In my inquiries among that curious body of men, the “Sewer Hunters,”
I found them make light of any danger, their principal fear being
from the attacks of rats in case they became isolated from the gang
with whom they searched in common, while they represented the odour
as a mere nothing in the way of unpleasantness. But these men pursued
only known and (by them) beaten tracks at low water, avoiding any
deviation, and so becoming but partially acquainted with the character
and direction of the sewers. And had it been otherwise, they are not
a class competent to describe what they saw, however keen-eyed after
silver spoons.
The following account is derived chiefly from official sources. I
may premise that where the deposit is found the greatest, the sewer
is in the worst state. This deposit, I find it repeatedly stated,
is of a most miscellaneous character. Some of the sewers, indeed,
are represented as the dust-bins and dung-hills of the immediate
neighbourhood. The deposit has been found to comprise all the
ingredients from the breweries, the gas-works, and the several chemical
and mineral manufactories; dead dogs, cats, kittens, and rats; offal
from slaughter-houses, sometimes even including the entrails of the
animals; street-pavement dirt of every variety; vegetable refuse;
stable-dung; the refuse of pig-styes; night-soil; ashes; tin kettles
and pans (pansherds); broken stoneware, as jars, pitchers, flower-pots,
&c.; bricks; pieces of wood; rotten mortar and rubbish of different
kinds; and even rags. Our criminal annals of the previous century show
that often enough the bodies of murdered men were thrown into the Fleet
and other ditches, then the open sewers of the metropolis, and if found
washed into the Thames, they were so stained and disfigured by the
foulness of the contents of these ditches, that recognition was often
impossible, so that there could be but one verdict returned--“Found
drowned.” Clothes stripped from a murdered person have been, it was
authenticated on several occasions in Old Bailey evidence, thrown into
the open sewer ditches, when torn and defaced, so that they might
not supply evidence of identity. So close is the connection between
physical filthiness in public matters and moral wickedness.
The following particulars show the characteristics of the underground
London of the sewers. The subterranean surveys were made after the
commissions were consolidated.
“An old sewer, running between Great Smith-street and St. Ann-street
(Westminster), is a curiosity among sewers, although it is probably
only one instance out of many similar constructions that will be
discovered in the course of the subterranean survey. The bottom is
formed of planks laid upon transverse timbers, 6 inches by 6 inches,
about 3 feet apart. The size of the sewer varies in width from 2 to 6
feet, and from 4 to 5 feet in height. The inclination of the bottom
is very irregular: there are jumps up at two or three places, and it
contains a deposit of filth averaging 9 inches in depth, the sickening
smell from which escapes into the houses and yards that drain into it.
In many places the side walls have given way for lengths of 10 and 15
feet. Across this sewer timbers have been laid, upon which the external
wall of a workshop has been built; the timbers are in a decaying state,
and should they give way, the wall will fall into the sewer.”
From the further accounts of this survey, I find that a sewer from
the Westminster Workhouse, which was of all shapes and sizes, was in
so wretched a condition that the leveller could scarcely work for
the thick scum that covered the glasses of the spirit-level in a few
minutes after being wiped. “At the outfall into the Dean-street sewer,
it is 3 feet 6 inches by 2 feet 8 inches for a short length. From the
end of this, a wide sewer branches in each direction at right angles,
5 feet 8 inches by 5 feet 5 inches. Proceeding to the eastward about
30 feet, a chamber is reached about 30 feet in length, from the roof
of which hangings of putrid matter _like stalactites_ descend _three
feet in length_. At the end of this chamber, the sewer passes under the
public privies, the ceilings of which can be seen from it. Beyond this
it is not possible to go.”
“In the Lucas-street sewer, where a portion of new work begins and the
old terminates, a space of about 10 feet has been covered with boards,
which, having broken, a dangerous chasm has been caused immediately
under the road.”
“The West-street sewer had one foot of deposit. It was flushed while
the levelling party was at work there, and the stream was so rapid that
it nearly washed them away, instrument and all.”
There are further accounts of “deposit,” or of “stagnant filth,” in
other sewers, varying from 6 to 14 inches, but that is insignificant
compared to what follows.
