, as demonstrated by the end of The Mysterious Island and the real catastrophe in Martinique in 1902.
In this global perspective, humanity must always, according to Verne, work out its differences and overcome the conflicts caused by national interests. It is no doubt just a fortuitous coincidence that Verne conserved among his working notes a long article excerpted from an unidentified journal, dedicated to “the Hague Conference.”42 Although this first international peace conference was not able to halt the ongoing growth of military armament among the Western powers, it did manage to set up an international judicial tribunal and establish rules for armed conflicts. The Hague Conference was held from May 18 to July 29, 1899—about the same time as Verne was writing Travel Scholarships.
TEXTUAL VARIANTS
This translation by Teri J. Hernández was based on the final edition (grand in-octavo) of Verne’s Bourses de voyage, although it is not clear that this version is necessarily the most thoroughly corrected one. Comparing the version from the Magasin to that of the in-octavo reveals a highly unequal number of variations: about 630 for the first part and 170 for the second, which might at first seem to be a huge disparity. But a large portion of these corrections are of secondary importance and are undetectable in translation since they mostly concern punctuation, choice of synonyms, and sentence structure. Nonetheless, it is surprising to note that, although the first part published in the Magasin is closer to the manuscript, such as might be expected, the second part of the edition grand in-octavo, by contrast, shows greater resemblance to the hand-written draft, at least for chapters 1–9. This inconsistency might be explained 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,
