This bold measure resumes the world-old
struggle between sea and land, with the
tables turned. After myriads of years of
silence and defeat, the land now renews the
combat. But this time Mother Earth is not
unaided; she has the lord of the creation for
her ally, and he brings to bear on her behalf
the mighty weapons of intelligence, science,
and industry. Our engineer, like other great
captains, shifts the seat of war to the enemy's
territory. He will carry out, into the open sea,
the solid element on which the whole power
of man is based; he will tear from the cliffs
enormous masses which he will sink at
regular distances; their accumulated bulk
will form lofty cones; and through these
gigantic pedestals the invader will descend
deep into the bowels of the earth, and thus
will re-establish the original connection—will
re-unite the broken chain of continuity—
which has been interrupted for ages and ages.

Monsieur Thomé grudges the time which
such enormous works take to execute.
Indeed, the spirit of the age calls for quick
returns and rapid results. We do not follow
the example of our ancestors, who began a
cathedral in one century to complete it in
the next. We build to-day for to-morrow's
use; we do not plant, we transplant half-
grown trees. Therefore, to hasten the
progress of his tunnel, Monsieur Thomé
proposes to subdivide the Strait into a series of
fourteen little straits by means of these aforesaid
artificial islets, at some three thousand
metres' distance, at most, apart from each
other; which reduces the length of each
separate excavation to fifteen hundred metres.
These islets are to be composed of rock
compacted with clay; and, by a fortunate
coincidence, nature seems to have held in reserve
the materials for the work under the most
desirable conditions of proximity, easy access,
and economy. On either side, the French
and the English coasts abound with innumerable
blocks of stone accumulated on their
beach, which are exposed at low water and
covered at high water, and which it would be
easy to carry off in small vessels and cast into
the sea at the respective stations.

On these thirteen islets,—an unlucky
number, by the way,—planted by human
perseverance in the midst of the waters,
thirteen mining shafts are to be excavated;
at the bottom of each of these, the tunnel is
to be simultaneously hollowed out, right and
left, attacking the solid earth by eight and
twenty gangs of men and at eight and twenty
points at once, each of which will, therefore,
have only fifteen hundred metres of
tunnel to cut. The entire tunnel may thus
be finished in six years, it is calculated. The
islets may be supposed to offer temporary
obstacles or danger to navigation; but they
would be visible by day—omitting the case
of fogs—and might be lighted by night.
Moreover, since, after the completion of the
tunnel, the islets would then be unnecessary,
and indeed useless; and since, on the other
hand, it would be desirable completely to
isolate the tunnel; these monumental cones
might be made to disappear by mining them
and blowing them up, and so clearing the
strait of the impediment. The difficulty is
boldly disposed of; but it is not every one
who would like to remain in the tunnel at
the time when the islets were being blown up.

The engineer, however, questions whether
such destruction be necessary, and whether
the islets might not be preserved by paying
proper attention to their lighting and maintenance.
Indeed, one would be almost sorry
to lose them. Thirteen brilliant lighthouses
shining in the midst of the sea, and peopling
the immense solitude of the wide-spread
waters, would make a splendid constellation
to attest the presence and the power of man.
Again, the islets might be utilised for other
purposes. A suspension-bridge from France
to England has more than once been spoken
of, and the islets might serve as excellent
piers. In short, opinions seem to be in
favour of not blowing up the thirteen islets.

The tunnel itself, is to consist of a cylinder
of nine metres clear diameter inside, built
solidly of stone. At the bottom—that is,
from the side of the cylinder, which is nearest
to the earth's centre—an arc is cut off, so as
to leave an open tube nine metres broad, and
seven metres high. The chord of this arc is
the level of the road on which two lines of
railway are to be laid. On each side, next to
the wall of the tunnel, is to be constructed an
elevated pathway for pedestrians, and of
course running parallel to the lines of rail.
Between the level of the road and the lower
wall of the tunnel, there is space for an
arched sewer of considerable capacity, to
carry off all waters of drainage. As to the
internal ventilation, it is assumed to be
possible that sufficient aerial currents may
spontaneously be established:—perhaps
stronger than is desirable. This, it is said,
was the impression expressed by the
Emperor Napoleon the Third on his first inspection
of the project, and that a column of air
of considerable force and intensity might be
expected to traverse the tunnel. Monsieur
Thomé does not pretend to solve the question
à priori; in any case, ventilation could be
effected by mechanical agency, as must be
done during the course of the works. The
lighting is simply a system of gas-burners.

It has been already stated that the tunnel
is to cross beneath the upper surface of the
Varne Bank, which is situated near the
middle of the Strait. The particular position
of this submarine ridge has suggested to
Monsieur Thomé a grand idea, which is one
of the most picturesque and seductive in
his whole project,—the idea of a railway
station in the midst of the sea. This station,
where the trains might halt beneath the
open sky, consists of buildings situated at
the bottom of a vast oval tower, the mouth