THE DWELLING HOUSE
_By the same Author._
Second Edition. With 6 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 6_s._ 6_d._
ESSAYS ON RURAL HYGIENE.
'A highly important book. The whole book is an education in itself.
It is a volume to be read and re-read equally by householders and by
professional sanitarians. Our only regret is that amid the flood of
hygienic literature which is year by year turned loose upon the world,
there are so few books of this type—fearless, honest, and scientific
criticisms of existing errors, and full, likewise, of recommendations
whereby these errors may be rectified.'—Glasgow Herald.
LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 39 Paternoster Row, London
New York and Bombay.
THE DWELLING HOUSE
BY
GEORGE VIVIAN POORE, M.D., F.R.C.P.
Physician to University College Hospital
Fellow of the Sanitary Institute
Member of the Permanent Committee of the International Congress of Hygiene
and Demography
Honorary Member of the Hungarian Society of Public Health, &c.
Author of 'Essays on Rural Hygiene'
Houses are built to Live in, and not to Looke on.... God Almightie
first planted a Garden. And, indeed, it is the purest of Humane
Pleasures. It is the Greatest Refreshment to the Spirits of Man;
without which Buildings and Pallaces are but Grosse Handy workes.—Bacon
Is this improvement? where the human breed
Degenerate as they swarm and overflow,
Till toil grows cheaper than the trodden weed,
And man competes with man, like foe with foe,
Till Death, that thins them, scarce seems public woe?
To gorge a few with Trade's precarious prize,
We banish rural life and breathe unwholesome skies
Campbell
_WITH THIRTY-SIX ILLUSTRATIONS_
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON
NEW YORK AND BOMBAY
1897
All rights reserved
PREFACE
This work is intended not merely to point out certain common defects
in the Dwelling House, and to show how evils more or less necessary in
towns may be avoided in the country, but to call attention to the fact
that our modern methods of sanitation, and the heavy taxation of the
dwelling, inevitably increase overcrowding, and the moral and physical
ills which follow in its train.
An attempt is made to review the great subject of the disposal of house
refuse in its political and scientific aspects, rather than from the
point of view of the tradesman or patentee.
The greater part of the ensuing chapters has been previously published.
Addresses delivered before the Royal Institution of Great Britain, the
London Institution, the Sanitary Institute, and the Medico-Chirurgical
Society of Nottingham, together with short papers communicated to the
British Medical Association, the British Institute of Public Health,
and the 'Practitioner,' have been incorporated with the text.
The author is greatly indebted to his friend, Mr. Thomas W. Cutler,
F.R.I.B.A., for much valuable advice and assistance in the preparation
of some of the illustrations; and he is similarly indebted to
Mr. Arthur Blomfield-Jackson and the editors of the 'Lancet' and
'Practitioner.'
For permission to use the diagram illustrating the Model By-Laws of the
Local Government Board (p. 109) the thanks of the author are due to
Messrs. Knight & Co.
From Mr. George Pernet, B.A., M.R.C.S. &c., the author has received
much assistance and many valuable suggestions during the passage of the
work through the press.
32 Wimpole Street,
_July 1897_
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Defects in Planning 1
II. The Sanitation of the Isolated Dwelling 32
III. Slop-water 69
IV. Overcrowding: Its Causes and Effects 90
V. The Circulation of Organic Matter 125
VI. The Soil in its Relation to Disease and Sanitation 152
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
FIG. PAGE
1. }
2. } Typical London House 4, 5
3. }
4. } Combined Staircase and Ventilated Lobby 10, 11
5. }
6. House with Staircase forming Ventilated Cut-off from
Kitchen and Lavatory, &c. 12
7. Bungalow facing South 14
8. Convalescent Home 16
9. Stove with Air-inlet Underneath 17
10. Ventilating Panel in Door 17
11. Bedroom Window 22
12. } Cellar Window 29
13. }
14. Andover Houses and Garden 35
15. Garden at Andover 38
16. Section of 'Dry-Catch' Privy 40
17. Earth-closet with Ventilated Lobby 46
18. Section through Earth-closet and Dry Catch 47
19. Section of Dry Closet Pan 48
20. Urine Filter 51
21. Dry Urinal 57
22. Plan of Well, showing its relation to Paths and Hedge 65
23. Section of Well, showing Concrete Lining and position
of Pump 65
24. Rustic Arch 77
25. Use of Arch for getting Waste Water clear of House 77
26. Filtration Gutter 79
27. Filtration Gutter on Bank 80
28. Kitchen Sink with Duplicated Outside Filter 82
29. Arrangement for Small Tenements 87
30. Section of Small Tenements 88
31. Building Estate 92
32. } Illustrations of 'Model' By-Laws for Regulation of
33. } Buildings 109
34. }
35. Curves of Unmanured and Manured Barley Plots 139
36. Map to Illustrate Marylebone Small-pox Outbreak 145
THE DWELLING HOUSE
CHAPTER I
DEFECTS IN PLANNING
It is doubtful if there be anything which more affects the health of
the individual than the house in which he lives.
Modern advances in bacteriology, and the certain knowledge of the
way in which many diseases are carried through the air, have given
additional importance to methods of house construction. The danger, for
persons who are not immune, of being under the same roof with a case of
whooping cough, measles, scarlatina, diphtheria, typhus, or smallpox
has long been recognised; but it is only recently that our eyes have
been opened as to similar dangers in relation to tuberculosis and
pneumonia. Pneumonia has now for some years been occasionally spoken of
as a 'house disease,' and the same term has recently—but whether on
sufficient evidence is doubtful—been applied to cancer.
