Although the lodgings are not all repulsive, they are all alike open to

criticism. Some offend by overcrowding, others by the mode of sleeping;

others, lastly, by the absence of all ventilation, and even by a total

want of air. Overcrowding is an evil which prevails in all the lodgings

of the lowest class, and which aggravates the mischief resulting from

the other inconveniences to which they are subject. The twenty-five or

thirty thousand workmen employed in house-building, who flock to Paris

every year from certain departments, congregate in chambers, and sleep

there during the season. Many of these places are kept by countrymen of

their own, who attract them by their known probity, and the kindness

they entertain for them. These chambers abound principally in the

quarter of the Hôtel-de-Ville for the masons, and in the Faubourg

Saint-Martin for the carpenters. These excellent workmen, by an

exception more peculiar to them than to any others, look only to

economy. They bargain with the lodging-house keeper, so as to obtain for

six francs a month, besides the room, the washing of a shirt a-week, and

a mess of soup every day, for which they themselves provide the bread.

All that is not devoted to their slender wants is laid by for the

support of their family, or the increase of their little patrimony. The

police unanimously testify to the order and concord which reign in their

chambers, as well as to their good conduct abroad. Is it not mournful

that these fine fellows should sleep thus piled up in little garrets?

Accustomed to work in the open air, the smallness of their rooms is more

trying to them than to any others. Thus typhus fever is common among

them, and sometimes attacks a whole chamber.

The overcrowding and deficient ventilation are still more injurious to

workmen employed in manufactures. They pass every day from an infected

lodging into a shop which is usually as unwholesome, and they are thus

predisposed to contract readily contagious maladies.

Of all the lower orders, the chiffonniers inhabit the most infected and

disgusting lodgings. It is vain to expect to descend into the lowest

ranks of society,—inequality always appears somewhere. Even the

chiffonniers have their notables. There are some a little more

economical, a little more raised than the mass, and who enjoy a certain

comfort. Those the most elevated occupy one or two small rooms, which

they hire for themselves and their families; others possess a pallet,

which serves them to sleep on, in the chamber of which they are one

occupant among many. But this possession is more often collective than

personal; and although shared, it does not fail to excite the envy of

the poor wretches who lie in a species of trough, on rags, or on

handsful of straw, with which the room is strewed. The police charged

with the surveillance of the lodgings inhabited by the chiffonniers give

an incredible picture of them. Each occupant keeps by him his basket,

sometimes full of filth—and what filth! These savages do not hesitate to

comprise dead animals in their gleanings, and pass the night by the side

of this stinking prey. When the police go to these places, they

experience a suffocating feeling, bordering on asphyxy. They order the

windows to be opened when they can be opened, and the severe

representations they address to the lodging-house keepers on this

horrible mixture of human beings with decayed animal matter does not

move them. They answer, that their lodgers are accustomed to it as well

as themselves. A trait of manners peculiar to the chiffonniers, and

which might be called their pastime, consists in rat-catching in the

courts of the houses which they frequent. They entice the rats by the

aid of certain substances attached to the rags they gather in the

streets. With this view they put heaps of rags near the holes in the

walls, and when they think that the rats are buried in the rags, they

let loose into the court dogs trained for the purpose, and, in the

twinkling of an eye, they make themselves masters of the rats, of which

they eat the flesh and sell the skin.

The lodgings which receive at night the scum of society are thorough

pest-houses. Those even which are not frequented by chiffonniers become,

by the crowding of the inhabitants and their filthy habits, dangerous

centres of infection. There are some chambers which contain as many as

nine beds, separated by small passages hardly wide enough to get

through, and these beds are often occupied by two persons who do not

know each other, and have never seen one another. Difference of sex is

no obstacle to these nocturnal and fortuitous cohabitations, although

the police neglect nothing to prevent disorders. Among the female

apartments there is one which is famous for the picture of decrepitude

and abjectness which it presents. The women who occupy it are old

drunkards, of whom several are suspected of theft. The spectacle of

these animated mummies has something sepulchral.

One must bring to social anatomy a serious spirit of investigation, to

form a just idea of the population which lives in the concealed recesses

of society. The imagination, however fertile and daring, could never

reach, in this matter, to the height of the reality: there is a

character, a physiognomy, a strangeness, which it is necessary to have

seen in order to assume the responsibility of an historian. Let no one

tax with romance the traits of manners nor the description of places

contained in this chapter. However softened by the reserve I have

imposed on myself, they are not less true at bottom. I have sacrificed

the coarseness of the outline and colouring out of respect to decency.

It is the only infidelity of which I accuse myself. It is impossible not

to feel the necessity to provide an efficacious remedy for a state of

things so contrary to the rights of humanity and civilization.[57]

19.—_On the Habitations and Lodgings of the Lower Orders of Paris._

No. 2.

