of Italy which stretches away from the base of the mountain, and we
tried to imagine that we could now and then catch a glimpse of the
Mediterranean Sea. The rough mountains were piled above and around us,
frequently in fantastic shapes, and we found the air getting steadily
more and more cool as we made the ascent.
Finally on the summit, only a few hours after leaving a tropical
temperature in Italy, we were riding amid fields of snow, and
shivering in our travelling coats and thick shawls.
[Sidenote: DESCENDING THE MOUNTAIN.]
The ascent was slow, but the descent on the French side was rapid. As
we passed the boundary between France and Italy, our driver gathered
his reins, and the horses went at full speed down the magnificent
road. We left a cloud of dust filling the air behind us, and were
whirled along so rapidly that I sometimes thought we might be tossed
over one of the precipices in some of the short windings of the
road. At every half mile there is a small shed, or house, known as
the “refuge.” It is intended for travellers who are overtaken on the
mountain, during the winter season, by violent snow-storms.
As it was summer we had no occasion to seek these refuges, but it was
easy to see that they were of great advantage in protecting and saving
life during the severer portion of the year.
At Lans-le-bourg we stopped at the French custom-house to undergo
an examination; but our baggage was so small in quantity, and we
manifested such a readiness to submit it to inspection, that the
officers of customs did not detain us. Behind us was a carriage, in
which were two American ladies, and they drove up a few moments before
we started. They had that enormous amount of baggage peculiar to their
sex and race, and protested that their trunks contained nothing of
value. But the custom officers were inexorable, and as we drove away,
the trunks of the ladies were being unpacked, and were undergoing a
rigid examination. If you wish to avoid trouble at custom-houses when
travelling in Europe, never carry a large amount of baggage, and never
show the least hesitation to open it for inspection. Many a time have
I found my baggage passed without examination, while the next man’s
would be overhauled, and, as nearly as I could judge, only for the
reason that he urged the officers not to look at it, and assured them
that it contained nothing contraband.
[Sidenote: SURROUNDINGS OF MONT CENIS.]
At Modane we found the base of operations for the northern part of the
tunnel, and here we halted to make our investigations. By the way, I
never have been able to make out why the name of Mont Cenis should be
attached to the famous tunnel, since that mountain is about twenty
miles away from it. The tunnel does not pass under Mont Cenis, but
under three peaks called Col Frejus, Le Grand Vallon, and Col de la
Roue, the first being on the French, the third being on the Italian
slope, and the second about half way between the two. I suppose,
however, that the tunnel was named after Mont Cenis because it is
better known than any other summit or range in this neighborhood, and
because it would be better to give it a name which does not belong
to it at all, rather than naming it after any one of the three peaks
deserving equal distinction.
Modane, or, more properly speaking, Fourneaux, was the base of
operations. Fourneaux is a miserable little village in a narrow gorge
in the valley of the Arc, and its inhabitants are chiefly remarkable
for their deformity and idiocy. The Grand Vallon is eleven thousand
feet above the sea level, and crowned with snow. Its sides are steep,
and it would be quite impossible to carry a railway over it. The other
mountains on the route are equally rugged in character, but their
height above makes little difference with the workings carried on in
their interior.
The Mont Cenis Tunnel is the largest in the world, extending from
Fourneaux, on the French side, to Bardouneche, on the Italian side.
When it was begun, with the ordinary system, of hand drills, it was
found that at the ordinary rate of progress, it would take thirty or
forty years to finish the work. With an ordinary tunnel, where the
elevation of earth or rock is not very great, shafts are sunk along
the line, as before stated; but in this case it was impossible to sink
these vertical shafts, on account of the great distance. A necessity
arose for penetrating the rock much faster than by ordinary means, and
there was also a necessity for supplying the workmen with fresh air.
[Sidenote: SOMMELIER’S AIR COMPRESSOR.]
