The Sanitary Evolution of London

CHAPTER IV

1871–1880

In 1871, the decennial Census once more afforded reliable information as to the population of London, and gave the means of ascertaining much else of the greatest value.

The population had gone up to 3,254,260 in 1871, from the 2,808,862 it had been in 1861, an increase of 445,398. But the rate of increase was declining. The decennial increase of population which had been 21·2 in 1841–1851, 18·7 in 1851–1861, had further declined to 16·1 in 1871.

The returns showed that London contained 2,055,576 persons born within its own limits, and 1,198,684 persons born outside its borders.

“Whence came these multitudes of both sexes, equal in themselves, without counting those born there, to a number greater than the inhabitants of any other European city?”

More than 607,000 of them came from the chiefly agricultural eastern, south-eastern, and south-midland counties surrounding the metropolis.

A large contingent of 147,000 was drawn from Devonshire, Wiltshire, Somersetshire, and the other south-western counties.

The west-midland counties sent up 84,000.

41,000 persons had come from Scotland, 91,000 from Ireland, 20,000 from the Colonies, and 66,000 from foreign parts.

In fact, over 37 per cent. of the population of London in 1871 were immigrants into the great metropolis—a great rushing river of humanity.

The returns were also of special interest in showing the changes in the distribution of the population. Speaking broadly, the previous movements were being continued—a diminishing population in the central parts, an increasing population in the outer parts.

It appeared to be inevitable that—

“As the trade of London continued to increase, so the districts which lay close to the great centres of business must be expected to be occupied more and more with warehouses, and less and less with the miserable dwelling-houses which had hitherto sheltered its poor and working-class population.”

The diminution of the population of the central parts of London was in no way a symptom of decay: it was, in reality, proof of the reverse, being the result of increasing trade, commerce, and wealth, which required more house accommodation for the carrying on of their enormous operations.

The great economic forces were in fact as active and powerful as ever. In the City the population had fallen in the decade from 111,784 to 74,635. In every one of the six parishes or districts composing the Central group the population had likewise decreased.

In the Eastern group, the population of three had decreased, whilst in the others there were increases—notably so in Poplar, where there was an increase of 37,000, and in Bethnal Green, where there was an increase of 15,000.

In the Northern group all had increased, except St. Marylebone—the increase in Hackney being over 41,000, and in Islington over 58,000.

In the West, there were also large increases—Fulham 27,000, Paddington 21,000, Kensington 50,000. Only St. James’ (Westminster) and Westminster had decreased, and they in reality belonged more to the centre than to the west.

On the South side, with the exception of Christchurch, St. Olave, and St. Saviour’s—all in Southwark—and Greenwich, there was an increase in all the parishes or districts, the increases in some being very large; 40,000 in Camberwell, 46,000 in Lambeth, 55,000 in Wandsworth.

The figures thus furnished by the Census enabled a fairly accurate calculation to be made as to the death-rate. It now appeared to be 24·6 per 1,000 living.

The Registrar General, in his report for 1873, entered into a comparison with previous years which may be assumed to be as accurate as any such calculations could be.

The mortality was as high as 29·4 in 1854. It was 26·5 in 1866 (when cholera was epidemic), and it was as low as 21·5 in 1872, and 22·5 in 1873.

“The mortality never having been so low in any two consecutive years since 1840, and by fair inference never so low in any two years since London existed.”

This was distinctly encouraging, demonstrating as it did the good results ensuing upon the great works of improved drainage and sewerage, and a healthier water supply.

As to the housing of this huge population, it was shown that the number of inhabited houses had increased from 360,035 to 419,642.

The reports of many of the Medical Officers of Health throw much additional light upon, and explain or elucidate the facts set out in the Census, and carry on the narrative into later years of the matters recorded by the Census Commissioners.

Thus, as regarded the reduction of the population in the central group of parishes, the Medical Officer of Health for the Strand District ascribed it in part to the new Law Courts, and to the circumstance that residential houses were, in increasing numbers, becoming converted into business premises.

“But,” he added, “it is also probably in some measure due to the greater facilities for locomotion to suburban homes”; which is notable as almost, if not absolutely, the first recognition of this cause affecting the population.

In St. James’, the decrease of population was “due to the fact that the district had increasingly become the centre for clubs, hotels, and splendid shops. The result had been an enormous rise in the value of houses, and a gradual extrusion of the less wealthy and important residents.”

In St. George-in-the-East, the Medical Officer of Health stated that:—

“The decrease of population was due to houses being taken by a railway company, by the Poor Law Guardians for an infirmary, for a church, &c.”

How considerable the clearances were in some districts may be inferred from the figures given by the Medical Officer of Health for St. Giles’ in 1871.

“The clearances in the City of London for the purposes of erecting a new market, and a viaduct, and in the Strand district to form a site for the proposed Law Courts, have aggravated the evil of overcrowding. To effect these improvements (or chiefly so) the large number of 18,358 persons have been removed. Strand, 6,998; St. Sepulchre (City), 4,188; St. Bride (City), 4,211; Saffron Hill, 2,961.”

And in St. Olave, on the south side of the river, the Medical Officer of Health wrote:—

“Since the census of 1861, 436 houses have been pulled down, clearing away whole streets and courts for the formation of railways and the extension of warehouses, displacing 961 families comprising 3,556 persons.”

Consequent upon these clearances, and the people having to find dwelling room somewhere, the transition of houses built for a single family into tenement-houses continued in full swing.

The Medical Officer of Health for St. Mary, Newington, reported (1873) that year by year the better class of houses were becoming less and less inhabited by a single family.

The Medical Officer of Health for Paddington gave a very clear description of the process.

“There is a very dense packing of population,” he wrote (1873), and he mentioned some instances:—

“Builders intended these houses at first for one respectable family, but … in violation of common sense and decency they are let out in tenements and single rooms, without those essential conditions of a dwelling which landlords should in all instances be compelled to provide.