A careful study of the epidemic of influenza, which is showing singular
vigour in the seventh year of its reappearance amongst us, has clearly
shown that it is communicable through the air. And the way in which
whole households go down with it when once it gains a footing in
a house, is an additional reason for reconsidering our methods of
house-construction.
The main object to be kept in view in building a house is the supply
of _fresh_ air. Too much care cannot be taken to insure that all the
channels of internal communication—hall, passages, staircases—have
independent ventilation of their own. Unless there be the means of
getting these internal channels blown out by through draughts, the
house cannot be wholesome; and in the event of any of the air-borne
contagia getting a footing in the house, the liability to spread is
enormously increased.
Not only must these internal channels have air, but they must have
light also. The dark passage, ending in a close _cul-de-sac_ of bedroom
doors, is one of the commonest features of the modern house, and is, of
course, absolutely to be condemned.
When we encounter the smell of the kitchen in the corridors, this may
be taken as sure evidence that the house is unwholesome, and that the
internal channels of communication are as insufficiently ventilated
as is the kitchen. The smell of fried bacon which oozes through the
keyhole of your bedroom may be accompanied by all the infective
potentialities of all the inmates of the house. This test, as applied
to corridors, is analogous to the smoke test or oil of peppermint test
as applied to drains, and is quite as important.
If the house be of several storeys, the ventilation of the staircase
has an importance which bears a direct proportion to the height of the
house. As a rule, in second-class, and, indeed, in many first-class
houses, the ventilation and illumination of the staircase never
trouble the mind of the builder or his architect. Starting from the
front passage, the only light of which is from a closed fan-light over
the door, the staircase oscillates between water-closet doors and
bedroom doors, getting darker and darker as it ascends. In the houses
of artizans, every doctor must be familiar with the rancid whiff that
comes up the absolutely dark stairs leading to the basement; the cold,
damp smell of mildew and soot in the sacred front parlour, where the
'register' is closed and the blinds are drawn; and the variety of
odours which assault his nose until he arrives at the carbolic sheet
protecting the door of the room containing the case of infectious
illness he has possibly come to see. Such houses are almost always let
in lodgings, and contain several families; and if air-borne contagia
ever gain admission to them, it can be no matter for surprise that they
are difficult to dislodge.
The same defect of construction is seen in a very large number of
London houses, even the smartest. The defect may be shortly spoken of
as this:—'_that the internal channels of communication, instead of
serving for the supply of fresh air, merely facilitate the exchange of
foul air_.' This defect of construction is dangerous in proportion to
the size of the building and the number of persons it contains.
The shafts for lifts necessarily require independent ventilation
as much as the staircases. The monster hotels or towers of flats,
from inattention to these details, are liable to be most unwholesome
residences, and to be really dangerous if air-borne contagia gain
access to them.
THE TYPICAL LONDON HOUSE
Let us look at the ordinary London house of the better class. I have
borrowed the plans which were given in the 'Lancet' for July 4, 1896.
Figs. 1 and 2 show the plans of all the floors of the same house before
(1) and after (2) certain alterations in the plumbing arrangements.
Fig. 3 is a section of the same house, kindly made for me by Mr. Thomas
W. Cutler, F.R.I.B.A.
I have taken these plans for the sake of showing what are the common
defects of the average better-class London house.
[Illustration: Typical London House.
Fig. 1. Fig. 2.]
I do not wish to be understood as saying that these defects are, in
London at least, remediable. That unfortunately is not the case. That
they are defects which ought to be avoided in places where land is
less costly than in London is very evident.
[Illustration: Fig. 3.—Typical London House.]
1. The main defect is due to the fact that the cubic capacity of the
house is far too great for the area upon which it is built. The house
is, in fact, a tower of five storeys, 60 feet high from basement to
roof, and containing 37,000 cubic feet, standing on an area of 1,512
square feet. A house of this shape entails enormous labour upon
servants. It has been said, that in raising the body vertically we do
an amount of work equal to moving the body twenty times the distance
horizontally. The climb from basement to the top storey is therefore
equal to walking 1,000 or 1,200 feet along the level, and when a
footman weighing 11 stone, and carrying 28 pounds weight of coals,
climbs from the coal-cellar to one of the top rooms, the work done is
rather more than _four foot-tons_. I do not know when high-service
water supplies became general in London houses, but it is evident that
when the only water-supply was in the basement, the inconvenience
of these high houses must have been very great. Gas-pipes, hydraulic
lifts, electric wires, speaking-tubes, and high water supply have so
lessened the personal service required in these domestic towers, that
they have become popular, and by increasing the overcrowding in our
cities they now constitute a very serious sanitary danger. In America
the houses with steel frames have been run up to a height of 250 feet
and over, and have converted the streets into sunless, draughty cañons,
in which locomotion is a matter of great difficulty, because the width
of the street bears no due proportion to the cubic contents (and
population) of the houses flanking it.
2. The house being flanked on either side by other houses, the front
and back walls are alone available for admitting light and air, and
the depth of the house is unduly great in proportion to its width. The
noise of the neighbours is not always a trivial drawback.
3. One storey, and the largest, is below the street level, an
arrangement which, from a sanitary point of view, is unjustifiable, and
ought never to be imitated in the country.
