CHAPTER XIII.

THE PREVENTION OF VITIATED AIR IN CONNECTION WITH THE DISPOSAL OF THE DEAD—OFFALS—CONSTRUCTION OF TOWNS, HOUSES, SEWERS, &C.

In the Chapters which have been dedicated to the subject of Vitiated Air, its sources were pointed out in a general manner, and it is intended to consider those usages in society, certain conditions of towns and houses, and some other circumstances, which favour the production of an impure and unwholesome atmosphere, and this will be done with the hope that a knowledge of their hurtful tendency may lead to their correction.

The disposal of the dead will be first considered.

As soon as the life of man is extinct, his body becomes the seat of chemical decomposition or putrefaction, and effluvia are exhaled from the putrid corpse, varying in some degree, in amount, rapidity, and activity, according as the circumstances in which it is placed are more or less favourable to putrefaction.

The effluvia which are exhaled are deleterious, and an atmosphere in which they are evolved, if close, small, and confined, often becomes so contaminated and vitiated as to be calculated to produce death by suffocation and disease.

The body of man after death is thus a centre of putrefaction, and the source of agencies prejudicial to the living, and on that account alone, it is wise so to dispose of the dead that they may not prove hurtful to the surviving, which has been done with more or less efficiency from the very earliest epochs of time, by various forms of burial.

But solicitude for the safety of the living has not been the only motive for the burial of the dead, for the destiny of man after death is clearly pointed out, and his doom to the earth is amply shewn by various expressions contained in the Holy Writings, and his burial or interment has been performed in obedience to the original or divine plan.

The interment or burial of the dead has likewise been considered as a rite due to the memory of the deceased, and a mark of respect which the friends and relatives were bound by every sacred obligation, to perform with all becoming solemnity.

To neglect the sacred office of interment, or any of the solemnities usually in practice, was, even among the earliest Greeks and Romans, to treat the memory of the departed with the grossest disrespect and indignity.

The denial of burial, with all its formalities, was esteemed by the Greeks as a mark of infamy due only to villains, traitors to their country, and those who died in debt, and the bodies of such characters were accordingly decreed unfit for ordinary interment.

The Jews interred the bodies of the dead for the most part contiguous to the high ways, in gardens, and on hills.

The Greeks and Romans interred their dead in the ground which surrounded their sacred buildings, and at the gates and porticoes of their temples.

The Saxons, Danes, and other Scandinavian nations, enclosed the bodies of the deceased in stone coffins, which were placed or built at the distance of two or three feet from the surface of the earth.

At this day, these stone coffins are occasionally discovered at a little depth from the surface. Some such coffins were lately discovered in the parish of Gladsmuir, in East Lothian, by the coulter of the plough coming in contact with them. On examination, the coffins were found to be only a foot and a half below the earth’s surface:—they were about five feet long, and were composed of several stones fitted together, or built up. Within were found human bones of the adult size, quite entire in figure, but so friable, as to fall to powder along with the clay in which they were imbedded, on being handled. The vertebræ or bones of the spine, which are at present in my possession, present the same accuracy of outline to be found in the recent skeleton.

The situation at which these coffins were found, is the very summit of Seton Hill, a point which commands a view of the surrounding country to a very great extent, and of the Forth, from its mouth to its meanderings in Stirlingshire, and which there is much reason to think, may have been at a very early time, a Danish or Saxon encampment.

The Hindoos dispose of their dead or dying by throwing them into the Ganges, where they rot and decompose.

In this country the dead are interred at a much greater distance from the surface than was practised by the Scandinavian nations, generally at the depth of five, six, or eight feet, and sometimes even more.

After death, corpses are usually kept several days before interment, and as the temperature of this climate is seldom very great, bad effects are very seldom experienced, and in that respect, Britain is very unlike some tropical regions, where, almost as soon as death has taken place, it becomes necessary to bury the bodies of the deceased in order to avoid the noxious vapours, which are immediately emitted.

During the time the corpse is kept before interment, attention should be paid to secure a full and frequent change of air, which is best obtained by keeping the windows partly open, by volatilizing vinegar, or by sprinkling the apartment occasionally with the solution of chloride of lime.

The mode of burial of the present time, which is practised in this country, is, partly from accidental circumstances, a great improvement upon that which was in use by our ancestors; for there is much reason to think that effluvia, proceeding from dead bodies, may percolate or be strained through a covering of soil of only two or three feet, which may be completely confined by one of earth and stones of five or six feet in depth. The great depth to which graves are now dug, originated not so much with the view of preventing the percolation of effluvia, as with the intention of embarrassing the operations of the bodysnatcher, whose violation of tombs is now happily at an end. But though there now remains no occasion for adopting measures for that purpose, the good practice of deep burial to which that evil gave rise should not be allowed to go into desuetude from the absence of those circumstances which called it into existence.