The foregoing, then, is the pith of the first authentic account which
has appeared in print of the actually surveyed condition of the
subterranean ways, over which the super-terranean tides of traffic are
daily flowing.
The account I have just given relates to the (former) Westminster
and part of Middlesex district on the north bank of the Thames, as
ascertained under the Metropolitan Commission. I now give some extracts
concerning a similar survey on the south bank, in different and
distant directions in the district, once the “Surrey and Kent.” The
Westminster, &c., survey took place in 1848; the Kent and Surrey in
1849. In the one case, 72 miles of sewers were surveyed; in the other,
69-1/8 miles.
“The surveyors (in the Surrey and Kent sewers) find great difficulty
in levelling the sewers of this district (I give the words of the
Report); for, in the first place, the deposit is _usually_ about two
feet in depth, and in some cases it amounts to nearly _five feet_ of
putrid matter. The smell is usually of the most horrible description,
the air being so foul that explosion and choke damp are very frequent.
On the 12th January we were very nearly losing a whole party by choke
damp, the last man being dragged out on his back (through two feet of
black fœtid deposits) in a state of insensibility.... Two men of one
party had also a narrow escape from drowning in the Alscot-road sewer,
Rotherhithe.
“The sewers on the Surrey side are very irregular; even where they are
inverted they frequently have a number of steps and inclinations the
reverse way, causing the deposit to accumulate in _elongated cesspools_.
“It must be considered very fortunate that the subterranean parties
did not first commence on the Surrey side, for if such had been the
case, we should most undoubtedly have broken down. When compared with
Westminster, the sewers are smaller and more full of deposit; and, bad
as the smell is in the sewers in Westminster, it is infinitely worse on
the Surrey side.”
Several details are then given, but they are only particulars of the
general facts I have stated.
The following, however, are distinct facts concerning this branch of
the subject.
In my inquiries among the working scavagers I often heard of their
emptying street slop into sewers, and the following extract shows that
I was not misinformed:--
“The detritus from the macadamized roads frequently forms a kind of
grouting in the sewers so hard that it cannot be removed without hand
labour.
“One of the sewers in Whitehall and another in Spring-gardens have from
three to four feet of this sort of deposit; and another in Eaton-square
was found filled up within a few inches of the ‘soffit,’ but it is
supposed that the scavengers (scavagers) emptied the road-sweepings
down the gully-grate in this instance;” and in other instances, too,
there is no doubt--especially at Charing Cross, and the Regent Circus,
Piccadilly.
Concerning the sewerage of the most aristocratic parts of the city
of Westminster, and of the fashionable squares, &c., to the north of
Oxford-street, I glean the following particulars (reported in 1849).
They show, at any rate, that the patrician quarters have not been
unduly favoured; that there has been no partiality in the construction
of the sewerage. In the Belgrave and Eaton-square districts there are
many faulty places in the sewers which abound with noxious matter, in
many instances stopping up the house drains and “smelling horribly.”
It is much the same in the Grosvenor, Hanover, and Berkeley-square
localities (the houses in the squares themselves included). Also in the
neighbourhood of Covent-garden, Clare-market, Soho and Fitzroy-squares;
while north of Oxford-street, in and about Cavendish, Bryanstone,
Manchester, and Portman-squares, there is so much rottenness and decay
that there is no security for the sewers standing from day to day, and
to flush them for the removal of their “most loathsome deposit” might
be “to bring some of them down altogether.”
One of the accounts of a subterranean survey concludes with the
following rather curious statement:--“Throughout the new Paddington
district the neighbourhood of Hyde Park Gardens, and the costly squares
and streets adjacent, the sewers abound with the foulest deposit, from
which the most disgusting effluvium arises; indeed, amidst the whole of
the Westminster District of Sewers the _only_ little spot which can be
mentioned as being in at all a satisfactory state is the Seven Dials.”
I may point out also that these very curious and authenticated accounts
by no means bear out the zymotic doctrine of the Board of Health as
to the cause of cholera; for where the zymotic influences from the
sewers were the worst, in the patrician squares of what has been called
Belgravia and Tyburnia, the cholera was the least destructive. This,
however, is no reason whatever why the stench should not be stifled.