4. There is no back door, which is a very serious defect in a house.
The result is that the coals have to be got in, and the ashes and
garbage to be got out, under the dining-room windows, and that while
these tedious processes are in doing the traffic in the main street is
very much impeded.
It is said that eels get used to skinning, and so the Londoner becomes
very blind to the failings of the house which he inhabits.
The house of which the plan and sections are shown in the figures is
not, be it observed, one of the dwellings of the poor, of which we hear
so much, but one of the dwellings of the well-to-do, or even rich,
fetching probably 350_l._ a year rent. It would need four servants,
one of whom would sleep below ground level in the pantry; and in
addition to the servants, eight persons might squeeze into such a house.
The basement below ground level is really a cellar dwelling, against
which we inveigh, when we find it in Whitechapel. It is very dark,
and requires artificial light nearly every day in the year. A butler
sleeps in a dingy 'pantry' among the tea-cups and other gear, which
he possibly sorts upon his unmade bed before he lays the cloth for
breakfast.
This basement (Fig. 2) contains four sinks and two closets, each with
its trap, and in each of the three areas are trapped gullies so placed
that any gases which escape from them are more likely than not to find
their way into the house.
The only way into the kitchen is through the scullery. The scullery
sink is turned away from the window, and the smell of cooking and
of cabbage water must inevitably find its way into the basement. A
water-closet has been wedged into the back area between the windows of
the kitchen and the servants' hall; and the larder, while it is without
adequate light or ventilation, has a trapped gully at its door to serve
as a seed-bed for mould fungi which will infect the food.
There is only one staircase, and this must serve as a shaft for the
culinary and other fumes of the basement to rise in. It is entirely
without independent ventilation until the half-landing above the
drawing-room is reached. In fig. 1 there is another staircase window
on the second floor, but this, be it observed, has been blocked by a
water-closet in the house, as altered by the plumbers. This is a very
serious thing to have done, and, in my judgment, is not in any way
compensated by the changes recommended. The staircase has a skylight
at the top, but skylights, being never opened in London because of 'the
blacks,' are of very little use for ventilation. On the ground floor
a water-closet abuts on the morning-room windows, while in the area
beneath these windows is another water-closet, previously mentioned.
The first floor contains two fine drawing-rooms and a staircase window,
and being without 'sanitary apparatus' is wholesome, except for the
fumes which may ascend or descend the well-staircase. On this floor
the light and decoration will render one oblivious of the basement. On
the second floor the staircase window has been blocked, and there is
an impossible bath-room, without adequate light or ventilation, which
nothing can make wholesome, and which ought to be abolished absolutely.
On the top floor the staircase ends in an unventilated _cul-de-sac_
formed by four bedrooms, a dark 'box-room,' and a water-closet which is
wedged in between two bedrooms.
This house has, if one may say so, been over-plumbered. There are five
closets, five sinks, and a bath-waste (eleven trapped waste-pipes) for
a maximum of twelve people. The closet on the second floor, and the
one in the basement between the servants' hall and kitchen, should be
abolished, and the fixed bath on the second floor should be removed. A
bath-room wants light and air, and should always be against an outside
wall. Persons should never take houses with extemporised bath-rooms
poked in 'anywhere.'
In order to be fairly wholesome this house wants a fan-light over, or a
glazed panel in, the front door, to serve the purpose of a window and
ventilator, and a window over W.C between the morning-room and study.
In this way there will be the possibility of a through draught at the
foot of the stairs. The staircase window on the second floor should be
re-opened, and a window put above the W.C on the top floor (the W.C.
need not be more than 7 feet 6 inches in height). In this way the main
channel of internal communication will be ventilated, and should any
of the sanitary fittings 'go wrong,' the emanations will be diluted,
perhaps to safety point.
Now we may assume that the house we have been considering, with three
rooms on the ground floor, would let for about 350_l._ per annum, and
would be rated at 300_l._ The alterations in the plumbing arrangements,
as shown in fig. 2, are estimated by the 'Lancet' experts to cost
618_l._, or, let us say, a sum equal to twice the rateable value, and
which adds (calculating 10 per cent, for wear and tear) at least 60_l._
per annum to the cost of the house. The local rates for this house
would amount to over 90_l._ per annum, and if we assume that one-third
of this is for sewerage, we may say that the sanitation of the house
costs 90_l._ per annum, a sum sufficient to pay for the transmission
by Parcel Post of 1,800 packets, weighing 11 lbs. each. Leaving the
question of the waste of fertilising material out of consideration, it
is clear that sanitation by water is as extravagant as it is dangerous.
VENTILATION OF CORRIDORS
In the suggestions which the Medical Committee has drawn up for the
guidance of the architect in making plans for the extension and
ultimate complete rebuilding of University College Hospital, the
thorough ventilation of the staircases and corridors is insisted upon;
and the building is to be so constructed that it will be impossible for
air to drift from one floor to another, or from one ward to another,
without first mixing with the outside air. Builders of mansions and
hotels would do well to keep the same principles of construction in
view.
[Illustration: Fig. 4.]
