Dwellings of the people--Oberlin--The Highlander's
candlesticks--Supply of water--London waterworks--
Street-lights--Sewers.
It is satisfactory to observe that the increase of houses has kept pace
with the increase of population. In 1801, in Great Britain, there was a
population of ten million five hundred thousand persons, and one million
eight hundred thousand inhabited houses. In 1851 there were twenty
million eight hundred thousand persons, and three million eight hundred
thousand inhabited houses. The numbers, in each case, had, as nearly as
may be, doubled.
But it is not equally satisfactory to know that the improvement in the
quality of the houses in which the great body of those who labour for
wages abide is not commensurate with the increase in their quantity. It
is not fitting, that, whilst the general progress of science is raising,
as unquestionably it is raising, the average condition of the
people--and that whilst education is going forward, slowly indeed, but
still advancing--the bulk of those so progressing should be below their
proper standard of physical comfort, from the too common want of decent
houses to surround them with the sanctities of home.
In the great business of the improvement of their dwellings the
working-men require leaders--not demagogues, whose business is to
subvert, and not to build up--but leaders like the noble pastor,
Oberlin, who converted a barren district into a fruitful, by the example
of his unremitting energy. This district was cut off from the rest of
the world by the want of roads. Close at hand was Strasburg, full of all
the conveniences of social life. There was no money to make roads--but
there was abundant power of labour. There were rocks to be blasted,
embankments to be raised, bridges to be built. The undaunted clergyman
took a pickaxe, and went to work himself. He worked alone, till the
people were ashamed of seeing him so work. They came at last to perceive
that the thing was to be done, and that it was worth the doing. In three
years the road was made. If there were an Oberlin to lead the
inhabitants of every filthy street, and the families of every wretched
house, to their own proper work of improvement, a terrible evil would be
soon removed, which is as great an impediment to the productive powers
of a country, and therefore to the happiness of its people, as the want
of ready communication, or any other appliance of civilization. The
enormity of the evil would be appalling, if the capability of its
removal in some degree were not equally certain.
Whatever a government may attempt--whatever municipalities or benevolent
associations--there can be nothing so effectual in the upholding to a
proper mark the domestic comfort of the working-men of this country, as
their firm resolve to uphold themselves.
Still, unhappily, it is an undoubted fact that the most industrious men
in large cities are too often unable to procure a fit dwelling, however
able to pay for it and desirous to procure it. The houses have been
built with no reference to such increasing wants. The idle and the
diligent, the profligate and the prudent, the criminal and the honest,
the diseased and the healthful, are therefore thrust into close
neighbourhood. There is no escape. Is this terrible evil incapable of
remedy? To discover that remedy, and apply it, is truly a national
concern; for assuredly there is no capital of a country so worth
preserving in the highest state of efficiency as the capital it
possesses in an industrious population. There is a noble moral in a
passage of Scott's romance, 'The Legend of Montrose.' A Highland chief
had betted with a more luxurious English baronet whom he had visited,
that he had better candlesticks at home than the six silver ones which
the richer man had put upon his dinner-table. The Englishman went to the
chief's castle in the hills, where the owner was miserable about the
issue of his bragging bet. But his brother had a device which saved the
honour of the clan. The attendant announced that the dinner was ready,
and the candles lighted. Behind each chair for the guests stood a
gigantic Highlander with his drawn sword in his right hand, and a
blazing torch in his left, made of the bog-pine; and the brother
exclaimed to the startled company--'Would you dare to compare to THEM in
value the richest ore that ever was dug out of the mine?'
We may naturally pass from these considerations to a most important
branch of the great subject of the expenditure of capital for public
objects.