It is agreeable to information which has been gathered from various sources, to state, that effluvia may and do penetrate through the loose soil and other materials of churchyards, when the body is placed within three feet of the surface of the earth.

With that covering, effluvia do not escape in large quantities at a time, so as to produce very serious and instantaneous effects; yet a small amount may percolate from time to time, which, by acting constantly, without intermission, may be the mean of deteriorating or undermining the health of those persons who live in their immediate neighbourhood, and more especially if the situation be one which is not readily accessible to winds and currents.

It is stated by grave-diggers, that when a body is interred in a grave five or six feet deep, the effluvia do not reach the surface; so that it is evident that deep graves are much less dangerous to the living, and should be adopted in preference to those which are shallow. It is much to be desired, that no more burying-grounds should be opened or formed in the heart of towns, and that those which are at present in use, in such situations, be entirely closed against the admission of more bodies, and that cemeteries be opened at some distance from the habitations of men.

Every good purpose which is at present obtained from the burial-grounds situated in towns, might be also procured from cemeteries placed at a little distance in the country; and many disadvantages might be avoided in the latter situation, which attend burial-grounds in densely populated situations.

One great advantage to be obtained from exurban cemeteries, is the freedom which the population would enjoy from those exhalations which must ever arise, in a greater or less degree, from overcrowded burial-grounds which have, for any considerable time, received the remains of the dead, and a consequent improved state of health.

Deep graves may for a time prove a security against effluvia, but a day must come when these graves will be opened, and when their contents, perhaps not yet totally assimilated with the surrounding clay,—not yet completely deanimalized,—will be thrown to the surface, and mingled with the soil, there to finish the process of decomposition, and there to vitiate the atmosphere.

The burial-grounds of our densely populated towns are actually supersaturated, if such an expression can be used, with the partially decomposed remains of mortality, which have not yet had time to be assimilated with the earth, or to be “ripe,” as the grave-digger would say.

In general, also, those burial-grounds are so small and ill-proportioned to the wants of the population, that it is necessary to open graves, and heap body upon body, until they reach to within a very short distance of the surface, or to clear the ground of its contents while they are yet green, in order to procure a place of rest for other bodies.

Such is occasionally the scarcity of ground, small though that space be which will suffice for any one individual, that ere a few short years have rolled away, the intrusive spade of the indifferent sexton disturbs the grave, perhaps of a friend,—that place where peace was promised and through life expected;—his ashes are rudely handled, and his bones, not yet denuded of their flesh, are cast without remorse amidst the rubbish;—and thus the best feelings of humanity are outraged, and the human heart, already wrung with anguish, is crushed or cruelly lacerated.

It will perhaps be urged in reply, that the vicinity of burial-grounds in the large towns of Great Britain are not more unhealthy than other quarters.

But the answer to this is, that no extended and minute inquiry has been instituted on the subject; that though the absolute amount of disease may not be increased (which, however, has not been shewn), still, a part of the disease which does occur, may arise from the operation of the emanation from the burial-grounds; and, lastly, it must be obvious to all who are sensible of the advantage of a pure atmosphere, that the effluvia which necessarily prevail in those situations, must be prejudicial to health, whether it be in an amount, or intensity, or mode, to admit of the detection of the relation between them, as cause and effect.

If, perchance, in some instances, no prejudicial influence is exerted upon the health of persons inhabiting the neighbourhood of burial-grounds, that fortunate immunity from the ordinary effects of effluvia arising from decomposing animal remains, accumulated in large quantities, is to be attributed, not to the innocence or innocuous nature of the emanations, but to the wholesome influence of winds and currents, in securing a constant supply of pure air, and which prevent the accumulation of these gaseous poisons in quantities sufficient to produce the bad effects which are commonly experienced in situations where they are much concentrated. It is almost impossible to adopt measures which will completely prevent the admission of effluvia from burial-grounds into the atmosphere, and it were therefore wise that the evil, a necessary one as it would appear to be, should be made to exist where it is least likely to do harm,—and that situation is certainly in the country, in the open fields, where there are few or no houses.

It is to be hoped that the subject of exurban cemeteries will shortly obtain the consideration of the government of this country, and of the magistrates of the various towns,—as it involves interests of the most important nature.

Several large towns have already cemeteries at a little distance in the fields; and among others, Glasgow has its City of the Dead, or Necropolis, as it is styled, which is situated on a height adjoining the town.

Paris, the capital of that country which has produced many of the most eminent chemists, has not been tardy to avail itself of the light which their philosophers have thrown upon the composition of animal bodies, and the chemical constitution of the atmosphere. That capital boasts a magnificent cemetery, called Pere la Chaise, which is situated at a little distance in the open country.

