Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 632 The Great Plague! (First update, please vote!)

In early February 1884, the morning air was bitterly cold.

Lionel had just attended a party at Zola's "Villa Médan" last night and returned late at night, so he was still asleep.

The doorbell of the "Hillside Villa" suddenly rang.

Not long after, Sophie woke Lionel up: "Lion, Mr. De La Ruwak's assistant has arrived and says it's urgent."

Leon got out of bed groggily, dressed sleepily, washed his face, and then went to the living room.

The young assistant, pale-faced, immediately bowed upon seeing Lionel: "Good morning, Mr. Sorel. I'm sorry to bother you so early."

“It’s alright.” Lionel gestured for him to sit down. “What happened?”

The assistant's legs trembled like leaves: "Mr. Sorel, this morning I went to Obercamp Street as usual to deliver this month's apprenticeship allowance to the Millais. But..."

At this point, he took a deep breath, as if the words that followed required immense courage to be uttered:
"Something terrible has happened! I felt something was wrong as soon as I arrived in District 11. There are far fewer people on the streets, and those who remain are walking hurriedly, hugging the walls."

The situation was even worse on Obercamp Street. Several health officials had cordoned off Mrs. Martin's apartment building, preventing anyone from entering or leaving.

Lionel's drowsy mind cleared up instantly.

"The neighbors said that two nights ago, Mr. Millais suddenly started vomiting and having diarrhea, and he couldn't stop. Mrs. Millais took care of him, and a few hours later she also started vomiting."

Mrs. Martin tried to help, but she also collapsed. At daybreak, the health department arrived and took them all away. They said it was cholera.

“Cholera…” Lionel could no longer sit still and stood up.

The assistant nodded: "I asked which hospital Ra went to, but the neighbor said he wasn't sure. It could be St. Louis Hospital in the 10th arrondissement, or it could be Labour Hospital."

The apartment building is completely sealed off now, and even the few residents who haven't yet shown symptoms are not allowed to leave. I didn't dare stay any longer and rushed back to report the news.

Lionel was silent for a few seconds, then asked, "Do you know anything about the Millais' son, 'Leon,' the boy who's an apprentice at the tanner's?"

The assistant shook his head: "I don't know... there doesn't seem to be a leather shop on Obokamp Street."

Lionel shook his hand: "I understand. Thank you for your hard work. Go back and get some rest! Let me know if there's any new information."

The assistant bowed, turned, and left. After the door closed, the living room fell into a deathly silence.

Sophie looked at Lionel: "You just wrote an article last month, and now it's really here."

Lionel nodded and said to Sophie and Alice, who followed him in, "Call Margaret here—there are a few things that need to be done from now on."

Sophie went to the kitchen and called the cook, Margaret. The three of them looked at Lionel together.

"First, absolutely do not eat out recently, and decline any invitations from others; second, the water at home must be boiled before drinking, the kind that is bubbling vigorously."

Third, avoid buying oysters, raw fish, and ice, as these are most likely to carry germs; fourth, starting today, ensure all dishes are thoroughly cooked before eating, including all vegetables.

Upon hearing this, the cook quickly asked, "Sir, can't we even make lettuce salad anymore?"

Lionel shook his head: "At least not for now. All the food must be thoroughly cooked. You can stew soup for a long time and cook meat for a long time, but you can't eat any raw food."

Cholera is mainly transmitted through the fecal-oral route, and in that era, every vegetable market was filled with sewage, and no food could be guaranteed to be free from being splashed with dirty water.

Margaret nodded and nervously went back to the kitchen.

Alice looked at Lionel with a blank expression: "Cholera, is it really that serious?"

Lionel paused for a moment: "Do you remember two weeks ago, when Marguerite was fined, and Sophie mentioned how many people died in Paris during the cholera outbreak of 1832?"

Alice remembered: "More than 20,000 people."

Lionel nodded: "Yes, more than 20,000! Paris only had a population of over 800,000 at the time, which means that one in every 40 people died of cholera."

Alice's face turned pale instantly.

Sophie said softly, "I heard my grandmother tell me about it when I was little. She said that one summer, there were coffins everywhere on the streets. She was afraid to go out and prayed at home every day."

Lionel walked to the window and looked out at Boulevard Saint-Germain. Carriages came and went, and pedestrians hurried by. They were unaware that cholera had arrived.

He turned around: “I’ll send a telegram to Norman McLeod right away and have him tell Petty to buy a ticket back to Paris immediately. The sooner the better.”

Sophie looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

Lionel paused for a few seconds, then said, "Pettit is going to lose her parents."

Sophie and Alice were both stunned.

"That serious?" Alice couldn't believe it. "Maybe they can pull through..."

Lionel shook his head: "Cholera isn't a cold. In severe cases, it can kill a strong person with dehydration within two days, and people on Obercamp Street can't afford good doctors!"
They were already in poor health, and it was almost impossible for them to survive three days. They might be dead by now.

Alice opened her mouth, but couldn't say a word.

Lionel looked at Sophie: "Find Petty's brother, Leon, who's an apprentice at the tanner's. Find a reliable person to inquire. If he's not infected, take him in."
If he's already been taken to the hospital, try to get him the best possible medical care. And the same goes for Patty's parents... but it's been two days, and the chances are slim.

