Free London Under by Peter Ackroyd

against the sides of the tunnel; they were replaced in 1826 by a steam tug that hauled the vessels through by means of a strong chain. There was a saying of the time, “nearly gassed but nearly through.” A journalist recorded that this transport:
    has a truly
tartarean
aspect. The smoke, the fire, and the noise of the engine contrasting with the black gloom of the arch, the blackness of the water, the crashing of the vessels against the sides of the tunnel and each other, and the lurid light that glimmers beyond each distant extremity form an aggregate of infernalia that must be witnessed to be adequately conceived.
    The tunnel was renovated in 2000, and is now of course the avenue of boats with engine power. The experience of the journey, however, is the same. The voyage takes approximately twenty minutes during which the voyager, on a barge or a small boat, has the uncanny sensationof sailing beneath the city. It is possible to see a small circular light at the other end of the tunnel but then the darkness descends, described by one traveller as “thick” and “sooty.” The tunnel has its own weather. A pilot in the days of the steam tug remarked that “when it’s foggy outside it’s clear in the tunnel. It’s a very queer tunnel.” The wind, in winter, blows very hard.

    Ready to start “legging” in the Islington canal, 1930 (illustration credit Ill.18)
    The sewers of London are now dangerous rather than deadly. The sewer-men work in teams under the command of a “ganger.” They have their own patois, a kind of underground language, by which they identifythemselves and their colleagues in the often treacherous conditions. They are at risk fromWeil’s disease, spread byrats, and from dizziness caused by working in the dark. They must also court the risk of explosion from the aggregation of gas or of drowning in a sudden storm of water. An hour’s thunderstorm may precipitate an inch of rain, which is equivalent to 100 tons of water per acre. The first sign of calamity is a fierce wind that blows through the tunnels. This is followed by the deluge rushing down into the storm-relief sewers, with a force strong enough to carry away anything in its path. Sewers can never wholly be trusted.

    Opening a sewer by night, 1841 (illustration credit Ill.19)

By the thirteenth century, when some of the larger streams had run dry or had degenerated into open sewers,water was sent throughpipes of lead; the slow dissolution of the metal must have had a noticeable effect upon the health of Londoners. In 1236Gilbert de Sandford was granted “liberty to convey water from the town of Tyburn by pipes of lead into the City.” ThisGreat Conduit, as it was known, ran down what is nowOxford Street.Conduit Street marks its passage. It then turned intoHolborn before eventually reachingCheapside where it was discharged from a great pump known as “the Conduit in Chepe.” A smaller conduit, built at the other end of Cheapside by Paul’s Gate, was called “the pissing conduit” by reason of its constant discharge of water. The system was, for the period, a remarkable feat of civil engineering, and the presence of the twoconduits formed the emblematic centre of London at times of pageant or royal entry. They created a blessed space.
    Other conduits were erected as the city expanded. White Conduit Street inIslington marks another source, while Lamb’s Conduit Street in Holborn commemorates the benefaction ofSir William Lambe. A conduit known as the Standard rose on Cornhill, and was a landmark of the city. These conduits also became the home of ritual, like most sites of underground water. The mayor and aldermen would visit each one in turn; “they hunted the hare and killed her” according toJohn Stow, before enjoying a feast “at the head of the conduit.”The banquet was followed by the hunting of the fox. These great pumps, however, proved to be a hindrance to the ever increasing traffic of the city; by the middle of the