London (Ancient and Modern) from the Sanitary and Medical Point of View

by George Vivian Poore

THE LOOSE END OF OUR SANITATION.

Another reason why it is not possible to regard the present sanitary condition of London with much complacency arises from the fact that our sanitarians have failed to “make both ends meet,” but have left a terrible loose end to their measures, which is a constant menace and an increasing danger.

This “loose end” consists of a daily allowance of 150,000,000 gallons of sewage, which our new councillors have inherited from the late Board, and which is the result of probably the greatest sanitary blunder ever committed in the history of the world. The proper destination of organic refuse is the soil. Nobody doubts this. Why, therefore, in a moment of weakness, did we construct six millions’ worth of machinery to throw it in the water? The great glory of London, time out of mind, has been the Thames, but now certainly our glory has departed. Having adopted a method of sanitation which is based on an utterly wrong principle, the condition of the Thames must get progressively worse as long as that method is pursued.

Some persons talk of a sewage farm as a remedy, but at least 50,000 acres of land would be necessary, and, to say the least of it, that is not a cheerful outlook for the ratepayer in these days of agricultural depression.

At present we are spending £50,000 a year on chemical abominations to mix with the other abominations, but it is very hard to see how that can improve matters. The chemicals will certainly not help the fishing industry, and if added in sufficient quantity they must absolutely destroy the very small manurial value possessed by the sewage or its sludge. My own belief is that the sewage problem in its present form is insoluble. To deal with and filter slop-water, as is done in Paris, is comparatively easy, but here in London the problem is of a wholly different kind, and my firm conviction is that our present system of “water-carriage” must lead us deeper and deeper into the mire.

Until the problem of “What to do with our sewage?” is settled, clearly, we ought to do our best to stop the growth of the evil. Our present system of sewers ought to be closed as far as permission to connect fresh houses is concerned. As it is, the new Council, like the old Board, will have an uncertain quantity of sewage to deal with, for old houses are being everywhere pulled down, and houses of greatly increased capacity erected, and this of course means a proportionate increase in the sewage to be disposed of. In the City there are but 50,000 inhabitants in the official sense, but there are by this time fully 300,000 daily workers and over 700,000 daily visitors to the City, so that, in spite of an official decrease in population, the increase of sewage from that particular spot must be enormous. The same class of facts applies to other districts in the metropolis, so that the evil at the outfall is not only not improving, but is increasing daily. It seems to me quite impossible to make any arrangement for adequately dealing with the sewage of a district, unless you are able to say beforehand what is the maximum quantity which will have to be dealt with. There being no adequate control of building in London, and no relation between the cubic contents of a building and the area it occupies (witness Queen Anne’s Mansions, the huge pile with which we are threatened at Knightsbridge, and the equally large pile projected in the Strand, which is to be 135 feet high, according to the newspapers), it is evident that the volume of sewage to be dealt with may be doubled or trebled without any increase of the area drained by the sewers. Under such conditions as these the sewage problem may well be insoluble. The first and main duty of any sanitary authority should be to exercise a wise control over building. If every house were compelled in the future to have a curtilage bearing a definite proportion to the cubic contents, there would be an end of these towers of Babel, which shut out from us the light and air of heaven; the price of building land would fall; it would be possible to make some calculations as to sewage; and the excessive overcrowding of a city would be prevented. Without such a regulation great sewage schemes must in the end make the sanitary condition of a city worse rather than better.

What to do with our sewage is a very difficult problem—an insoluble problem, I believe, on the present lines. At present the Metropolitan Board is shipping some of the solid matter to be dropped into the sea at the mouth of the Thames. When the Thames Conservancy see this fine ship, “built in th’ eclipse, and rigged with curses dark,” bound on its mission of blocking the port of London, what can they think? They think it worth while, apparently, to have a man fined for throwing a basket of rubbish over one of the bridges.

Again, the House of Commons passed a stringent Act to prevent the pollution of rivers, but when, a year or so since, their own sewage arrangements were at fault, they merely constructed an ingenious apparatus to thoroughly suck the sewage out of their own premises and pass it on more effectually than before to pollute the river on whose bank their stately palace stands. What is the good of legislation without example? If the House of Commons, at some sacrifice (more fancied than real) of personal convenience, had adopted measures in accordance with the spirit of their legislation, I believe we should have been within a measurable distance of seeing the Thames once more meriting the name of silvery. A good example is better than any amount of legislation, and a good example set in high places is much needed in this matter, to which there is undoubtedly a moral side.

How to alter the present arrangements in London now the houses have been almost uniformly deprived of their curtilage is very difficult. Under such circumstances “returning were as tedious as go o’er,” but I am myself inclined to think that the best solution of London’s sewage difficulty lies in the direction of cremation—certainly in the direction of decentralisation.

I believe also that at the outskirts much might be accomplished by an equitable adjustment of sanitary rates, and by encouraging householders to do for themselves what no public authority can do so satisfactorily for them. But as I have dealt with this subject very fully in a paper on “The Shortcomings of Modern Sanitary Methods,” I shall say no more at present.