Another suggestion which has been made is to place the secondary
staircases _between the wards and the sanitary offices_, so that the
staircase-well forms a cut-off, with cross-ventilation between the ward
on one side and the various sinks, closets, and baths on the other
side. These secondary staircases are absolutely necessary in case
of fire; and, by making them serve a double purpose, a considerable
saving of space is effected. This arrangement is shown both in plan and
section in figs. 4 and 5. It is very usual to place some of the ward
offices on either side of the ward-approach, and others at the end of
the ward. This is, in fact, the common arrangement; but, when adopted,
it has the effect of making the ward-approach dark and gloomy, and
of placing the ward between a double set of sanitary pipes, with the
dangers inseparable from them. It is, I believe, a sound principle of
construction for private houses, as well as for hospitals, to place
the sanitary and culinary offices of all kinds on one side of the
staircase, and the living rooms on the other. If the staircase-well be
properly ventilated, the risk of living and sleeping in an atmosphere
of sewer air is thereby diminished.
Fig. 6 is a ground plan of an ordinary country or suburban dwelling
house which offers a suggestion in this direction. It is the principle
only which I wish to illustrate. If the principle be sound, the method
of carrying it out will certainly be improved by the experience and
cunning of the trained architect.
[Illustration: Fig. 5.]
This figure shows the 'offices' to the left and the living-rooms to
the right of the staircase. The staircase has through-and-through
ventilation of its own. The passage leading to the sitting-rooms has
also illumination and ventilation independent of the sitting-rooms. The
W.C. has a lobby with independent ventilation, and the door leading to
this lobby from the hall should be a spring door. It will be observed
that the 'pantry' (the workroom of the man or maid whose duty it is
to answer the door) is placed as near the door as possible, and that
this pantry intervenes, so to say, between the kitchen and the entrance
hall. If the door between the pantry and hall, and the door between
kitchen and pantry, be made to open in opposite directions and close
with springs, no smell of cooking will be likely at any time to pervade
the living-rooms.
[Illustration: Fig. 6.]
Only the ground floor of this house is shown, so that it may be as well
to state that, as regards the upper floor, _all_ the bedrooms would be
to the right of the staircase, while to the left, above the kitchen,
&c., would be a second W.C., bath-room, housemaid's closet, and
box-room. The principle of construction which it is wished to inculcate
is this—that the culinary and sanitary offices should be quite
distinct from the living-rooms, and be placed in an annex which should
be separated from the living-house by a well-ventilated staircase. The
living-house itself should not under any circumstances contain either
water-tap or waste-pipe of any kind.
ASPECT
In building a house, the point which requires more attention than any
other is the aspect. This is too often neglected. In a climate like
ours one may say that a house should receive its maximum amount of
sun. If a house be well exposed to the sun there can be no doubt that
the expense of keeping it warm will be considerably lessened. The best
aspect for a house is generally conceded to be that which allows its
chief rooms to look to the south-east. In this way the morning sun is
enjoyed, and the rooms do not get the glare of the afternoon sun, which
in July is apt to be intolerable. It may be advisable to build a house
in the form of a veritable sun-trap. And it is quite possible so to
build a modest residence that those who live in it may enjoy a maximum
amount of sunshine and fresh air without exposure to cold winds.
The ground plan for such a house would have to be that of a
right-angled triangle, with the apex pointing to the north (see fig.
7). The sun, even on the shortest day, would, if visible, shine into
the angle for over seven hours continuously. In this re-entrant angle
there would be complete protection from northerly and easterly winds;
and if provided with a glass-covered verandah, it would be possible
for even the most delicate invalids to enjoy in it a maximum amount of
fresh air.
As only the truncated apex of the triangle faces due north, it is
obvious that every side of this house would be bathed in sunlight for a
considerable time every day.
The problem in such a house would be, not how to keep warm in the
winter, but rather how to keep cool in July.
There are a few points in the ground plan of this 'bungalow facing
south' which may be alluded to. Such a bungalow, if placed on the south
side of a public road running east and west, would require no long
carriage-drive of its own. The front door might be quite close to the
road (and there are many advantages on the score of economy, safety,
and convenience, of such a position) without the privacy of the south
side being lessened in any appreciable degree.
[Illustration: Fig. 7.]
The absence of stairs means less fatigue for invalids and old people,
and less danger for children. Provided the cost of land be reasonable,
is there any advantage in having more than one storey to a house? The
sanitary advantage of a large area for a house is very great indeed. In
hospitals we now recognise that infinitely the most important element
of the 'cubic space per bed' is the floor area, and that a deficient
floor space is not to be compensated by giving great height to the
wards. The same reasoning is applicable to a house; and there is this
further advantage in giving a large area to a country house, that the
greater the area of the roof, the greater is the amount of rain-water
which can be collected. Such a bungalow in our climate would certainly
provide enough rain-water for all the needs of the inmates.
The shape of this house, with a minimum exposure to the north, is such
that every room in it would receive a very thorough exposure to the sun.
A reference to the ground plan will show that on either side of the
front door is a window, and that at the end of both the long passages
is a big window, so that the channels of internal communication receive
an ample supply of light and air, and can be swept by a through
draught. The closets (and these should be 'dry-closets,' and not
water-closets) are cut off from the main structure by a lobby having
cross ventilation.
The pantry, the occupant of which usually does duty as hall-porter, is
placed immediately between the front door and the side door, so that
both doors can be guarded, so to say, at the same time and by the same
person.
The kitchen is shut off by two doors, and both of these should be
spring-doors, in order to make perfectly sure that the house shall not
be invaded by a smell of cooking. The kitchen, nevertheless, is quite
close to the dining-room.
The triangular space enclosed by the two sides would, there can be no
doubt, need planting with a few deciduous trees and creepers, in order
that the shade afforded may undergo a progressive increase as the heat
of summer reaches its maximum.