* * * * *
The people who live in small villages, or in scattered habitations in
the country, have certainly not so many _direct_ benefits from machinery
as the inhabitants of towns. They have the articles at a cheap rate
which machines produce, but there are not so many machines at work for
them as for dense populations. From want of knowledge they may be unable
to perceive the connexion between a cheap coat, or a cheap tool, and the
machines which make them plentiful, and therefore cheap. But even they,
when the saving of labour by a machine is a saving which immediately
affects them, are not slow to acknowledge the benefits they derive from
that best of economy. The Scriptures allude to the painful condition of
the "hewers of wood" and the "drawers of water;" and certainly--in a
state of society where there are no machines at all, or very rude
machines--to cut down a tree and cleave it into logs, and to raise a
bucket from a well, are very laborious occupations, the existence of
which, to any extent, amongst a people, would mark them as remaining in
a wretched condition. Immediately that the people have the simplest
mechanical contrivance, such as the loaded lever, to raise water from a
well, which is found represented in Egyptian sculpture, and also in our
own Anglo-Saxon drawings, they are advancing to the condition of raising
water by machinery. The oriental _shadoof_ is a machine. In our own
country, at the present day, there are not many houses, in situations
where water is at hand, that have not the windlass, or, what is better,
the pump, to raise this great necessary of life from the well. Some
cottagers, however, have no such machines, and bitterly do they lament
the want of them. We once met an old woman in a country district
tottering under the weight of a bucket, which she was labouring to carry
up a hill. We asked her how she and her family were off in the world.
She replied, that she could do pretty well with them, for they could all
work, if it were not for one thing--it was one person's labour to fetch
water from the spring; but, said she, if we had a pump handy, we should
not have much to complain of. This old woman very wisely had no love of
labour for its own sake; she saw no advantage in the labour of one of
her family being given for the attainment of a good which she knew might
be attained by a very common invention. She wanted a machine to save
that labour. Such a machine would have set at liberty a certain quantity
of labour which was previously employed unprofitably; in other words,
it would have left her or her children more time for more profitable
work, and then the family earnings would have been increased.
[Illustration: Ancient Shadoof.]
But there is another point of view in which this machine would have
benefited the good woman and her family. Water is not only necessary to
drink and to prepare food with, but it is necessary for cleanliness, and
cleanliness is necessary for health. If there is a scarcity of water, or
if it requires a great deal of labour to obtain it, (which comes to the
same thing as a scarcity,) the uses of water for cleanliness will be
wholly or in part neglected. If the neglect becomes a habit, which it is
sure to do, disease, and that of the worst sort, cannot be prevented.
When men gather together in large bodies, and inhabit towns or cities, a
plentiful supply of water is the first thing to which they direct their
attention. If towns are built in situations where pure water cannot be
readily obtained, the inhabitants, and especially the poorer sort,
suffer even more misery than results from the want of bread or clothes.
In some cities of Spain, for instance, where the people understand very
little about machinery, water, at particular periods of the year, is as
dear as wine; and the labouring classes are consequently in a most
miserable condition. In London, on the contrary, water is so plentiful,
that, as it appears from a return of the various water companies, the
daily average of water-supply is sixty-two million gallons, being an
average of about two hundred and two gallons to each house and other
buildings, which amount to three hundred and ten thousand. This seems an
enormous supply; but there are reasons for thinking that the quantity
ought to be increased, and the arrangements made so perfect, that there
should be a perpetual stream of water through the pipes of each house,
like that through the arteries from the heart. The condition upon which
the present water companies are allowed to continue their functions is,
that they shall, before the expiration of another year, provide a larger
and a purer supply. Yet, incomplete as these arrangements are, they are
wondrous when compared with the water-supply of other times; and it is
satisfactory to know that there are very few of our great towns which
are not supplied as well as, and many much better than, London. There
are very few large places in Great Britain where, by machinery, water is
not only delivered to the kitchens and washhouses on the ground-floors,
where it is most wanted, but is sent up to the very tops of the houses,
to save even the comparatively little labour of fetching it from the
bottom. The cost of this greatly varies in particular localities; and in
most places the supply is afforded more cheaply than in the metropolis.
There are natural difficulties in London, as in other vast cities, which
have been chiefly created through the unexampled increase of the people.
The sanitary arrangements of our great towns--the supply of water, the
drainage--have followed the growth of the population and not preceded
it. As the necessity has arisen for such a ministration to the absolute
wants of a community, it has inevitably become a system of expedients.
We are wiser now when we build upon new ground. We first construct our
lines of street, with sewers, and water-pipes, and gas-pipes, and then
we build our houses. What a different affair is it to manage these
matters effectually when the houses have been previously built with very
slight reference to such conditions of social existence!
