Let the reader imagine Paris lifted off like a cover, the subterranean net-work of sewers, from a bird's eye view, will outline on the banks a species of large branch grafted on the river. On the right bank, the belt sewer will form the trunk of this branch, the secondary ducts will form the branches, and those without exit the twigs.
This figure is but a summary one and half exact, the right angle, which is the customary angle of this species of subterranean ramifications, being very rare in vegetation.
A more accurate image of this strange geometrical plan can be formed by supposing that one is viewing some eccentric oriental alphabet, as intricate as a thicket, against a background of shadows, and the misshapen letters should be welded one to another in apparent confusion, and as at haphazard, now by their angles, again by their extremities.
Sinks and sewers played a great part in the Middle Ages, in the Lower Empire and in the Orient of old. The masses regarded these beds of decomposition, these monstrous cradles of death, with a fear that was almost religious. The vermin ditch of Benares is no less conducive to giddiness than the lions' ditch of Babylon. Teglath-Phalasar, according to the rabbinical books, swore by the sink of Nineveh. It was from the sewer of Munster that John of Leyden produced his false moon, and it was from the cess-pool of Kekscheb that oriental menalchme, Mokanna, the veiled prophet of Khorassan, caused his false sun to emerge.
The history of men is reflected in the history of sewers. The Germoniae[58] narrated Rome. The sewer of Paris has been an ancient and formidable thing. It has been a sepulchre, it has served as an asylum. Crime, intelligence, social protest, liberty of conscience, thought, theft, all that human laws persecute or have persecuted, is hidden in that hole; the maillotins in the fourteenth century, the tire-laine of the fifteenth, the Huguenots in the sixteenth, Morin's illuminated in the seventeenth, the chauffeurs [brigands] in the eighteenth. A hundred years ago, the nocturnal blow of the dagger emerged thence, the pickpocket in danger slipped thither; the forest had its cave, Paris had its sewer. Vagrancy, that Gallic picareria, accepted the sewer as the adjunct of the Cour des Miracles, and at evening, it returned thither,fierce and sly, through the Maubuee outlet, as into a bed-chamber.
[58] Steps on the Aventine Hill, leading to the Tiber, to which the bodies of executed criminals were dragged by hooks to be thrown into the Tiber.
It was quite natural, that those who had the blind-alley Vide-Gousset, [Empty-Pocket] or the Rue Coupe-Gorge [Cut-Throat], for the scene of their daily labor, should have for their domicile by night the culvert of the Chemin-Vert, or the catch basin of Hurepoix. Hence a throng of souvenirs. All sorts of phantoms haunt these long, solitary corridors; everywhere is putrescence and miasma; here and there are breathing-holes, where Villon within converses with Rabelais without.
The sewer in ancient Paris is the rendezvous of all exhaustions and of all attempts. Political economy therein spies adetritus, social philosophy there beholds a residuum.
The sewer is the conscience of the city. Everything there converges and confronts everything else. In that livid spot there are shades, but there are no longer any secrets. Each thing bears its true form, or at least, its definitive form. The mass of filth has this in its favor, that it is not a liar. Ingenuousness has taken refuge there. The mask of Basil is to be found there, but one beholds its cardboard and its strings and the inside as well as the outside, and it is accentuated by honest mud. Scapin's false nose is its next-door neighbor. All the uncleannesses of civilization, once past their use, fall into this trench of truth, where the immense social sliding ends. They are there engulfed, but they display themselves there. This mixture is a confession. There, no more false appearances, no plastering over is possible, filth removes its shirt, absolute denudation puts to the rout all illusions and mirages, there is nothing more except what really exists, presenting the sinister form of that which is coming to an end. There, the bottom of a bottle indicates drunkenness, a basket-handle tells a tale of domesticity; there the core of an apple which has entertained literary opinions becomes an apple-core once more; the effigy on the big sou becomes frankly covered with verdigris, Caiphas' spittle meets Falstaff's puking, the louis-d'or which comes from the gaming-house jostles the nail whence hangs the rope's end of the suicide. a livid foetus rolls along, enveloped in the spangles which danced at the Opera last Shrove-Tuesday, a cap which has pronounced judgment on men wallows beside a mass of rottenness which was formerly Margoton's petticoat; it is more than fraternization, it is equivalent to addressing each other as thou. All which was formerly rouged, is washed free. The last veil is torn away. A sewer is a cynic. It tells everything.
The sincerity of foulness pleases us, and rests the soul. When one has passed one's time in enduring upon earth the spectacle of the great airs which reasons of state, the oath, political sagacity, human justice, professional probity, the austerities of situation, incorruptible robes all assume, it solaces one to enter a sewer and to behold the mire which befits it.