The disposition of the rooms shown is not intended to be more than
tentative, and in practice it would certainly be found advisable to
have at least one sitting-room with a northerly aspect.
The verandah, it is observed, is big and serviceable, the object of
it being, not merely ornament, but to enable even a delicate person
to live practically in the open air. The rooms opening on to such a
verandah must have big casement windows with low bottom sills, in order
that chairs and tables may be lifted in and out with ease.
The size of the bungalow is greater than most families would require,
but as the plan is merely intended to illustrate a principle this is of
no consequence.
[Illustration: Fig. 8.]
Fig. 8 shows an adaptation of the above plan, by Mr. Thomas W. Cutler,
for a Convalescent Home in Epping Forest.
WARMING
Fig. 9 represents an economical and wholesome way of warming the
passages of a house. It is intended to represent a stove (any
slow-combustion stove) with a fresh-air pipe of large calibre opening
immediately beneath it. When the stove is lighted there is necessarily
a large influx of fresh air, and the result is that the air in the
passage is never 'close' or 'burnt.' It is important that the fresh-air
pipe should be big, and that its gratings should be easily removable
for cleaning.
[Illustration: Fig. 9.—Stove with Air-inlet underneath.]
If the hall and passages be warmed in this way it becomes possible to
ventilate the rooms _from the passages_ in the depth of winter. Fig.
10 represents one of the top panels of a door converted into a louvre
ventilator, with the object of ventilating a room from the passages.
A ventilator of this kind, if provided with side-pieces, delivers its
air nearly vertically, and admits a large volume of air without causing
draught.
[Illustration: Fig. 10.—Ventilating Panel in Door.]
Draughts may be defined as currents of air rushing in at the wrong
place through channels which have insufficient area. The only way
to cure draughts is to place inlets of sufficient area in proper
positions. When building a house one might, of course, place louvre
ventilators in the walls between room and passage at a height of 6 ft.
6 in. above the floor. The alteration of a door panel into a ventilator
costs only a shilling or two. In the writer's experience it is a most
excellent way of ventilating a room, _always provided that the air of
the passages be wholesome_.
LIVING-ROOMS
A few words may be said as to living-rooms. Most living-rooms in
better-class houses are too high. This is probably due to the bad
example of London. In London the height of a house is the only
dimension in which there is, so to say, the least elasticity, and
London architects have attempted to compensate by height for absolutely
inadequate area.
The rooms of some of the learned societies at Burlington House, with a
space of several feet between the top of the window and the ceiling,
afford excellent illustrations of the point which is to be avoided.
_Windows should extend to within a few inches of the ceiling, and
should open at the top._ This is universally admitted. If the room
be 12 feet or 13 feet high, and the windows go to the top, then the
window becomes unmanageable from its weight, and the opening of the
top, although theoretically possible, is seldom put in practice. The
wholesomeness of a room depends very much upon the rapidity with which
the air in it can be renewed—the facility, in short, with which one
can give it a blow out. This depends upon the relation of window area
to cubic capacity. Windows, again, should be so constructed that they
can be easily manipulated by a child. The louvre window ventilator,
such as is common in churches, will be found very valuable for the
admission of a constant but relatively small supply of air. These
ventilators were introduced by the late Professor John Marshall into
his wards at University College Hospital, and with the very best
results.
Relatively low rooms, with big mullioned windows going to within a
few inches of the ceiling, are far more wholesome than lofty rooms in
which the tops of the walls are inaccessible to the housemaid, and the
window sashes too weighty for her to move without difficulty.
For wholesomeness and comfort I believe a height of 10 feet is
sufficient for any domestic living-room, and 9 feet for a bedroom.
Provided the windows go to the top, and can be easily opened, it is
very doubtful if there is any object, from the purely sanitary point
of view, in having rooms more than 9 feet high. In rooms of such a
height the cornice of the ceiling can be easily reached by a housemaid
standing on a set of hand-steps, and the practical advantage of this is
very great.
Our health is more in the hands of the housemaid than most of us are
aware. Facility for cleaning should be ever in the mind of both builder
and furnisher. The modern boudoir, hung with dabs of mediæval rags, and
stuffed with furniture and nicknacks till it looks like a transplanted
bit of Wardour Street, is often not very cleanly; and when the daylight
is excluded to a maximum extent, lest fading should take place, and the
sun's rays never have a chance of disinfecting the dust upon and behind
the curios, it cannot be wholesome.
It may be remarked that some of the curtain hangings and chintzes
which are now, or were lately, in vogue are dressed or printed with
a material which gives them a peculiar 'fusty' smell, something like
inferior hay. No room in which they are used can ever smell 'fresh,'
and it must be remembered that the smell of 'freshness' due to the
free admission of light and air is the best practical criterion of
wholesomeness.
HOTEL BEDROOMS
For discomfort and unwholesomeness the average hotel bedroom is hard to
beat. I have occupied, in a very smart hotel, a bedroom which was 18
feet long, 13 feet high, and had a varying width from 10 feet at the
window end to 8 feet at the door end (the room was wedge-shaped, owing
to its being at the turn of a building which had a fine circular front
facing towards two thoroughfares). The top of the window was at least 3
feet from the ceiling. The window was huge and unmanageable, and access
to it blocked by a big dressing-table carrying a large looking-glass,
which, in company with a once white (but now dingy yellow) roller-blind
(which would not stop up) and absurdly heavy and costly (and dusty)
valance and curtains, succeeded in keeping out most of the light
which might otherwise have succeeded in getting through the murky
atmosphere of a manufacturing town. The cubic capacity of this room
was considerable (2,080 feet), but the 160 feet of floor-space was so
occupied by bed, dressing-table, writing-table, wardrobe, chest of
drawers, sponge-bath, fender, portmanteau stand, besides pedestal, two
chairs and armchair, bidet, coal-scuttle, and boot-jack, that after
having extinguished the light, which was at the farthest point from the
bed, it was no easy matter to thread one's way back.
