The Crown Prince of France - Chapter 119

Chapter 119: The True France

"Your Highness, are you saying that blood is used to transport nutrients and oxygen?" Perna blinked her large, green eyes, her pretty face filled with seriousness. "So, if bloodletting is performed on a patient, it should make them weaker?"

Joseph gently clapped his hands. "Indeed, you have uncovered the truth."

"Then why do we perform bloodletting treatment?"

"That is a mistake."

"No wonder you have always refused bloodletting. Does this mean all the doctors are wrong?" Perna nodded thoughtfully. Then, she suddenly looked at Joseph, a slight hesitation in her voice. "Your Highness, what if… your conclusion is incorrect?"

"Scientific research requires a spirit of doubt, not blindly following any authority," Joseph said, giving the female doctor a nod of approval before continuing, "Actually, it's simple to verify whether it's right or wrong—just conduct a double-blind experiment."

"A double-blind experiment? What is that?"

Joseph explained, "In simple terms, you gather patients who have the same condition and similar physical qualities. You divide them into two groups and ensure they cannot meet each other.

"Then, one group is treated with bloodletting, while the other group is not. The group that recovers first will tell us whether bloodletting is effective."

Perna quickly jotted these notes down in her notebook and nodded in surprise. "This is indeed a very feasible method for testing. Holy Mary, how come no one thought of this in the past few centuries? What if bloodletting only has the opposite effect…"

Her eyes suddenly brightened. "Your Highness, perhaps we can also use this… oh, double-blind experiment, to test if a certain drug is effective or whether certain factors influence the condition."

Joseph gave her a look of approval for her lateral thinking. "You are absolutely right. These can indeed be tested with a double-blind experiment."

Perna, excited, was gripping her pen so tightly her hand was trembling. Her eyes sparkled as she stared at Joseph. "You... you are amazing! How did you think of all this?"

She glanced at her notes. "Your Highness, may I tell my father about this method?"

"Of course."

Just then, there was a "crackling" sound from above the carriage, signaling that it had started to rain heavily outside.

Before long, the carriage slowly stopped. Captain Kessold’s voice rang from outside the window, "Your Highness, the road ahead is flooded with rainwater. It might not be safe to proceed."

Joseph sighed helplessly and ordered them to find a place nearby to shelter from the rain.

This was his first time leaving Paris. He had thought that even if other places were a little worse than Paris, they wouldn't be too far behind. However, to his surprise, not even 100 miles outside Paris, everything seemed like a poor, remote village.

For example, the road they were on now clearly showed signs of substandard construction, with the ground loosely packed. In areas slightly lower in elevation, the rainwater quickly made the road impassable.

Especially the carriage—if they tried to force it through, it would almost certainly get stuck in the mud.

To save time, Joseph had specifically instructed not to have local officials greet them along the way, but he didn't expect to be blocked by the heavy rain here.

After a long while, the scouts returned with news of a small village to the east. Kessold immediately gave the order to turn the carriage and head in that direction to find shelter.

After Joseph's carriage got stuck in the mud five or six times, they finally arrived at a small village with a dozen or so run-down cottages with thatched roofs.

Kessold chose the largest house, knocked on the door, and gave the owner 8 livres. The owner immediately showered them with thanks.

Joseph entered the house, and the smell of mildew immediately hit him. The house wasn't spacious, with newspaper plastered on the walls. The only furniture was a wooden cupboard and a crooked wooden table. At least it was good enough to shelter from the wind and rain.

Because Kessold had paid an unusually high amount for accommodation, the farmer's wife felt compelled to treat the guests well. She took out the best food she had and sent her children to borrow more things from the neighbors. Eventually, she brought out a "sumptuous" meal from the inner room.

"Oh, no need, we brought food..." Joseph started, but Kessold stepped forward and stopped the farmer's wife. Joseph saw her nervous yet disappointed expression and didn't want to refuse her kindness. He instructed Kessold to let her bring the food over.

Eymond dutifully tasted the white bread, salted meat, roast chicken, and vegetable soup before nodding to Joseph, signaling that it was safe to eat.

Joseph ate a few bites. The taste was quite bland, but it wasn't difficult to swallow.