“There is yet in reality no law to prevent the creation of unhealthy districts as long as five or six families are allowed to live in one house intended for a single family…. Houses should be built with reference to the future health of the people who will have to live in them.

“And now, while the fields are open and still unbuilt upon, it would be worth the attempt to overcome the destructive influences likely to be established in building tenement dwellings as the population gathers in this and other neighbourhoods. They will some day be hives of pauperism.”

Furthermore, in some parishes, the natural growth of the population was very rapid. In Islington, for instance, the Medical Officer of Health wrote:—

“The Life Balance Sheet of your parish for 1875 shows that your losses and gains leave you 4,376 lives to the good, or in other words 4,656 deaths and 9,032 births have been registered in the parish of St. Mary, Islington.”

And the Medical Officer of Health for St. Marylebone wrote (1877):—

“If we compare the annual number of births with the deaths, we shall find that every year some 1,200 or 1,500 more persons are born in the parish than die in it; and what, it may be asked, becomes of the surplus population? The only answer is, that it migrates; it could not remain in the parish for the simple reason that there is no room, all available spaces in St. Marylebone have long been built upon, and the houses occupied, many of them crowded.”

To the migration rendered necessary by the natural growth of the population, and by the diminishing number of houses in the central parts, was added the ceaseless stream of fresh immigrants into London. These vast numbers had to find house accommodation somewhere, and they found it, in their tens of thousands, in various parts of the less central portions of the metropolis.

In Kensington, for instance, the Medical Officer of Health stated (1871) that the larger portion of the increase of nearly 41,000 in the ten years was due to immigration.

The Medical Officer of Health for Fulham drew a graphic picture of this inrush of humanity.

“The steady growth of London westward has thrown among us a vast and teeming population of the working classes, as well as those of more well-to-do condition, and for the housing of the former many blocks of wretched and most miserably constructed dwellings continue to be erected with the most utter disregard for drainage or other sanitary appliances now so essential. That part of Fulham, once open fields, is still being rapidly covered with streets and houses of this character, and many open spots in Hammersmith are being filled in the same way. Our healthy neighbourhood may thus be made ere long a land of sickness and disease unless some check is given to such speculative buildings. Our natural advantage with all our care will not avail us against such utter recklessness.”

The increase of 21,000 in Paddington drew from the Medical Officer of Health the query—

“… Whether any and what steps should be taken to prevent the wholesale influx of a colossus of pauperism with the consequent burdens of poverty and sickness.”

It had already driven the people underground for shelter, for in 1871 he described how—

“Many of the underground kitchens in Leinster Street (and four others named) have been inspected where the poor people are found living like Esquimaux in underground cave dwellings—places with impure air, want of light, admitted only through a grating in front, the upper sash of the window being often out of repair, or nailed up.”

The rapid increase of population in London would not have been accompanied with such serious results to the public health as it was, if the houses which were being so rapidly built for the people to inhabit had been constructed on sound sanitary principles.

But this was very far from being the case, and the evils described in the last chapter in this respect continued over an enlarged area, and in accentuated form.

It is now almost incredible that the laws should have been left in such a state as to enable builders, without any legal check, to put up the houses they did.

The Medical Officer of Health for Mile-End-Old-Town pointed out (in 1872) that “The position and structure of houses has a very distinct bearing upon the public health, yet very little regard is given to sanitary principles in their construction…. The class of small houses for the crowded occupation of the poorer classes is generally built either upon ‘made ground’ composed of refuse and débris of all descriptions, the organic portion of which presently fills the houses with various disease-producing gases, or upon newly opened ground saturated with miasma, without the least attempt at protection by means of previous drainage or properly protected excavated foundations.”

And in 1876 he reverted to the subject:—

“Water, air, and light are nature’s disinfectants and preventions of disease. They are abundantly provided, but more meagrely and inefficiently used, and indeed practically ignored, by architects, builders, owners, and occupiers….”

A witness before a Select Committee testified in 1874[117] that:—

“Houses were being built upon the soil—any soil, in point of fact—and the foundations of houses consisted very often of nothing but manure, and old boots, old hats, or anything thrown into it.”

The Medical Officer of Health for Poplar wrote (1873):—

“The continued rapid increase in the number of new streets and houses in various parts of the district presents many unsatisfactory features.

“In most cases, before the buildings are commenced, the gravel is dug out, and the hole filled up with so-called brick rubbish, but in reality with road-sweepings, the siftings of the dust yards and similar refuse. The dwelling-houses, mostly of the poorer class, are largely built of soft ill-burnt bricks, and are tenanted generally as soon as they are finished—frequently even before they are complete.

“As a matter of course the walls are still damp, the streets unpaved, and the residents suffer often very seriously in their health.”

The Medical Officer of Health described ten acres of houses in Hackney as “almost entirely built upon a great dust heap,” built, too, of porous bricks and bad mortar.

And another witness before a Select Committee in 1882 described how, in the other end of London—in Wandsworth—on an estate “which practically might be considered a small town,” the ground has been filled in to a depth of six or seven feet with filth of every description, and houses have been rapidly built upon it. The results to the health of the inhabitants were disastrous.

This, however, by no means completed the description of the evil condition of the buildings.

The Medical Officer of Health for Shoreditch wrote (1876–7):—

“Not only was the health of the inhabitants endangered by the presence of a large number of old decayed brick drains, but also by many new drains which had been carelessly laid. Their joints leaked; in some places neither cement nor clay had been used, and pipes had been connected with drains at right angles.”

And the Medical Officer of Health for St. George-the-Martyr added his testimony (1877–8):—

“Not only may the materials of which our buildings are constructed be thus defective, but the drainage may be and is indeed mostly laid carelessly and imperfectly…. An eminent Civil Engineer, one who has had a very large experience in this division of his profession, informs me that 90 per cent. of the houses built are imperfectly drained, that the drains are laid in a reckless manner, the joints often not cemented, and that the way in which they are laid is unscientific and dangerous. No wonder we have continued ill-health of the occupants.”