The planning and fitting of a room to serve in the best way possible
the purpose for which it is intended is a problem to which architects
have paid as yet but little attention. The house-builder might very
well take a few hints from the ship-builder. On board ship space is
economised to the utmost, and it is a matter of interest and wonder to
observe how many luxuries one can have on board a well-planned ship,
mainly by reason of the cleverly-designed fittings which economise
space; and it is, further, a matter of interest to observe how the
principle of 'a place for everything and everything in its place' lends
itself to cleanliness and wholesomeness. The besetting sin of modern
hospital architects is the giving of an extravagant excess of space in
places where it is not needed. Because one gives, let us say, 120 feet
of floor-space to every patient, it does not follow that any sanitary
object is gained by giving a single square inch more than is absolutely
necessary for ward offices. On the contrary, ward offices should be
kept as small as possible, so that the 'place for everything' doctrine
must necessarily be followed. I have seen 'ward kitchens' for twenty
patients, in which the only cooking done is the heating of a little
milk or beef-tea over a gas-jet, which have been about three times as
big as a P. & O. galley, in which a succession of banquets are daily
prepared for one or two hundred persons. If ward offices be carefully
planned, and be merely 'big enough,' with no excess of cubic capacity,
not only will initial cost in construction be saved, but cleanliness
will be facilitated and cost of maintenance and repair lessened.
So it is with hotel bedrooms. One lives in hopes of some day seeing a
competition among hotels in making the rooms occupied by travellers
as convenient and wholesome as possible. There can be no doubt that
a 'single' bedroom 12 feet square and 9 feet high, containing 1,296
cubic feet, if properly planned, fitted, lighted, and ventilated,
would be far more wholesome and convenient than the wedge-shaped
apartment containing 2,080 cubic feet to which allusion has been made.
Without entering into the whole question of bedroom fittings, one may
say a few words as to that very necessary article of daily use, the
looking-glass. The swing looking-glass, which continues to hold its
own, and which, in spite of 'curses not loud but deep,' refuses to
stop at any angle, surely ought to be abandoned now that looking-glass
plate has become so inexpensive. Fig. 11 represents a bedroom window
comprising a thoroughly illuminated long mirror, so that for toilet
purposes the face and figure are easily inspected. The looking-glass
is surrounded by window, and the window itself is easily accessible,
and is opened and shut with ease. All bedroom windows in tourists'
hotels ought to have a balcony, in order that dusty clothing may be
shaken in the open air. In hotels all heavy draperies, hangings,
and carpets should be tabooed, and every effort should be made to
give an appearance of elegance and luxury with a minimum amount of
dust-retaining decoration. Hotels are like hospitals in this respect,
that guests know nothing of the previous occupants of their room,
and it must often be that such ignorance is blissful. Convenience for
the guests and facility in cleaning are the objects to be attained by
designers and fitters of hotels.
[Illustration: Fig. 11.]
PUTRESCIBLE FLUIDS
Although I do not propose to enter into the details of the plumbing
and sewerage arrangements, it is nevertheless necessary to touch upon
certain broad questions. Wherever organic refuse is mixed with water
putrefaction results, and certain gases are given off from putrefying
liquids which are poisonous and hurtful to mankind. Every cook and
housemaid is familiar with the fact that all vessels which serve as
receptacles for putrescible liquids require the most careful cleansing,
and need to be scrubbed and scoured, washed with hot water and soap
and soda, and _wiped dry_. If this is not done they become foul, and
rapidly cause the decomposition of any liquid containing organic matter
which may be subsequently added.
The modern house drains into a sewer, which is necessarily always
foul and filled with the gases of putrefaction. These gases are the
result of microbial action. The sewage water is full of microbes,
the gases of putrefaction are the gaseous 'toxins' (CO₂, H₂S,
CH₄, NH₃, &c.) which result from their growth. The air of the
sewer is necessarily harmful in itself, and the presence or absence of
microbes in the sewer air is a matter of practically small importance.
The house drains are necessarily foul as well as the sewers. We hear
a great deal about 'self-cleansing' sewers, which shows how ignorant
are the surveyors and others who use such terms. A glazed pipe, with a
good gradient, may be less foul than a rough sewer with insufficient
gradient, but you can no more have a 'self-cleansing' sewer than you
can have a self-cleansing saucepan or chamber-vessel.
The foulest place in a house is the kitchen sink, with its vegetable
and animal _débris_, such as cabbage-water, grease, &c. Sanitary
engineers are trying to cleanse these places by automatic flushing with
cold water, which, to say the least, is enterprising. A few years ago
'fat traps' were fashionable, but were soon found to be intolerable
from their inexpressible foulness.
It must be remembered that wherever along a line of drainage you get
stagnation there must be putrefaction, and it must be borne in mind
that every 'trap' which is a contrivance for ensuring stagnation is
necessarily a place where putrefaction is liable to take place. Traps
may keep back the smell of the street sewer in house pipes, but it must
never be forgotten that they are undesirable evils in themselves.
