THE PREVENTION OF VITIATED AIR IN CONNECTION WITH THE DISPOSAL OF THE
DEAD—OFFALS—CONSTRUCTION OF TOWNS, HOUSES, SEWERS, &C.
In the Chapters which have been dedicated to the subject of Vitiated
Air, its sources were pointed out in a general manner, and it is
intended to consider those usages in society, certain conditions of
towns and houses, and some other circumstances, which favour the
production of an impure and unwholesome atmosphere, and this will be
done with the hope that a knowledge of their hurtful tendency may lead
to their correction.
The disposal of the dead will be first considered.
As soon as the life of man is extinct, his body becomes the seat of
chemical decomposition or putrefaction, and effluvia are exhaled from
the putrid corpse, varying in some degree, in amount, rapidity, and
activity, according as the circumstances in which it is placed are more
or less favourable to putrefaction.
The effluvia which are exhaled are deleterious, and an atmosphere in
which they are evolved, if close, small, and confined, often becomes so
contaminated and vitiated as to be calculated to produce death by
suffocation and disease.
The body of man after death is thus a centre of putrefaction, and the
source of agencies prejudicial to the living, and on that account alone,
it is wise so to dispose of the dead that they may not prove hurtful to
the surviving, which has been done with more or less efficiency from the
very earliest epochs of time, by various forms of burial.
But solicitude for the safety of the living has not been the only motive
for the burial of the dead, for the destiny of man after death is
clearly pointed out, and his doom to the earth is amply shewn by various
expressions contained in the Holy Writings, and his burial or interment
has been performed in obedience to the original or divine plan.
The interment or burial of the dead has likewise been considered as a
rite due to the memory of the deceased, and a mark of respect which the
friends and relatives were bound by every sacred obligation, to perform
with all becoming solemnity.
To neglect the sacred office of interment, or any of the solemnities
usually in practice, was, even among the earliest Greeks and Romans, to
treat the memory of the departed with the grossest disrespect and
indignity.
The denial of burial, with all its formalities, was esteemed by the
Greeks as a mark of infamy due only to villains, traitors to their
country, and those who died in debt, and the bodies of such characters
were accordingly decreed unfit for ordinary interment.
The Jews interred the bodies of the dead for the most part contiguous to
the high ways, in gardens, and on hills.
The Greeks and Romans interred their dead in the ground which surrounded
their sacred buildings, and at the gates and porticoes of their temples.
The Saxons, Danes, and other Scandinavian nations, enclosed the bodies
of the deceased in stone coffins, which were placed or built at the
distance of two or three feet from the surface of the earth.
At this day, these stone coffins are occasionally discovered at a little
depth from the surface. Some such coffins were lately discovered in the
parish of Gladsmuir, in East Lothian, by the coulter of the plough
coming in contact with them. On examination, the coffins were found to
be only a foot and a half below the earth’s surface:—they were about
five feet long, and were composed of several stones fitted together, or
built up. Within were found human bones of the adult size, quite entire
in figure, but so friable, as to fall to powder along with the clay in
which they were imbedded, on being handled. The vertebræ or bones of the
spine, which are at present in my possession, present the same accuracy
of outline to be found in the recent skeleton.
The situation at which these coffins were found, is the very summit of
Seton Hill, a point which commands a view of the surrounding country to
a very great extent, and of the Forth, from its mouth to its meanderings
in Stirlingshire, and which there is much reason to think, may have been
at a very early time, a Danish or Saxon encampment.
The Hindoos dispose of their dead or dying by throwing them into the
Ganges, where they rot and decompose.
In this country the dead are interred at a much greater distance from
the surface than was practised by the Scandinavian nations, generally at
the depth of five, six, or eight feet, and sometimes even more.
After death, corpses are usually kept several days before interment, and
as the temperature of this climate is seldom very great, bad effects are
very seldom experienced, and in that respect, Britain is very unlike
some tropical regions, where, almost as soon as death has taken place,
it becomes necessary to bury the bodies of the deceased in order to
avoid the noxious vapours, which are immediately emitted.