As long ago as the year 1236, when a great want of water was felt in
London, the little springs being blocked up and covered over by
buildings, the ruling men of the city caused water to be brought from
Tyburn, which was then a distant village, by means of pipes; and they
laid a tax upon particular branches of trade to pay the expense of this
great blessing to all. In succeeding times more pipes and conduits, that
is, more machinery, were established for the same good purpose; and two
centuries afterwards, King Henry the Sixth gave his aid to the same sort
of works, in granting particular advantages in obtaining lead for making
pipes. The reason for this aid to such works was, as the royal decree
set forth, that they were "for the common utility and decency of all
the city, and _for the universal advantage_," and a very true reason
this was. As this great town more and more increased, more waterworks
were found necessary; till at last, in the reign of James the First,
which was nearly two hundred years after that of Henry the Sixth, a most
ingenious and enterprising man, and a great benefactor to his country,
Hugh Myddleton, undertook to bring a river of pure water above
thirty-eight miles out of its natural course, for the supply of London.
He persevered in this immense undertaking, in spite of every difficulty,
till he at last accomplished that great good which he had proposed, of
bringing wholesome water to every man's door. At the present time, the
New River, which was the work of Hugh Myddleton, supplies more than
seventeen millions of gallons of water every day; and though the
original projector was ruined, by the undertaking, in consequence of the
difficulty which he had in procuring proper support, such is now the
general conviction of the advantage which he procured for his
fellow-citizens, and so desirous are the people to possess that
advantage, that a share in the New River Company, which was at first
sold at one hundred pounds, is now worth three thousand pounds.
Before the people of London had water brought to their own doors, and
even into their very houses, and into every room of their houses where
it is desirable to bring it, they were obliged to send for this great
article of life--first, to the few springs which were found in the city
and its neighbourhood, and, secondly, to the conduits and fountains,
which were imperfect mechanical contrivances for bringing it.
[Illustration: Conduit in Westcheap.]
The service-pipes to each house are more perfect mechanical
contrivances; but they could not have been rendered so perfect without
engines, which force the water above the level of the source from which
it is taken. When the inhabitants fetched their water from the springs
and conduits there was a great deal of human labour employed; and as in
every large community there are always people ready to perform labour
for money, many persons obtained a living by carrying water. When the
New River had been dug, and the pipes had been laid down, and the
engines had been set up, it is perfectly clear that there would have
been no further need for these water-carriers. When the people of London
could obtain two hundred gallons of water for twopence, they would not
employ a man to fetch a single bucket from the river or fountain at the
same price. They would not, for the mere love of employing human labour
directly, continue to buy an article very dear, which, by mechanical
aid, they could buy very cheap. If they had resolved, from any mistaken
notions about machinery, to continue to employ the water-carriers, they
must have been contented with one gallon of water a day instead of two
hundred gallons. Or if they had consumed a larger quantity, and
continued to pay the price of bringing it to them by hand, they must
have denied themselves other necessaries and comforts. They must have
gone without a certain portion of food, or clothing, or fuel, which they
are now enabled to obtain by the saving in the article of water. To have
had for each house two hundred gallons of water, and, in having this two
hundred gallons of water, to have had the cleanliness and health which
result from its use, would have been utterly impossible. The supply of
one gallon, instead of two hundred gallons to each house, would at
present amount to 310,000 gallons daily; which at a penny a gallon would
cost 1291_l._ per day; or 9037_l._ per week; or 469,724_l._, or very
nearly half a million, per year. Upon the assumption that one man,
without any mechanical arrangement besides his can, could carry twenty
gallons a day, thus earning ten shillings a week, this would employ no
fewer than 18,074 persons--a very army of water-carriers. To supply ten
gallons a day to each house would cost nearly five millions a year, and
would employ 180,740 persons. To supply two hundred gallons a day would
require 3,614,800 persons--a number exceeding the total population of
London. The whole number of persons engaged in the waterworks' service
of all Great Britain is under 1000.
[Illustration: Old water-carrier of London.]
There is now, certainly, no labour to be performed by water-carriers.