Pere la Chaise is becoming, as the Place of Rest of the dead, worthy to hold the ashes of departed mortality. There the bodies of men can in no way be hurtful to the health of those who survive; there, now incapable of being useful, they are at least harmless to that community of which they lately formed a part. There the silence—the proper silence—of the tomb is maintained; there a serenity of aspect exists, which comports well with the solemn, the quiescent state of its inhabitants; and there is a cheerfulness, and a beauty, aye a brightness, of a softened, and a mellowed kind, which seem to refer to the pure enjoyments of the promised land. There, as in the burial-grounds situated in our thickly populated towns, there is no obvious and striking unwholesomeness, no offensive and humiliating appearance of mortal remains, to deter from a casual glance, or from entrance on the part of the friends and relatives of the departed. On the contrary, in Pere la Chaise, they are invited and allured by the softened and chastened beauty of the place, and there, without endangering their health from close and vitiated air, they linger by the ashes of the dead, and revolve those solemn thoughts, so wholesome and so heavenward bending to the soul;—there the bereft parent is seen giving the reins to his feelings, fondly recalling cherished associations, and there he is learning to hear unappalled that he must share a like fate with that of the object whose grave he now regards;—there may be seen the orphan, come to shed the tear of filial love over the manes of his departed parents, reviving ties and affections which are too liable to be entirely worn away by youthful enjoyment, and the various unsubstantial fascinations of the world;—and there he learns that most useful and wholesome lesson, to look with complacence, if not with prospective joy, on death and its silent abode,—to divest himself of that dread and horror often excited by these ideas, and which, alas, too frequently drive the young from such considerations altogether.

In Pere la Chaise, a murmur is heard proceeding from the town, and the impression made upon the mind is, that the world is receding, that the noise, mirth, and tumult of man is vanishing away, and that, in short, the reign of death has commenced,—the reign of death, solemn but not terrific.

How different is the abode of the dead in the bustling commercial towns of Britain. Here, solemnity is incongruously enough and offensively mixed up with the noise and bustle of every-day concerns of men bent on business or pleasure. Reflections on eternity are here interrupted, perhaps by the music, or rather the ungrateful noise, of a musical instrument being played in an adjoining street, the rolling of carriages, the trampling of horses, the smacking of whips, and the indecent oaths of waggoners;—while in another street, or fashionable promenade, which the eyes of the mournful visitor of the abode of death cannot possibly avoid, the ill comporting sight is seen, fine ladies and still finer gentlemen laughing and tittering, busied with fantastic displays. ’Tis an ill-assorted scene, ’tis Nature burlesqued beside humanity defunct.

But the improvement in burial-grounds is urged, not on the plea of feelings and sentiments, but on that of public utility and general health.

THE CLEANSING OF TOWNS.

Until within a comparatively short period, the large towns of this country were kept in a very unclean condition, from the accumulation of impurities; and the consequence was, that there prevailed a vitiated and most offensive atmosphere, which often proved hurtful to the health of the inhabitants.

Habits of cleanliness, and proper notions of domestic comfort have made rapid progress of late years, and fortunately all classes of the community enjoy clean and wholesome apartments and streets, compared with those occupied by their ancestors of a century back; and families at the present day, who belong to the middle class of society, have the advantage of greater cleanliness, both of house and locality, than was then enjoyed by persons of the higher classes.

In many large towns an admirable system of cleansing is maintained, by which the removal of impurities is insured, which might taint the atmosphere. The laudable endeavours of the magistrates for this purpose, have uniformly met that ready cooperation from the more respectable portion of the inhabitants which they so well merit; but with the lowest classes, whose ideas are too coarse to permit their recognising danger in such things as uncleanliness and impure air, the suggestions of philanthropic individuals, and the exertions of authority, have failed, in a great degree, to produce that wholesome condition of houses and localities which is so desirable.

Much uncleanliness still prevails in some streets in those quarters of towns occupied by the labouring population, which proves the source of many effluvia, which again, it is probable, assist much in the production of the great amount of disease which is wont to prevail in those parts.

There is reason to fear that a considerable proportion of the lowest classes in all large towns is too much degraded to give themselves any concern about lessening the tendencies to disease, or to put themselves to any trouble to remove impurities, further than is absolutely necessary for their own convenience; but, in such instances, the authority of the law should interfere, and compel compliance with regulations for that purpose, the infringement of which is calculated to produce consequences prejudicial to the public health.

Many, nay most, of the villages of Scotland are kept in a most offensive and unwholesome state of filthiness; large heaps of corrupting animal and vegetable materials being allowed to accumulate, in many instances, in the public thoroughfares, and before the very doors and windows of the houses, proving the source of the most abominable effluvia, offensive to the senses of those who are accustomed to a pure atmosphere, and injurious to the health of all who inhale them. Trenches or hollows are, in many instances, to be found before the doors, where water is collected, and forms a nidus for the putrefaction of the materials above mentioned, and whence issue effluvia which are often to be recognised in the houses.