The Medical Officer of Health for Fulham described in 1872–3 how in “Fulham New Town” the basements of the houses had been built below any available sewerage, with the result of constant floodings of cesspool matter to the great danger of the public health.

And the materials of which the superstructure was made were as bad as they well could be. Porous, and half baked, and broken bricks being used, and mortar mixed with garden mould or road scrapings—“some without a particle of lime in it.”

In Battersea Fields—

“You will find them there putting the houses together in such a way that you may kick the walls down with your feet.”[118]

The Medical Officer of Health for Whitechapel put the subject very tersely when he wrote in 1880:—

“In the construction of houses the only thing that appears to be considered is that of cheapness.”

Until near the end of this decade of 1871–1881, a building could be constructed without any supervision of the materials, and any number of structures which could not be occupied without danger to life or health might be put up, for no one had power to interfere. The London Building Act had no adequate clauses to secure the effectual purity of new dwellings, nor had the Sanitary Authority any power to check the practice of building houses on rotten filth.

And so all these evil practices were very widely indulged in; for though there were many respectable men among builders of small houses, there were many who, regardless of all consequences, covered the suburbs with “small, rotten houses.” And immense numbers of the people were absolutely unprotected either by the Government or by the local authority from abuses which entailed upon them ill-health and death, and from practices which created and spread disease throughout the community.

The Medical Officer of Health for St. George-the-Martyr, Southwark, referring to “the dishonest and scandalous way” in which some houses were built, said (1877–8):—

“From the greed of a few builders this traffic in human life, and in what makes life valuable, is openly and defiantly carried on. Under such circumstances full health is impossible. Yet for the success and permanence of natural existence a high standard is absolutely necessary.”

Of builders such as these it may be truly said that having created a damnosa hereditas in one place, they moved on to create fresh ones in others, and no one prevented them.

So glaring were these evils that a Select Committee, which sat in 1874 on the Metropolitan Buildings and Management Bill of that year, recommended—

“That the District Surveyor or the Metropolitan Board shall have full power to stop the progress of any building in which the materials or construction is calculated to be dangerous or injurious to health, and to summon the builder or owner before the magistrate.”

At the rate houses were being built, the defective Building Laws were a grave disaster.

In the two parishes of Bow and Bromley in Poplar, in the five years ending March, 1878, notices were approved for 1,981 new buildings.

In Hackney, in the year 1876–7, notices were given of intention to erect 800 new houses, and the extension of streets and houses into the fields had gone on so rapidly that by that time there were but few fields left in the district, or even large grounds belonging to any of the houses.

In Kensington it was reported in 1875 that the increase in the number of new houses brought into occupation had for a considerable period averaged 700 annually.

In Wandsworth, in 1874–5, notices were received for 887 new houses.

And in every place land was being grabbed for building purposes.

The Medical Officer of Health for Whitechapel wrote in 1879:—

“We are now paying very dearly both in health and money for the errors of preceding generations in their having allowed houses to be packed closely together…. Several cases have recently occurred in this district of landlords erecting dwelling-houses in the back-yards of those houses which were formerly occupied by a single family. This is a serious evil and ought to be prevented. We have power to prevent the overcrowding of rooms, and we certainly ought to have power to prevent the cramming together of houses on sites of insufficient size for the healthy existence of the tenants.”

Even burial-grounds were not sacred, nor were public authorities even immaculate in this respect. Thus in St. Luke:—

“The Quakers’ burial-ground by the side of Coleman Street is now (1876) in progress towards being covered with buildings, and a portion was taken by the London School Board for the erection of a school. In the process of excavation for the foundation, human remains were discovered.”

And the areas at the backs of houses were also being rapidly covered over. The Act of 1855 had provided that 100 superficial feet should be left open—

“But the exigencies of trade have led the Metropolitan Board of Works and the District Surveyors to permit the area on the ground storey to be covered over.”[119]

In fact, the insufficiency of the laws as regarded buildings intended for human habitation, and the mal-administration or non-administration of those laws which existed, resulted in the creation of evils which inevitably and most injuriously affected the health of the public, not merely at the time, but for many years to come.

The Medical Officer of Health for St. Giles’, in 1871, pointed out the necessity of a change of the law.

“It is very much to be desired that the law gave more stringent powers to local authorities to prevent the re-erection of buildings upon the old sites, so that the new buildings might not become as unfavourable to health as the old ones…. Such a perpetuation of mischief ought not to be permitted, and the rights of landlords should be subordinated to the public good.”

The condition of existing, as apart from new, houses also stood in need of many changes of the law to effect their redemption. The necessity was forcibly portrayed by the Medical Officer of Health for St. Marylebone in 1870. He wrote:—

“Of all the obstacles that stand in the way of anything like effective sanitary operations, not only in St. Marylebone, but in nearly every other district of the metropolis, there are none so formidable, so apparently irremediable as the miserable house accommodation provided for the labouring classes. Year after year I am called upon to tell the same unvarying story of rotten floors, broken walls and ceilings, windows and roofs that let in the wind and the rain, chimneys that will not let out the smoke, and of these wretched tenements being crowded with honest, hard-working people, from the cellars to the attics.”

Parliament continued in this decade the greater solicitude about and interest in matters connected with the public health, which it had recently been showing; and the first year of the decade, 1871, is noteworthy for the adoption by Parliament of a measure which had far-reaching effects upon the sanitary evolution of the metropolis. This was the creation (by “The Local Government Board Act, 1871”) of a Central Government Authority for the supervision by Government of the sanitary authorities in England and Wales, and also of those in London.

Matters relating to the health of the people had become so large a portion of the work of government, that the necessity had forced itself upon Parliament of concentrating in one department of the Government the supervision of the laws relating to the public health, the relief of the poor, and local government.