There exist in Paris some thousands of individuals who have no

domicile—who sleep to-day in one place, the next day in another—and who

have recourse every evening to those houses where, for a payment usually

very moderate, they can at least obtain a place to lie in, and a

covering for their heads. It is not only strangers living temporarily in

Paris who lodge in this manner; a mass of workmen, mostly single men,

who have not stirred from the capital for ten, fifteen, and twenty

years, prefer this kind of life to the occupation of a separate chamber.

It may be affirmed, without fear of contradiction, that this population

comprises all that is most drunken and debased in society. It is

composed of people without foresight, and without a home, living from

day to day, and trusting to the hospitals in the case of sickness or

infirmity. It is in the lowest places in these disgusting haunts in

which a person is lodged for six, four, and even for two sous, that the

greater part of the prostitutes reside, who can scarcely, after

purchasing food, lay aside from their daily gains the trifling sum

necessary to avert sleeping in the open air. I have visited some of

these lodgings, and it was not without a feeling of pain that I have

seen human creatures reduced to live in such places, and that in the

capital of France. To give a just idea of these abodes, I will extract

some passages from the remarkable report which the inspector-general of

furnished lodgings addressed to the prefect of police at the time of the

cholera. It tells of nothing but houses in ruin, of straw for beds in a

state of putrefaction, of darkness, of infectious smells, of filth

without example. These are some of the passages:—

“Rue ——, No. —. This house is remarkable for its excessive dirt. It is a

genuine centre of infection. It is inhabited solely by thieves,

smugglers, beggars, and prostitutes. It is impossible to enter without

being suffocated.

“Rue ——, No. —. This house fixes the attention by its construction and

filth. There are no beds, except some loathsome pallets; animal remains,

intestines, and the refuse of meals, are rotting in the court; all the

chambers look on a corridor completely deprived of air and light; the

sinks and the privies of every story are loathsome from ordure and fecal

matter. It is the hideous abode of vice and misery.

“Rue ——, No. —. The court of this house is four feet square, and is full

of dung; the chambers, crowded with occupants, open on it; the privies,

dilapidated to the fifth floor, let the fecal matter fall upon the

staircase, which is covered with it to the bottom. Many of the rooms

have no other aperture than the door which opens upon this staircase.

The house is the resort of sharpers, of thieves, of the most filthy

prostitutes, and of everything that is most abject both of men and

women.

“Rue du Faubourg ——, No. —. A house occupied from top to bottom by

chiffonniers, mendicants, street-organists, street-walkers, and Italian

boys, who go about with animals. All these sleep upon rags picked from

the street, and of which there is a depôt on the ground-floor. More

complete abjectness it is impossible to witness.

“Rue ——, No. —. This house is the resort of all that is most abased. It

is exclusively inhabited by thieves, prostitutes, discharged criminals,

beggars, vagabonds, gamesters, and every species of rogues. The greatest

filth reigns everywhere; the windows are made of oiled paper instead of

glass; the rooms are infected; at each story the ordure of the privies

flows upon the staircase.”[58]

Another French writer, M. Frégier, has given the following description

of the external appearance of these abodes:—“The streets, not, at

farthest, more than eight feet wide, are dirty, and flanked by lofty

houses, four stories high, which are blackened by time. The height of

the houses renders the streets gloomy and damp, and the houses

themselves are dark, particularly on the ground-floor. Spirit shops,

beer shops, and low eating houses abound. The gloom of these shops,

joined to the repulsive physiognomy of the streets, infuse a secret

horror into the visitor who is led there by the spirit of observation,

and who knows that the greater part of the shops are the habitual resort

of the lowest prostitutes, and of rogues that live in the neighbourhood.

The lodgings and places of dissipation frequented by this part of the

population are worthy, from their filth, of the streets and quarters in

which they are situated.”[59]

20.-_Extract from the Report of the Commission appointed by the Central

Board of Public Health to ascertain the Condition of the Dwellings of

the Working Classes in Brussels, and to suggest Means for their

Improvement._

Our inquiries have led us more particularly into the most populous and

miserable districts into which the working classes are continually

crowding, in proportion as new and elegant buildings have encroached

upon the districts within the heart of the capital, formerly almost

exclusively occupied by those classes. We have visited successively, in

the district of _Minimes_, the _rue des Pignons_, and _de la

Samaritane_, the _cul-de-sac des Minimes_, the alley _des Prêtres_, _les

rues de l’Epris_, _du Bourreau_, _de la Oventail_, &c.; in the district

_de la Chapelle_, _les rues des Ménages_, _du Radro_, _de la Rasière_,

_des Rats_, _du Renard_, &c.; in the district _de la rue d’Anderlecht_,

_la rue des Navets_, and the alley _au Lait_. We entered into a great

number of the dwellings. We not only inquired, but also inspected, in

order that we might ascertain the truth of the statements which were

made to us. In now presenting the results of this inquiry, we do not

hesitate to call your attention to the very important facts which have

been gathered, at the same time that we ask your indulgence for the

imperfect manner in which we have been able to perform the duties

committed to our zeal and exertions.