These necessities led to Sommelier’s invention of drills worked by
compressed air, and of the machinery for compressing the air. The
machines have already been described in connection with the Hoosac
Tunnel. A great many experiments were made before the air could be
successfully used; but finally, when they were completed, the work
progressed rapidly. By means of the compressors that were worked by a
stream of water from the mountain, the air was reduced to one sixth of
its natural bulk, and thus, when liberated, it exercised an expansive
force equal to six atmospheres. The compressing machines used at most
tunnels to-day are simply enormous and very powerful pumps, but the
machine of Sommelier used the weight of water. Twenty or more large
iron tubes were placed in an upright position. The “head” of the
supply was far up the mountain side, and the water was brought to the
machine in an iron pipe. A piston perfectly tight was fitted to the
tube, the water was turned on, and its weight, added to the head it
had received, compressed the air in the tube. As it was compressed, a
valve was opened, through which it could escape into a reservoir. From
this reservoir the air was conveyed in an iron pipe into the tunnel,
where it was used to work the perforators.
We found that the entrance to the tunnel was quite a distance up the
side of the mountain, and it was evident that considerable engineering
skill would be required to bring the railway track thither when the
work was completed. Opposite the mouth of the tunnel, my attention
was called to a large target, made of boards painted white, and
securely fastened against the rock. The target was used for the proper
alignment of the work. At every foot of progress into the mountain,
bearings were carefully taken. At night a Drummond light was placed in
the centre of the target, so that it could be visible from the middle
of the mountain.
It will be seen that it was a work requiring the utmost caution to
lay out the route and direction of the tunnel through the mountain. A
variation of a hundredth part of an inch at any point in the surveys
would have changed the course of the working on one side or the other,
so that the two ends would not meet. Bear in mind that these surveys
were carried from the valley of the Arc to the valley of the Dora,—the
opposite points being eight miles apart,—and the route lying, not
through level fields and meadows, but over three rough and high
mountains, where there was no path beyond that which the surveyors
and their assistants laid out. And yet, so carefully was the work
performed from the two sides, that the workings were brought together
exactly, without a variation of a single foot.
[Sidenote: RULES IN REGARD TO VISITORS.]
The entrance to the tunnel is about twenty-five feet wide, and the
same in height. To go inside the workings, you are clad with a rubber
suit, and supplied with a lamp, and accompanied by a guide. For some
time after the working began, almost any one could be admitted; but it
was found that the workmen were greatly hindered by frequent visits,
so that the rules became very strict. No one could enter the tunnel,
unless employed there, without a pass from the management, though it
was not very difficult for a journalist or a person of influence or
prominence to obtain admission. As fast as the work progressed, a
double railway was laid down to carry in the materials used in the
working, and to bring out the broken rock. There was a narrow sidewalk
of flagged stone on each side. The pipes for the air were ranged along
the side of the tunnel, and between the lines of the rails, in a deep
trench, were the gas and water pipes.
Like all tunnels this one was damp, from the streams of water
coming through the roof; and if you wondered before entering, why
you should be asked to wear a rubber coat, your wonder speedily
ceased. At the time of my visit the workmen were nearly three miles
from the entrance,—that is to say, the tunnel was finished for that
distance,—while for about a quarter of a mile the men had cut the
heading, but the upper part of the tunnel had not been opened.
The heading is the most difficult part of the work, and in all tunnel
operations the workmen at the heading are kept sufficiently in advance
of the enlargers, so that one party will not be in the other’s way.
The passage from the entrance through the finished portion was
comparatively easy, but after you reached the newly-opened part you
found it more difficult. There were wagons and men moving to and
fro, and fragments of rock were lying everywhere about. The space
was narrow, and every little while you found yourself running much
nearer a man or a mule than you wished to; unless you moved about very
carefully, you were under the risk of being run over by a mule, or
crushed by the wheels of a wagon.
The perforators kept up a perpetual din, and you could hardly hear
yourself speak; and I have heard persons aver that you could not
hear yourself think. The drill of the Mont Cenis machine stands on a
carriage, which the Italians call the “Affusto,” and it strikes about
two hundred blows a minute. Its force upon the rock is about two
hundred pounds.
A stream of water is thrown upon the rock into the drill-hole, to
facilitate the perforating process.
The wear and tear of machinery in the tunnel were very great, owing to
the hardness of the rock. Every fifteen minutes it was necessary to
change the drills, and a great many _affusti_ were worn out.
[Sidenote: DESTRUCTION OF DRILLING MACHINES.]