Kessold and Eymond also ate a little, while Perna, who was least picky about food, finished her portion cleanly and then went to the back room to praise the farmer's wife's cooking.

Bored from sitting idle, Joseph started chatting with the male owner of the house. "Do you know about the government's potato planting scheme?"

The farmer stiffly bowed his head. "Yes, my lord. Father Marmont said it, and he said it’s a gift from the Lord."

"Are you planning to plant some?"

The farmer shook his head.

"Why not plant it? After harvest, you only need to pay back two-thirds, it's very profitable."

The farmer hesitated for a good ten seconds before quietly saying, "Viscount Colbert said it's best not to plant that thing…"

Kessold immediately leaned in and whispered in Joseph's ear, "Your Highness, I just inquired. Colbert is the landlord here. Everyone around here works as his tenants."

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

The farmer muttered, "But Viscount Colbert doesn’t allow it."

Joseph sighed. Over the years, "tribute farmers"—the most numerous type of tenant farmers—were supposed to have the freedom to farm the land as long as they paid rent. However, in reality, they still had significant personal dependency on their landowners.

For example, they couldn't leave their land at will, had to perform a lot of labor for the landowners, and any disputes were settled by the landowners—if the landowner lived nearby.

Therefore, these tenant farmers usually didn't dare to go against the wishes of their large landowners. The old nobility's resistance to potatoes also caused a large number of tribute farmers to be unable to plant them.

Joseph chatted a little longer with the farmer and got a rough idea of the household's living situation.

The farmer's name was Gaizka, and he worked 27 acres of land owned by Viscount Colbert. His annual grain income was around 200 livres.

However, after paying Colbert’s rent, the family still had to pay head taxes, military taxes, tithes, road labor taxes, and a long list of other taxes.

Later in life, they also had to pay taxes on the mill, the press, salt, goods, and road tolls.

The remaining amount was barely enough for the family to eat black bread every day.

As for the surplus, Gaizka explained that the frequent droughts in recent years had led to poor harvests, and his family had no surplus left. In fact, they now owed nearly 50 livres to others.

Because Gaizka was relatively strong, his family was considered to be in better condition than others in the village. According to him, about one-fifth of the villagers could not fill their stomachs at every meal.

Joseph sighed inwardly. There were over twenty million tenant farmers like Gaizka in France, and when a severe natural disaster struck, they had almost no capacity to defend themselves. In such circumstances, to avoid starving to death, they would undoubtedly join the ranks of the rebellion without hesitation.

He exhaled deeply. Whether it was France’s massive debt or the subsistence of the lower-class farmers, solving these problems would require many difficult reforms—such as advancing industrial development, adjusting land distribution, and weakening the feudal privileges of the nobility and the Church...

He thought deeply, walking toward the window. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Gaizka's wife carefully collecting the leftover food they had just eaten. The half-bowl of vegetable soup left by Eymond was poured into a pot, and more water and a few leaves of vegetables were added, turning it into a large pot of soup. Another chunk of pickled meat, about the size of a walnut, was carefully sliced into nearly transparent thin pieces and placed between slices of black bread.

Two children, about eight or nine years old, were standing nearby, eagerly watching their mother’s busy hands, occasionally wiping their mouths, as if they had seen the most delicious delicacy in the world.

Joseph felt a pang of sadness. In Paris, he was surrounded by the power struggles of the nobles, the extravagance of the noblewomen, and the endless balls and salons of the aristocrats. But today, at Gaizka’s home, he had finally seen the true face of France.

Poverty, decay, conservatism, and imminent collapse...

At that moment, there was a knock at the door behind him.

Gaizka hurried to open the door and let in a short man wearing a gray long coat. He respectfully said, “Mr. Babo, what brings you here?”

The man named Babo nodded curtly and walked straight up to Eymond, bowing humbly: “Sir, I am the local magistrate here. You can call me Babo. I wasn’t sure where you’re from?”

The title "magistrate" sounded grand, but it referred to a low-level official in charge of the village, which was essentially a parish overseer—like the village head.

As Babo was speaking, the parish priest, having heard of a prominent visitor arriving with many attendants, also hurried over to Gaizka’s house.

