Chapter 118: The True France

Chapter 118: The True France

"Your Highness, are you saying that blood is responsible for transporting nutrients and oxygen?" Perna's big green eyes blinked in surprise, her face full of seriousness. "So, if we bleed a patient, it could actually make them weaker?"

Joseph clapped his hands lightly. "Exactly. You've discovered the truth."

"Then why do we perform bloodletting treatments?"

"It's a mistake."

"No wonder you've always refused bloodletting. Could it be that all the doctors are wrong?" Perna nodded thoughtfully. She paused for a moment, then looked at Joseph, hesitating slightly. "Your Highness, what if... your conclusion is incorrect?"

"Scientific research requires a questioning spirit. Don't blindly follow any authority," Joseph acknowledged her cautious approach before continuing, "In fact, it's quite simple to determine what's right and wrong—just conduct a double-blind experiment."

"A double-blind experiment? What's that?" Perna asked.

Joseph explained, "Simply put, you take a group of patients with the same condition and similar physical health, and divide them into two groups, making sure they can't see each other. Then, you perform bloodletting on one group and not on the other. Whichever group recovers faster will tell you if bloodletting is effective."

Perna quickly jotted this down in her notebook, nodding in amazement. "That's indeed a very feasible method of testing. Oh, how come no one thought of doing this in the past few hundred years? If bloodletting actually has harmful effects…"

Her eyes suddenly brightened. "Your Highness, perhaps we could also use this... double-blind experiment to test whether certain medicines are effective, or whether certain factors influence an illness."

Joseph gave her a nod of approval. "You're absolutely right. Those are exactly the kinds of things you can verify with a double-blind experiment."

Perna was so excited that her hands trembled as she wrote. Her eyes were full of admiration as she looked at Joseph. "You... you're incredible! How did you come up with all this?"

She glanced at her notes again. "Your Highness, may I share this method with my father?"

"Of course."

As they talked, the sound of raindrops began to patter on the roof of the carriage. It was clear that it was raining heavily outside.

Not long after, the carriage slowed to a stop. The head of the guard, Crozod, called out from outside the window, "Your Highness, the road ahead has been flooded. I'm afraid it's too risky to continue."

Joseph sighed in resignation. "Find a place nearby to take shelter from the rain," he instructed.

This was Joseph's first time leaving Paris. He had assumed that even if other places weren't as developed as Paris, they wouldn't be too far behind. But he quickly realized that less than a hundred miles outside of Paris, the land was already a picture of poverty.

The road they were traveling on, for instance, had clearly been poorly constructed. The surface was loose, and the lower areas quickly turned into a muddy mess with the rain, making it nearly impossible to pass.

Especially for the carriage—forcing it through would almost certainly leave it stuck in the mud.

Joseph had hoped to make good time by avoiding the usual ceremonies and greetings from local officials, but the heavy rain had brought them to a halt.

After a while, a scout returned with news that there was a small village to the east. Crozod quickly ordered the convoy to head there for shelter.

After the carriage got stuck in the mud five or six times, they finally reached a cluster of shabby farmhouses with thatched roofs.

Crozod selected the largest of the houses, knocked on the door, and handed the owner 8 livres. The owner was overjoyed and expressed his gratitude profusely.

When Joseph entered the house, he was met with the smell of mildew. The room was cramped, the walls were papered with old newspapers, and the only furniture was a wooden cabinet and a crooked table. Still, it provided shelter from the elements.

The excessive payment made the farmer's wife feel compelled to host them well. She brought out the best food they had and borrowed what she could from the neighbors to prepare a "feast," which she then carefully presented.

"Oh, there's no need. We've brought our own food…" Crozod tried to decline, but when Joseph saw the woman's nervous yet disappointed expression, he didn't want to reject her hospitality. He instructed Crozod to accept the meal.

Emond, ever diligent, sampled the white bread, salted meat, roast chicken, and vegetable soup before giving Joseph the all-clear.

Joseph took a few bites. The food was bland but edible.

