the Chancellor Seguier respecting the grand police of the kingdom, a
thorough examination was made of the sewers of Paris, which began to
multiply. The minutes of these sittings still exist. We see there the
opinions given on the subject by each of the members of the
commission, and particularly by Colbert, who in the sitting of the
13th of January, proposed, as the best method of cleansing the sewers,
to establish several fountains in the quarters where they were
necessary, and at the side of each of them a reservoir of 15 measures,
which should be let out all at once. Nothing, assuredly, could be
better than this proposition. But one thing was wanting to the
minister—the water could not be procured.”
But the water, though abundant in the vicinity of Paris, is still
wanted, and the cause of the want is thus noticed by M. Du Châtelet:—
“Paris possesses an immense mass of water, which can be distributed
into every quarter and every house. Does the demand multiply with the
pipes? Assuredly not, and one might well be surprised to see the
negligence and apathy of proprietors in this respect. Some persons
adduce the fact to prove that seven litres[12] of water are sufficient
for the inhabitants of Paris, whilst sixty are necessary for London,
and still more for Edinburgh. But if we look closer to the conduct of
the proprietors, we shall find that it proceeds from calculations well
understood. It is the certainty that they will have sooner to empty
the cesspools which scares them. This operation, and the expense it
often brings with it, influences the venal propensities of the
proprietors. Is it likely that they will pay for water of which the
inevitable result will be to multiply the number of operations they
dread the most, and which increase the expense in an enormous
proportion? Thus the actual state of our cesspools, and the mode of
emptying them now in use, are, in our opinion, the principal causes
which prevent individuals from taking the water, and which retard the
period in which the city will receive the interest of the enormous
sums that it has devoted, and still devotes daily, to the supply of
water.”
It is to be hoped, however, that the legislature will give the powers
and direct the means requisite in this country, to furnish to every city
in Europe a practical demonstration that by the art of the engineer, the
obstacle to improvement, formed by the great expense and annoyance of
removing the refuse of houses and streets may be rendered
inconsiderable. In Paris the interests of turbulent bodies of men, the
water-carriers, and another class of men called the chiffonniers, who
live by raking for what they can find amongst the refuse cast into the
streets, are opposed to any change which will reduce the charge of
imperfect cleansing, and the disease promoted by filth. The general
practice in that metropolis is to cast all the rubbish of the house into
the street on the overnight, or before seven o’clock in the morning,
when men attend with carts to sweep it up and remove it. In the
nighttime, however, the chiffonnier comes with a lantern and rakes
amongst the refuse, and picks from it bones, rags, or whatever may have
been thrown away by accident, or the carelessness of the servants. The
offensive filth of their persons and their occupation, makes them
outcasts from other classes of workmen; they sleep amidst their
collections of refuse, and they are idle during the day; they are like
all men who live under such circumstances, prone to indulgence in ardent
spirits; being degraded and savage, they are ready to throw away their
wretched lives on every occasion. There are nearly 2000 of the
chiffonniers alone in Paris, and they and the water-carriers were
conspicuous actors in the revolution of 1830. During the administration
of Casimir Perrier the householders had complained of the inconvenient
mode of cleansing the streets by large heavy carts drawn by three
horses, which, during their slow progress throughout the day, obstruct
the public thoroughfares and occasion great inconveniences, especially
in the narrow streets.
In the beginning of the year 1834, when the cholera broke out, the
attention of the authorities was directed to sanitary measures, and the
municipality decided that the cleansing of the streets should be done by
contract, by a quick relay of carts of a smaller and more convenient
shape, drawn by single horses; and in order to diminish the
inconvenience of the presence of these improved vehicles, the contractor
was allowed to collect one load for each of his carts on the overnight,
which would have led to a practice similar to that of London, where the
dust-carts take the refuse direct from the house without any deposit in
the streets. But in this arrangement an important interest had been
overlooked; the chiffonniers, who were said to have been aided and
directed by the owners and men belonging to the superseded vehicles,
rose in revolt, attacked and drove away the conductors, broke to pieces
the new carts, threw the fragments into the river, or made bonfires with
them. Unfortunately at that time the cholera had broken out at Paris.
