The Shadow of Great Britain
Chapter 165 - 165 119 Wheatstone's Extra Gift

165: Chapter 119 Wheatstone’s Extra Gift 165: Chapter 119 Wheatstone’s Extra Gift In the music store, Eld stared wide-eyed at the suitcase Wheatstone was holding in his arms.

He first frowned, then bent down and pressed his ear to the suitcase.

After listening for a while, Eld couldn’t help but cover his head in astonishment and exclaimed, “Good heavens!

Did you stuff a person inside this suitcase?

Besides, Arthur, why does this sound a bit like you?”

Arthur, with a pipe in his mouth, struck a match and lit it, “Because that is indeed mine.”

Eld clasped his face and suddenly exclaimed in shock, “What do you mean?!

Arthur, is your soul trapped inside this suitcase?

Then, who is this standing before me, a human or the devil?”

Arthur took a puff of his pipe and leisurely blew a smoke ring, “What do you think?

Is there any difference between the two?”

Listening to this, the Red Devil, who was enthusiastically admiring the wall of musical instruments, couldn’t help but chuckle and respond, “Indeed, there’s no difference, both are enemies of God.

It’s just that the devil didn’t defeat God, but humans did.”

Arthur glanced at the Red Devil and then at the phonograph in front of him, “So, would you say that this new invention is a metaphor for man conquering fate?”

The Red Devil just smiled, “Arthur, that’s not what I meant.”

Arthur didn’t pursue the conversation any further; instead, he turned to look at Eld, who was shouting, and at Wheatstone, who was too scared to make a sound due to Eld’s dramatic reactions.

Arthur took a brand-new pipe from his pocket, carefully packed it with tobacco, and then put it into the pale-lipped, sweating Wheatstone’s mouth.

Next, he hooked his arm around Wheatstone’s shoulders and said, “Come, my friend, take a puff, and then explain the principles of the phonograph to this gentleman from Oxford.

After all, I am far from your equal when it comes to the study of acoustics.”

Wheatstone, trembling, adjusted the pipe and then took a deep breath.

However, this did far from calming him; it only caused him to choke, clutch at the counter, and cough continuously, as if he were suffering from tuberculosis and could perish at any moment.

But Arthur gave him no chance to escape; he pulled a flintlock pistol from beneath his overcoat, spun his finger around the trigger guard, and then with a slap, he placed the handgun on the counter.

Arthur emotionlessly grabbed Wheatstone’s wrist and pressed his palm against the cold barrel of the gun, “Here, Mr.

Wheatstone, feel this; it might inspire some courage for your presentation.”

The moment Wheatstone’s sweating hand touched the firearm, his entire body shuddered as if electrocuted.

In just an instant, Wheatstone straightened his back, then calmly pushed up his glasses, and began speaking to Eld in a serious and precise manner.

“Sir, the main working principle of this phonograph is based on the principles of vibration and rotation.

Firstly, during recording, sound waves are transformed into the vibratory energy of a metal needle, which then uses the metal needle to etch the sound waves onto a wax cylinder wrapped with tinfoil.

When playing it back, the process is reversed…”

Initially, Wheatstone was a bit uncomfortable, but as he delved deeper into explaining the principles, he seemed to forget the presence of others and began to incessantly describe the structure of the phonograph, the problems encountered during its development, and the improvements he planned to make in the future.

However, the more Eld listened, the more confused he became.

As a scientific layman who understood neither acoustics nor mechanics but as a British gentleman determined to win a noble lady’s heart through science, Eld still adhered to a spirit of learning, expressing ‘Ambition does not depend on age, and ignorance does not equate to stupidity.’ He raised his hand to ask a question.

“Mr.

Wheatstone, may I ask…”

But before he could finish his sentence, Wheatstone suddenly burst out shouting, “Shut up!”

This seemingly gentle and refined gentleman instinctively grabbed the firearm on the counter and pressed it against Eld’s chin, glowering and bellowing, “No questions allowed now, another word and I swear I’ll blow your head off!”

Eld was so terrified that he began to sweat profusely.

He turned to Arthur with a plea for help, but all he received was Arthur’s helpless salutation as he tipped his hat.

Seeing this, Eld just took a deep breath, flashing his trademark smile, and with his brooding eyebrows and eyes, he conveyed a message to Wheatstone—impressive, keep going.

Only then did Wheatstone calm down.