During the time the corpse is kept before interment, attention should be
paid to secure a full and frequent change of air, which is best obtained
by keeping the windows partly open, by volatilizing vinegar, or by
sprinkling the apartment occasionally with the solution of chloride of
lime.
The mode of burial of the present time, which is practised in this
country, is, partly from accidental circumstances, a great improvement
upon that which was in use by our ancestors; for there is much reason to
think that effluvia, proceeding from dead bodies, may percolate or be
strained through a covering of soil of only two or three feet, which may
be completely confined by one of earth and stones of five or six feet in
depth. The great depth to which graves are now dug, originated not so
much with the view of preventing the percolation of effluvia, as with
the intention of embarrassing the operations of the bodysnatcher, whose
violation of tombs is now happily at an end. But though there now
remains no occasion for adopting measures for that purpose, the good
practice of deep burial to which that evil gave rise should not be
allowed to go into desuetude from the absence of those circumstances
which called it into existence.
It is agreeable to information which has been gathered from various
sources, to state, that effluvia may and do penetrate through the loose
soil and other materials of churchyards, when the body is placed within
three feet of the surface of the earth.
With that covering, effluvia do not escape in large quantities at a
time, so as to produce very serious and instantaneous effects; yet a
small amount may percolate from time to time, which, by acting
constantly, without intermission, may be the mean of deteriorating or
undermining the health of those persons who live in their immediate
neighbourhood, and more especially if the situation be one which is not
readily accessible to winds and currents.
It is stated by grave-diggers, that when a body is interred in a grave
five or six feet deep, the effluvia do not reach the surface; so that it
is evident that deep graves are much less dangerous to the living, and
should be adopted in preference to those which are shallow. It is much
to be desired, that no more burying-grounds should be opened or formed
in the heart of towns, and that those which are at present in use, in
such situations, be entirely closed against the admission of more
bodies, and that cemeteries be opened at some distance from the
habitations of men.
Every good purpose which is at present obtained from the burial-grounds
situated in towns, might be also procured from cemeteries placed at a
little distance in the country; and many disadvantages might be avoided
in the latter situation, which attend burial-grounds in densely
populated situations.
One great advantage to be obtained from exurban cemeteries, is the
freedom which the population would enjoy from those exhalations which
must ever arise, in a greater or less degree, from overcrowded
burial-grounds which have, for any considerable time, received the
remains of the dead, and a consequent improved state of health.
Deep graves may for a time prove a security against effluvia, but a day
must come when these graves will be opened, and when their contents,
perhaps not yet totally assimilated with the surrounding clay,—not yet
completely deanimalized,—will be thrown to the surface, and mingled with
the soil, there to finish the process of decomposition, and there to
vitiate the atmosphere.
The burial-grounds of our densely populated towns are actually
supersaturated, if such an expression can be used, with the partially
decomposed remains of mortality, which have not yet had time to be
assimilated with the earth, or to be “ripe,” as the grave-digger would
say.
In general, also, those burial-grounds are so small and ill-proportioned
to the wants of the population, that it is necessary to open graves, and
heap body upon body, until they reach to within a very short distance of
the surface, or to clear the ground of its contents while they are yet
green, in order to procure a place of rest for other bodies.
Such is occasionally the scarcity of ground, small though that space be
which will suffice for any one individual, that ere a few short years
have rolled away, the intrusive spade of the indifferent sexton disturbs
the grave, perhaps of a friend,—that place where peace was promised and
through life expected;—his ashes are rudely handled, and his bones, not
yet denuded of their flesh, are cast without remorse amidst the
rubbish;—and thus the best feelings of humanity are outraged, and the
human heart, already wrung with anguish, is crushed or cruelly
lacerated.
It will perhaps be urged in reply, that the vicinity of burial-grounds
in the large towns of Great Britain are not more unhealthy than other
quarters.
