Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 630 What kind of trash are you? (Second update combined)

Lionel paused, then asked, "Who punished you? Why were you punished?"

The cook, Margaret, raised her red and swollen eyes: "Police! Sir! This morning, as usual, I was taking out the trash in the back alley when a policeman suddenly appeared and stopped me."

He said I had violated the "garbage can law" and issued me a ticket on the spot, demanding two francs! Two francs! How much work would I have to do to earn that! But if I didn't pay, I'd go to jail!

After some explanation, Lionel learned that today, January 15, 1884, the "Garbage Can Decree" issued by Eugène Poubert, a high-ranking official in the Seine department, had officially come into effect!

This decree, the first executive order signed by Pubert after taking office last year, requires all building owners in Paris to provide residents with covered containers for garbage collection, and residents to dispose of their garbage at fixed times, locations, and categories, with supervision by gatekeepers.

(Before 1968, Paris was under the jurisdiction of the Seine department, and the Seine officials were also responsible for the municipal affairs of Paris and served as mayors of Paris.)
However, just like the countless decrees that Paris had previously issued that ultimately came to nothing, most people just chuckled at them and didn't take them seriously.

To everyone's surprise, the city of Paris took this seriously, deploying police to enforce the law and imposing unprecedentedly severe fines.

It's important to understand that 2 francs is no small sum for ordinary citizens in Paris; it's almost a family's daily food expenses. No wonder the cook cried so bitterly.

The cook was still sobbing: "I don't know! I've been following you with you in Verneve these past few days, sir, who knew there would be some new decree in Paris..."

Lionel understood. He gestured for Sophie to take out two francs and hand them to the cook: "Here, this is to make up for it."

Margaret took the money, her tears immediately stopping. Holding the two silver coins, a radiant smile bloomed on her face: "Sir! You are so kind! So generous!"

God bless you! The Virgin Mary bless you! Saint Genevieve bless you!

Lionel waved his hand: "Alright, alright, go make breakfast. Remember, don't litter anymore."

The cook stuffed the silver coins into her apron pocket and happily darted into the kitchen. Soon, the sound of her humming a song could be heard from inside.

Alice looked towards the kitchen and couldn't help but laugh: "You were crying so hard just now, but you're fine now that you have the money."

Sophie laughed too: "Two francs is a lot of money for her, so of course she's happy to receive compensation."

Lionel put on his coat and picked up his cane: "Let's go downstairs and take a look."

The three of them walked out of the apartment and arrived at the door of 117 Boulevard Saint-Germain.

Sure enough, three brand-new wooden barrels, each more than half a person tall, were placed side by side at the base of the wall on the side of the building.

The barrels were painted in different shades of gray to distinguish them, and each had a lid. Lionel used his cane to pry open the lids one by one to inspect them:

The first bucket contained vegetable leaves, fruit peels, and leftover food; the second bucket contained old newspapers and rags; and the third bucket contained a broken wine bottle and some oyster shells.

Sophie leaned closer to look: "Three bins, three types of trash."

Alice read the words on the lid of the bin: "Category 1: Perishable waste; Category 2: Paper and cloth; Category 3: Glass, ceramics, and oyster shells. Very detailed sorting."

Lionel put the lid on the bucket and clapped his hands: "This is a giant leap for urban civilization."

Alice was somewhat surprised: "Is it really that significant?"

Sophie seemed thoughtful: "It might really exist; this is the 'sewer' on the ground."

Lionel nodded: "That's right. The sewers take care of the underground sewage, and the garbage cans take care of the surface garbage. With both, Paris becomes a modern city."

He pointed to the street: "When I first came to Paris, this was the thing I couldn't stand the most. You know the small towns in the Alps where Alice and I are from? Poor, but clean."

Paris? It claims to be the capital of the world, the heart of Europe, yet its streets are littered with trash.

Sophie sighed: "I grew up in Paris, so I'm used to it. When I was a kid, I had to watch my step all the time when I went out, or I'd accidentally step on something dirty."

Summer is even worse; with the sun shining, the whole street reeks.

Alice frowned: "How did people live in the past?"

Sophie shook her head: "That's how it was. Every household dumped their garbage on the street or threw it out the window. The streets of Paris were like giant garbage dumps."

That's why there are so many 'scavengers' and 'rag sellers' who make a living by collecting garbage.

Lionel added, "The rags are sold to paper mills, bones are boiled into glue, and metals are recycled. These people rummage through garbage dumps for anything of value to barely survive."

Alice suddenly realized: "No wonder. I've heard that Paris used to have a lot of cholera outbreaks. The amount of garbage was probably one of the reasons."

Thanks to Lionel's continuous instruction over the past few years, Alice now possesses a relatively strong understanding of hygiene and even knows that there is something called "bacteria".