In these hollows or cavities are thrown all sorts of impurities, and they are allowed to remain till a cart-load or two have accumulated, when, if sufficiently decomposed, they are sold as manure to farmers and others, at the rate of about a shilling the cart-load.

The collection of impurities is in this case not the result of apathy and laziness, as in the purlieus in large towns, but of the desire of gain, or of a trifling advantage, such, for instance, as getting a small piece of ground, rent free, for the growth of potatoes, which is a common practice.

Very bad consequences attend the unwholesome condition of the atmosphere always found in these situations, and more especially in warm and close weather.

The quarter of Tranent in which typhus fever prevails most is that called Dow’s Bounds, and a more filthy part is not to be met with in Scotland; a large area in front of the houses being completely occupied with the cavities afore-mentioned, with their putrefying contents, and the place being ill adapted for ventilation, forming three sides of a square, and the ground having no declivity, nor efficient sewers to carry off the rain, the most favourable circumstances exist for putrefaction, and for the contamination of the atmosphere.

In the construction of future towns, and in additions to the old, the utmost attention should be given to promote the free agitation of the atmosphere, if it is proposed that they should be salubrious. Where health is to be protected, the streets should be made wide, open, and occasionally terminating in squares or other open places.

Where circumstances will permit a choice, towns should be built in wholesome situations and dry soils; and the same holds with additions making to old towns.

The health of a community is much influenced by the situation in which they live, and by the nature of the ground on which their houses are built.

In many towns there are some particular districts in which disease is more particularly prevalent, and the result of careful inquiry is, that the excessive disease is owing to unwholesomeness of situation. Persons in all other respects similarly situated, enjoy a better state of health, or suffer less disease, who inhabit a more wholesome or less prejudicial situation or locality.

SEWERS.

A point next in importance to a proper construction of streets, and the selection of good situations, is an efficient system of drains or sewers for the removal of impurities, and the formation of water-courses.

Of the importance of sewers it is unnecessary to enlarge, that being sufficiently understood.

By water-courses is meant channels for the immediate passage of rainwater from off the streets. They are easily formed, and where the ground is level, the advantage is very great. In streets having a slope or declivity, the water is soon dispersed; but where they are level, it is apt to collect, and there create dampness, which is communicated to the houses, and a favourable nidus for putrefaction, where impurities are permitted to accumulate.

In some parts, principally the suburbs of large towns, and in many of the villages of Scotland, perhaps more especially those along the coasts, inhabited by fishermen, no means being adopted to expedite the removal of rainwater, and there being no natural water-run or course, the rain collects, and animal and vegetable materials mixing therewith, green putrefying ditches are formed, plentifully evolving gaseous products, and supporting a luxuriant vegetation on their surface.

CONSTRUCTION OF HOUSES.

So much attention is now paid to health and comfort in the construction of the houses of the wealthy, that it is unnecessary to say a word respecting these points, in connection with the higher classes.

But the circumstances being so very different in relation to the houses of the poor or the labouring class, some notice is required here.

It too often happens that the house of the labouring man in the country is, in almost every respect, little better than a shed, and calculated to produce disease. The walls are frequently the only substantial part of the tenement, the roof of tiles being often pervious to the rain and wind, and there being no other covering either of lath or lime; the door opens directly into the body of the house, and the floor is generally either below or on a level with the ground outside.

When floors of houses are below the level of the ground outside, they must necessarily be damp, and cause the house to be unwholesome.

The floors even of cottages should be situated about a foot or more above the level of the adjacent ground, and the interval between them and the soil should be filled up with small stones, or such materials, and then the houses might possibly be free of damp, and the rain would not run in off the streets, and form ditches before the very fire-place, as it does in many houses in this village.

The necessity of the floors of their houses being at a little distance above the ground is well known to the natives of Manilla. To avoid the dampness and the unwholesome emanations of the soil, the poor natives build their bamboo houses upon a foundation of wooden piles, by which contrivance a considerable space is left to permit the winds to enter, and to dissipate the damp and exhalations. In like manner, the rich inhabitants of Manilla build on piles of brick. Could our working population, or rather their landlords, not take a hint from these less refined people, and form some security against that unwholesomeness inseparable from damp houses?

It is unnecessary to detail at length instances of the greater prevalence of disease among the inhabitants of low-lying, confined, damp, ill ventilated, and filthy towns, over the populace of cities more favourably situated in these respects.

It will suffice to say, that typhus fever prevails more in the Old Town, where there are many local causes of disease, than in the New Town of Edinburgh, where the streets are clean, wide, and well drained;—and that the plague prevails more in the Jews’ quarter, remarkable for the filth and closeness of the streets, than in any other part of Constantinople.