This is instructive at the same time. We have just said that history passes through the sewer. The Saint-Barthelemys filter through there, drop by drop, between the paving-stones. Great public assassinations, political and religious butcheries, traverse this underground passage of civilization, and thrust their corpses there. For the eye of the thinker, all historic murderers are to be found there, in that hideous penumbra, on their knees, with a scrap of their winding-sheet for an apron, dismally sponging out their work. Louis XI. is there with Tristan, Francois I. with Duprat, Charles IX. is there with his mother, Richelieu is there with Louis XIII., Louvois is there, Letellier is there, Hebert and Maillard are there, scratching the stones, and trying to make the traces of their actions disappear. Beneath these vaults one hears the brooms of spectres. One there breathes the enormous fetidness of social catastrophes. One beholds reddish reflections in the corners. There flows a terrible stream, in which bloody hands have been washed.
The social observer should enter these shadows. They form a part of his laboratory. Philosophy is the microscope of the thought. Everything desires to flee from it, but nothing escapes it. Tergiversation is useless. What side of oneself does one display in evasions? The shameful side. Philosophy pursues with its glance, probes the evil, and does not permit it to escape into nothingness. In the obliteration of things which disappear, in the watching of things which vanish, it recognizes all. It reconstructs the purple from the rag, and the woman from the scrap of her dress. From the cess-pool, it re-constitutes the city; from mud, it reconstructs manners; from the potsherd it infers the amphora or the jug. By the imprint of a finger-nail on a piece of parchment, it recognizes the difference which separates the Jewry of the Judengasse from the Jewry of the Ghetto. It re-discovers in what remains that which has been, good, evil, the true, the blood-stain of the palace, the ink-blot of the cavern, the drop of sweat from the brothel, trials undergone, temptations welcomed, orgies cast forth, the turn which characters have taken as they became abased, the trace of prostitution in souls of which their grossness rendered them capable, and on the vesture of the porters of Rome the mark of Messalina's elbowing.