The mobs of chiffonniers which collected on the following day were
swollen by other crowds of ignorant, terrified, and savage people, who
were persuaded that the deaths from the strange plague were occasioned
by poison. “My agents,” says the then prefet of police, in an account of
this revolt, “could not be at all points at once, to oppose the fury of
those crowds of men with naked arms and haggard figures, and sinister
looks, who are never seen in ordinary times, and who seemed on this day
to have arisen out of the earth. Wishing to judge myself of the
foundation for the alarming reports that were brought to me, I went out
alone and on foot. I had great difficulty in getting through these dense
masses, scarcely covered with filthy rags; no description could convey
their hideous aspect, or the sensation of terror which the hoarse and
ferocious cries created. Although I am not easily moved, I at one time
feared for the safety of Paris—of honest people and their property.” In
fact the riot was one of the most dangerous that had been witnessed in
that city, and it was not suppressed without great exertions and some
loss of life. The anxieties which it occasioned to the minister, Casimir
Perrier, and his disgust at the political use made of it, were
considered to have contributed to his death. He was himself attacked
with the cholera, and died a few days after. Shortly before his death,
when expressing his disgust, he said to the prefet, “My friend, we are
harnessed to a vile carriage.” “Truly so,” replied the prefet, “and the
ways are dreadfully dirty.” The material ways of the city continued as
they were, the prefet seeing that the introduction of the new carts
became “a motive to discontent and collision,” took upon himself to set
aside the contract with the contractor, who, he states, received no
other compensation for his losses than a permission which he could not
use to collect the refuse during the day, and the chiffonniers continue
to the present time in the exercise of their wretched vocation at the
expense of the public health and cleanliness.
The course of the present inquiry shows how strongly circumstances that
are governable govern the habits of the population, and in some
instances appear almost to breed the species of the population.
Conceiving it probable that the amount of filth left by defective
cleansing had its corresponding description of persons, I made inquiries
of the Commissioners of Metropolitan Police. From returns which they
obtained from their superintendents, it appears that of the class of
bone-pickers, mud-rakers, people living on the produce of dungheaps in
mews, courts, yards, and bye lanes insufficient cleansed, 598 are known
to the police. From an observation of the proportion of filthy children
and adults who appear amidst refuse whenever there are new buildings and
an unusual quantity of rubbish, and from other circumstances, I believe
that, were the refuse of houses daily cast into the streets in London in
the same manner as at Paris, London would soon have as large and as
dangerous a population of the chiffonnier class. I am informed by Sir
Charles Shaw, the chief commissioner of police at Manchester, that there
are 302 of them known within the police jurisdiction of that town also.
He complains that they have heretofore been licensed in their
occupation; that, the children are pilferers, and occupy the attention
of the police, and furnish a large quota to the stock of juvenile
delinquents and the population of the prisons. I am informed that in
Bath there are about 100 of them known; and in other towns and places I
have little doubt that they would be found in like proportions, which
approach the proportions of the stated numbers of chiffonniers to the
population of Paris. These degraded creatures are also found amongst the
inmates of the workhouses, and the close identity of their habits with
those of the chiffonniers of Paris afford a striking proof of the
similarity of the population produced by similarity of circumstances.
They are thus described to me by an eye-witness:—
“The bone-pickers are the dirtiest of all the inmates of our
workhouse; I have seen them take a bone from a dungheap, and gnaw it
while reeking hot with the fermentation of decay. Bones, from which
the meat had been cut raw, and which had still thin strips of flesh
adhering to them, they scraped carefully with their knives, and put
the bits, no matter how befouled with dirt, into a wallet or pocket
appropriated to the purpose. They have told me, that whether in broth
or grilled, they were the most savoury dish that could be imagined. I
have not observed that these creatures were savage, but they were
thoroughly debased. Often hardly human in appearance, they had neither
human tastes nor sympathies, nor even human sensations, for they
revelled in the filth which is grateful to dogs, and other lower
animals, and which to our apprehension is redolent only of nausea and
abomination.”