After who knows how long, he finally finished explaining the principles of acoustics and the phonograph’s structure.

As soon as his mouth closed, he collapsed onto the counter, gasping for breath as if he were utterly exhausted.

Arthur leaned against the counter, clapped his hands with a smile, and affirmed, “Mr.

Wheatstone, isn’t this quite all right?

You see, giving a speech isn’t such a difficult task.

What kind of emotions did you experience during your speech just now?”

Wheatstone closed his eyes, holding his pounding heart, his mind a bit muddled, “I…I just felt some fear…

and then, suddenly some anger.

I hate speaking, but you forced me to do it, so I was very angry…

and then…

then I muddled through and said so much.”

Arthur nodded slightly and said, “Congratulations!

You have grasped the essence of speechmaking.

A successful speech requires emotions.

Fear is an emotion that can be utilized, and of course anger is too.

As for the audience, what you need to do is transmit your emotions to them.

First, infect yourself; only then can you affect your audience.”

Having said that, Arthur turned to Eld next to him, who looked as if he had survived a great disaster and was wiping his sweat with a handkerchief, and asked, “Did you just feel Mr.

Wheatstone’s fear?”

Upon hearing this, Eld glared and said, “Nonsense!

Who wouldn’t be afraid with a gun to their head?”

“Then, did you feel Mr.

Wheatstone’s anger?”

Eld pounded the counter with his fist and emphasized, “How can you not be angry when you’re unjustifiably held at gunpoint?”

Arthur smiled and took Wheatstone’s hand, “Congratulations, Mr.

Wheatstone.

Although the phonograph still has many flaws, at least you have completed the special training in speaking.”

“Is…

is that right?” Wheatstone then asked, “But…

perhaps I can face a few listeners, but if it’s on the scale of the Royal Society auditorium…”

Upon hearing this, Arthur shook his finger slightly, “Mr.

Wheatstone, have you forgotten what I told you?

When you feel fear, just touch this thing.”

He pushed the flintlock pistol that was in front of him toward Wheatstone.

Wheatstone stared blankly at the gun and scratched his head, “Mr.

Hastings, what do you mean?”

Arthur spoke, “While I think the current version of the phonograph, as you said, still has many flaws, such as the wear issue with the tinfoil wax disc, and the need to be as close as possible when recording human voices, otherwise the sound released is hardly louder than that of a mosquito.

However, no matter how, these flaws also point the way for future improvements.

I believe, with your wisdom, you will be able to solve these problems step by step with ease.

Therefore, consider this pistol on loan to you, on account of this great new invention.

If you feel afraid of giving a speech at the Royal Society, or if they drag you there again, just touch this gun.

Although this gun has no bullets, it will definitely give you enough courage.

Or, to take a step back, even if it doesn’t give you courage, it will at least make others feel fear.

Don’t you think that’s how it works?”

Though shy, Wheatstone was no dummy; he instantly grasped the implications of Arthur’s words.

The bitter expression was gone, replaced by a smile on Wheatstone’s face that was as bright as the sun, rarely seen in London in a year.

He warmly said, “Come, Mr.

Hastings, I almost forgot to tell you.

Although the phonograph isn’t great at recording voices at the moment, it’s perfectly fine with piano music.

Lucky for me, you previously mentioned the issue of mechanical transmission and sound amplitude.

During my spare time, I created a piano that can connect to the phonograph’s stylus.

Any piece played on that piano can be recorded onto the phonograph’s disk.

Do you by any chance play the piano?

If you have time today, why not give it a try?

Engraving a record doesn’t take much time, and after it’s done, see if you can…

you know…

simply let me off the hook.

I’m begging you, please don’t drag me to the Sunday party.

Of course, the final decision is yours, but if you choose not to bring me, besides the phonograph and the disk, I can also gift you a custom-made violin.”

Arthur stroked his chin, looking interestedly at Wheatstone, and asked, “Is this a bribe?”

“Bribery?

No, no, no!

What are you thinking?” Wheatstone quickly waved his hands in denial, “How could you forget?

This is friendship.

You giving me a gun was already a reciprocal gesture, so isn’t it only right for me to give you a violin?”

Arthur thought for a moment, then smiled and said, “Alright, Charles, take me to see that piano that can record discs first.

The rest, I’ll think about it.”

Upon hearing this, Wheatstone’s hanging heart finally settled.

He hurriedly made way to the back room and warmly said, “Arthur, this way, please.”