Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 166 The Battle of the Dung Capital
The news that Lionel, a rising star of French literature and "the conscience of the Sorbonne," had been brought down by the "epidemic" in London triggered a chain reaction far beyond his own imagination.

In London, The Times published a strongly worded editorial entitled "The fall of a French gentleman is an indictment of the filth in our city!"
"...We pride ourselves on civilization and progress, and invited Mr. Lionel Sorel, one of the most talented young writers in France, to visit. And what was the result?"
Our capital treated him to its signature, nauseating "pea soup" and successfully got the guest into St. Thomas' Hospital!
Mr. Sorel's experience is by no means an isolated case, but rather a daily torment for countless poor and vulnerable people in London! His high fever is the most direct and intense reaction of his body to the shameful dereliction of duty in public health by our entire municipal system!

This is not an accident, gentlemen; this is a chronic, ongoing public health crisis! It is a disgrace to us all!

We must act immediately to push for stricter purification laws and expand the sewer system, rather than waiting until cholera and typhoid fever once again reap lives like a scythe before it's too late!

This report has sparked widespread discussion, since not everyone has the money or time to escape to a beach or country vacation home during this period.

Even the British upper class—those members of parliament—are considering working in Oxford during this season.

This marks the first time since the "Great Stink" of 1858 that London has once again come under scrutiny for its appalling sanitation problems.

However, not all British media outlets shared The Times' perspective. The Standard, for example, sharply countered, attributing Lionel's illness to the "fragile constitution of the French playboy"—

[It is reported that a writer from Paris fell ill due to the inability to adapt to the local climate. Besides telling us that some people from mainland China have overly delicate and fragile nervous systems, what else does this news tell us?]
London's air may have its own unique characteristics, but it was precisely the breath that fueled the power and prosperity of the British Empire! It was in this very air that we built the "Empire on which the sun never sets."

Must our robust Anglo-Saxon physique be altered for a foreign gentleman who cannot adapt to the vibrancy of our city?

If they can't even withstand the atmosphere of London, we can hardly imagine how these people will face truly severe tests.

For example, German artillery shells.

Perhaps some people are better suited to staying in a salon and discussing art than to experiencing the real world.

Tabloids quickly followed suit, beginning to satirize France:
[Gentlemen of Paris, perhaps you should first take care of the dead fish and excrement in your own Seine before lecturing us! At least our fog doesn't harbor so many romantic germs!]

These words quickly traveled across the ocean and reached Paris.

The French media were furious – although Parisians themselves complained about the stench of the Seine, they absolutely could not tolerate the British making a fuss about it.

Lionel's closest partner, Le Parisien, launched a counterattack the following day, publishing an article titled "London's 'Fog'? Satan's Fart!"
[...Londoners seem to have become accustomed to living in toxic fumes and have lost their sense of smell! Please allow us to correct our London colleagues' terminology—it's not a romantic "fog," but rather Satan and all the devils of hell releasing their gut fumes in London!]
The Thames is truly a "devil's intestine"!
And our Seine, though it may have its moments of temper, still flows with the light and shadow of poems and paintings!
Londoners seemed to have long since lost their sense of smell in the poisonous gas, mistaking this numbness for resilience. What a pathetic delusion!

As a local newspaper, Le Parisien uses language without restraint and goes all out.

However, the conservative newspaper Le Figaro would not be so crude; it countered its London counterparts with cartoons.

A thin, top-hatted English gentleman, his nose billowing smoke like a chimney, pointed at a Frenchman on the opposite bank who was pinching his nose and mocked, "Look, he can't stand the fresh air!"

The accompanying text reads:

Gentlemen of London, perhaps you should first teach the eels in the Thames not to swim happily in their excrement before you laugh at us, the strollers on the banks of the Seine.
We suggest that the London Competitions Association add a new event: "Breaststroke Crossing the Thames," which we believe better embodies the 'British spirit' than rowing competitions!
Congratulations to London for successfully retaining its title as the "Dung Capital of Europe"!

After these newspapers reached Britain, the war of words across the sea began to escalate rapidly.

Both sides' media outlets went to great lengths to satirize, ranging from air quality and river cleanliness to drainage systems and waste disposal, and even escalating to the level of national character and the superiority or inferiority of civilization. London newspapers ridiculed Parisians for being flashy and impractical, claiming their bodies couldn't bear their excessive vanity; Parisian newspapers countered that Londoners were rude and dull, having lost their basic aesthetic and sensory abilities in the smog.

This battle of public opinion was later known in journalism history as the "Great Sewer War" and the "Sewage City Contest"—of course, unlike other "contests," London and Paris were vying to label each other as "Sewage City."

The intensity of the battle, the viciousness of the language, and the cunning of the angles used have directly refreshed the understanding of the entire European media and readers.

The rains gradually subsided only after the first heavy autumn rains fell on both places, temporarily washing away the streets, suppressing the dust, and dispelling the strong smells.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

However, the media controversy did not diminish the British literary community's interest in Lionel.

Not only did Harold Thompson of "The Nineteenth Century" and Norman MacLeod of "Good Words" visit him in the hospital, but many other writers and artists also visited his ward.

Although the French writers who were on good terms with Lionel knew the news, they had learned from past mistakes and none of them dared to come to London. They could only send letters of condolence.

What shocked Lionel the most was that even Empress Eugénie, the wife of Napoleon III, sent an envoy to visit him.

He was a gentleman dressed in a black tuxedo with a solemn expression, who introduced himself as Queen Eugénie's private secretary.

He conveyed Her Majesty the Queen's condolences to Lionel.

He said that although the Queen was living a secluded life and was deeply saddened, she still kept tabs on the news of Mr. Lionel's illness.

Her Majesty the Queen is especially grateful for the deep concern that Mr. Lionel showed to the old soldiers who were loyal to the Empire and the Napoleonic family in "The Old Guard".

Lionel knew that Queen Eugénie had been living in seclusion in Chiselhurst, a southeastern suburb of London.

A few months ago, her only son, Napoleon IV (Prince Louis-Napoleon), was killed in the Battle of South Zululand at the young age of 23.

This effectively extinguished almost all hope of the Napoleonic family's resurgence.

The secretary then relayed the Queen's order that all of Lionel's expenses during his stay at St. Thomas' Hospital would be covered by the Napoleonic family.

Furthermore, to ensure he receives the best possible care, he was immediately transferred to a quieter, more comfortable luxury private ward within the hospital.

Lionel was stunned by this sudden "royal favor," but he politely declined—he didn't want to get caught up in some strange media battle after returning to Paris.

Due to Lionel's repeated insistence, the Queen's private secretary had no choice but to leave regretfully.

Just as Lionel was about to get some rest, a voice drifted out from the ward door: "Leon, why didn't you tell me you were coming to London?"

(End of this chapter)