It was estimated that by the time the tunnel was completed four
thousand machines were utterly worn out. At the entrance of the tunnel
we saw a great many of these disabled _affusti_, reminding us of
worn-out carriages around a stable.
[Illustration: BORING MACHINES USED IN MOUNT CENIS TUNNEL, THE
ALPS.—THE LARGEST TUNNEL IN THE WORLD, CONNECTING FRANCE AND ITALY.]
With the exception that the workmen were clad in different costumes,
and were shouting in French instead of English, the work was very much
like that already described in the Hoosac Tunnel. Accidents were much
more frequent in the Mont Cenis Tunnel than in the Hoosac Tunnel, for
the reason that much less care was taken. It was said that nearly
twelve hundred men lost their lives in the tunnel, or in connection
with it, during the time of its construction,—at least, some of the
workmen said so,—while the guides and directors insisted that the loss
of life had not been more than one tenth of the number. Owing to the
hardness of the rock the cost of the work was very great. Taking the
average of the whole length of the tunnel, it was one thousand dollars
a lineal yard, making a total, in round numbers, of fifteen millions
of dollars.
The expense was shared between the French and Italian governments, and
the tunnel will form a bond of union between the two nations greater
than could be made by any other use of the same amount of money. By
the terms of the convention between the governments, the tunnel is to
remain uninjured should France and Italy be engaged in hostilities
against each other. The tunnel shortens the route of travel very
materially, and where the route of travel is shortened the work of
peace and good will among men is greatly facilitated.
[Sidenote: TUNNEL UNDER THE ENGLISH CHANNEL.]
A tunnel has been proposed for the Straits of Dover, between England
and France, and several plans have been considered. The London Times
stated, early in 1872, that a company has been formed and funds
subscribed to the amount of some one hundred and fifty thousand
pounds, with the immediate object of making a trial shaft, and driving
a driftway on the English side about half a mile beyond low-water
mark, with the view of proving the practicability of tunnelling
under the Channel. The completion of this work will furnish data for
calculating the cost of continuing the driftway from each shore to
a junction in mid-channel, and capital will then be subscribed for
that purpose, or for enlarging it to the size of an ordinary railway
tunnel, as the engineers may deem most expedient.
The tunnel will be made through the lower or gray chalk chiefly, if
not entirely, and by the adoption of machinery, of which the promoters
of this company have recently made practical trials, it is expected
the passage from shore to shore can be opened within three years from
the time of commencing the work, and at a cost very considerably less
than any previous estimates.
[Sidenote: COST OF TUNNELS.]
The same paper, referring to the proposed enterprise, gives the
following details about railway and other tunnels: “The cost of
existing tunnels has been governed by such various conditions of
locality and soil, that they can have little bearing upon the present
question. It may be worth while, nevertheless, to cite a few prominent
examples. The Mont Cenis Tunnel has cost one hundred and ninety-five
pounds per linear yard, which would amount, for a length of twenty-two
miles, to seven millions four hundred and fifty thousand four hundred
pounds. The three most costly tunnels made in England have been
the Kilsby, the Saltwood, and the Bletchingley, each of which was
executed in treacherous strata, giving out large quantities of water.
In making the Kilsby Tunnel a hidden quicksand was discovered, by
which the works were drowned out. For a considerable time all pumping
apparatus appeared insufficient, but by the employment of one thousand
two hundred and fifty men, two hundred horses, and thirteen steam
engines, working night and day for eight months, one thousand eight
hundred gallons per minute were raised from the quicksand alone. The
cost of the work was raised from ninety thousand pounds, the original
estimate, to three hundred and fifty thousand pounds, or one hundred
and forty-five pounds per yard for two thousand four hundred yards.
The same rate of expense for twenty-two miles would amount to five
millions six hundred and forty-six thousand six hundred and twenty
pounds. The Saltwood Tunnel cost one hundred and eighteen pounds per
yard, the Bletchingley seventy-two pounds; or for twenty-two miles,
four millions five hundred and sixty-eight thousand nine hundred and
sixty pounds, and two millions seven hundred and eighty-seven thousand
eight hundred and forty pounds, respectively.