The efforts of modern sanitary engineers are directed towards ensuring
that the gases which inevitably result from putrefaction in sewers and
house-drains should be as much as possible diluted with external air
before we breathe them. The sewer gratings in the streets give off foul
gases at the pavement level, especially in the summer. The ventilating
pipes give off foul gases at the roof level, close to the water
cisterns. The traps beneath every W.C. and sink are all spots where
putrefaction may and often does take place. The gullies in the front
and back areas of the house are also liable to be foul. Here I would
insist that every gully on the ground level should, when possible, be
freely exposed to the air, so that the wind may blow over it. This, in
London, is impossible, as these gullies are necessarily surrounded by
the walls of the area, and in still, muggy weather these areas must
contain a large amount of gaseous toxins.
I insist upon this point because I see the town architect making the
mistake in the country of enclosing the kitchen and pantry gullies by
walls (to form a kitchen yard), so that any emanations which arise from
them are liable to be drawn into the house through the open windows.
Such an arrangement ought, when possible, to be carefully avoided.
Traps and trapped gullies are evils which are only to be tolerated for
the prevention of greater evils. I visited not long ago a convalescent
home built on the slopes of a decidedly steep hill. The building was a
fine one, and (why I do not know) was three storeys high. The builder
had brought the rain-water pipes from the roof, and had made them
terminate in trapped gullies close to the front wall of the house. In
these collections of stagnant water, dead leaves, &c., would certainly
decay, and every trap would inevitably become a cultivating chamber
for the growth of mildew and moulds of various kinds. These trapped
gullies communicated with an underground drain, where the same growth
of mildew, &c., would inevitably go forward. In such a situation the
rain-water, without the interference of the builder and architect,
would have got clean away into the valley below, and have left the
house perfectly dry. All that was needed was an open gutter. Great
expense had been incurred to make the walls of this building dry, and
still greater expense had been incurred to ensure precisely those evils
which come from damp walls, viz., the growth of mildew.
In the autumn of 1896 I was stopping in an hotel which had no less
than 42 trapped gullies touching its walls; there was one beneath
almost every window and by the side of almost every door. Here, again,
a little contrivance and common sense would have obviated all this
mischievous expense.
The constant inhalation of the gases of putrefaction is a great danger
to health, otherwise sanitarians would not lead us to imply that we
ought to spend enormous sums to ensure their dilution before we inhale
them. If these gases be concentrated, they are capable of killing
strong men in a few minutes. The constant inhalation of these gases
in a more diluted form leads to malnutrition, and one must suppose
that the pasty-faced and undersized Cockney is made in this way. We
have little certain knowledge of the diseases caused by sewer air.
Personally, I should say that anæmia and malnutrition are the chief
resulting evils, and that these conditions make us very vulnerable
to infections. Sore-throat is certainly a drain disease, and thus a
vulnerability to diphtheria is probably engendered. Puerperal disease
of various kinds and rheumatic fever are among the diseases which
have been attributed to sewer air, and it is probable that chronic
enlargement of the tonsils and the surprising increase of adenoid
growths in the pharynx and naso-pharynx are not without similar
relationships.
Dr. Letheby and Dr. Haldane, who both investigated cases of acute
poisoning by air in sewers, came to the conclusion that sulphuretted
hydrogen was the fatal ingredient.
Dr. Haldane is of opinion that the source of the sulphuretted hydrogen
is the kitchen refuse in the fat traps and grease boxes. He states that
·07 per cent. (or a mixture containing 7 parts of sulphuretted hydrogen
with 9,993 parts of air) is poisonous.
It is probable that the constant inhalation of very small quantities
indeed would be prejudicial to health.
DAMP HOUSES
There is a very general consensus of opinion that damp houses are
unwholesome.
Why are they unwholesome? It is very doubtful if the constant
inhalation of watery vapour is prejudicial to health. I am not aware
that sailors and millers, and boatmen who spend their lives on the
water, are a short-lived class, or that they are liable to diseases
which are special to them as a class.
The probable cause of the unwholesomeness of a damp house is its
liability to grow moulds and mildews and allied organisms. The growth
of putrefactive and pathogenic organisms is checked by dryness
and encouraged by dampness, and it is probable that it is in this
direction that we are to look for the causes of the unwholesomeness
of damp houses. A friend built a house some eighteen months since on
an eminence in a park having a stiff clay soil. His architect advised
him to have cellars under the house 'for the sake of dryness,' and
such advice is very general. Let us look at the question a little more
closely. Suppose you build a house having an area of 50 feet by 50
feet = 2,500 square feet. If you have no cellar this 2,500 square feet
of your house rests upon the soil, and six inches of concrete will
effectually stop back the moisture. Suppose you have a cellar beneath
the house, say 8 feet high, then you have to excavate 2,500 feet by 8 =
20,000 cubic feet of earth; and in addition to the floor of your cellar
you have four sides, each 50 feet by 8 = 400 square feet, or 1,600
extra square feet in all, in contact with the damp earth. With a cellar
you have 4,100 square feet ready to imbibe moisture from the soil, and
without it you have 2,500 feet only.
A big cellarage used for pantries, larders, beer, wine, coals, &c.,
&c., which is not artificially warmed, makes a house very cold; and
if the cellarage communicate directly with the ground floor, there
is a constant draught of cold air from the vaults beneath to the
living-rooms above.