The misery of the localities we have visited struck us immediately, from

their appearance of uniform poverty. The streets and alleys, at all

times dirty and ill-paved, in times of rain or thaw had the appearance

of a pestilential mire; the water had no means of running off, and the

smallness of the passages, the absence of courts or gardens, the

crowding of families, and the detestable modes of building, rendered all

circulation of air or ventilation quite impossible. The most

indispensable conveniences were entirely wanting in most of the houses.

They had no pumps, nor privies, nor sewers, except one in common.

Indeed, we saw seventy houses that were provided with only one pump or

one privy for the whole of that number.

If you enter the houses, the spectacle which is there presented to your

view is, if anything, still more wretched. If the arrangement and order

to be seen in some of the rooms recall the proverbial neatness of the

Flemish, on the other hand, the houses occupied by large families, the

alleys, the passages, and the stairs, are generally disgustingly filthy;

the brush of the whitewasher never passes along them, or if they are

ever cleaned, it is only to attract new tenants, who soon restore them

to their primitive dirtiness. The steepness of the stairs, which,

indeed, are often more like ladders, must be a perpetual cause of

accidents, especially to the young children. The space occupied by a

family is generally much too confined for each of the members to receive

the quantity of fresh air necessary for the preservation of health.

Hence their appearance is generally that of suffering and of bad

condition. The children are pale and emaciated, and bear all the visible

signs of premature suffering. The number of those who are rickety and

scrofulous is considerable, and the mortality amongst the children and

the aged exceeds all the most unfavourable averages. As we pass along

these receptacles of misery, we feel astonished to see so few old

people; an early death has carried them beyond their wretchedness: and

if inquiries are made of parents, there are few who have not lost one or

more children. It would be important to compare the proportion of deaths

in the families of the rich and of the indigent. There is little doubt

that this comparison would prove that misery, the want of proper air and

space, the occupations of these people, and privations of every sort,

sensibly diminish the period of life of the working classes.

In these wretched habitations everything is sacrificed generally to the

rapacity of the proprietor. Every repair which affects the health or the

comfort of the tenant merely, and that is not necessary to prevent the

total ruin of the dwelling, is entirely neglected. What is the use of

cleaning the walls for people whose habits are filthy? Why make windows

for the entrance of air and light, or repair a sewer, or cleanse an

alley covered with stagnant water, for people who are accustomed to

pestilential smells? It is what a proprietor can never understand. Do

not believe, however, that these dreadful abodes are rented at their

proper value. On the contrary, the unfortunate people obliged to live in

these houses, because all better ones are closed against them, in

reality pay a higher rent than for a wholesome room in a good house.

21. _Principles of Sanitary Police in Germany. Extracts from Professor_

MOHL.

It is one important duty of a State to provide abundant supplies of

water for its people; and this duty is based on the impossibility, in

many cases, for individuals by their own exertions to procure even the

barest necessary quantity of water, and also that it requires much skill

to distinguish that which is of a good quality from that which is

injurious. The State ought, therefore, to provide water of the best

quality in sufficient abundance, and to arrange also for its most

extensive distribution: this is often attended with great difficulties

and with much expense, if the district is naturally ill-supplied with

springs of water; or where a town, being large, requires more water than

its own surface springs, or those of the immediate neighbourhood, can

supply. Without maintaining that the example given us by ancient

nations, of munificent expenditure in the laying out of aqueducts, &c.,

is one which we, therefore, are obliged to follow, yet it may be

demanded of the State, that it should provide water, at least so far as

the absolute wants of life require, by aqueducts or pipes, or at least

by cisterns, laid down at the public expense. For the sake of the poorer

classes, it does not seem advisable that this duty should be handed over

to a private company.[60]

An injudicious economy on this point affects most injuriously the habits

of cleanliness, and consequently the health of the lower classes. Water

is properly distributed when every district is provided with an

abundance of springs or wells. Loss of time, danger of fire,

difficulties in the time of contagious diseases, are the consequences of

the wells being few in number, even though each one should furnish a

large stream of water.

