Shadow of great britain

London Free General Hospital, Greville Street, Holborn, London.

If it were just a first sight, it would be hard to think of the red brick building in front of you as a hospital. With its size, it would be easy for people to think of it as a small private clinic that can be seen everywhere on the roadside.

Although the outpatient clinic is small, it is well-equipped. The most commendable thing is that since its establishment in 1828, the London Free General Hospital has been committed to providing free medical services to the poor in London.

When talking about the opportunity for the establishment of this hospital, we have to mention Dr. William Marsden, who is currently a professor at the University of London Medical School.

On a cold winter day in 1828, Mr Marsden discovered a girl dying of disease and starvation on the steps of St Andrew's Church in Holborn. Mr. Marsden, who was moved by compassion, picked up the girl and hoped to seek help from a nearby hospital.

However, because they could not afford the medical expenses, no hospital was willing to accept her, and the girl finally died two days later because she missed the best time for relief.

This incident directly tore Mr. Marsden's heart. In order to prevent such a thing from happening again, Mr. Marsden used his savings to establish such a hospital in the Holborn area where the girl was found.

The hospital has been struggling due to a lack of medicines, staff and steady income.

However, when the University of London learned of its existence, the Board of Trustees of the University of London, which has always been committed to utilitarian principles, quickly extended an olive branch to Mr. Marsden. Now the hospital has officially established a teaching relationship with the University of London Medical School. Contact and became one of the teaching hospitals affiliated with them.

The situation of the London Free General Hospital, which has received financial support from a large number of intern doctors and universities, has also improved rapidly. Calculating time, this year is already its third year of operation in London.

Although the hospital is mainly associated with students from the University of London Medical School, students from other colleges like Arthur also often come to the hospital for treatment.

Although they cannot get full free treatment like the real poor, the low medical prices here are still quite cost-effective compared to other hospitals in London.

Arthur leaned against the cabinet at the front desk of the hospital, and sitting next to him was Mr. Marsden.

As a doctor, he originally had good prospects and a certain amount of savings, an excellent annual income, and a decent job in a royal hospital. No matter from which point of view, he was a decent enough middle-class gentleman. batch.

But in order to keep the hospital running, he not only sold his carriage and fired two servants, but now he can only squeeze in a small two-bedroom apartment in Holborn with his wife and two children.

Arthur looked at the poor people helping each other in and out of the clinic, as well as the university interns who were full of youthful atmosphere. He picked up the teacup and took a sip, and asked: "Mr. Marsden, it's been a long time." Gone, how is the situation in the hospital recently?"

Marsden looked like he had just finished an operation. His forehead was covered with beads of sweat, and his sleeves were even stained with clearly visible blood.

He raised his hand to wipe the sweat, and took a big gulp of tea without caring too much about the image: "It's better than before. Thanks to Mr. Brougham... Well, maybe it's better to call him Lord now. In short, because Since he became the Lord Chancellor, the University of London's donations this year have been much higher than in previous years, and the medical school's scarce teaching funds have also become abundant. Therefore, the school's funding support for teaching hospitals has also doubled this year. However, Although the shortage of medicines has improved, as you know, this is only enough for us to barely survive, and there are too many poor people in London."

When Arthur heard this, he held the spoon and stirred the tea cup, seeming to be thinking about something.

Seeing this, the Red Devil couldn't help but frown. Agares warned: "Arthur, stay out of your own business."

But Arthur obviously did not listen to the advice. He raised his hand and reached into his arms to take out a brand new check for one hundred and fifty pounds and put it on the counter: "Please accept this first."

Marsden took another sip of tea. He picked up the check and took a look at it: "What is this...one hundred and fifty pounds? Did the school board ask you to bring the money for the first half of next year?"

Arthur just smiled: "That's right. Anyway, I originally planned to donate the money to the school. I guess after the school board gets it, it will probably transfer the money to you. So, why bother? It’s more convenient for me to bring it directly to you.”

"Is this your donation?"

Marsden put down his tea cup and looked up and down at Arthur's outfit. He thought about it and finally pushed the money back: "Arthur, you are the best among the first batch of graduates. I've heard a lot about this." The professor has mentioned it. But your career is just starting now. Although I don’t object to you investing more in public welfare undertakings, you have only worked for a few years, so this money should be all your savings, right? "

Arthur just waved his hand. He patted his bandaged arm and joked: "You are looking down on me when you say that. These one hundred and fifty pounds were all exchanged for this arm, my savings." But not a penny has been touched. It’s just that I feel that this one hundred and fifty pounds is blood money, so it should also be used in places with blood. I have searched around and found that your hospital is probably the best in London. It’s the right place.”

When Marsden heard this, he wanted to continue persuading.

But Arthur shook his head slightly, indicating that he should stop persuading: "Mr. Marsden, it is enough for you to pity the poor in your conscience. A superintendent of Scotland Yard should not be the object of your pity." . I am donating a little money to charity now, just to find a way out for myself. If one day I end up living on the street, don’t reject me because of lack of medicine."