Crozod and Emond also ate a little, while Perna, less picky about food, finished her portion and even complimented the hostess on her cooking.

Finding it tedious to just sit around, Joseph started chatting with the farmer, "Are you aware of the government's initiative to plant potatoes?"

The farmer nodded cautiously, bowing slightly. "Yes, sir. Father Marmont mentioned it, and said it was a blessing from the Lord."

"Are you planning to plant some?"

The farmer shook his head.

"Why not? After the harvest, you only need to repay two-thirds. It's a good deal."

The farmer hesitated for about ten seconds before replying quietly, "Viscount Corbet said we shouldn't plant that stuff…"

Crozod leaned in to whisper to Joseph, "Your Highness, I inquired earlier—Corbet is the local landlord. Everyone around here is his tenant."

Joseph nodded and asked the farmer, "But isn't it up to the farmers to decide what to plant?"

The farmer answered dully, "But Viscount Corbet won't allow it."

Joseph sighed. These tenant farmers—who made up the majority of the farming population—were technically free to farm the land as they pleased, as long as they paid rent. But in reality, they were still heavily dependent on the landowning lords.

For example, they couldn't leave their land without permission, they had to perform various tasks for the lord, and any disputes were often settled by the lord if he lived nearby.

So these tenant farmers rarely went against the will of the landowners. And since the old nobility were against potatoes, many tenant farmers were effectively barred from planting them.

Joseph continued chatting with the farmer, learning about his life.

The farmer's name was Gaizka, and he farmed 27 acres of land owned by Viscount Corbet, earning around 200 livres a year.

However, after paying the rent, he had to pay a long list of taxes, including a poll tax, military service tax, church tithes, a two-tenths tax, and road labor tax.

In addition, he had to pay mill taxes, pressing taxes, salt taxes, goods taxes, tolls, and more during the year.

What was left was barely enough for the family to eat black bread every day.

As for savings, Gaizka said that frequent droughts in recent years had reduced their harvests. The family had no savings and was now in debt by nearly 50 livres.

Because Gaizka was relatively strong, his family was considered well-off in the village. According to him, a fifth of the village didn't get enough to eat.

Joseph couldn't help but feel that with over twenty million tenant farmers like Gaizka in France, they were almost defenseless against serious natural disasters. When faced with the threat of starvation, they would likely join any revolt without hesitation to protect their families.

He sighed. Whether it was France's massive debt or the livelihood of its lower-class farmers, solving these problems would require significant reforms—promoting industrial development, adjusting land distribution, and weakening the feudal privileges of the nobility and the church…

As these thoughts swirled in his mind, Joseph walked over to the window. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gaizka's wife carefully collecting the leftovers from their meal. The half-bowl of vegetable soup that Emond had left was poured into a pot, watered down, and topped with a few more leaves, turning it into a large pot of soup. A walnut-sized piece of salted meat was sliced into nearly transparent slivers and sandwiched between pieces of black bread.

Two children, about eight or nine years old, stood nearby, watching their mother intently. They occasionally wiped their mouths, as if they were looking at the most delicious delicacy in the world.

Joseph felt a pang of sadness. In Paris, he was surrounded by the power struggles of the elite, the decadence of the wealthy, and the endless parties and salons of the nobility. But here, in Gaizka's home, he was finally seeing the true face of France.

Poverty, decay, conservatism, and a country on the brink…

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

Gaizka hurried to open it, welcoming in a small man in a gray overcoat with a respectful bow. "Mr. Babot, what brings you here?"

The man, Babot, nodded at Gaizka and then went straight to Emond, bowing humbly. "Sir, I am the magistrate here. You can call me Babot. May I ask where you've come from?"

The title "magistrate" sounded impressive, but he was really just the official in charge of the local parish, equivalent to a village head.

As Babot spoke, the parish priest, having heard of the arrival of a notable person with many attendants, also hurried over to Gaizka's house.

"Sir, is there anything I can assist you with?" Babot asked with a smile, still assuming Emond was the leader of the group.

