The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1874-08-29 00:00:00

DEAN STANLEY ON THE RUBRICS.

A JOURNEY THROUGH THE PARIS
------- -

SEWERS.

,ko Occasional Correspondent of the London Standard,
writing from Paris, the 21st inst , has sent the following
sketch of his jouniey through the 'sewer world' of Paris
D-itit, gentle reader, turn away in disgust, and
imagine that I am about to lead you through an
excursion fit only for scavengers and dramsmen. A
little patience, and you will perceive that the trip I
have just made, if not exactly the most delightful
in the world, is not the most disagreeable. Oar
party numbered about sixty, composed of French,
English, and Spaniards, and comprised several
ladies. We assenibled on the Place du Chatelet. It
was a glorious afternoon; the sun shone brilliantly,
the fountains were playing, and it really seemed a sin
against nature to leave the charming f reels scene
above for the dark stiffing regions below. But the
thought passed quickly away in presence of the
opening before us. We had to wait a short time for
the commissioner who was to conduct us. During this
interval the ladies prepared their scent and salt bottles;
some of the gentlemen, too, had provided themselves
with bottles of disinfecting vinegar, precautions which,
as will be seen, were hardly necessary. At length we
descended one by one the narrow spiral staircase of
iron that leads to the sewer world, and found ourselves
'in What may be called a series of vaults lit up by oil
lamps. Iron pipes of all dimensions, some hung to
the ceiling, others supported on props, ran right and
left in all directions. What they contained I did
not silk, but perhaps the reader will agree with me
that it was unnecessary to di so. We proceeded to
look for the sewers, and found that they were
running on quietly under the dark arches which
surrounded the central station where we were assem-
bled. As soon as the eye got accustomed to the ilark-
nem, we discovered that under our feet was a series
of railway lines, and looking further we saw several
carriages shunted into a side vault. It was in these
that we were destined to make the first part of our
journey. The carriages are neat and elegant. Perhaps
it would be more correct to call them cars. They
hold twelve persons; three in front, three behind, and
three on either side in the middle. They are lit up by
four lamps with white globes, one at each corner.
A beautifully-polished brass railing runs round
at the lmttoin, to prevent the passengers falling
out. The seats are cane-bottomed, and the whole
trim of our little train was as clean and inviting as
the most fastidious could desire. With customary
French politeness, the ladies were placed in the front
seats or coupe, but as I waited till the last, and all the
ladies being provided for, I managed to get a front seat
too. The cars were now full, and we were forthwith
ehunted into the sewer which runs under the Rue de
Rivoli. I happened to be in the front seat of the
very first car; and there being no engine before me,
had consequently a clear look-out.
At length the guard sounded his trumpet,and off we
went. The train runs over a sewer about two yards
wide, on rails fixed on the curbs of the side-walks.
Each car is propelled by two men drawing in front,
and two men pushing behind, whose regular, steady
trot fully showed that they are accustomed to these
voyages. The sewer is not lit up, but the light
from our lamps was quite sufficient to distinguish
everything. However, it insist be confessed, there
was not much to see after all, save the black, dirty
water below, over which we were riding, and the
large iron pipes that ran on either side. The walls
of the tunnel, the pipes, and the side-walks were all
excessively clean. The names of the streets and
the very numbers of the houses by which we were
passing are posted up on the walls on enamel Oates,
exactly in the same way as in the world above. Every
house has its little drain, which runs down under a
small arch into the bigger one beneath us. The noise
of the traffic above was not so audible as might be ex-
pected. Of smell there was little or none; the air was
more stifling than disagreeable; of course, I do not
mean to say that it was pleaeant. The darkness of the
tunnel before me as we travelled along, at almost a
gallop sometimes, was rendered somewhat sinister by a
red light placed at every extremity, which had all the
appearanceHapilly of ann.° tt. of a
her trainery
ocuosmni nafurupon r tllisehsoam
have
proEably' I am
imkOned we were doomed to it,terrible collision,
and that I should not be left alive to tell the story.
Our horses, or rather our men, now slackened pace,
and in a few minutes we arrived under the Place de la
Concorde. Here there is a regular station lit up by oil
lamps, and provided with rails, and other precautions
against falling into the drains. We all descended
from the cars, and were led into a far larger sewer,
some coven or eight yards wide, where we found
several punt-like boats waiting for our service.
One by one we walked along the narrow side-
walks flanking the sewer-river, occasionally knocking
our heads against the huge drainpipes suspended
above, and one by one we were handed by our com-
missioners into the black gondolas. Each boat is
lit up with a lamp, and provided with a steers-
man. The boats being very wet, the administration
had been kind enough to cover the seats with clean
sacking. The embarkation occupied some little time,
during which the passengers naturally indulged in
funny remarks suitable to the occasion, but which I
refrain from transcribing. When we were all seated,
the head commissioner again blew his trumpet and off
we sailed—that is to say, we were drawn by four men
with ropes attached to each Large. The sewer we were
now gliding through is lit op with reflecting lamps sus-
pended at certain distances. On glancing at the wall
I perceived that we were under the Rue Royale.
Here the noise of the traffic above rumbled in and
out of the smaller side-drains into ours and created
a succession of distant thunder, while the noise of fall-
ing waters made some of our party think that a storm
was bursting over the capital. On we glided over the
lake, which appeared to be nothing more than the
dirty water from the streets, and in which pieces of
straw and paper shone out in bright contrast. On we
glided, looking at the pipes above, the big top-booted
men that were drawing us, and wondering if the people
above dreamt that We were down below searching
through the very soles of their boots. On we glided,
rocking to and fro, and thinking what a horrid thing it
would be to be drowned in such a river, until at last
we reached the Church of the Madeleine, where our
voyage came to an end. We then disembarked, and
having given a pourboire to our captain and his
motley crew, mounted another spiral iron staircase,
and found ourselves once more in the land of the living.
It is true we had experienced no overpowering
smell, we had seen no rats or anything else to offend
the sight, and we were just as clean as when we
started from the Place du Chatelet, but in spite of
these favourable circumstances we were none the less
glad to emerge again into sunlight and fresh sir.