Marsden laughed when he heard this and said: "Come on, Arthur. God will not watch you fall into that situation, and my hospital will never turn away the poor. Both of the conditions you set up are It is not established.”

But Marsden felt a little guilty after accepting Arthur's money. He was always a man of action. He pointed at Arthur's arm and asked, "Let me show you. To be honest, although I consider myself a general practitioner, Doctor, but my specialty is surgery. I assure you, I did some time in the Royal Navy's Casualty Hospital, and there's no one better at this kind of trauma."

Of course, Arthur would never agree to Marsden, and his trick of defrauding people would never escape the old doctor's eyes.

"My injury is not serious. Just take a good look at the friend I brought here today. If possible, it would be best to issue him another diagnostic certificate. Someone notified Bethlem Royal Hospital today , if you can’t issue him a health certificate here, I’m afraid he will really have to be arrested.”

"Betram Royal Hospital..."

When Marsden heard about the hospital, he immediately understood why Arthur came to him.

Bethlem Royal Hospital, founded in 1247, was the world's earliest professional institution for treating mental illness. In its early days, it was not actually a hospital, but a monastery.

At that time, there was no concept of mental illness in Britain, and people generally referred to mentally ill people as demon-possessed people.

From this name, we can tell what methods Bethlem will use to deal with its patients. Binding, whipping, and beating are all their common methods of exorcism.

Some of the female patients were even tortured to extract confessions, and once they admitted that they were witches, they would be burned at the stake.

Bethlem's harsh treatment almost continued until the early 19th century, until Mr. Cruikshank, Arthur's favorite social caricaturist, put the tragic experiences of Bethlem's medical patients into writing. , all walks of life in Britain began to pay attention to this problem.

However, although the notorious Bethlem Royal Hospital has undergone several large-scale rectifications, corporal punishment and other harmful behaviors have also been gradually improved. But because psychiatry has been unable to make breakthroughs, to this day they are still using many therapies that turn into abuse of patients.

After their 'careful' treatment, although the madman may not necessarily turn back to a normal person, normal people will most likely turn into a madman.

This is why, after Arthur learned that Wheatstone might be transferred to Bethlem Hospital, he rushed here to find Marsden to issue a mental health certificate.

Wheatstone's social phobia could be cured with just a pistol, so there was really no need to punish him severely.

Marsden had always complained about the rough treatment at Bethlem Hospital, but when Arthur opened his mouth, he naturally agreed.

"With all due respect, there is absolutely no help for mentally ill patients there. I have visited there before. They tied the patient to a chair suspended from the ceiling, and then rotated it at a speed of 100 revolutions per minute. It was beautiful. It's called 'rotation therapy'. But apart from seeing the patient vomiting after getting off the chair, I didn't feel it had any effect.

Their only idea is to make the patient quiet so that they can live a more leisurely life. Not to mention that there is a history of bringing patients to the circus to put on freak shows. First of all, your friend is currently very healthy. Secondly, even if he does have a certain mental disorder, he should not be sent to Bethlem Hospital for treatment. "

After saying this, Marsden hardly hesitated. He immediately took out a pen and paper and issued a certificate: "I just took the time to check on your friend. He may seem to have some symptoms of depression, but the symptoms are not serious. A country holiday might help to improve his mental condition. If his condition does not improve after that, you can send him back to me and I will see if there is anything I can do to help him."

Arthur took the medical certificate from Marsden and glanced at Wheatstone who was undergoing diagnosis in the next room. He breathed a sigh of relief and said, "Thank you very much for your help. He has escaped death." ."

After solving the urgent matter, Arthur finally had the opportunity to chat with Marsden: "Now that Lord Brougham is the Lord Chancellor, the medical and health affairs are also in his hands. I happen to be going to the Chancery Hall next week to attend A meeting, just in time to see him in person. Is there anything you want me to help you with? I remember that you have been complaining about the frequent outbreaks of typhus and yellow fever in the past? "

Marsden just shook his head when he heard this: "Arthur, typhoid fever and yellow fever cannot be eradicated by increasing funding. In fact, I have been conducting research on these epidemics. I also talked to Mr. Chadwick some time ago Having talked about this matter, you should know him, right? He is the young man who was Mr. Bentham's secretary and is now assisting Lord Brougham in the Chancery Hall."

Arthur nodded slightly: "I met him once, and he came to Scotland Yard once."

Marsden said: "Mr. Chadwick was appointed by Lord Brougham not long ago to prepare for the establishment of the Poor Law Commission. The first task of this commission is to investigate the living conditions of poor people across Britain. They compiled Counting several major epidemic outbreaks in Britain since the 19th century, the statistics found that more than half of the hundreds of thousands of people who die from several special diseases in the country every year live in urban areas. Most of the epidemics are concentrated in a few countries. A large industrial city, rural areas are generally rarely affected.

Interestingly, this is the same conclusion as my epidemiological research. I believe that these epidemics breed in filthy urban environments and spread in the form of miasma. You have lived in London for a few years. Whenever heavy rain comes, you should be well aware of the extent of filth flowing on the streets everywhere.