Sophie nodded with lingering fear: "The one in 1832 was the worst, killing more than 20,000 people. Garbage was everywhere, sewage was flowing freely, and rats were everywhere. It would be strange if there wasn't a plague."

Lionel remarked with some emotion, "That's why Sir Ottoman wanted to carry out urban renewal, building these buildings and installing sewers to solve the sewage problem."

In areas without sewers, such as Obercamp Street where Petty and I used to live, people still habitually dump the waste that had accumulated overnight directly onto the street.

Although sewers are now in place, the problem of Parisians littering has persisted until now.

Sophie looked at the three trash cans: "This law can make Paris completely clean!"

Lionel thought for a moment, then said somewhat hesitantly, "Uh... completely... is still a bit difficult..."

Alice then posed another question: "Leon, I have a question. If a glass jar contains rotten food, which bin should you throw it in?"

Lionel laughed: "That's a good question. Don't worry, I'm a professional at sorting trash! You guys wait here."

He went straight to the corner store and returned a few minutes later carrying three wooden buckets of different colors: red, blue, and green.

Back in the apartment, Lionel put all three bins in the kitchen: "Starting today, garbage sorting will begin in the apartment."

Red is for leftovers, vegetable scraps, fruit peels, and other perishable items; blue is for paper and rags; and green is for glass bottles, broken ceramics, and seashells.

Regarding your question, Alice—first pour the rotten food into the red bucket, then throw the glass bottle into the green bucket.

He specifically instructed the cook: "From now on, before you take out the trash, check each bin to make sure there's no missorted trash, so you don't get fined again."

Sophie looked at the three brightly colored wooden barrels with anticipation: "If this method is widely adopted, Paris will be ten times cleaner than it is now."

Lionel sighed. "I hope so. But in a few decades, when Parisians look back on today, they'll think we're living like we're in the Middle Ages."

Alice blinked. "What would people in the Middle Ages think of us?"

Lionel paused for a moment, then laughed: "Good question. Maybe they think we're monsters."

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On January 16, 1884, Parisians opened Le Figaro in the morning and saw an article on the second page with two large words in the title: "The Box of Pobel".

Author Georges Grison is a veteran journalist for Le Figaro, known for his sharp and incisive writing style.

Yesterday, January 15, 1884, was undoubtedly a memorable day.

Eugène Poubert, who calls himself the "Chief Cleaner of Paris," has finally extended his clutches to the garbage of every Parisian.

From now on, dear reader, you can no longer elegantly dump leftovers in the back alley like your grandfather and great-grandfather.

You must purchase one—no, three—officially designated "lid containers." The specifications for these containers are as follows:

Wooden, lined with galvanized iron, with a capacity of eighty to one hundred and twenty liters... Ha, Mr. Pobel's requirements for the size of the garbage are as precise as the caliber of an artillery shell.

Moreover, you must sort the garbage into three categories—as for why three categories are necessary? Mr. Pobel didn't say.

Perhaps he believes that garbage, like people, should have different levels; perhaps he believes that only sorted garbage is good garbage.

We should give these precious containers a name, how about "Pubert Boxes"? After all, they are a gift from Mr. Pubert to the people of Paris.

The value of this gift is: if you do not use it as instructed, you will be fined at least two francs!

Dear reader, please check your wallet. If you don't want it to get thinner, hurry up and buy three "Puberty Boxes" to continue your enjoyable trash-collecting journey.

Once published, the article spread throughout Paris immediately.

The following day, Le Petit Parisien followed up with a report titled: "The Scavenger's Doom: Poubert Steals the Poor Man's Bread!"

The reporter interviewed old Pierre, a scavenger on Rue Saint-Denis. Old Pierre is sixty-seven years old and has been rummaging through garbage dumps for forty years.

"I supported my family by collecting garbage. I sold rags to paper mills, boiled bones to make glue, and sold bottles and jars to scrap collectors. The income was low, but at least it was a way to make a living."

Now all the trash is being put into those 'Puber boxes,' so what am I supposed to do? I can't exactly stick my hand into someone else's box and rummage through it, can I? That would make me a thief!"

Do you think this law is reasonable?

"Reasonable? Those old men sit in their offices, how would they know whether we live or die? They only think the garbage is an eyesore and want to hide it. But if the garbage is hidden, what will we eat?"

On the same day, the newspaper "La Patriot" interviewed Mr. Duval, a landlord in the Saint-Germain district.

Duval owns three apartment buildings, and by law he must purchase three trash cans for each building.

Duval complained to the reporter, "How much does a barrel cost? The cheapest wooden barrel with a tin lining is eight francs. Three would be twenty-four francs."

Three buildings cost 72 francs. Who pays for that? The law says 'the building owner provides it,' but in the end, doesn't the cost still fall on the tenants? I want to raise the rent.