“Sir, is there anything I can assist you with?” Babo asked with a broad smile, treating Eymond as if he were the central figure among these visitors.

Eymond, seeing from the open door behind the priest that the rain had stopped, pointed toward the road outside that had been damaged by the rain: “Mr. Babo, the road outside the village is damaged by the rain. Could you kindly have someone repair it?”

“Oh, of course, certainly,” Babo replied, nodding repeatedly. He then turned to the priest and said, “Father Marmontt, please entertain our esteemed guest while I go arrange the repairs.”

He walked two steps out and turned back to signal Gaizka: “Did you hear? The road will be fixed. Come along too.”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Babo,” Gaizka responded with a bow before hastily grabbing the coat hanging on the wall.

Joseph casually asked, “Mr. Gaizka, how much are the workers paid for road repairs like this?”

“Paid?” Babo immediately answered with enthusiasm, “Sir, it’s just a road repair, there is no payment for it.”

“Oh?” Joseph raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t the road outside the village owned by Viscount Colbert?”

Babo shook his head. “That’s not the case.”

“Then has Mr. Gaizka paid the road labor tax?”

Babo hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, yes, he has.”

“Since the road labor tax has been paid, and it isn’t the lord’s labor, why isn’t he being paid for the repairs?”

“This…”

Joseph smiled and looked at him. “Mr. Babo, you’re not unfamiliar with the laws, are you?”

Babo jumped in alarm. As an official in France, you could be incompetent, but you absolutely couldn’t be ignorant of the laws and regulations. That would cost you your job!

He hurriedly shook his head. “No, no, you’re right, it should be paid. Ah, would 2 sous per person be acceptable?”

“You may proceed according to the regulations.”

“Oh, yes, yes. According to the regulations.”

Gaizka gratefully bowed to Joseph before hurriedly following the magistrate out.

Three hours later, Joseph’s convoy was back on the road, which had been paved with branches and gravel, heading toward Bordeaux.

Gaizka and his wife stood by the roadside, watching the cavalry in the rear of the convoy disappear into the distance before returning to their home.

Gaizka’s wife, planning to cut some black bread for her tired husband, suddenly noticed a small cloth pouch on the stove.

After hesitating for a moment, she carefully opened the pouch, immediately exclaiming, “My God! Adam! Come, look!”

Gaizka rushed into the room and saw his wife holding the cloth bag and a large handful of silver coins.

He took the pouch, found a note inside, and quickly unfolded it. It read: “Mr. Gaizka, thank you for showing me another side of France. Please accept these as a token of my gratitude.”

He looked in the direction Joseph had gone, made the sign of the cross on his chest ten times, and murmured, “May God bless you, kind young sir.”

Gaizka’s wife quietly counted the coins—50 livres in total. She excitedly grabbed her husband, jumping and crying, “Adam, we can pay off the debt!”

It was known that their loan had an interest rate of 15%, and if they didn’t pay it off soon, given their situation, it would likely never be repaid...

Eight days later.

On the broad avenue north of the Bordeaux Exchange, a large crowd gathered on both sides of the road, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the Crown Prince’s carriage.

Soon, several elegant carriages with luxurious craftsmanship appeared in the distance, and the crowd erupted into cheers, waving their arms enthusiastically.

In one of the carriages, Count Montsoreau, the Governor of Bordeaux, respectfully said to Joseph: “Your Highness, most of them arrived last night. If you truly need it, you can convene the meeting at any time. However, the banquet is ready, so perhaps you would like to…”

Joseph smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Count Montsoreau.”

Looking at his watch, which showed 1:30 p.m., he said, “Let’s start at 3 p.m.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.”

The carriages passed through the crowd, and Joseph occasionally waved to the citizens welcoming him. Eymond’s men, in the rear carriage, followed tradition by tossing coins and candies to the crowd.

The core area of Bordeaux—the Exchange Square—had been taken over by Kessold and his guard. Joseph didn’t even go to the villa that Montsoreau had prepared for him to rest; instead, he headed straight for the Exchange Palace to prepare for the 3 p.m. meeting.

The potatoes would be arriving soon, and he didn’t want to waste a single minute.

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