But the answer to this is, that no extended and minute inquiry has been
instituted on the subject; that though the absolute amount of disease
may not be increased (which, however, has not been shewn), still, a part
of the disease which does occur, may arise from the operation of the
emanation from the burial-grounds; and, lastly, it must be obvious to
all who are sensible of the advantage of a pure atmosphere, that the
effluvia which necessarily prevail in those situations, must be
prejudicial to health, whether it be in an amount, or intensity, or
mode, to admit of the detection of the relation between them, as cause
and effect.
If, perchance, in some instances, no prejudicial influence is exerted
upon the health of persons inhabiting the neighbourhood of
burial-grounds, that fortunate immunity from the ordinary effects of
effluvia arising from decomposing animal remains, accumulated in large
quantities, is to be attributed, not to the innocence or innocuous
nature of the emanations, but to the wholesome influence of winds and
currents, in securing a constant supply of pure air, and which prevent
the accumulation of these gaseous poisons in quantities sufficient to
produce the bad effects which are commonly experienced in situations
where they are much concentrated. It is almost impossible to adopt
measures which will completely prevent the admission of effluvia from
burial-grounds into the atmosphere, and it were therefore wise that the
evil, a necessary one as it would appear to be, should be made to exist
where it is least likely to do harm,—and that situation is certainly in
the country, in the open fields, where there are few or no houses.
It is to be hoped that the subject of exurban cemeteries will shortly
obtain the consideration of the government of this country, and of the
magistrates of the various towns,—as it involves interests of the most
important nature.
Several large towns have already cemeteries at a little distance in the
fields; and among others, Glasgow has its City of the Dead, or
Necropolis, as it is styled, which is situated on a height adjoining the
town.
Paris, the capital of that country which has produced many of the most
eminent chemists, has not been tardy to avail itself of the light which
their philosophers have thrown upon the composition of animal bodies,
and the chemical constitution of the atmosphere. That capital boasts a
magnificent cemetery, called Pere la Chaise, which is situated at a
little distance in the open country.
Pere la Chaise is becoming, as the Place of Rest of the dead, worthy to
hold the ashes of departed mortality. There the bodies of men can in no
way be hurtful to the health of those who survive; there, now incapable
of being useful, they are at least harmless to that community of which
they lately formed a part. There the silence—the proper silence—of the
tomb is maintained; there a serenity of aspect exists, which comports
well with the solemn, the quiescent state of its inhabitants; and there
is a cheerfulness, and a beauty, aye a brightness, of a softened, and a
mellowed kind, which seem to refer to the pure enjoyments of the
promised land. There, as in the burial-grounds situated in our thickly
populated towns, there is no obvious and striking unwholesomeness, no
offensive and humiliating appearance of mortal remains, to deter from a
casual glance, or from entrance on the part of the friends and relatives
of the departed. On the contrary, in Pere la Chaise, they are invited
and allured by the softened and chastened beauty of the place, and
there, without endangering their health from close and vitiated air,
they linger by the ashes of the dead, and revolve those solemn thoughts,
so wholesome and so heavenward bending to the soul;—there the bereft
parent is seen giving the reins to his feelings, fondly recalling
cherished associations, and there he is learning to hear unappalled that
he must share a like fate with that of the object whose grave he now
regards;—there may be seen the orphan, come to shed the tear of filial
love over the manes of his departed parents, reviving ties and
affections which are too liable to be entirely worn away by youthful
enjoyment, and the various unsubstantial fascinations of the world;—and
there he learns that most useful and wholesome lesson, to look with
complacence, if not with prospective joy, on death and its silent
abode,—to divest himself of that dread and horror often excited by these
ideas, and which, alas, too frequently drive the young from such
considerations altogether.
In Pere la Chaise, a murmur is heard proceeding from the town, and the
impression made upon the mind is, that the world is receding, that the
noise, mirth, and tumult of man is vanishing away, and that, in short,
the reign of death has commenced,—the reign of death, solemn but not
terrific.