让我们想象一下，巴黎象揭盖子那样被揭开了，笔直地往下着，这个地下的阴渠网有如画在两边岸上与河流衔接的树干。在右岸的阴渠总管道好比树枝的主干，较细的管道好比树枝，死胡同一如枝桠。
这图形很粗略，只是大致相似而已，地下分枝常出现直角，在植物中这是罕见的。
我们如果把这奇异的实测平面图想象成在一个黑底子上平视到的一种古怪而杂乱的东方字母表，这样会更相象一点，它那畸形的字母，表面上杂乱无章，好象很随便地有时在转角处、有时在尽头处相互衔接。
污水坑和阴渠在中古时代，在罗马帝国后期①和古老的东方起过很大作用。瘟疫在那儿发生，暴君在那儿死亡。民众见到这些腐烂物的温床、骇人的死亡的摇篮时几乎产生一种宗教性质的恐惧。贝拿勒斯②的害虫深坑与巴比伦的狮子坑同样使人头晕目眩。根据犹太士师书中的记载，蒂拉发拉查崇敬尼尼微的污物坑。让·德·赖特就是从蒙斯特的沟渠中引出他的假月亮来的，和他相貌酷似的东方的莫卡那，这个蒙着面纱的霍拉桑③先知，从盖许勃的污井中使他的假太阳升起来。
①罗马帝国后期，指二三五年至四七六年的罗马帝国。
②贝拿勒斯（Bénarès），印度圣城。
③霍拉桑（Khorassan），伊朗一省。
人类的历史反映在阴渠的历史中。古罗马罪犯尸体示众场叙述了罗马的历史。巴黎的阴渠是一个可怕的老家伙，它曾是坟墓，它曾是避难所。罪恶、智慧、社会上的*、信仰*、思想、盗窃，一切人类法律所追究的或曾追究过的都曾藏在这洞里；十四世纪巴黎的持槌抗税者，十五世纪沿路拦劫的强盗，十六世纪蒙难的新教徒，十七世纪的莫兰①集团，十八世纪的烧足匪徒②都藏在里面。一百年前，夜间行凶者从那儿出来，碰到危险的小偷又溜了回去；树林中有岩穴，巴黎就有阴渠。乞丐，即高卢的流氓，把阴渠当作圣迹区，到了晚上，他们奸猾又凶狠，钻进位于莫布埃街的进出口，好似退入帷幕之中。
①莫兰（Morin），巫师，一六六三年在巴黎被焚。
②烧足匪徒，在革命动乱时期化装抢劫农村的匪徒，烧受害人之足，迫使他们拿出钱财。
一贯在抢钱死胡同或割喉街干勾当的人晚上在绿径阴沟或于尔博瓦桥排水渠住家是很自然的。有关那儿的回忆数不胜数。各种鬼怪都在这长而寂寞的阴沟中出没，到处是霉烂物和瘴气，这儿那儿有一个通气洞，维庸曾在这洞口和外面的拉伯雷闲谈。
老巴黎的阴渠，是一切排泄物和一切铤而走险者的汇合处。政治经济学的观点认为这是人体的碎屑，而社会哲学的观点则把它看成是渣滓堆。
阴渠，就是城市的良心，一切都在那儿集中，对质。在这个死灰色的地方，有着它的黑暗处，但秘密已不存在。每件东西都显出了原形，或至少显出它最终的形状。垃圾堆的优点就是不撒谎。朴实藏身于此，那里有巴西尔的假面具，但人看见了硬纸也看见了细绳，里外都看到，面具还涂上一层诚实的污泥。司卡班的假鼻子紧挨在一旁。文明社会的一切卑鄙丑物，一旦无用，就都掉入这真相的阴渠中，这是社会上众多日渐变坏之物的终点。它们沉没在那儿，展开示众，这些杂乱的货色是一种自白。这儿，已没有假相，无法再粉饰，污秽脱下了衬衫，赤裸裸一丝不挂，它击溃了空想和幻景，以致原形毕露，显示出命终时的邪恶相，现实和消灭。这儿，一个瓶底承认酗酒行为，一个篮子柄叙述仆役生涯；这儿曾有过文学见解的苹果核①，又变成苹果核了。一个大铜钱上的肖像已完全变绿，该亚法的痰唾与法斯达夫的呕吐物相遇了，在这里，一个从赌博场中出来的金路易撞着了悬挂上吊绳子的钉子，一个惨白的胎儿，用最近狂欢节时为在歌剧院跳舞而穿的有金箔装饰的衣服裹成一卷，一顶审判过人的法官的帽子，躺在这曾是马格东②衬裙的污物旁，这不仅是友爱，而且还是亲密。一切涂脂抹粉的都变成一塌糊涂的形象。最后的面纱终于揭开，阴沟是一个厚颜无耻者，它吐露一切。
①苹果核，暗指无用的头脑。
②马格东（Margoton），指放荡的妇人。
淫荡败德的坦率令人感到痛快，心情舒畅。当人们在世上长期忍受了以国家利益为重的大道理之后棗诸如那些装腔作势的宣誓、政治上的明智、人类的正义、职业上的正直、应付某种情况的严正以及法官的清廉等，再走进阴沟并见到说明这些事物的污垢，那确实是件快事。
同时这也是一个教训。我们刚才已提到，阴渠反映了历史圣巴托罗缪的鲜血一滴一滴地从铺路石缝中渗入阴沟。大量的暗杀，政治与宗教领域的*，经过这文明的地窖把杀戮后的尸体丢进去。以沉思者的眼光看，一切历史上的凶手都在这儿，在丑恶的昏暗处，跪在地上，用他们当作围腰用的裹尸布的一角，凄惨地抹去他们干的勾当。路易十一和特里斯唐①在那里面，弗朗索瓦一世和杜普拉②在里面，查理九世和他的母亲在里面，黎塞留和路易十三在里面，卢夫瓦在里面，勒泰利埃在里面，阿贝尔和马亚尔也在里面，他们刮着那些石头，想消灭他们为非作歹的痕迹。人们听见拱顶下这些鬼怪的扫帚声；人们在那儿嗅到社会上严重灾祸的恶臭，在一些角落里看到微红的反光。那儿淌着洗过血手后的可怕的水流。
①特里斯唐（Tristan 1’Hermite），路易十一的道路总监。
②杜普拉（Duprat，1463-1535），弗朗索瓦一世的司法大臣。
社会观察家应当走进这些阴暗处，这是他的实验室的一部分。哲学是思想的显微镜，一切都想避开它，但丝毫也溜不了。推诿强辩都无济于事。遁辞暴露了自己的哪一面呢？厚颜无耻的一面。哲学用正直的目光追踪罪恶，决不允许它逃之夭夭。已经过去而被忘却之事，已经消失而被贬低之事，它都能认出。根据破衣它能恢复王袍，根据烂衫能找出那个妇人，利用污坑它使城市再现，利用泥泞可使习俗再生。从一块碎片它推断出这是双耳尖底瓮还是水罐。凭借羊皮纸上的一个指甲印，它可以认出犹大本土的犹太族和移居的犹太族之间的区别。在剩下的一点残余上它恢复原来的面目，是善，是恶，是真，是假，宫中的血迹，地窖中的墨水污迹，妓院的油渍，经受过的考验，欣然接受的诱惑，呕吐出来的盛宴，品德在卑躬屈膝时留下的褶纹，灵魂因粗俗而变节时留下的迹象，在罗马脚夫的短衫上有着梅沙琳胳膊的迹印。