It is a well-known fact, that locality has a great effect on the life

and health of the inhabitants, and especially according as it offers the

means of proper circulation of air or not. Thus, elevated situations are

generally more healthy than places shut in by hills. In towns, those

parts which are traversed by broad streets, are always more healthy than

those which are so closely covered with houses as never to be properly

ventilated, or where the sun can never penetrate to dry up the moisture;

but an ill-drained situation is the most injurious to health.

The healthiness of a whole town is often essentially improved by the

formation of a single sewer or drain: in other places, it requires very

extended operations to produce the same effect. We may include amongst

the various influences, the ditches surrounding the cities filled with

stagnant water; by draining these, not only a purer air is gained, but

also a fertile piece of land. It ought to be remarked here, however,

that this work of draining water, and the removal of the mud, ought to

be done in the cold season; if not, dangerous fevers will in all

probability be the consequence.

The foul air arising from marshy land, when that is necessary, as in the

cultivation of rice, is an evil for which there is no remedy.[61]

Another means of improving the healthiness of a town, is by proper

attention to the breadth, and to the direction of the streets in all the

new quarters of the town. The streets ought to intersect, each other at

right angles, and not at too great distances: the direction of the

streets, also, should not run due north and south, as in that case the

streets lying parallel in one direction, would be scorched by the sun,

and without any shade during mid-day; whilst the streets running at

right angles to these, would never be warmed by a ray of sunshine.

The health of towns would also be much improved by the prohibition of

all cellars as dwelling-houses, by legislative enactments as to the

elevation of the ground-floor of dwelling-houses above the level of the

streets, also as to the construction of proper conveniences attached to

dwelling-houses; and by regulations with regard to the proper size of

windows: also by regulations regarding the strictest cleanliness of the

streets, as this is more important in its effects on the health

generally, than even the situation of a town, or attention to its mode

of building. By attention to it, Holland is inhabitable; by the neglect

of it, Cairo and Constantinople are the very hot-beds of the plague.

The first means to attain this cleanliness is by a proper paving of all

the streets, in order to lay the district dry. Without this, the streets

are either a stream of mud, or a sea of dust; in both cases equally

injurious to the health. It is often expensive to get a hard material

for the purpose of pavement; but when obtained, the expense of keeping

it in repair is much less. When it is possible, the streets should be

kept clean, by turning on them a stream of water,—the drains being

always kept well open to receive it afterwards. Every inhabitant should

be obliged to keep the portion of the street clean before his own door.

The refuse of the town ought to be conveyed away, at the expense of the

town, to some part of the country, removed from all dwelling-houses.

22.—_A Report on the Statements of Dr. Mauthner regarding the Cotton

Manufactures, given at the Monthly Meeting on the 2nd of November, 1841.

By_ Herr L. M. VON PACHER.

At the meeting of the 7th of June, Dr. Mauthner sent in a report on the

condition of the children employed in the cotton-works, in which he gave

an exposition of the evidence, partly of his own experience and partly

on the reports of others, of the moral and physical evils which the

various branches of manufacture bring with them, and proposals were put

into the hands of the owners of the mills for preventing the evils so

strongly denounced.

The learned meeting determined to appoint a special commission to

inquire into so grave and important a matter. This body held its first

meeting on the 29th of July, at which our much-esteemed chairman

presided, and I had the honour to be commissioned to inquire into that

part of the report of Dr. Mauthner which treats more particularly of the

effects of the cotton manufactures.

Before I enter upon the discussion on the special points of inquiry,

permit me to lay before you a few general remarks on the nature of our

inquiry, and of the condition of the people employed in the

cotton-works, more particularly of Lower Austria. It must first be

conceded that the condition of the children working in the factories is

closely connected with the condition of the rest of the working

population, and cannot be considered separately. Our president felt the

necessity of considering them in connexion throughout the various parts

of the inquiry which he had proposed to himself; and, before the

commencement of our inquiry, it was generally agreed that our attention

should extend also to the condition of the adult workpeople.

We could not conceal from ourselves that we were undertaking a subject

at once the most important and the most delicate,—an inquiry which might

disclose to the general public that the unhappy signs of the times were

to be seen in our affairs, and which also, without cause, might alarm a

very excitable class as to their own condition. English and French

journals are full of the most striking descriptions of the physical and

moral evils of the manufacturing population; and not without ground, as

we learn from the various commissions of inquiry appointed by the

respective governments. With your permission I will quote a passage from

a report which the Commission de l’Intendance Sanataire du Nord drew up

in the year 1832, and which unfortunately has not been found exaggerated

even in later periods. It is word for word as follows:—

Report to Her Majesty's Principal Secretary of State For the Home Department, from the Poor Law Commissioners, on an Inquiry Into the Sanitary Condition of the Labouring Population of Great Britain; With Appendices · 第 58 / 65 段