Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 634 "I Appeal!" (Bonus Chapter 10, Requesting Monthly Tickets)

On the morning of February 8, 1884, a stack of mail was piled on Paul Pigut's desk in the editorial office of Le Petit Parish.

He sat down and began to open the letters one by one. He stopped at the fourth letter, because it was from Lionel Sorel.

Paul Pigut's heart skipped a beat. He quickly tore open the envelope and pulled out the manuscript inside.

The movie "The Legend of 1900" is currently very popular, and Lionel is the most sought-after author in all of France.

But the last time Le Parisien collaborated with him was over a year ago with The Old Man and the Sea.

His later works were either published as standalone books, serialized exclusively in Modern Life, or were screenplays and “serialized picture books.”

Paul Pigut had been "thirsty" for far too long! He took a deep breath and began to flip through the pages—

"I appeal!"?
Paul Pigut was taken aback. What kind of title was this? A novel? A screenplay? Or a review?

But the very first line of the text made his hand tremble:
People are dying in Paris these days.

As he continued reading, Paul Pigut's brow furrowed more and more.

People are dying in District 11, people are dying in District 19, people are dying in District 20... New cases every day, new deaths every day.

The coffin shop ran out of planks, the people digging graves in the cemetery were so tired they could barely lift their arms, and the priests recited the "Entering Paradise" and "Prayer of Atonement" until their voices were hoarse every day.

And what are we doing? We spray perfume on the streets, we burn tar at home, we carry handkerchiefs soaked in vinegar in our pockets…

Our newspaper is still publishing doctors' advice: bloodletting, enemas, and laxatives!
Did these methods work? They did the same thing during the cholera outbreak in 1832; they did the same thing during the cholera outbreak in 1849; and they did the same thing again during the cholera outbreak in 1865.

Now it was cholera's turn in 1884! No matter how much perfume was sprayed or how much blood was drawn, patients were still dying and cholera was still spreading.

Everything happened because we went in the wrong direction.

Paul Pigut picked up the manuscript and put it down again several times before he finally had the courage to turn to the second page.

Even though he has been in the media industry for over twenty years, this is the first time he has ever seen such a crazy article.

To directly challenge all doctors in Paris, or even all of France? It's important to understand that France is different from Britain, where doctors generally enjoy a high social status.

Many of the doctors were originally from noble families.

Cholera is not inhaled through the air; it is ingested through the mouth.

The vomit and excrement of patients contaminate water sources and food. If healthy people drink or eat these substances, they will become ill.

It might be bacteria, or something else, but it's definitely not some vague "miasma"!
Thirty-five years ago, there was a British doctor named John Snow who, during the cholera outbreak in London in 1849, knocked on doors one by one in the worst-affected neighborhoods and recorded information about each case.

He drew each patient's residence on a map and then discovered that almost all the patients drank water from the same well.

He removed the pump handle from the well, making it impossible to draw water, and then the transmission stopped! It's that simple!
Five years later, in 1854, when London was hit by another cholera outbreak, he once again used the same method to end the spread, proving his conclusion.

It's 1884 now. Thirty-five years have passed, and what are our doctors still saying? Still talking about miasma!
They're still bleeding the patient!

They're still giving patients enemas!
They're still giving patients laxatives!

Paul Pigut looked up, took a breath, and felt his hands sweating.

He poured himself a glass of brandy from the liquor cabinet in his office, and only after finishing it did he dare to continue reading—

Now, this situation has occurred again in Paris!

The cholera outbreak occurred in the 10th, 19th, and 20th districts, which were the working-class, civilian, and market areas with the fewest public water pipes and the greatest reliance on well water.

I lived on Obokamp Street in the 10th arrondissement for two years. There were only four public water pipes on the entire street, and the sewer system was only started two years ago. It is still less than half completed!
Believe me, no one knows life there better than I do. The water drawn from the public well is murky and smelly; you wouldn't dare drink it without letting it settle for a whole day.

Why are there none in Zone 1, Zone 2, Zone 5, Zone 16...? Because every building there has its own water pipe and a complete sewage system!

Paris's public infrastructure could have kept cholera out, but the vast gap between the rich and poor led to the deaths of innocent poor people in a plague that should never have happened!
Therefore, I urge:

First, the Paris health department immediately inspected the city's water supply system, especially in poor areas, and sealed off any wells where cases were concentrated.

Secondly, the patient's vomit and excrement must be collected in a special container, covered with quicklime or carbolic acid, and then buried deeply; they must not be poured into the sewers or the Seine River.

Third, from today onward, all water must be boiled before drinking. Professor Pasteur told us that high temperatures can kill germs, and no other method can guarantee that.