Supposing such a cellarage to have walls and floor impermeable to
moisture, it is inevitable that whenever the wind shifts from a
cold dry quarter to a warm muggy quarter (say from N.E. to S.W.),
condensation will take place, and the walls of your 'dry cellar' will
stream with moisture.
A cold damp cellar, which comes only occasionally under the
surveillance of the master and mistress, and in which all sorts of odds
and ends are poked away to accumulate dust and mildew, is an undoubted
disadvantage to a house.
Such a cellar should never be 'drained,' _i.e._, it must on no account
have a gully in it for the purpose of 'swilling down.' When such a
cellar is cleansed, it must be scrubbed and _wiped dry_ precisely like
a living-room. The trap of a gully is sure to grow moulds and mildews,
and if, as is not unlikely, it becomes unsealed by evaporation, then
the gases from the sewer or cesspool will inevitably find their way
into the cellarage and the house above it.
An inhabited basement, such as is universal in London, regarded in
relation to the house above it, is a very different thing from an
uninhabited cellarage.
A place where food is stored, be it larder or dairy, must be cool, and
clean, and _dry_, and must on no account have a gully either in it or
near it. Food, and milk, and cream are cultivating media for organisms
of all kinds, and food, especially cold gelatinous food, may become
most dangerously poisonous if stored in an unwholesome place.
I will invite attention to fig. 12, which represents a cellarage window
constructed quite recently. The window is entirely below the level of
the ground, and is surrounded by an 'area' for giving light and air
to the window. The area is protected by a horizontal grating on the
ground level, securely and permanently fastened down, and the area is
drained through a gully, this being necessary because of the rain
which falls into it. The gully leads to an underground drain, which,
in this particular case, did not run directly to a cesspool, but to an
open gutter on the side of a hill at a lower level. Into this area dead
leaves are blown, and worms and slugs and snails inevitably find their
way, and are washed by the rain into the stagnant gully, which becomes
a place for putrefaction and the cultivation of mildew, the spores of
which are necessarily blown into the house to infect the food which is
stored there. Not only is the area closed by a fixed grating above, but
the window is securely and permanently barred, so that this dry area
(?), with its mildew trap, cannot possibly be cleaned without pulling
the house to pieces.
[Illustration: Fig. 12.
Fig. 13.]
Fig. 13 is a suggestion for the improvement of this area. A glazed
shutter has been placed (to prevent the access of rain) over a fixed
grating, which admits air at the sides. The gully has been removed, the
front wall of the area has (at the suggestion of Mr. William White,
F.S.A.) been sloped forward so as to reflect the light into the room,
and the window bars have been taken away, in order that this area may
be cleaned as thoroughly as the room which it serves.
LARDERS
In view of recent discoveries as to the liability of food to become
poisonous when stored in an unwholesome place, the construction of the
larder is an important matter.
The place where cooked and uncooked food is stored—the larder—must be
wholesome, and to this end great care must be used in its construction.
The following appear to me to be the points which demand attention in
the larder, an apartment which may influence the health of a household
to a very great extent:—
1. The larder must be _dry_. Both walls and floor should be above
suspicion as to dampness. Any mould or mildew growing on the floor or
walls is very apt to infect the food. The floor should be of concrete,
without seams or joints. The walls should be limewashed every
year, and the shelves (if expense be no object) should be of some
non-absorbent material, such as marble, slate, glazed earthenware, or
glass. It is better to have a larder above the ground level than below
it, because in the latter situation dampness is very difficult to
prevent.
2. A larder must be _cool_. If it have no rooms above it, the roof
must be so constructed as to keep out the heat of the sun. It is
essential that its windows and ventilators should face the north. The
temperature which is most favourable for the growth of microbes is one
which approaches to blood-heat, and, speaking generally, one may say
that the higher the temperature, the more likely is the 'cultivation'
of microbes to go forward. It is important that the flue of the
kitchen fire, or any other flue, should not touch the wall of the
larder.
3. Good ventilation is essential. The windows should be big, and
should be protected on the outside with wire gauze, so as to prevent
the access of flies or other insects.
4. On no account must there be a gully communicating with any
underground drain or sewer either inside or, indeed, near to any
place where food is stored. In short, we must bear in mind that
sewer-poisoning may be indirect through the food, as well as direct
from the sewer itself. When the shelves and floor of a larder are
washed, they should be wiped dry, and such washing should be carried
out in dry weather, so that the drying process may be complete.
We all know how sensitive food is to unwholesome contaminations, and
one may well have a doubt as to the sanitary condition of show dairies,
where a cool, plashing fountain plays in the centre, because such
fountain must have a waste-pipe, and one must fear that such waste-pipe
communicates with a drain. A dairy, equally with a larder, should be
kept cool and dry, and should offer no facilities for the ingress of
putrefactive products from a sewer.
I have already pointed out that it is no protection to have waste-pipes
trapped, because in every form of trap one must have stagnation, and
wherever stagnation occurs there must be putrefaction. A very small
quantity of food-refuse or milk is enough to set up putrefaction in
a trap. If any outlet for water is thought desirable in a larder,
it should be in the form of an open gutter which can be thoroughly
cleaned and dried, and which should pass directly through the wall on
the floor-level, the opening in the wall to be closed by a sliding
trap-door when the gutter is not being used. No bacteriologist needs to
be reminded that a water-trap is necessarily a cultivating chamber.