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 ti flipping to the heart of the matter.
In this paper, the author began by expressing gratitude to his ntor, 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 experints were conducted, followed by a summary and future outlook. The paper culminated with the na of the first author, Carol O'Haff, and the corresponding author's nas, 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 ti. However, when they laid eyes on this paper, even the mbers of the "England News Alliance" and, surprisingly, the British dical Association, who had been vehently 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 Jas 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 dical Association.
If this viewpoint were acknowledged, it ant 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 soone to send them to jail or have them compensate the deceased's families. However, even a re 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 dicine lagged far behind the European mainland. This was not rely 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 hos for treatnt. However, if these revelations from "The Lancet" were accepted, and hospitals were improved accordingly, leading to better treatnt outcos, how would the wealthy perceive it?
Wouldn't they believe that British dicine had significantly fallen behind compared to France? When they needed dical 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 dical visits would be arranged in the sa order. This was tantamount to turning the esteed British doctors into re charlatans.
Such a scenario was unacceptable. If it occurred, who would be willing to pay for the qualifications of the British dical Association? Therefore, even if the paupers in the hospital perished, such a situation could not be allowed!
So, Dean Jas imdiately inford the British dical Association and recomnded that they convene a eting to discuss counterasures. In this eting, everyone unanimously agreed that the speculations in "The Lancet" were groundless heresy, and any doctor daring to act upon its recomndations should have their dical 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 mbers of the British dical Association weren't worried about how the paupers might react; most of them were illiterate and had no ti 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 judgnts that genuinely served their interests. And how would they choose? There was no need to ask.
So, when Dr. Jas 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 movent might break sothing.
Sitting on the chair, Dr. Jas 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 beca hard to read. After a long while, he managed to make out a single word written all over the pages: "Bankruptcy!"
Dr. Jas exclaid in horror and flung "The Lancet" to the floor, startling his assistant, Emms, who rushed upstairs.
"Dr. Jas, what's wrong with you?" Emms' voice was filled with alarm.
"Nothing... nothing," Dr. Jas attempted to stand up, but his legs were devoid of strength. "I'm just a bit tired. Help
pick up the fallen book, will you?"
Emms quickly retrieved the book and placed it on Dr. Jas's desk.
"Dr. Jas, 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
a glass of water?" Dr. Jas replied.
Emms promptly poured a glass of water and handed it to Dr. Jas, 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. Jas said.
"Alright, Dr. Jas, I'll be outside. Just call
if you need anything," Emms replied.
Dr. Jas 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 dical Association, would soon be worthless, would he still treat
this way?"
Emms left the room. Dr. Jas took a short rest and then struggled to stand. He knew this was a crucial mont; they had to take action imdiately, or everything would be lost.
As he attempted to stand, he heard a soft knock on the door.
"Is there sothing?" he asked.
"Dr. Jas, President Edward has sent soone to request your imdiate presence at the association for an urgent eting," Emms' voice ca from outside the door.
"Alright, I'm coming," Dr. Jas replied quickly.
When Dr. Jas 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 resentnt in their eyes.
Soon, all the directors were gathered. Such a complete attendance was unusual, as etings 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 eting. The question now is, what should we do?"
"I think we should start by verifying whether there's any truth in it," soone 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 so 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 sothing like this without verification."
"So, what do we do?" soone asked in panic.
"We must take action. Find a way to have the police departnt 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 eting room echoed with cries, as if the gathering was not a usual eting but a farewell ceremony to their own bodies. Even President Edward was nearly brought to tears by this atmosphere.
"Gentlen, gentlen," 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 ho!"
Gradually, the sobbing subsided.
"President, it's up to you to co up with a solution now," a director, his voice quivering, said.
"Yes, yes, it's up to you," more people chid in.
President Edward sighed with bitterness and said, "Alright, gentlen, 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 so concessions. The French should still need us..."
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