But suppose that five hundred years ago, when there were a small number
of persons who gained their living by such drudgery, they had determined
to prevent the bringing of water by pipes into London. Suppose also that
they had succeeded; and that up to the present day we had no pipes or
other mechanical aids for supplying the water. It is quite evident that
if this misfortune had happened--if the welfare of the many had been
retarded (for it never could have been finally stopped) by the ignorance
of the few--London, as we have already shown, would not have had a
twentieth part of its present population; and the population of every
other town, depending as population does upon the increase of
_profitable_ labour, could never have gone forward. How then would the
case have stood as to the amount of labour engaged in the supply of
water? A few hundred, at the utmost a few thousand, carriers of water
would have been employed throughout the kingdom; while the smelters and
founders of iron of which water-pipes are made, the labourers who lay
down these pipes, the founders of lead who make the service-pipes, and
the plumbers who apply them; the carriers, whether by water or land, who
are engaged in bringing them to the towns, the manufacturers of the
engines which raise the water, the builders of the houses in which the
engines stand--these, and many other labourers and mechanics who
directly and indirectly contribute to the same public advantage, could
never have been called into employment. To have continued to use the
power of the water-carriers would have rendered the commodity two
hundred times dearer than it is supplied by mechanical power. The
present cheapness of production, by mechanical power, supplies
employment to an infinitely greater number of persons than could have
been required by a perseverance in the rude and wasteful system which
belonged to former ages of ignorance and wretchedness.
When a severe frost chokes up the small water-pipes that conduct the
useful stream into each house, what anxiety and trouble is there in
every thoroughfare! The main pipes are not frozen; and the supply is to
be got in pails and pitchers from a plug in the pavement, where a
temporary cock is inserted. How gladly is this device resorted to! But
imagine it to be the labour of every day, and what an amount of
profitable time would be deducted from domestic employ!
[Illustration: Plug in a frost.]
When society is more perfectly organized than it is at present, and when
the great body of the people understand the value of co-operation for
procuring advantages that individuals cannot attain, public baths will
be established in every town, and in every district of a town. The great
Roman people had public baths for all ranks; and remains of their baths
still exist in this country. The great British people have only thought
within these few years that public baths were a necessity. The
establishment of public washhouses, in connexion with baths, having
every advantage of machinery and economical arrangements, are real
blessings to the few who now use them.
It is little more than thirty years since London was lighted with gas.
Pall Mall was thus lighted in 1807, by a chartered company, to whose
claims for support the majority of householders were utterly opposed.
They had their old oil-lamps, which were thought absolute perfection.
The main pipes which convey gas to the London houses are now fifteen
hundred miles in length. There are, we believe, nearly a thousand
proprietory gas-works in Great Britain. The noblest prospect in the
world is London from Hampstead Heath on a bright winter's evening. The
stars are shining in heaven, but there are thousands of earthly stars
glittering in the city there spread before us: and as we look into any
small space of that wondrous illumination, we can trace long lines of
light losing themselves in the general splendor of the distance, and we
can see dim shapes of mighty buildings afar off, showing their dark
masses amidst the glowing atmosphere that hangs over the capital for
miles, with the edges of flickering clouds gilded as if they were
touched by the first sunlight. This is a spectacle that men look not
upon, because it is common; and so we walk amidst the nightly splendours
of the Strand, and forget what it was in the middle of the last
century--the days of "darkness visible," under the combined efforts of
the twinkling lamp, the watchman's lantern, and the vagabond's link.
The last, but in many respects one of the most useful of public works in
Great Britain, to which a large amount of capital has been devoted, is
the construction of sewers in our cities and towns. Popular intelligence
and official power have been very slowly awakened to the performance of
this duty. And yet the consequences of neglect have been felt for
centuries. In 1290 the monks of White Friars and of Black Friars
complained to the king that the exhalations from the Fleet River
overcame the pleasant odour of the frankincense which burned on their
altars, and occasioned the deaths of the brethren. This was the polluted
stream that in time came to be known as Fleet Ditch, which Pope
described as
"The king of dykes, than whom no sluice of mud
With deeper sable blots the silver flood."
[Illustration: London street-lights, 1760.]
Fleet Ditch became such a nuisance that it was partly filled up by act
of parliament soon after these lines were written. The Londoners had
then their reservoirs of filth, called laystalls, in various parts near
the river; and the pestilent accumulations spread disease all over the
city. The system of sewers was begun in 1756, and from that time to the
present several hundreds of miles of sewers have been constructed. But,
alas, the Thames itself is now "the king of dykes," and the metropolis,
healthy as it is, will never attain the sanitary state of which it is
capable till the whole system of the outfall of the sewers is changed.
The necessary work would involve the expenditure of millions. But the
millions must be spent. In the mean time it is satisfactory to know that
in towns of smaller population, where the evil is far less vast, and the
natural difficulties of removal greatly less, the work of purification
is going on rapidly. Public opinion has gone so strongly in the
direction of a thorough reformation, that the duty can no longer be
neglected. Every thousand pounds of public capital so expended is an
addition to one of the best accumulations of national wealth.