The following report from one of the superintendents to the
Commissioners of the Metropolitan Police describes the manner in which
they appear to the police, their moral character, and the efficacy of
the means of prevention:—
“With reference to the question of the Commissioners as to the means
of subsistence of that portion of the population which at present
exists by picking bones in the bye-lanes, &c., in the event of those
places being properly cleansed, I am of opinion that they would be
compelled to adopt some more laborious and useful means of obtaining a
livelihood, such as field labour, &c. They are at present an idle,
dissolute class, prowling about the stables, yards, backs of premises,
and lanes, willing to commit petty felony wherever opportunity
presents itself. While it would remove them, on the other hand, the
instant removal of filth from the metropolis must prove beneficial to
the health of the inhabitants.”
It will then be found to be an ultimately beneficial effect of the
removal of the circumstances by the adoption of such modes of cleansing
as diminish the prevalent amount of filth or filthy processes, that it
will force a change to other occupations of a less degrading character,
and diminish the number of persons “brought up” to them. Any provision
of the nature of a poor law may be said to be badly constructed which
does not allow the exercise of a discretionary authority to alleviate
any severe inconveniences to the poorest classes from such changes. For
the sake of preventing the growth of the like misery, it would probably
be found a good civic economy to maintain the whole of the existing
class in idleness, if idleness were not in itself a curse to them. I
mention this, because the parish officers frequently oppose improved
modes of paving and efficient cleansing, (as they generally opposed the
new police on the ground that it diminished the means of subsistence of
decrepit old men as watchmen,) for the avowed reason that it is
expedient to keep the streets in their present state of filth in order
to keep up the means of employing indigent persons as street-sweepers
and sweepers of crossings in removing it.
It is found in the metropolis to be a beneficial result of the increase
of the practice of removing night-soil by the self-acting process of
water-closets communicating with the sewers, that it prevents the
increase of the number of nightmen formerly requisite for the
performance of that offensive and dangerous labour, and is in the
metropolis diminishing the number.
Yet it should be borne in mind, that until more complete measures are
adopted, even the services of such agents are an improvement, and in
crowded cities are only neglected at the expense of the degradation of
the whole mass of the labouring population. An example is to be found in
the state of some districts mentioned by _Dr. Speer_, who in his account
of the diseases of the lower orders in Dublin, given in the Dublin
Hospital Reports, noticed the fact that the fever cases always came from
the filthy districts; and he observes,
“We cannot wonder at the rapidity with which contagion often spreads.
Both in and out of doors, it seems facilitated in every way; within
doors every article of furniture and wearing apparel is disfigured
with filth; every spot seems encrusted with its layers, and the
foulest odours abound everywhere. Out of doors, at least in warm
seasons, our churchyards, slaughter-houses, and the masses of filth
and offal with which our streets and lanes are disgraced, contribute
no less to the propagation of contagion. In the larger and better
streets, the cleansing is very well attended to, but in the narrow and
crowded ones, where the necessity of its removal is infinitely
greater, the heaps of filth are truly disgraceful. In some of my
visits I have been obliged to wade through masses of filth enough to
sicken the stoutest and strongest—masses which have remained
undisturbed for months, perhaps for years, and thus generating the
most putrid effluvia. We know that vegetables are very dear in our
markets. Why? Because our gardens are not sufficiently manured; this
manure lies in our lanes and alleys, and only wants collecting; but
what would this be compared with the benefits from the purification of
our atmosphere which its removal would produce?”
