There was once a saying describing nineteenth-century Britain: from these filthy sewers flowed the torrent of humanity's industriousness; from these greasy gutters flowed pure gold. Human nature developed here in its fullest and most savage form; civilization created miracles here, while civilized people almost regressed into barbarians.
Georgiana had almost no doubt that the British Ministry of Magic would ultimately be responsible for supervising and evaluating Wizarding World trade practices, while also promulgating and enforcing international trade standards law.
This was not merely because the International Association of Magical Trade Standards, according to "history," lay beneath Whitehall, but also because of the British people's diligence. People in other countries preferred enjoying life and having fun.
There were no secrets in a community. Mary, who had assumed no one would notice her cake-making experiment during the Salem witch trials, had not realized that.
Yet communities were also full of secrets. The Wedgwood children were like the steps of time: when Sukey was fourteen, John was thirteen, Jos was ten, Tom was eight, Catherine was five, Sarah was four, and the youngest, Mary Anne, was still teething. A few weeks after her birth, she began suffering convulsions throughout her body. Erasmus Darwin was a doctor, and Wedgwood invited him to the house to treat the poor infant.
Whenever this illness struck in that era, the only option was sedation, but that could affect her brain development. Later, her gums were cut open to make it easier to administer medicine twice a week. Yet the result of this "treatment" was paralysis on one side of her body. Electrotherapy was needed to stimulate the paralyzed side, and she would not speak before the age of seven.
One day, Sarah greeted her, and Mary Anne said she wanted a bath. Sarah was thrilled and hurried