The new authority, which was entitled the Local Government Board, was not a representative body, but was a Government Department. It was to consist of a President, appointed by the Queen, and of the following “ex-officio” members—the Lord President of the Privy Council, all the Secretaries of State for the time being, the Lord Privy Seal, and the Chancellor of the Exchequer.

All the powers of the Poor Law Board were transferred to it, also certain powers and duties vested in Her Majesty’s Privy Council. Several of the powers vested in or imposed on a Secretary of State, relative to health matters, were also transferred to it. Henceforth no bye-laws made by the sanitary authorities in connection with their duties were to be of any force until approved by the new Board.

Also the Board was to possess, in reserve for great epidemic emergencies, a power to issue directions under the Diseases Prevention Act, 1855.

But with the exception of such special cases, the function of the new Central Authority in regard of local sanitary action was primarily one of observation and inquiry.

The various Vestries and District Boards of the Metropolis being sanitary authorities thus came under the supervision, and in some respects under the control, of the new Central Government Board, instead of, as previously, under a branch of the office of the Secretary of State for the Home Department; but to all intents and purposes they retained their liberty of administration, or, to state it more accurately, their liberty of non-administration. Their relations to the elected central body, the Metropolitan Board of Works, remained unchanged.

In 1871, also, Parliament dealt with the water supply of London. The essential importance to the health of the population, especially in large towns, of an adequate supply of wholesome water was becoming more generally recognised.

“Without water life cannot be sustained, cleanliness cannot be maintained, sanitary measures are at a standstill, drains become blocked, offensive and deleterious gases are retained or driven back into the dwellings, disease is caused and fostered, and public as well as private injury caused in all directions.”

The Act of 1852 had failed to secure for the inhabitants the advantage which they ought to have long since enjoyed, of a well-regulated supply of water in their houses for domestic purposes.

A Select Committee of the House of Commons recommended that every company should afford a constant supply of water to each house,[120] so that the water might be drawn direct and fresh from the company’s pipes at all times during the twenty-four hours, and free from the pollution so often acquired in dirty receptacles. And a Royal Commission, appointed in 1867, after an elaborate inquiry,[121] declared that earnest and prompt efforts ought to be made to introduce the constant service system to the furthest extent possible in the metropolis. The Report of the Royal Commission is memorable for the very strong expression of opinion that the water supply of the metropolis should be consolidated under public control.

The duty of supplying the inhabitants of a city with water had from a very early period been regarded as a peculiarly municipal function, and the supersession of the municipalities by joint stock companies was a comparatively modern innovation.

Thus far, however, Parliament was not disposed to go. But (by the Metropolis Water Act, 1871) Parliament—contenting itself mostly with “mights”—directed that any company might propose to give a constant supply of water, or the Metropolitan Board of Works might apply to a company for it; failing both of which, and under certain conditions, the Board of Trade might require a constant supply to be provided. Also every company should—

“On Sundays, as on other days, supply sufficient pure and wholesome water for the domestic use of the inhabitants within their limits.”

But the Act did not curtail the power of the companies to cut off the supply to a house if the water-rate was not paid by the landlord or owner. An opinion was expressed on this point by the Medical Officer of Health for St. Mary, Newington, in 1872:—

“I maintain that water is absolutely necessary for the health, cleanliness, and sanitary condition of every one, and that if a monopoly of its supply is granted to any company, no power of withholding it should be allowed.

“In the present and increasing crowded condition of our poorer houses the act of one person may enable a water company to refuse it to a household of ten or twelve people…. I do most strongly protest against a continuation of a power which in its exercise undermines the very foundation of sanitary improvement.”

Little, however, was done either by the Metropolitan Board of Works, the Board of Trade, or the companies to avail themselves of the optional provisions of the Act.

“Perhaps,” wrote the Medical Officer of Health for Wandsworth, “there never was an Act of Parliament so completely ignored in many districts as the one in question.”

“The companies,” wrote another Medical Officer of Health, “are too busy in looking after their trade interests to concern themselves much about the health of the people.”

And the constant supply to the people of London was postponed to the distant future.

In 1871 another subject also claimed the attention of Parliament.

An epidemic of smallpox of unexampled severity began at the end of the year 1870, “the like of which had not been known in England since vaccination was first practised.” It increased in London at an alarming rate until it reached its height in May, 1871, when 288 people died of it in one week, and it killed in London alone, in that one year, 7,876 persons. And as it was reasonable to assume that one death represented at the very least eight or ten times the number of cases of that most loathsome disease, the results were frightful, and the injury inflicted upon the community, present and future, disastrous.

At one time more than 2,000 smallpox patients were under the care of the Metropolitan Asylums Board, and the admissions into the Board’s hospitals about the same time averaged 500 a week.

In a report on the subject the Committee of the House of Commons wrote:—

“It is impossible to say what ravages might not have been the result of the smallpox epidemic of 1870–1 had it not been for the efficiency and energy of the Asylums Board. Although the prophylactic virtues of vaccination have been recognised on all sides, it must be remembered that as yet but a small part of the growing population has been subjected to the operations of the Compulsory Vaccination Act.”

And they expressed “their strong sense of the great services rendered to the metropolis by the managers.”

The prevention of smallpox by vaccination was not yet a very potent factor in the diminution of that disease. Only slowly could the Compulsory Vaccination Act of 1867 produce effect, and as the appointment of public vaccinators and the establishment of vaccination stations had been made only optional, the mortality of the outbreak in 1870–1 had been but little, if at all, modified by it. The epidemic, however, was used by some to enforce a lesson.

Thus the Medical Officer of Health for St. James’ wrote:—

“The lesson of the great epidemic of smallpox is the necessity for vaccination.

“The history of no other disease supplies so assuredly and necessarily the means of its entire destruction.”