“The cost of railway tunnels in France has varied from thirty
pounds per yard—being that of Terre Noire, on the Paris, Lyons,
and Mediterranean Railway, to ninety-five pounds per yard, that of
Batignolles, near Paris, on the Chemin de Fer de l’Ouest. In Belgium,
Braine le Comte Tunnel cost forty-six pounds per metre, and the
tunnels on the Liège and Verviers line fifty pounds per metre. In
Switzerland the very difficult Hauenstein Tunnel between Basle and
Berne cost eighty pounds a yard.
[Sidenote: ESTIMATE OF THE CHANNEL TUNNEL.]
“In America, the Hoosac Tunnel, in Massachusetts, through mica slate,
mixed with quartz, has up to this time cost one hundred and eighty
pounds per yard, and the Moorhouse Tunnel, in New Zealand, through
lava streams and beds of tufa, intersected by vertical dikes of
phonolite, cost sixty-eight pounds fifteen shillings per yard. It
will be a convenient standard of comparison for these amounts if we
remember that twenty-five pounds per yard would represent very nearly
a million sterling for the twenty-two miles. Any estimate for the
Channel Tunnel must at present be purely conjectural, and an estimate
professing to embrace contingencies must be more conjectural than
any other; but it is reckoned that the work, if practicable at all,
could be completed within five years of time, and for five millions of
money.”
XXXV.
THE PARISIAN SEWERS.
THE SEWERS OF PARIS.—THEIR EXTENT.—A JOURNEY THROUGH THEM.—THE
START AND THE MODE OF TRAVEL.—DESCRIPTION OF THE GREAT
SEWER.—ACCIDENTS OF SEWER TRAVEL.—HISTORY OF THE SEWERS.—THEIR
FIRST GREAT INSPECTION.—BRUNESEAU.—INUNDATION FROM THE SEWERS.—A
MAN LOST.—HORRIBLE DEATH IN THE SEWERS.—THE OLD AND THE NEW.—THE
EXCAVATIONS.—NATURE OF THE WORK.—BREAKAGE OF THE CANAL.—JEAN
VALJEAN IN THE SEWERS OF PARIS.—HIS FIRST SENSATION.—CAUGHT IN A
LABYRINTH.—THE SEWERS OF ST. DENIS, AND THE MARKETS.—CAUGHT IN
THE WATER.—THE POLICE IN PURSUIT.—FRIGHT OF THE FUGITIVE.—THE
QUICKSAND ON THE COAST OF BRITTANY.—A HORRIBLE DEATH.—QUICKSAND IN
THE SEWERS.—HOW IT WAS FORMED.—JEAN VALJEAN IN THE QUICKSAND.—HIS
SUFFERINGS AND ESCAPE.
Paris, the gayest and brightest city in the world, has an underground
life surpassing that of any other metropolis. Beneath the broad
streets there are many miles of sewers constructed on a plan that
furnishes a complete system of drainage. The total length of the Paris
sewers is now about four hundred and thirty-four thousand yards, or
three hundred miles. The length of galleries to be constructed in
course of time is about two thousand yards more. To organize the
network of sewers, the site of the capital has been divided into five
basins, of which three are on the right and two on the left bank of
the Seine.
Six great principal galleries, cutting the city nearly at right
angles, and having for tributaries fifteen secondary galleries, out of
which branch a multitude of galleries of less importance, constitute
the principal arteries of the network. Three of the six principal
galleries are on the right bank of the river: the first is that of the
quays; the second descends the Boulevard de Sebastopol, and joins the
first at the Place du Chatelet; and the third runs from the Place
de la Bastille to the Place de la Concorde, through the streets St.
Antoine and de Rivoli.
On the left bank the first gallery includes the line of the quays
from the Pont d’Austerlitz to the Pont d’Iéna; the second follows the
Boulevard St. Michel from the Place de l’Observatoire to the Pont St.
Michel; and the third receives the Bièvre, and at the Rue St. Jacques
joins the long gallery into which the sewer of the Boulevard St.
Michel falls.
[Sidenote: IN THE SEWERS OF PARIS.]
The sewers, or at any rate a portion of them, are interesting places
to visit, though nobody would care to live in them. Only a limited
number of permissions are granted, and these only on stated days. I
experienced considerable difficulty in securing a ticket, and it was
only after exercising patience and perseverance to a liberal degree
that my wishes were granted.