The condition of large rural districts in the immediate vicinity of the
towns, and of the poorest districts of the towns themselves, presents a
singular contrast in the nature of the agencies by which the health of
the inhabitants is impaired. Within the towns we find the houses and
streets filthy, the air fœtid, disease, typhus, and other epidemics rife
amongst the population, bringing, in the train, destitution and the need
of pecuniary as well as medical relief; all mainly arising from the
presence of the richest materials of production, the complete absence of
which would, in a great measure, restore health, avert the recurrence of
disease, and, if properly applied, would promote abundance, cheapen
food, and increase the demand for beneficial labour. Outside the
afflicted districts, and at a short distance from them, as in the
adjacent rural districts, we find the aspect of the country poor and
thinly clad with vegetation, except rushes and plants favoured by a
superabundance of moisture, the crops meagre, the labouring agricultural
population few, and afflicted with rheumatism and other maladies,
arising from damp and an excess of water, which, if removed, would
relieve them from a cause of disease, the land from an impediment to
production, and if conveyed for the use of the town population, would
give that population the element of which they stand in peculiar need,
as a means to relieve them from that which is their own cause of
depression, and return it for use on the land as a means of the highest
fertility. The fact of the existence of these evils, and that they are
removable is not more certain than that their removal would be attended
by reductions of existing burdens, and might be rendered productive of
general advantage, if due means, guided by science, and applied by
properly qualified officers, be resorted to. The impediments arising
from the existing state of the law and of its local administration, form
a subject for separate representation.
Before stating the cost in life and money attributable to the noxious
causes external to the dwelling, it is desirable to notice other noxious
causes, within the recognised province of legislative interference, that
appear to be similarly under control, namely, the overcrowding of places
where large numbers are assembled together, such as the overcrowding of
places of work.
III.—CIRCUMSTANCES CHIEFLY IN THE INTERNAL ECONOMY AND BAD VENTILATION
OF PLACES OF WORK; WORKMEN’S LODGING-HOUSES, DWELLINGS, AND THE DOMESTIC
HABITS AFFECTING THE HEALTH OF THE LABOURING CLASSES.
The evils arising from the bad ventilation of places of work will
probably be most distinctly brought to view, by the consideration of the
evidence as to its effects on one particular class of workpeople.
The frequency of cases of early deaths, and orphanage, and widowhood
amongst one class of labourers, the journeymen tailors, led me to make
some inquiries as to the causes affecting them; and I submit the
following evidence for peculiar consideration, as an illustration of the
operation of one predominant cause;—bad ventilation or overcrowding, and
the consequences on the moral habits, the loss of healthful existence
and happiness to the labourer, the loss of profit to the employer, and
of produce to the community, and the loss in expenditure for the relief
of the destitution, which original cause (the bad ventilation) we have
high scientific authority for stating to be easily and economically
controllable.
_Mr. Thomas Brownlow_, tailor, aged 52:—
“It is stated that you have been a journeyman tailor, and now work for
yourself. At what description of places have you worked?—I have always
worked at the largest places in London; one part of my time I worked
at Messrs Allen’s, of Old Bond-street, where I worked eight years; at
another part of my time I worked at Messrs. Stultze’s, in
Clifford-street, where I worked four years. At Messrs. Allen’s they
had then from 80 to 100 men at work; at Messrs. Stultze’s they had,
when I worked there, about 250 men.
“Will you describe the places of work, and the effects manifested in
the health of the workmen?—The place in which we used to work at
Messrs. Allen’s was a room where 80 men worked together. It was a room
about 16 or 18 yards long, and 7 or 8 yards wide, lighted with
skylights; the men were close together, nearly knee to knee. In summer
time the heat of the men and the heat of the irons made the room 20 or
30 degrees higher than the heat outside; the heat was then most
suffocating, especially after the candles were lighted. I have known
young men, tailors from the country, faint away in the shop from the
excessive heat and closeness; persons, working-men, coming into the
shop to see some of the men, used to complain of the heat, and also of
the smell as intolerable; the smell occasioned by the heat of the
irons and the various breaths of the men really was at times
intolerable. The men sat as loosely as they possibly could, and the
perspiration ran from them from the heat and the closeness. It is of
frequent occurrence in such workshops that light suits of clothes are
spoiled from the perspiration of the hand, and the dust and flue which
arises darkening the work. I have seen 40_l._ or 50_l._ worth of work
spoiled in the course of the summer season from this cause.
