Chapter 252: The Order of the Holy Maidens
The expose in the "Sun Gazette" had an unexpected consequence - it brought about a curious surge in British fans of our very own Parisian saint, Paulina. A group of upper-class teenage girls, infused with youthful enthusiasm, started collecting Paulina's works. They imitated her by donning men's clothing and riding horses with regular saddles (since women at that time used side-saddles). They even took up fox hunting and ventured into entertainment establishments with their audacious behavior!
This trend led to some conservative British gentlemen grumbling, "Someday, when we march into Paris and capture the entire Bonaparte family, the girl named Paulina must be bound and burned as a heretic! Others, we can forgive, but that Paulina, she must pay!"
On the flip side, Paulina's sharp, sarcastic, and often melancholic articles, some of which were inspired by her elder brother's creativity, found their way into the hearts of young, upper-class British enthusiasts. Some even idolized her.
One particularly ardent teenager published a statement in a newspaper called "Voice of the People" (a small-circulation publication, so placing such a declaration there was quite economical). He declared his intention to establish a sacred order: the Order of the Holy Maidens, dedicated to defending the honor of Paulina, and waging a relentless war against those "unfit-for-humans heaps of vile filth" who dared slander their beloved "Holy Maiden."
To everyone's astonishment, this so-called "Order of the Holy Maidens" was indeed established, boasting some remarkably dedicated young enthusiasts. Lord Byron and Percy Bysshe Shelley, those best of friends, had both joined the Order in their youth. Byron was a ripe old age of 11 at that time, and Shelley was a mere 8 years old. They yearned for a chance to join the fray, with Byron regretting his relatively late birth.
Paulina's newfound fame also brought her brother, Napoleon Bonaparte, and Joseph into the British spotlight. It wasn't that the British were entirely ignorant of Napoleon and Joseph, but the radiant aura surrounding Paulina allowed the British to see them from a different perspective. They realized, "By Jove, this is a true legend!"
However, this was all in the future. In the present, the revelation of Paulina's true identity only intensified the ongoing debate.
The conservatives seized this opportunity to accuse Paulina of having ulterior motives with her travel accounts: "Paulina is the sister of France's First Consul. Her actions must be influenced by Napoleon's scheming, intended to malign England or even divide it. Do some people still naively think that just because we are at peace with France, we are now good pals? Do they believe the French suddenly harbor warm feelings for us? This is a French plot!"
Meanwhile, the more radical tabloids, driven by their high cover prices and small readerships, openly speculated that the upper echelons were attacking Paulina because she had uncovered their nefarious schemes.
However, "The Lancet" made an announcement: due to some "technical" reasons, the release of the new edition would be postponed.
This news immediately sparked a whirlwind of excitement and turmoil. Conservative media outlets seized the opportunity, ridiculing "The Lancet" for its delay, claiming that "their lies couldn't be spun any longer, and they're scared." On the other hand, liberal media outlets argued that the existing evidence was sufficient, and the fellows at the English News Alliance were grasping at straws. But, in terms of sheer volume, at this time, the voices of the English News Alliance clearly had the upper hand.
As for the "Seven-Penny Alliance," they positioned themselves as having no vested interest and claimed to be solely focused on the facts. However, their stance was also perceived by the English News Alliance's newspapers as a sign of guilt.
So, after almost two more weeks had passed, just when the folks at the English News Alliance were getting ready to celebrate, the new edition of "The Lancet" finally saw the light of day.
This edition of "The Lancet" was surprisingly thick, almost three to four times its usual size, resembling a thick book. In the preface of this edition of "The Lancet," the editor explained the reason for the delay:
"In this edition, we have the privilege of being the first to publish a groundbreaking medical treatise, 'A Study on the Relationship between Bacteria and Various Diseases.' This is a magnificent work, a pioneering piece that we believe to be the 'Principia Mathematica of Natural Philosophy' in the field of medicine. In this extraordinary piece, Dr. Carroll reveals the causes of a series of deadly diseases, including 'cholera' and 'typhoid fever.' To prevent contracting these diseases and others like them, as well as to effectively cure them, he has opened a crucial gateway.
However, the scope of this treatise (I prefer to call it a magnum opus) is quite substantial, and it delves into many areas of specialized knowledge. Reviewing it, translating it accurately into English, is no easy task. This is why we had to postpone the publication of this edition of 'The Lancet.' But as Miss Crystelle said in her works, 'Many beautiful things are worth waiting for.'"
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