And the managers of the Metropolitan Asylums Board, in a report issued in 1871, wrote:—

“The necessity for re-vaccination when the protective power of primary vaccination has to a great extent passed away, cannot be too strongly urged. No greater argument to prove the efficacy of this precaution can be adduced than that out of upwards of 14,800 cases received into the hospitals, only four well-authenticated cases were treated in which re-vaccination had been properly performed, and these were light attacks.”

Parliament passed an Act in 1871, making the appointment of paid Vaccination Officers compulsory on all Guardians, and the law generally more effective.

Likewise in 1871 Parliament dealt with another matter affecting the public health, and placed on record its opinion of the Vestries and District Boards by relieving them of the duty of enforcing the sanitary provisions of the Workshops Act, which they had failed to carry out, and transferring it to Government Inspectors appointed by the Home Secretary.

This was quite an unprecedented amount of sanitary legislation by Parliament in one year, and is very notable as showing the greater position health matters were assuming in the opinion of the nation, and the greater necessity Parliament felt itself under for dealing with them.

An improvement as regarded the food of the people of the metropolis was also commenced about this time.

The Corporation of the City of London had undertaken to carry out the provisions of Part III. of the Contagious Diseases Animals Act, 1869,[122] and had purchased the site of Deptford Dockyard for the purpose of a cattle market, and for the reception and slaughter of foreign cattle. The market was opened in 1871, and the system of inspection there inaugurated secured the good quality of a great portion of the meat consumed in London.

In the following year (1872) the purity of certain articles of the food and drink of the people engaged the attention of Parliament.

Under the Act of 1860 the Vestries and District Boards might each appoint an analyst, but the great majority of them availed themselves of the permissive character of the Act, and did not appoint one.

A sidelight is thrown upon the effect of this inaction of the local authorities by evidence given in 1862 by a master baker named W. Purvis. He said:—

“When the Act passed for preventing the adulteration of articles of food and drink there was an immediate apprehension among those bakers in the trade who adulterate their bread that they would be liable to have their bread frequently analysed, &c. But when it was found that no sufficient means were provided by the Act to meet the expenses of this kind of active and constant supervision (the purchaser having to pay the analyst), they became confident again, and have resumed their practice of adulteration without any fear of detection.”[123]

It was felt now that some further move should be made, and Parliament added another Act for preventing the adulteration of food, drink, and drugs to the long list of those which had gone before.

“Whereas the practice of adulterating articles of food and drink and drugs for sale in fraud of Her Majesty’s subjects, and to the great hurt of their health and danger to their lives, requires to be repressed by more effectual laws than those which are now in force for that purpose—

“Be it enacted——”[124]

This Act made it incumbent upon all Vestries and District Boards to appoint public analysts to analyse all articles of food, drink, and drugs, on the request of any parishioners, on payment of a fee; and imposed the duty upon them of procuring and submitting for analysis articles suspected to be adulterated, and on their being certified to be so, of taking proceedings before a magistrate, who was given power to impose severe penalties. The offences were more clearly defined, and the expense of executing the Act was to be paid out of the rates.

The Act did much good, but the amount of good was not to be judged by the number of prosecutions and convictions. “Its deterrent effects were undoubtedly great.”[125]

A Select Committee of the House of Commons, which had been appointed in 1872 to inquire into the subject, recommended the repeal of previous Acts dealing with the subject, and the enactment of a new and more compulsory measure, and in concluding their report they said: “Your Committee believe it will afford some consolation to the public to know that in the matter of adulteration they are cheated rather than poisoned. Witnesses of the highest standing concur in stating that in the numerous articles of food and drink which they have analysed, they have found scarcely anything injurious to health.”

In 1875 a further Act dealing with this matter was passed amending and strengthening the existing law.

In September, 1872, another notable step in the sanitary evolution of London was taken in the creation of an authority for the protection of the metropolis against the importation of disease by sea from foreign countries or from home ports.

“It is now acknowledged,” wrote the Port Medical Officer of Health in his first report, “that, as a natural result of the insular position of the kingdom, and the vast extent of our commerce, the sanitary condition of shipping and of the floating population must exercise a considerable influence on the health of the country as regards the importation and transmission of epidemic diseases … the urgent advisability of using all means to prevent the introduction of disease into this the largest port in the world is sufficiently apparent.”

Hitherto the prevention of the importation of the various sorts of disease into London by vessels trading to the Port of London from all quarters of the world had been confided to the officers of Her Majesty’s Customs, and was of the most superficial and inadequate character.

The district assigned to the Port of London Sanitary Authority extended from Teddington Lock to the North Foreland, and was 88 miles in length. It included 8 sets of docks and 13 “creeks.”

In the section of river lying between London Bridge and Woolwich Arsenal Pier, about 10 miles in length, there was a constant average of no less than 400 vessels of all descriptions moored on both sides of the river, more than 90 per cent. of which had crews on board.

The creeks were more or less occupied by barges containing manure, street-sweepings, gas-liquor, bones and other varieties of foul cargoes, inasmuch as depôts for the storage of these materials existed on the banks.

And lying in the docks there was an average of between six to seven hundred vessels, over none of which had the sanitary authorities on the sides of the river any control whatever.

This was a most unsatisfactory condition of things, and left London open to the practically unchecked importation of infectious and contagious disease of every kind.

By “Provisional Order” of the Local Government Board, the Corporation of London was constituted the Sanitary Authority of the Port of London,[126] and was made responsible not only for taking proper steps, under Orders in Council, to prevent the introduction of cholera, but was required also to carry out, within its allotted area, the provisions of the various Nuisances Removal Acts and Prevention of Diseases Acts for England, and the Sanitary Act of 1866.

Its authority extended only to things afloat. Whatever was landed came within the province of the local Sanitary Authority, except things landed in the docks, and things “in bond,” which were under the control of Her Majesty’s Customs.

The work was undertaken at considerable expense by the Corporation out of the City’s cash, and at no charge to the ratepayer.