How different is the abode of the dead in the bustling commercial towns
of Britain. Here, solemnity is incongruously enough and offensively
mixed up with the noise and bustle of every-day concerns of men bent on
business or pleasure. Reflections on eternity are here interrupted,
perhaps by the music, or rather the ungrateful noise, of a musical
instrument being played in an adjoining street, the rolling of
carriages, the trampling of horses, the smacking of whips, and the
indecent oaths of waggoners;—while in another street, or fashionable
promenade, which the eyes of the mournful visitor of the abode of death
cannot possibly avoid, the ill comporting sight is seen, fine ladies and
still finer gentlemen laughing and tittering, busied with fantastic
displays. ’Tis an ill-assorted scene, ’tis Nature burlesqued beside
humanity defunct.
But the improvement in burial-grounds is urged, not on the plea of
feelings and sentiments, but on that of public utility and general
health.
THE CLEANSING OF TOWNS.
Until within a comparatively short period, the large towns of this
country were kept in a very unclean condition, from the accumulation of
impurities; and the consequence was, that there prevailed a vitiated and
most offensive atmosphere, which often proved hurtful to the health of
the inhabitants.
Habits of cleanliness, and proper notions of domestic comfort have made
rapid progress of late years, and fortunately all classes of the
community enjoy clean and wholesome apartments and streets, compared
with those occupied by their ancestors of a century back; and families
at the present day, who belong to the middle class of society, have the
advantage of greater cleanliness, both of house and locality, than was
then enjoyed by persons of the higher classes.
In many large towns an admirable system of cleansing is maintained, by
which the removal of impurities is insured, which might taint the
atmosphere. The laudable endeavours of the magistrates for this purpose,
have uniformly met that ready cooperation from the more respectable
portion of the inhabitants which they so well merit; but with the lowest
classes, whose ideas are too coarse to permit their recognising danger
in such things as uncleanliness and impure air, the suggestions of
philanthropic individuals, and the exertions of authority, have failed,
in a great degree, to produce that wholesome condition of houses and
localities which is so desirable.
Much uncleanliness still prevails in some streets in those quarters of
towns occupied by the labouring population, which proves the source of
many effluvia, which again, it is probable, assist much in the
production of the great amount of disease which is wont to prevail in
those parts.
There is reason to fear that a considerable proportion of the lowest
classes in all large towns is too much degraded to give themselves any
concern about lessening the tendencies to disease, or to put themselves
to any trouble to remove impurities, further than is absolutely
necessary for their own convenience; but, in such instances, the
authority of the law should interfere, and compel compliance with
regulations for that purpose, the infringement of which is calculated to
produce consequences prejudicial to the public health.
Many, nay most, of the villages of Scotland are kept in a most offensive
and unwholesome state of filthiness; large heaps of corrupting animal
and vegetable materials being allowed to accumulate, in many instances,
in the public thoroughfares, and before the very doors and windows of
the houses, proving the source of the most abominable effluvia,
offensive to the senses of those who are accustomed to a pure
atmosphere, and injurious to the health of all who inhale them. Trenches
or hollows are, in many instances, to be found before the doors, where
water is collected, and forms a nidus for the putrefaction of the
materials above mentioned, and whence issue effluvia which are often to
be recognised in the houses.
In these hollows or cavities are thrown all sorts of impurities, and
they are allowed to remain till a cart-load or two have accumulated,
when, if sufficiently decomposed, they are sold as manure to farmers and
others, at the rate of about a shilling the cart-load.
The collection of impurities is in this case not the result of apathy
and laziness, as in the purlieus in large towns, but of the desire of
gain, or of a trifling advantage, such, for instance, as getting a small
piece of ground, rent free, for the growth of potatoes, which is a
common practice.
Very bad consequences attend the unwholesome condition of the atmosphere
always found in these situations, and more especially in warm and close
weather.
The quarter of Tranent in which typhus fever prevails most is that
called Dow’s Bounds, and a more filthy part is not to be met with in
Scotland; a large area in front of the houses being completely occupied
with the cavities afore-mentioned, with their putrefying contents, and
the place being ill adapted for ventilation, forming three sides of a
square, and the ground having no declivity, nor efficient sewers to
carry off the rain, the most favourable circumstances exist for
putrefaction, and for the contamination of the atmosphere.
