The Fox of France

Chapter 253: We Must Surrender First

The prologue might say this or that, but what truly matters is whether the following paper lives up to the praise. So, an eager crowd of readers wasted no time flipping to the heart of the matter.

In this paper, the author began by expressing gratitude to his mentor, Mr. Joseph Bonaparte, for providing guidance. Then, he delved into the intricacies of identifying various bacteria through staining techniques. Following that, he presented the analysis and categorization of samples collected from wounds, blood, saliva, feces, and more from different patients. Animal experiments were conducted, followed by a summary and future outlook. The paper culminated with the name of the first author, Carol O'Haff, and the corresponding author's names, including Joseph Bonaparte and Antoine Lavasie.

The structure of the paper wasn't overly complex, but its content was rich and thought-provoking. If the English people were to validate the contents of this paper, it would likely take a considerable amount of time. However, when they laid eyes on this paper, even the members of the "England News Alliance" and, surprisingly, the British Medical Association, who had been vehemently against the French, realized that the results they sought were unlikely to align with their expectations.

In fact, when the speculative article from "Young Lord Chris" arrived in "The Lancet," Dean James had already been about 70% convinced of this hypothesis. His earlier strong opposition wasn't due to disbelief but because it threatened the interests of the British Medical Association.

If this viewpoint were acknowledged, it meant that their hospitals and these doctors should be held accountable for the deaths of patients within the hospital. While this responsibility didn't carry legal ramifications, it wouldn't be far-fetched for someone to send them to jail or have them compensate the deceased's families. However, even a mere moral responsibility would tarnish their reputation.

Moreover, the loss wouldn't be limited to just a "moral responsibility." If "The Lancet" viewpoint was acknowledged, it indicated that British medicine lagged far behind the European mainland. This was not merely a matter of prestige; it had direct financial implications.

Let's not forget that wealthy individuals who fell ill might not visit the hospitals, but they'd still summon doctors to their homes for treatment. However, if these revelations from "The Lancet" were accepted, and hospitals were improved accordingly, leading to better treatment outcomes, how would the wealthy perceive it?

Wouldn't they believe that British medicine had significantly fallen behind compared to France? When they needed medical attention, wouldn't they prefer to summon French doctors, followed by European mainland doctors and those who had studied in France, leaving native British doctors as a last resort? And without a doubt, the fees for medical visits would be arranged in the same order. This was tantamount to turning the esteemed British doctors into mere charlatans.

Such a scenario was unacceptable. If it occurred, who would be willing to pay for the qualifications of the British Medical Association? Therefore, even if the paupers in the hospital perished, such a situation could not be allowed!

So, Dean James immediately informed the British Medical Association and recommended that they convene a meeting to discuss countermeasures. In this meeting, everyone unanimously agreed that the speculations in "The Lancet" were groundless heresy, and any doctor daring to act upon its recommendations should have their medical license revoked.

However, now, all their efforts, all their resistance, in the face of this paper, crumbled like a beetle blocking the path of a carriage wheel.

The members of the British Medical Association weren't worried about how the paupers might react; most of them were illiterate and had no time to ponder these issues. Moreover, they were rather gullible and could be easily deceived. But the wealthy were a different story. They cared deeply about their health, were willing to spend on it, and, most importantly, possessed enough knowledge and intellect to understand this paper and make judgments that genuinely served their interests. And how would they choose? There was no need to ask.

So, when Dr. James saw this paper in "The Lancet," he felt a shiver down his spine. His legs grew weak, and he could hardly stand. He slowly moved to the edge of his chair, sat down cautiously, as if afraid that any sudden movement might break something.

Sitting on the chair, Dr. James tightened his coat and, with a tinge of hope, reread the paper, but his anxiety was so overpowering that his eyes blurred, and the words on the journal became hard to read. After a long while, he managed to make out a single word written all over the pages: "Bankruptcy!"

Dr. James exclaimed in horror and flung "The Lancet" to the floor, startling his assistant, Emms, who rushed upstairs.

"Dr. James, what's wrong with you?" Emms' voice was filled with alarm.

"Nothing... nothing," Dr. James attempted to stand up, but his legs were devoid of strength. "I'm just a bit tired. Help me pick up the fallen book, will you?"

Emms quickly retrieved the book and placed it on Dr. James's desk.

"Dr. James, you don't look well. Are you feeling sick? Should I call a doctor for you?" Emms asked with great care.

"No need, Emms. I'm a doctor myself, and I know... well, could you fetch me a glass of water?" Dr. James replied.

Emms promptly poured a glass of water and handed it to Dr. James, who took a sip. A whole glass of warm water finally helped him warm up a bit.

"Emms, I need to rest here for a while," Dr. James said.

"Alright, Dr. James, I'll be outside. Just call me if you need anything," Emms replied.

Dr. James watched his assistant leave the study and carefully close the door. He couldn't help but think, "If he knew that my doctor's status, along with my position as a director of the British Medical Association, would soon be worthless, would he still treat me this way?"

Emms left the room. Dr. James took a short rest and then struggled to stand. He knew this was a crucial moment; they had to take action immediately, or everything would be lost.

As he attempted to stand, he heard a soft knock on the door.

"Is there something?" he asked.

"Dr. James, President Edward has sent someone to request your immediate presence at the association for an urgent meeting," Emms' voice came from outside the door.

"Alright, I'm coming," Dr. James replied quickly.

When Dr. James arrived at the association headquarters, he found most of the directors already present. Their faces were pale, and they were muttering quietly with fear and resentment in their eyes.

Soon, all the directors were gathered. Such a complete attendance was unusual, as meetings typically had at least one-third of the directors absent, and the rest were usually at least half an hour late.

"Now that we're all here, let's proceed," President Edward said. "You all know the reason for this meeting. The question now is, what should we do?"

"I think we should start by verifying whether there's any truth in it," someone hesitated to say.

"What do you all think?" President Edward asked.

"Verification is necessary, but I don't think we should have high hopes. A few days ago, I went to France on President Edward's request to investigate the situation in some French hospitals."

"How was it?" several directors inquired.

"It's just as they said. Their hospitals are much cleaner... and more importantly, the infection and death rates are much lower. So... concerning verification, we shouldn't set our hopes too high. The French wouldn't publish something like this without verification."

"So, what do we do?" someone asked in panic.

"We must take action. Find a way to have the police department ban 'The Lancet'?"

"What nonsense is that? The Jacobins would have a field day. Besides, it's too late for that now. Doing so will only make more people aware of all this... It's just... it's too terrifying!"

One useless guy even started wailing, and soon, others followed suit. The meeting room echoed with cries, as if the gathering was not a usual meeting but a farewell ceremony to their own bodies. Even President Edward was nearly brought to tears by this atmosphere.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," President Edward shouted twice, but no one paid him any attention. Everyone was busy shedding a few tears themselves.

"Clap! Clap!" In desperation, President Edward had to pick up his cane and vigorously pound it on the table. "Stop crying, stop crying! We're here to find a way to salvage our losses as much as possible, not to cry. If you need to cry, do it at home!"

Gradually, the sobbing subsided.

"President, it's up to you to come up with a solution now," a director, his voice quivering, said.

"Yes, yes, it's up to you," more people chimed in.

President Edward sighed with bitterness and said, "Alright, gentlemen, the fact is the fact, and we have already lost. Let's not dwell on the past. We need to admit defeat first and surrender to the French, and we need to do it quickly. Just like in a war, the first to surrender always receives some concessions. The French should still need us..."

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