Mr. Poubert found a good reason for Parisian landlords to raise rents. "Hey, tenants, blame the high-ranking officials!" He got angrier and angrier as he spoke: "And where are these buckets supposed to be? At the entrance? That space isn't big to begin with, and now they're going to cram in three big buckets. In the backyard? Many buildings don't even have backyards."

Did Mr. Pobel consider these things? No. He just gave orders and left the rest to us to figure out. What is this? This is garbage tyranny! He's a garbage tyrant!

The Telegraph took an even more unconventional approach. They published a front-page article: "Parisians' privacy has been dumped in the trash."
In the past, Parisians dumped their garbage on the streets and in the alleys whenever they wanted.

It's a good thing that the garbage is all mixed together, making it impossible to tell whose it is or when it was dumped!

Because nobody knows what you ate, drank, or read last night.

Now? Your garbage has to be put into special bins at fixed times, locations, and categories, and there are people supervising it.

So even though your name isn't written on the bucket, everyone will know—

The paper thrown into the bucket from the third floor was their subscription to Le Figaro; the oyster shells poured into the bucket from the second floor proved that he had treated everyone to seafood yesterday…

Mr. Poubel, you're forcing Parisians to expose their private lives. Do you want everyone to know what's in your neighbor's leftovers?
Do you want tax collectors to determine the tax amount based on the number of oyster shells? If that doesn't count as an invasion of privacy, then what does?

The situation caused an uproar in Paris.

In cafes, people debated the "Puber Box"; in salons, ladies mocked the "Garbage Tyrant"; on the streets, vendors sang rhymes:
On January 17, The Joke Daily published a cartoon:
Eugène Pubert stands on the walls of Paris, wearing a giant crown shaped like a trash can; below, countless Parisians flee in terror.

The comic's title is: "The New Emperor Has Been Coroned!"

On January 18, a small-scale clash occurred on Saint Daniel Street:
Several scavengers tried to stop sanitation workers from collecting the trash from the "Puber Box," resulting in a scuffle with police. The three were taken to the police station and each fined five francs.

On January 19, hundreds of landlords wrote a joint letter to the Seine Departmental Council, requesting a stay of the law or that the provincial government subsidize the cost of purchasing garbage bins.

On January 20, the newspaper *Le Soir* published an editorial entitled "Mr. Poubel, what are you really thinking?"
We understand that Paris needs to be clean. We understand that waste needs to be managed. But the question is, in what way?
Three bins, three categories of garbage, a fine starting at two francs. Does Monsieur Poubert think the Parisians are his soldiers, whom he can order around at will?
He thought the streets of Paris were his military camp, which he could clean at will.

We suggest that Mr. Pobel go for a walk on Saint-Denis Street and ask those who make a living from garbage.

He may find that his laws are creating a problem even more intractable than garbage.

All of Paris was criticizing Eugène Pubert, all of Paris was criticizing "Pubert's box," and the criticism even overshadowed that of "The Legend of 1900."

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On the morning of January 22, Lionel, as usual, ate breakfast while flipping through the day's newspaper.

Sophie brought in a coffee and placed it next to him: "Are you still reading those articles that are full of insults?"

Lionel nodded: "That's interesting. They've been cursing for a whole week, and they still haven't had enough."

Sophie sat down next to him: "What do you think of this law?"

Lionel put down his newspaper: "The law is correct, and the classification is also correct. Kitchen waste can be used for composting, paper and cloth can be recycled to make paper, and glass and ceramics can be crushed and used to pave roads."

This is how Paris stays clean. I believe these practices will become the standard adopted worldwide and a hallmark of 'modern life.'

Sophie asked with some curiosity, "Then why are so many people against it?"

Lionel laughed: "The obvious reason is, of course, because it's troublesome. Before, you could just dump it anywhere, but now you have to sort it, put it in bins, and follow the rules."

Moreover, the law does have some problems, such as the livelihoods of scavengers and the costs for landlords. Implementing it hastily without addressing these issues is bound to draw criticism.

Alice was puzzled: "But isn't this a good thing? In the long run..."

Lionel shook his head: "That brings us to the deeper reasons for the opposition—I think it's because Parisians are afraid."

"Afraid? Afraid of what?"

"Previously, Parisians enjoyed the freedom to dump their garbage in the streets. Although there were laws in 1870 that prohibited citizens from doing so, they were basically not enforced."

It's chaotic, but it's free enough. Now, Poubert is demanding delivery at specific times, locations, and categories, which is tantamount to starting to manage the details of Parisians' daily lives.

So even if the policy is rational and benefits the vast majority of people, the media will still worry that it is some kind of test by the government to expand its power.

That's why Le Parisien satirized Poubel, saying, "This governor of Seine will one day force us to take our garbage to his office."