“In what condition are these work-places in winter?—They are more
unhealthy in winter, as the heat from the candles and the closeness is
much greater. Any cold currents of air which come in give annoyance to
those who are sitting near the draught. There is continued squabbling
as to the windows being opened; those who are near the windows, and
who do not feel the heat so much as the men near the stoves, objecting
to their being opened. The oldest, who had been inured to the heat,
did not like the cold, and generally prevailed in keeping out the cold
or the fresh air. Such has been the state of the atmosphere, that in
the very coldest nights large thick tallow candles (quarter of a pound
candles) have melted and fallen over from the heat.
“What was the effect of this state of the work-places upon the habits
of the workmen?—It had a very depressing effect on the energies; that
was the general complaint of those who came into it. Many could not
stay out the hours, and went away earlier. Those who were not
accustomed to the places generally lost appetite. The natural effect
of the depression was, that we had recourse to drink as a stimulant.
We went into the shop at six o’clock in the morning; but at seven
o’clock when orders for the breakfast were called for, gin was brought
in, and the common allowance was half-a-quartern. The younger hands
did not begin with gin.
“Was gin the first thing taken before any solid food was taken?—Yes,
and the breakfast was very light; those who took gin generally took
only half-a-pint of tea and half a twopenny loaf as breakfast.
“When again was liquor brought in?—At eleven o’clock.
“What was taken then?—Some took beer, some took gin again. In a
general way, they took a pint of porter at eleven o’clock. It was
seldom the men took more than the half-quartern of gin.
“When again was liquor brought in?—At three o’clock, when some took
beer and some gin, just the same as in the morning. At five o’clock
the beer and gin came in again, and was usually taken in the same
quantities. At seven o’clock the shop was closed.
“After work was there any drinking?—Yes; nearly all the young men went
to the public-house, and some of the others.
“What were the wages they received?—Sixpence per hour, which, at the
full work, made 6s. a-day, or 36s. a-week.
“Did they make any reserves from this amount of wages?—No; very few
had anything for themselves at the end of the week.
“How much of the habit of drinking was produced by the state of the
work-place?—I should say the greater part of it; because when men work
by themselves, or only two or three together, in cooler and less close
places, there is scarcely any drinking between times. Nearly all this
drinking proceeds from the large shops, where the men are crowded
together in close rooms: it is the same in the shops in the country,
as well as those in the town. In a rural place, the tailor, where he
works by himself, or with only two or three together, takes very
little of the fermented liquor or spirits which the men feel
themselves under a sort of necessity for doing in towns. The closer
the ventilation of the place of work, the worse are the habits of the
men working in them.
“You referred to the practice of one large shop where you worked some
time since; was that the general practice, and has there been no
alteration?—It was and is now the general practice. Of late, since
coffee has become cheaper, somewhat more of coffee and less of beer
has been bought in; but there is as much gin now brought in between
times, and sometimes more.
“What would be the effect of an alteration of the place of work—a
ventilation which would give them a better atmosphere?—It would,
without doubt, have an immediately beneficial effect on the habits. It
might not cure those who have got into the habit of drinking; but the
men would certainly drink less, and the younger ones would not be led
into the habit so forcibly as they are.
“What is the general effect of this state of things upon the health of
the men exposed to them?—Great numbers of them die of consumption. “A
decline” is the general disease of which they die. By their own rules,
a man at 50 years of age is superannuated, and is thought not to be
fit to do a full day’s work.
“What was the average of the ages of the men at work at such shops as
those you have worked at?—Thirty-two, or thereabouts.
“In such shops were there many superannuated men, or men above 50
years of age?—Very few. Amongst the tailors employed in the shops, I
should say there were not 10 men in the hundred above 50 years of age.