And a Medical Officer of Health for the Port and some Inspectors were appointed.

It was the duty of the Port Medical Officer—

“To inspect, before landing, all emigrants that arrived in the Port from the Continent for purposes of transhipment, and to isolate all suspected cases, and to carry out all Special Orders in Council relating to the prevention of cholera, or other epidemic diseases.”

He was also charged with the duty of inspecting, at Gravesend, any cases of sickness on inward-bound vessels reported to the authorities by the officers of Her Majesty’s Customs.

As to the prevention of the importation of epidemic diseases other than cholera, reliance was placed upon a speedy and proper examination of vessels as soon as possible after they had come to moorings. A large proportion of these vessels required constant general inspection.

Among the various other duties, fumigation and disinfection of vessels, also of clothing, were not the least important.

For isolation of the sick a hospital ship was maintained at Gravesend.

The work done by the Port Authority was, in spite of many limitations and difficulties, considerable; and the inspection of thousands of ships, the cleansing and fumigation of foul or infected vessels, the removal to hospital of seamen suffering from infectious or contagious disease, and the disinfection of clothing were, sanitarily, of the greatest advantage to the inhabitants of the metropolis.

In another matter Parliament, in 1872, made a completely new departure.

It declared that “it was expedient to make better provision for the protection of infants entrusted to persons to be nursed or maintained for hire or reward in that behalf.” And it inaugurated a plan for the protection of the health of the most helpless of its numerous charges—a plan embodied in the Infant Life Protection Act.

“Houses of persons retaining or receiving for hire two or more infants for the purpose of nursing must be registered.”

The Local Authority (the Metropolitan Board of Works) was to cause a register to be kept and make bye-laws, and might refuse to register an unsuitable house.

And the registered owner must keep a register of the children, &c., &c.

If proved to the satisfaction of the local authority that such person has been guilty of serious neglect, or is incapable of providing the infants with proper food and attention, the house might be struck off the Register, and penalties be imposed—six months with hard labour, and up to £5 fine.

The start made was slow, only six houses having been registered in 1876; but the Act laid the foundations of a scheme which has had considerable developments.

Specially valuable is it to have the views of one of the foremost men of his time upon the phase of opinion existing at this period upon the general question of the public health. They help to mark progress along the road. The late Mr. W. E. Forster, speaking at the meeting of the British Association at Bradford in 1873, said:—

“I think our aims in this direction are higher than they used to be. We are aiming not only at preventing death, but at making life better worth living by making it healthy. And we no longer forget that in fighting our battle against disease it is not only those who are killed that are merely to be considered, but also the wounded. In those terrible inflictions of preventable disease throughout the country the loss of life is very sad; but even more sorrowful to my mind are the numbers of our fellow-creatures—fellow-countrymen and women—who are doomed to struggle and fight the battle of life under the most severe conditions because of wounds they have received from preventable diseases.”

While Parliament was thus legislating on several matters considerably influencing the sanitary well-being of the people of the metropolis, the powerful economic and social forces also affecting it were silently and uninterruptedly continuing their work with never-ceasing energy.

With the marvellous industrial developments of the time, trade, and commerce, and businesses of various kinds and sorts were spreading over a wider area, and constantly claiming accommodation to carry them on; and the process continued of the conversion of residential houses into offices and shops and warehouses and workplaces.

The increase of houses in other parts of London, rapid as it was, barely kept pace with the increase of population, whilst it had practically done nothing as yet to relieve overcrowding in the central parts of London.

The excessive density of the population was a great sanitary evil.

“It is a well established law,” wrote the Registrar General in 1872, “that, other things being equal, the insalubrity of a place increases with the density of the population, and that the fevers generated in crowded dwellings have a tendency to spread among the whole of the population.”

And it was already pretty generally recognised by Medical Officers of Health that the chief condition affecting the mortality of a locality was the density of population.

The Medical Officers of Health never ceased pointing out the evils of overcrowding.

“Overcrowding,” wrote the Medical Officer of Health for Whitechapel in 1877, “concerns the whole community, as is strikingly shown by the spread of many diseases which are, perhaps, in the first instance endemic, and confined to these overcrowded places, but which soon become epidemic and extend over large areas, attacking, indiscriminately, all classes.”

And their reports are full of instances which had come under their observation.

Thus, in 1871, the Medical Officer of Health for Whitechapel wrote:—

“At No. 13, Goulston Street, I found in the back room of the ground floor, closely contiguous to three closets and a dust hole, one man, six women, and three children sleeping there. The room measured 12 × 9 × 7 feet, giving only a cubic space of 756 feet for ten persons.”

He mentioned also “a room in Cooper’s Court, occupied by man, wife, and seven children, which contained about 630 cubic feet of space, which allows only 70 feet for each.”

And numerous other cases of overcrowding and indecent occupation, and a case in which the dead body of a child had been retained in a room for fifteen days.

Passing on to the larger aspects of this dreadful overcrowding, he wrote:—

“It is manifest that persons living in such circumstances must become so enfeebled in health as to be unfit for any employment which requires much physical strength. The mental capacity of such persons is also so low as to prevent them earning a livelihood in any occupation requiring much thought, and the consequence is an increase of paupers or of criminals, or perhaps of both.”

“Consumption and the whole tubercular class of disease are chiefly caused by the defective ventilation of dwelling-houses, and particularly of sleeping rooms, in which at least one-third of one’s existence is passed.”

And the Medical Officer of Health for Paddington, in his report for 1871, wrote:—

“Serious evils of physical and moral character are found to afflict the population of these overcrowded houses. The want of fresh air, habitual uncleanliness, bad washing accommodation, with other unsanitary conditions, favour the spread of contagion. There is a notable increase of tubercular and consumptive maladies in our large cities, and the low form of vitality engendered in people who do not enjoy fresh air, leads to the abuse of stimulants and tobacco.”