Sophie nodded: "I'll take care of it right now. Armand has people who can run errands for him."

She grabbed her coat and hat and hurried out. Alice stood there for a while before asking, "What can we do?"

Lionel said, "Stay home and do as I say. Cholera goes in through the mouth. As long as you don't eat anything unclean, you'll be fine."

Alice nodded and went to the kitchen to find Margaret.

Lionel returned to his study, took out some stationery, and began to write a letter.

He wrote to Norman McLeod first. The content was very simple:
[Doctor, please inform Petty to buy tickets back to Paris immediately, the sooner the better. Further details will follow later.]

After finishing this letter, he took out new paper and began writing to Zola, Maupassant, Daudet, and others.

[...Cholera has reached Paris. Please remind your family not to eat raw oysters or raw salads during this time. Boil water before drinking. Cook everything thoroughly before eating.]

Immediately afterwards, he wrote another letter to Louis Pasteur:

Dear Professor Pasteur:
This morning I learned of cholera cases in the 11th arrondissement of Paris, and I fear this is just the beginning. I've read some literature, and I believe cholera is transmitted through water and food contaminated with some kind of bacteria.
If this assessment is correct, then we should ensure that drinking water is clean, feces are properly disposed of, and food is thoroughly cooked. Your research on beer fermentation in Lille already demonstrated the existence and role of microorganisms.

Now may be the perfect time to extend this research to the field of infectious diseases. If you are willing to conduct research in this area, I am willing to provide any assistance.

Your faithfulness,

Lionel Sorel

After finishing writing the letters, Lionel called Alice over and told her to mail them immediately. After Alice left, he sat at his desk, staring blankly out the window.

This was the nineteenth century.

Science has discovered bacteria, but most doctors still believe in miasma. Paris has some of the world's most advanced hospitals, but when cholera struck, they were just as helpless.

Those patients who are admitted to the hospital are more likely to die than to receive treatment.

Like Petty's parents, they may be dead by now.

He recalled five years ago when Patty first came to his side; she was as thin as a little mouse, but her eyes shone like stars.

She told him that her mother was going to send her to ballet school. He gave her mother fifteen francs and kept her there.

Now Patty has grown taller, has a rosy complexion, and has learned to cook, read, do arithmetic, and play the piano...

She made her own friends and had her own dreams. She went to school in England to study physics and wanted to figure out why electricity could make lights turn on.

But she is about to lose her biological parents.

Lionel sighed. He knew that Petit's parents weren't good people, but they weren't bad people either; they were just ordinary people from the lower rungs of Paris.

Petty's mother was greedy and snobbish, and was always scolding and punishing Petty; Petty's father was an alcoholic and lazy man who would beat his wife and children whenever he was in a bad mood.

They may never have truly loved Petty—but they were, after all, Petty's parents.

He did not deprive Petty of her right to attend her parents' funeral, even though Petty might have understood the decision.

Moreover, a small-scale cholera outbreak occurred in East London two years ago...

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The next day, Parisian newspapers began reporting on the cholera outbreak.

Le Figaro published a short article on its third page:
Yesterday, several suspected cases of cholera were reported on Obercamp Street in the 11th arrondissement. The patients have been taken to St. Louis Hospital and Labour Hospital.

The Department of Health has cordoned off the affected areas and begun spraying disinfectant. Mr. Eugène Pubert stated that the outbreak is under control and the public need not panic.

The report in Le Parisien is more detailed:
[Our reporter visited the 11th arrondissement yesterday and found that Obercamp Street had been blocked off. Health department personnel, wearing grey coats, were spraying carbolic acid solution and tar on the street.]

According to nearby residents, six or seven people were carried away in horse-drawn carriages last night, including Mrs. Martin, the landlady of an apartment building, and a couple of tenants.

Health officials said the cases are currently concentrated on Rue de Obercamp in the 11th arrondissement, La Villette in the 19th arrondissement, and Belleville near the 20th arrondissement.

Officials emphasized that the cholera outbreak originated from "poor air quality," and residents should ensure good ventilation and avoid visiting these areas.

The newspaper *The Motherland* interviewed a doctor who wished to remain anonymous:
Our reporter interviewed a senior physician about the cholera issue.

The doctor stated that cholera is a typical "miasma disease," caused by toxic gases emitted from decaying matter. Therefore, the best way to prevent cholera is to purify the air.

He advised citizens to carry handkerchiefs soaked in vinegar or camphor, burn incense or tar at home, and avoid going out in the early morning and evening, as these are the times when miasma is heaviest.

When a reporter asked whether drinking water was related to cholera, the doctor scoffed: "Getting sick from drinking water? Ridiculous. Millions of people in Paris drink water, and they all get sick?"

Cholera only attacks those who are physically weak and morally corrupt. Decent citizens, as long as they maintain their dignity, have nothing to worry about.

After the report was published, vinegar, camphor, perfume, sandalwood, tar, and other products quickly sold out in Paris, and even the poorest neighborhoods were filled with fragrance.

The "Pubert Box" was in such high demand that it was impossible to buy even at 10 francs; the rich began to flee Paris, while the middle class and the poor lived in constant fear.

Upon seeing the report, Lionel was so angry that he slammed the newspaper to the ground and uttered a curse word that no one in France could understand.

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(End of this chapter)