In the construction of future towns, and in additions to the old, the
utmost attention should be given to promote the free agitation of the
atmosphere, if it is proposed that they should be salubrious. Where
health is to be protected, the streets should be made wide, open, and
occasionally terminating in squares or other open places.
Where circumstances will permit a choice, towns should be built in
wholesome situations and dry soils; and the same holds with additions
making to old towns.
The health of a community is much influenced by the situation in which
they live, and by the nature of the ground on which their houses are
built.
In many towns there are some particular districts in which disease is
more particularly prevalent, and the result of careful inquiry is, that
the excessive disease is owing to unwholesomeness of situation. Persons
in all other respects similarly situated, enjoy a better state of
health, or suffer less disease, who inhabit a more wholesome or less
prejudicial situation or locality.
SEWERS.
A point next in importance to a proper construction of streets, and the
selection of good situations, is an efficient system of drains or sewers
for the removal of impurities, and the formation of water-courses.
Of the importance of sewers it is unnecessary to enlarge, that being
sufficiently understood.
By water-courses is meant channels for the immediate passage of
rainwater from off the streets. They are easily formed, and where the
ground is level, the advantage is very great. In streets having a slope
or declivity, the water is soon dispersed; but where they are level, it
is apt to collect, and there create dampness, which is communicated to
the houses, and a favourable nidus for putrefaction, where impurities
are permitted to accumulate.
In some parts, principally the suburbs of large towns, and in many of
the villages of Scotland, perhaps more especially those along the
coasts, inhabited by fishermen, no means being adopted to expedite the
removal of rainwater, and there being no natural water-run or course,
the rain collects, and animal and vegetable materials mixing therewith,
green putrefying ditches are formed, plentifully evolving gaseous
products, and supporting a luxuriant vegetation on their surface.
CONSTRUCTION OF HOUSES.
So much attention is now paid to health and comfort in the construction
of the houses of the wealthy, that it is unnecessary to say a word
respecting these points, in connection with the higher classes.
But the circumstances being so very different in relation to the houses
of the poor or the labouring class, some notice is required here.
It too often happens that the house of the labouring man in the country
is, in almost every respect, little better than a shed, and calculated
to produce disease. The walls are frequently the only substantial part
of the tenement, the roof of tiles being often pervious to the rain and
wind, and there being no other covering either of lath or lime; the door
opens directly into the body of the house, and the floor is generally
either below or on a level with the ground outside.
When floors of houses are below the level of the ground outside, they
must necessarily be damp, and cause the house to be unwholesome.
The floors even of cottages should be situated about a foot or more
above the level of the adjacent ground, and the interval between them
and the soil should be filled up with small stones, or such materials,
and then the houses might possibly be free of damp, and the rain would
not run in off the streets, and form ditches before the very fire-place,
as it does in many houses in this village.
The necessity of the floors of their houses being at a little distance
above the ground is well known to the natives of Manilla. To avoid the
dampness and the unwholesome emanations of the soil, the poor natives
build their bamboo houses upon a foundation of wooden piles, by which
contrivance a considerable space is left to permit the winds to enter,
and to dissipate the damp and exhalations. In like manner, the rich
inhabitants of Manilla build on piles of brick. Could our working
population, or rather their landlords, not take a hint from these less
refined people, and form some security against that unwholesomeness
inseparable from damp houses?
It is unnecessary to detail at length instances of the greater
prevalence of disease among the inhabitants of low-lying, confined,
damp, ill ventilated, and filthy towns, over the populace of cities more
favourably situated in these respects.
It will suffice to say, that typhus fever prevails more in the Old Town,
where there are many local causes of disease, than in the New Town of
Edinburgh, where the streets are clean, wide, and well drained;—and that
the plague prevails more in the Jews’ quarter, remarkable for the filth
and closeness of the streets, than in any other part of Constantinople.