And it’s not just London, it’s the same in Birmingham, Liverpool, and Manchester. I lived in Manchester for a while. On Parliament Street in Manchester, there was only one public toilet for 380 residents. It was located in a narrow passage. It was full of stench and was a hazard to the surrounding neighbours. This environment, of course, can be fertile ground for disease.

According to Mr. Chadwick, many of the parish officials they sent out to collect statistics this year contracted the disease in those slums. Two unlucky ones who went to the East End to investigate were even more unfortunate to contract typhoid fever and died within a few days. Just like Wordsworth's poem said: Factories have broken the peaceful life in the countryside, and smoke and dust have stained the clear rivers and fertile land in the past. How can we live healthily in such a sewage Venice? "

Arthur also felt the same way about Marsden's words. He said, "I have always been worried about this. I was in charge of the security in the East District for a period of time, and many of our police officers fell ill or even died there. Although this matter has never been stated openly, the proportion of pensions in Scotland Yard's annual expenditure is actually not low. But fortunately, the Chancery Chamber seems to be really planning to do so in this regard. Made something happen.”

When Marsden heard this, he just sighed and said: "But... how should I put it? I don't know whether this is a good thing or a bad thing. Regarding improving sanitary conditions, there seems to be a lot of quarrel in the Parliament, and there is also a lot of noise inside the Chancery Hall. There are differences. Mr. Chadwick is unwilling to reveal too much about the specific reasons, so I don’t know how far health reform can be pushed in the end.”

As a doctor, Marsden didn't care much about politics, but Arthur guessed the root cause of the disagreement from his words.

Since the promulgation of Magna Carta in 1215, opposing authoritarianism and respecting individual freedom have been the most important traditions in British society. And the Duke of Wellington, an iconic figure who represents power, has just fallen. Now everyone's minds are full of things like upholding freedom and rights.

Anyone who wants to comprehensively and uniformly regulate the health field will soon become a target and be framed as a target.

Politicians have always cherished their own feathers, and besides, the incident involving Congressman Harrison had just happened, and no one was planning to take the lead at this time.

Arthur was thinking about how to explain the twists and turns to Marsden. While he was in a daze, a thin and sallow patient wearing a ragged felt hat and linen shirt, holding a medicine bottle in his hand, dragged his The shoe with one toe exposed staggered past Arthur.

His shoulder bumped lightly with Arthur, and the patient stumbled and fell to the ground.

Seeing this, Arthur hurriedly leaned down to help him up: "Sir, are you okay?"

The patient held his stomach and took off his hat tremblingly. He smiled reluctantly and apologized to Arthur: "Huh... I'm sorry, sir, I... I vomited several times today and I can't eat anymore. I really don't have any strength..."

After hearing this, Arthur took out a coin from his pocket and put it into his hand: "There is a bakery on the corner. I often went there to buy things when I was a student. Their bread is quite generous. You can Eat something to replenish your strength."

When the patient heard this, he just shook his head and stuffed the coin back: "Sir, I am a decent man with a job, and several kids rely on me to support them. When the disease is cured, we will soon You will become rich. Thank you very much for your kindness, but please leave this money to those who need it. Goodbye, I wish you a good mood today."

When Arthur saw this, he didn't say anything more.

He turned around and was about to chat with Marsden for a few more words. Unexpectedly, before he could speak, he heard a thud from behind him.

He quickly turned around and looked.

I saw that the man had collapsed on the brick road outside the clinic. His head hit the wall and a large gash was opened. The blood was flowing from his head over his cheek and seeping into the cracks of the street bricks and blending with the plaster. .

Seeing this, Marsden rushed out quickly and repeatedly ordered the apprentices: "Sir, are you okay?! John, Mark, help the patient back to the lounge as soon as possible! Horn, go and prepare an easy entrance for him. Honey water and bread!”

Arthur also wanted to follow him out to see the situation, but before he could take a step, the red devil suddenly put his hand on his shoulder.

Arthur wondered: "Agares?"

The red devil said nothing, his glowing red eyes were like a video recorder, bringing countless images into Arthur's mind.

It was a ballroom full of people, and he seemed to see Heine and Alexandre Dumas dancing happily in the ballroom.

The music is playing, the clown is on stage, and today's performance is still so interesting.

But as if in an instant, the roses in the vase withered and the light dimmed.

The clown, whose face was covered with white powder, suddenly stopped dancing, his legs softened and he knelt down, his expression became sluggish.

The mask on his face slowly slipped off, and under the mask was a face that was already bruised.

The laughter suddenly disappeared and was replaced by countless screams.

The circus members fell one after another, the stage was almost stained red with blood, and Arthur's vision was blurred by the blood.

In the bloody scene, carriages roared out, like a marching ant colony, taking the revelers from the dance hall to the hospital. The carriage was filled with corpses. No one would have thought that not long ago, they were still expressing their enthusiasm on the stage. Only the carnival costumes they still wore could give them an explanation.

Arthur's body froze in place: "What...what's going on?"

No one answered him. The only response he received was the whisper of the devil in his ears.

"Arthur, I said, don't meddle in other people's business. If you must meddle, then be ready. Because Baal's minions...are coming."