Emond glanced out the door and saw that the rain had stopped. He pointed towards the direction of the flooded road and said, "Mr. Babot, the road outside the village has been damaged by the rain. Could you arrange for it to be repaired?"

"Oh, certainly, certainly," Babot nodded repeatedly, then turned to the priest. "Father Marmont, please entertain our guests while I take care of the road repairs."

He walked a few steps before turning back to Gaizka. "You heard that, right? We're fixing the road. You come along too."

"Oh, yes, Mr. Babot."

Gaizka responded and was about to grab his coat from the wall.

Joseph casually asked, "Mr. Gaizka, will you be paid for this roadwork?"

"Paid?" Babot quickly replied with a smile, "Sir, it's just road repairs—there's no pay."

"Oh?" Joseph raised an eyebrow. "Is the road outside the village owned by Viscount Corbet?"

Babot shook his head. "No, it's not."

"So, has Mr. Gaizka already paid the road labor tax?"

Babot hesitated before nodding. "He… he has."

"Then, since he's paid the road labor tax, and this isn't lord's labor, why shouldn't he be paid for repairing the road?"

"This…"

Joseph smiled at him. "Mr. Babot, are you unfamiliar with the legal requirements?"

Babot was startled. As a French official, you could be incompetent, but you absolutely couldn't be ignorant of laws and regulations—that could cost you your job!

He quickly shook his head. "No, no, you're absolutely right. They should be paid. Ah, would 2 sous per person be acceptable?"

"Just follow the regulations."

"Oh, yes, of course. We'll follow the regulations."

Gaizka bowed to Joseph in gratitude and then hurried out with the magistrate.

Three hours later, Joseph's convoy was back on the road to Bordeaux, traveling on a path reinforced with branches and stones.

Gaizka and his wife stood by the roadside, watching until the last of the escorting soldiers disappeared from view. Then they returned to their home.

Gaizka's wife was about to cut some black bread to feed her husband after his hard work when she noticed a small cloth bag on the stove.

She hesitated for a moment before carefully opening it, gasping in surprise. "Oh my God, Adam! Come quickly!"

Gaizka rushed into the room to find his wife holding a small bag and a handful of silver coins.

He took the bag and found a note inside, which he hurriedly unfolded: "Mr. Gaizka, thank you for showing me the other side of France. Please accept this gift."

He looked in the direction Joseph had gone, crossing himself repeatedly. "May God bless you, kind young master."

Gaizka's wife counted the coins—50 livres in total. She excitedly pulled her husband into a dance, tears in her eyes. "Adam, we can pay off our debt!"

Their debt had an interest rate of 15%, and given their situation, it would have been almost impossible to repay it without this help…

Eight days later.

On the avenue north of the Bordeaux Stock Exchange Palace, a large crowd had gathered on both sides of the road, eagerly waiting for the Prince's carriage to pass by.

Soon, several elegantly designed and lavishly decorated carriages appeared in the distance, prompting the crowd to erupt in cheers, waving their arms enthusiastically.

In one of the central carriages, the Governor of Bordeaux, Count Monslow, respectfully addressed Joseph. "Your Highness, most of them arrived last night. If you wish, you can convene a meeting at any time. However, the banquet is already prepared, so perhaps you might want to…"

Joseph smiled and nodded. "Thank you for your hard work, Count Monslow."

He glanced at his pocket watch—it was 1:30 PM. "Let's schedule it for three o'clock."

"As you wish, Your Highness."

As the carriages moved through the crowd, Joseph occasionally waved to the welcoming citizens. In the carriage behind, Emond's men followed the tradition of tossing coins and sweets to the people.

The heart of Bordeaux—the Stock Exchange Square—had been taken over by Crozod and his guards. Joseph didn't even stop by the villa that Monslow had prepared for him, heading straight to the Stock Exchange Palace to prepare for the three o'clock meeting.

The potatoes would arrive soon, and he didn't want to waste a minute.

(End of Chapter)

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