[Illustration: PLACE DE LA CONCORDE, PARIS.]
The ordinary route for visitors is to enter at the Place de la
Concorde, or near the Madeleine Church, and come out at the Place du
Chatelet. The sewer between these points is very broad and high, and
is evidently the show-place of the whole system. In the centre is a
canal about eight feet wide, and at its edges there are rails for the
wheels of cars propelled by the workmen, who walk at the sides. The
sidewalks are broad and carefully swept, so that one could walk upon
them without difficulty. Visitors are generally seated in the cars
and pushed along by the men to whom they are expected to give some
money at the end of the journey. The car moves above the canal, and
every visitor is surprised at the absence of foul odors and at the
general cleanliness of the place. On each side of the larger sewers,
and supported on iron posts, there are large pipes for the conveyance
of water, and in some places the telegraph wires and gas tubes are
visible.
[Sidenote: LADIES IN A SEWER.]
When everything is in order, there is very little to see, and a
hundred yards or so are as good as the entire distance. The faint
rumbling of the carriages can be heard overhead, but otherwise the
silence is unbroken, save by the voices of the visitors and workmen,
and the occasional sound of falling water. The party to which I was
assigned was a serious one, and made very little noise, compared
to one a little way in advance, and containing several ladies. The
presence of lovely women can add a charm to a sewer, though I should
hesitate to take a feminine acquaintance into such a place until I had
first made the journey. We had no incident of importance greater than
the loss of a hat, which was crushed beneath the car wheels, and the
narrow escape of the owner from a tumble overboard as he attempted
to clutch the falling article. The place was well lighted with gas;
but I think everybody was glad to see the light of day as it streamed
through the opening at the Place du Chatelet.
The sewers of Paris were begun several hundred years ago. The exact
date is not known; in fact, their history is not exactly known,
and some of it is mixed up with a great deal of fiction. In _Les
Misérables_, Victor Hugo has given a graphic account of them, though,
like much that he has written, the account is not always strictly
true. (I quote his language.) He says, “The sewer of Paris, in the
middle ages, was legendary. In the sixteenth century, Henry II.
attempted an examination, which failed. Less than a hundred years ago,
the cloaca, Mercier bears witness, was abandoned to itself, and became
what it might.
“Such was that ancient Paris, given up to quarrels, to indecisions,
and to gropings. It was for a long time stupid enough. Afterwards,
‘89 showed how cities come to their wits. But, in the good old times,
the capital had little head; she could not manage her affairs either
morally or materially, nor better sweep away her filth than her
abuses. Everything was an obstacle, everything raised a question.
The sewer, for instance, was refractory to all itineracy. Men could
no more succeed in guiding themselves through its channels than in
understanding themselves in the city; above, the unintelligible,
below, the inextricable; beneath the confusion of tongues there was
the confusion of caves; labyrinth-lined Babel.
[Sidenote: INUNDATION OF THE SEWERS.]
“Sometimes the sewer of Paris took it into its head to overflow, as if
that unappreciated Nile were suddenly seized with wrath. There were,
infamous to relate, inundations from the sewer. The inundation of 1802
is a present reminiscence with old Parisians. The mire spread out in a
cross in the Place des Victoires, where the statue of Louis XIV. is;
it entered the Rue St. Honoré by the two mouths of the sewer of the
Champs Elysées, the Rue St. Florentin by the St. Florentin sewer, the
Rue Pierre à Poisson by the sewer of the Sonnerie, the Rue Popincourt
by the sewer of the Chemin Vert, the Rue de la Roquette by the sewer
of the Rue de Sappe; it covered the curbstones of the Rue des Champs
Elysées to the depth of some fourteen inches; and on the south, by the
vomitoria of the Seine performing its function in the inverse way,
it penetrated the Rue Mazarine, the Rue de l’Echaudé, and the Rue
des Marais, where it stopped, having reached the length of a hundred
and twenty yards, just a few steps from the house which Racine had
lived in, respecting, in the seventeenth century, the poet more than
the king. It attained its maximum depth in the Rue St. Pierre, where
it rose three feet, above the flagging of the water-spouts, and its
maximum extent in the Rue St. Sabin, where it spread out over a length
of two hundred and sixty-one yards.