In 1874 he wrote:—

“… Eighteen per cent. of the whole deaths—a formidable proportion—are from the tubercular class of diseases: a greater proportion than zymotic. The 206 deaths from consumption at ages between 20 and 60 show that there exists some general cause silently working great mischief and undermining the constitution of parents at a period of life in health and strength when they can least be spared from their families.”

And he added:—

“Large numbers of sickly and weakly children abound in the tenement-houses of our thickly populated streets.”

Nor were the homes of the people the only place where overcrowding worked its evil will. Many children—how many there is no means of knowing—suffered from it in the schools which they attended.

The following extracts from reports of an Inspector of the School Board[127] present a vivid picture of the condition of many schools in existence so late as the year 1874.

1. —— School.

“This is a wretched place, a disgrace to the metropolis. The ‘school’ is held in an old dwelling-house in Clerkenwell. The house was at one time used as a stable. The approach is most unwelcome, and on entering the schoolroom (upstairs) a most deplorable picture presented itself to the eye. Fifty children crowded together in a small, dingy, shapeless room with space for sixteen, and the window and door carefully closed—in fact, the latter and the doors downstairs carefully bolted. The sooner this place is closed the better.”

2. —— School.

“As regards the accommodation provided, thirty-six young children were sitting in an upper room into which the rays of the sun on a bright day in June could not enter—twilight in mid-day.”

3. —— School.

“It would be impossible for words to describe the inefficient state of this so-called school. Eighty-two children of different ages—boys and girls—huddled together in a miserable, badly lighted, badly ventilated room, affording accommodation for twenty-three at the utmost.

“No books, no apparatus, no seats; floor and bare walls: the ‘teacher’ an aged man, standing in the midst of a crowd of children and wielding a cane to keep the ‘scholars’ quiet, and thus the time goes on.”

4. —— School.

“This is not a school—it seems a baby-farm. Seventeen children in a small, filthy hovel. There were four infants a few months old; one lay on a small bed, another in a small cot, and the two others in positions which I cannot here describe. The little ones were quite naked. The woman who pretends to look after this ‘school’ was engaged in a back yard washing. From the woman down to the infant, all here seemed steeped in ignorance and wretchedness.”

Here is a case reported by the Medical Officer of Health for Whitechapel, so late as 1880:—

“A schoolroom at 11, Pelham Street, Spitalfields; 9 feet long × 8 × 8. There were twenty-five children aged 4–7, and the master and his wife, in all twenty-seven persons, giving 21·3 cubic feet for each.”

And here is a report of an early crêche, or baby farm, also in Whitechapel, in 1879:—

“The Sanitary Inspector found on the ground floor of 24, Freeman Street, Spitalfields, a woman and twenty-five children all under three. They were left in charge of the occupier of the room from nine until 5.30 p.m., who was paid 3d. per week per child. The room was 15 feet × 7 × 7, thus affording 28 cubic feet of space per child!! The room was badly ventilated, there were neither chairs nor seats, the children were on the floor, which was in a wet and dirty condition.”

The other causes of insanitation were also flourishing. “Noxious businesses” of various kinds continued to pollute the atmosphere, despite legislation against them, and the existence of local authorities charged with the administration of that legislation—a permanent pollution all the year round, and from which there was no getting away.

Very commonly the arches under the railways were used for making and storing artificial manures, the smell from which was intolerable.

The Medical Officer of Health for St. Mary, Newington, 1871:—

“The private manure-mixing yards have ever been the cause of much annoyance and illness to those living in the neighbourhood. One of these,” he added, “had for years been complained of.”

And yet the Vestry had not shut it up. And the air was tainted and vitiated by the emanations from them, the owners having no vestige of regard for other people’s health.

Another cause of insanitation was the existence of slaughter-houses throughout London, in the most crowded parts, and in close propinquity to dwelling-houses; indeed, in the yards of some of them were slaughter-houses, with all their unpleasant concomitants. Cow-houses, too, also close to houses, were numerous, and, in the outer parts of London, even piggeries.

A great opportunity was lost in 1874 for greatly diminishing, if not actually terminating, the great “nuisance” of slaughter-houses.

By an Act passed in 1844, it was declared absolutely illegal, on the expiration of thirty years after the passing of the Act, to carry on certain noxious businesses in any premises nearer a dwelling-house than 50 feet, or nearer a public way than 40 feet—the business of slaughtering being among the number. Until 1851 there was no control over slaughter-houses; any one could conduct a slaughter-house who pleased, subject only to the common law as to doing anything which might be considered a nuisance.[128]

The Metropolitan Market Act, passed in that year, required that all slaughter-houses should be licensed by the justices, thus establishing some form of control over them.

When, in 1874, the expiration of the thirty years drew nigh, doubts were raised by those interested in their continuance as to the interpretation of the Act of 1844. The Select Committee, which was investigating the subject of “Noxious Businesses,” stated that no evidence had been given before it to show that any of these trades when properly conducted affect the health of the persons living near the premises, and Parliament, accepting this view, passed an Act which undid the enactment of 1844, and allowed slaughter-houses to be continued indefinitely under license. At the same time it conferred on the central authority, the Metropolitan Board of Works, power to make bye-laws with respect to certain noxious trades.

And so this fertile cause of insanitation—slaughter-houses—was perpetuated to the present time.

There was, however, a far more general and potent cause of disease and death, and general detriment to the public health, than the pollution of the atmosphere by noxious trades, and that was the reckless scattering abroad of infectious or contagious diseases by persons afflicted with or in contact with such diseases.

The Metropolitan Asylums Board had already erected hospitals, and were doing a vast amount of good and preventing the spread of disease.

But by the people themselves the seeds of infection were scattered broadcast.

