The derailed locomotive | Granville–Paris Express / Gare Montparnasse (1895)

The derailed locomotive, Granville–Paris Express, 1895

The Montparnasse derailment occurred at 4 pm on 22 October 1895 when the Granville–Paris Express overran the buffer stop at its Gare Montparnasse terminus. With the train several minutes late and the driver trying to make up for lost time, it entered the station too fast and the train air brake failed. After running through the buffer stop, the train crossed the station concourse and crashed through the station wall before falling onto the Place de Rennes below, where it stood on its nose. A woman in the street below was killed by falling masonry. The driver was fined 50 francs and one of the guards 25 francs.


The derailed locomotive, 1895

The train was outside the station in this position for several days and a number of photographs were taken. 
This photograph  has become iconic and widely reproduced. A replica of the crashed locomotive has been 

built in a theme park in Brazil.


1 σχόλιο:




  1. Tell me, Blaise, are we very far from Montmartre?'

    Worries

    Forget your worries

    All the stations full of cracks tilted along the way

    The telegraph wires they hang from

    The grimacing poles that gesticulate and strangle them

    The world stretches lengthens and folds in like an accordion tormented by a sadistic hand

    In the cracks of the sky the locomotives in anger

    Flee

    And in the holes,

    The whirling wheels the mouths the voices

    And the dogs of misfortune that bark at our heels

    The demons are unleashed

    Iron rails

    Everything is off-key

    The broun-roun-roun of the wheels

    Shocks

    Bounces

    We are a storm under a deaf man's skull...

    'Tell me, Blaise, are we very far from Montmartre?'

    Hell yes, you're getting on my nerves you know very well we're far away

    Overheated madness bellows in the locomotive

    Plague, cholera rise up like burning embers on our way

    We disappear in the war sucked into a tunnel

    Hunger, the whore, clings to the stampeding clouds

    And drops battle dung in piles of stinking corpses

    Do like her, do your job

    'Tell me, Blaise, are we very far from Montmartre?





    Blaise Cendrars / Prose of the Trans-Siberian and of the Little Jeanne de France / 1913

    .

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