Fourth, all food must be cooked thoroughly. Until cholera ends, do not eat raw oysters, raw vegetables, or anything that is not fully cooked.

Fifth, I urge doctors—put down your bloodletting knives, your enemas, and your laxatives. What patients need most is water and salt.

Giving them mild, clean, lightly salted water may not save everyone, but at least it won't hasten their death.

I know these words will upset many people, but I don't care! All I know is that if we're going in the wrong direction, no matter how much expensive perfume we use, it's still wrong.

But if we're on the right track, we can save lives simply by boiling water! Paris can no longer use dead bodies to prove who's right and who's wrong.

I appeal!

Paul Pigut put down his manuscript and leaned back in his chair. Lionel was challenging the entire French medical profession, the Paris health department, and those officials, professors, and journalists who believed in miasma.

Those people control the narrative, the newspaper pages, and the power in the hospital.

If Le Parisien publishes this article, it will be tantamount to standing on the opposite side of them.

Paul Pigut stood up and walked to the window. He looked at the people on the street and at the gray sky in the distance.

He thought back to those years. Lionel had made him "gamble" many times. Every time he gambled, and every time he won.

But this time it's different. This time it's not a novel; it's a direct confrontation with doctors, officials, and the entire intellectual class.

What if Lionel is wrong? What if it turns out that cholera was caused by miasma? Then Le Parisien would be a laughing stock!

But a thought that Paul Pigut couldn't help but entertain himself arose in his mind, a thought he didn't want to dwell on:
What if Lionel is right? What if he's telling the truth, and cholera really does come from the water, and those bloodletting and enemas are truly harmful?
Paris, and indeed all of France and all of Europe, will remember this newspaper forever!

Paul Pigut returned to his desk, picked up the manuscript again, and read it over once more.

He thought of his father. In 1832, during the cholera outbreak, his father ran a small grocery store on Saint-Denis Street.

That summer, my father sprayed vinegar in the shop every day, rubbed camphor oil on his body, and covered himself with a handkerchief when he went out.

In the end, my father died at the young age of forty-two.

If someone had told him that year that water should be boiled before drinking...
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Meanwhile, at 14 Rue de la Paix, in the editorial office of Le Figaro, Francis Magnial was also looking at the same manuscript.

After reading it, he put down the manuscript, stood up, and walked to the window; then he walked back and sat back down in his chair; then he stood up again…

Who are the readers of Le Figaro? The middle class, intellectuals, businessmen, officials, and—doctors.

Doctors are a significant reader of Le Figaro. They include medical school professors, hospital directors, and privately practicing physicians.

They subscribed to Le Figaro because it was the most sophisticated newspaper in France.

How would those doctors react if this article were published?

They'll definitely complain, unsubscribe, and tell their friends not to subscribe either.

They would say that Le Figaro has degenerated and become a platform for laymen to criticize experts.

But what if Lionel is right?
Francis Magnal paced back and forth in the room for a long time. He thought of 1832, 1849, 1865, as mentioned in "I Call!"...

Every time cholera strikes, doctors say that bloodletting, enemas, and various medicines are effective... but every time, many, many people die, and the cemeteries are filled with corpses.

Every time, the doctor would say it was because the miasma was too strong, or because the patient's constitution was too poor, or because it wasn't their fault in treating the patient.

What if this proves they really did make a mistake? Francis Manial stopped pacing and looked out the window.

Paris is starting a new day, but no one knows they are standing at a crossroads.

He returned to his desk and rang the bell to summon his assistant.

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On the morning of February 9th.

Before dawn, the shouts of newsboys echoed through the streets and alleys of Paris.

"Le Parisien! Lionel Sorel's new book! The truth about cholera!"

"The News! Mr. Sorel urges: Boil water before drinking!"

"The Citizen! Fellow workers, see what Mr. Sorel has to say!"

"Le Figaro! Doctors respond to cholera! Latest prevention guidelines!"

On a street corner in Montmartre, a newsboy waved a copy of Le Petit Parish until his voice was hoarse.

Another newsboy was shouting "Le Figaro" from the side, and the two seemed to be competing.

"Give me a copy of 'Little Parisian'!" A young man in overalls tossed five sachets over.

"Me too!" A vegetable vendor pushing a cart nearby also came over.

The café on Boulevard Saint-Germain had just opened. A waiter beckoned a newsboy over, bought a copy of Le Figaro and a copy of Le Petit Parish, and placed them on the counter.

Several people were already seated in the café, including a doctor in a black coat.

He had barely glanced at Le Parisien when he flew into a rage!
(Third update, thank you everyone, please vote with monthly tickets!)

(End of this chapter)