Dr. Simon, the Medical Officer to the Privy Council, in his Report of 1865, wrote:—

“As to contagions already current in the country, practically any diseased person scatters his infection broadcast, almost where he will—typhus or scarlatina, typhoid or smallpox, or diphtheria, … the present unlimited license seems urgently to demand restriction.”

But the license to kill remained without restriction, except that of entering a public conveyance.[129]

As the Medical Officer of Health for St. Mary, Newington, wrote in 1871:—

“How many are the ways in which the spread of contagious disease is, as it were, invited, no one knows better than a sanitary officer. Washing, mangling, needlework, go on in many an infected house; children, aye adults also, the sick and the sound, mix indiscriminately. I have even known the exhibition, as a sight, of the corpse of a smallpox patient….”

And the Medical Officer of Health for Paddington called attention (1873–4) to—

“The extreme indifference displayed with regard to these diseases (measles, &c.), by many of the lower and middle class is an unmistakable sign of an ignorant belief that they are natural events; and such a belief leads to a carelessness of management much to be condemned.

“… The working classes generally visit freely during sickness, allowing their clothes to become saturated with contagious poison.”

The Vestries and District Boards did do a certain amount of disinfection; but more than three years after the Sanitary Act of 1866 was passed, in twenty-nine districts (out of thirty-eight) no proper disinfecting establishment in accordance with the requirements of the law had been provided (Strand, 1869–70).

The Medical Officer of Health for St. James’, Westminster, pointed out (1870–1) that in London there was—

“No legal obligation on the part of the head of a family or landlord, or a medical man, to declare the presence of scarlet fever to the sanitary authority. The consequence is, that long before any knowledge of the existence of the disease has been obtained by the Medical Officer of Health the disease has spread far and wide. If it were not so melancholy, one feels inclined to deride the folly and ignorance of a so-called civilised and enlightened nation allowing such a cruel and terrible scourge as this to pass over the country without any attempt to control it.”

“In sixteen years we have lost 479 persons by scarlet fever in St. James’. Where one person dies, 10–20 get it and get well. It is vain to calculate the pecuniary expense of such a curse, but every one can make something like an approximation to the cost of such a waste of human life, and form an opinion of the vast benefit of legislation that should put a stop to this disease.”

The Medical Officer of Health for Paddington referred (1876) to the disastrous results of cases of infectious illness not being notified to the sanitary authority, and so enabling precautions being taken to stamp out the infection.

“Such a state of matters, with the annual huge mortality consequent thereon, will continue until an educated people, conscious of its duties and jealous of its rights, demands from a tardy executive the intervention of the legislature to prevent it.”

The Vestries and District Boards were gradually doing a good deal of useful work of the sort which did not much conflict with private interests. The great main drainage works of the Central Authority had enabled them to improve and extend their sewerage and drainage works, and from 1856 up to March, 1872, they had borrowed from the Metropolitan Board of Works £757,000 for this purpose;[130] and the total length of brick and pipe sewer which they constructed in that period was very close upon 700 miles.

“The large amount which has been expended on works of sewerage and paving, shows that the local authorities in the metropolis have not been unmindful of the requirements of their several districts.”

St. Giles’ reported in 1872 that its sewerage was very complete, “not a single street or court being without a sewer.”

St. Marylebone reported in 1877:—

“£33,500 has been spent in new sewers in the parish in the last three years, and £7,000 is to be spent. Over three miles of new sewers were constructed. These are large items in our parochial expenditure, but the fact cannot be ignored that the sewerage of the parish had got into a disgraceful and indeed dangerous condition.

“In some of the finest streets and squares of the parish the sewers were but little better than elongated cesspools.”

Bermondsey reported, in 1872, that the entire district was drained into low level sewers, all open sewers, tidal and other ditches, and cesspools having been abolished; £5,200 expended in widening and improving certain streets, £92,000 spent in sewerage, paving, and other improvements.

St. Mary, Newington, reported in 1871 that the whole of the open sewers and tidal ditches had been covered over; that the drainage was in a satisfactory condition, and that within a few pounds of £400,000 had been spent since 1856 in various parish works and maintenance.

In the Wandsworth district (1873–4):—

“The enormous sanitary works carried on by the Metropolitan Board of Works and the Board of the District have, by drying the soil and altering the waterlogged condition which formerly prevailed, completely changed the sanitary aspect of the locality.”

Not all the work reported as done, however, was done as satisfactorily as was to be desired.

Thus the Medical Officer of Health for St. James’, Westminster, wrote (1871–2):—

“Sewers and drains being out of sight admit of a great amount of ‘scamping’ work.

“Speaking from experience, some of the local sewers in St. James’ are specimens, I hope unique, of the extent to which ‘scamping’ can be carried.”

And the Medical Officer of Health for Shoreditch wrote (1878) that:—

“Some of the new drains (being so badly laid) are more dangerous than the old.”

The arrangements for water supply were also in some few parishes, in process of years, being slowly improved.

In Lambeth, in 1872, 646 houses without proper water supply were provided with it; and in 1873, 804 houses.

Read one way, this was satisfactory. Read the other, it was a revelation of the number of houses in Lambeth which had been left until 1873 without that great essential of health—a “proper water supply.”

A large amount of street paving had been done, and a few small street improvements had been carried out.

Considering the very limited staff of Inspectors which it suited the policy and purposes of the Vestries to appoint, a fair amount of sanitary inspection was done in some parishes and districts.

The striking fact about the inspections made is the very high proportion of houses in which the sanitation was defective.

In Bermondsey, in 1879, where 1,577 houses and premises were inspected, 1,495 notices were served.

In Limehouse, in 1879, 1,411 houses were inspected; and 1,070 orders for sanitary amendments issued.

In Shoreditch, where there were 15,500 houses, the two Sanitary Inspectors appear to have done a lot of useful sanitary work. In 1877–8, 5,465 separate nuisances dangerous to health were abated.

If anything like a similar proportion prevailed generally throughout London, the housing of its huge population was indeed in a dreadful state.