Sophie and Alice then realized what was going on. Over the past century, having experienced numerous power struggles between republic and autocracy, the Parisian elites were generally wary of the expansion of government power.

Eugène Pubert's "Garbage Can Ordinance" undoubtedly touched this sensitive nerve.

Thinking about this, Sophie was a little worried: "Will this law be able to be implemented in the end?"

Lionel gently patted Sophie's hand: "Of course. And not just in Paris."

He was certainly confident of this, because when he saw the article in Le Figaro entitled "The Box of Pobel," he remembered it:
In later French, the word for "trash can" was spelled "Poubelle." This proves that Eugène Poubelle ultimately succeeded.

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On January 27, the newspaper "La Repubblica" published an article on its front page entitled "A Few Words for Mr. Poubel". The author was "Lionel Sorel".

Recently, almost every newspaper has been criticizing Mr. Eugène Pubert, criticizing his garbage cans, his laws, and calling him a "garbage tyrant."

But I think he did the right thing—yes, you read that right. I think this law is correct.

I come from a small town in the Alps. We were poor, but clean. When I first came to Paris, I was shocked by the city—

Not because of its grandeur, but because of its filth!
The streets were littered with garbage: leftover food, vegetable scraps, rags, broken glass, and even animal carcasses. In the summer sun, the streets reeked. The rats were fatter than cats.

……

So, in 1832, cholera struck; in 1849, cholera struck again; in 1865, it struck again… When will it strike next?
Why? Because garbage is everywhere and sewage flows freely. Rats, flies, and bacteria breed in the garbage dumps, bringing diseases to humans.

Count Ottoman repaired the sewers, solving the sewage problem. But what about the garbage on the ground? It remained the same. Emptying, sweeping, picking up—the cycle repeated endlessly.

Now Mr. Poubel wants to change this situation. He wants Paris's garbage to have a proper place to go, instead of piling up on the streets and rotting in the alleys.

……

Paris cannot continue living a squalid life of dumping garbage in the streets forever. It is now 1884, and in sixteen years it will be the 20th century.

What kind of streets do we want to bring into the 20th century? Stinking garbage streets, or clean asphalt roads?

I choose the latter! Therefore, I want to say a few words for Mr. Pubert, and also for the future of Paris.

After this article was published, the Parisian media suddenly fell silent. Those media outlets that had been criticizing for a whole week all shut up.

No one can understand why Lionel Sorel doesn't continue to enjoy the glory of "The Legend of 1900" and instead starts to care about the garbage problem.

This marks the first time in over a year that Lionel has been embroiled in a public controversy since the "1984" controversy in late 1882.

No one dared to act rashly before they understood his true stance.

In particular, Eugène Poubert is backed by Jules Ferry, a politician who served twice as President of the French Council of Ministers and had a rather complicated relationship with Lionel.

In the early part of Ferry’s first term, Lionel used his works to clear the way for Ferry’s “secular compulsory education” in the public eye.

But less than a year later, the two broke up because of Ferry’s aggressive colonial expansion. In the end, Lionel was brought to court, and Ferry resigned as prime minister in disgrace.

During the later "occupation of the Bank of France" incident, it was again Lionel's "Witness" campaign that helped Ferry build political prestige and pave the way for his return to power.

But after Jules Ferry returned to power, he continued his large-scale colonial expansion, recently allocating 3800 million francs for the war in northern Mexico, while Lionel remained silent.

No one knows whether Lionel has changed his stance or is waiting for the right moment to deliver a "fatal blow" to Ferry.

Therefore, even those who support the "Garbage Can Ordinance" dare not rejoice. They fear it might be a trap set by Lionel, one that would lead to utter ruin once stepped into.

In any case, anyone who wants to go against Lionel Sorel in public opinion should consider whether they have the ability of Jules Ferry or Queen Victoria.

An eerie silence fell over the Parisian media...

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But Lionel was oblivious to this; he only felt that the Parisian media had recently become quite handsome and spoke very pleasantly.

He flipped through the newspaper and said happily to Sophie, who had just entered the study, "Look, everyone is still quite reasonable! It's so good to be calm and peaceful!"

Sophie leaned closer to look and saw an article published in Le Figaro titled: "The Correct Use of the Pobel Box".

The article details how to sort garbage, how to properly place garbage bins, and even includes illustrations.

Lionel said smugly, "It seems my article is quite persuasive!"

Sophie covered her mouth and chuckled. Of course, she knew the reason for the sudden silence in public opinion, but she did not "reveal" the truth.

She handed the letter she had just received to Lionel: "It was written by Armand. He wants you to come to the factory when you have time."

Lionel opened the letter, glanced at it, and nearly spat out his coffee: "Huh? An electric car? Four wheels?"

(Two chapters combined into one, thank you everyone, please vote with monthly tickets!)

(End of this chapter)