The London public are not of the opinion of Shelley, that flesh of
bullocks and sheep, when properly cooked, is the true cause of original
sin, and that to regain the innocence of the Garden of Eden we have but
to have recourse solely to a vegetarian diet. This doctrine has never
been a popular one, and from the earliest time the contrary has found
favour in the eyes of men. With what gusto does Homer describe the
banquets before the walls of Troy, when heroes were the guests, and where
divine Achilles was the head cook! The custom of eating baked and boiled
is one of the few good things we have to thank antiquity for. Our jolly
Scandinavian forefathers considered eating horse rump steak a sign of
orthodox paganism; and at this very moment, if the _Times_ be a correct
index of the national sentiment, the great question that agitates the
mind of the middle class public, that public in which, according to
general opinion, all the piety, and patriotism, and wisdom of the land is
concentrated, is not as to peace or war--not as to Reform or Social
Science--or education or religion--not as to how the vice and impiety of
the day may be grappled with and reclaimed--but as to how a man may
genteelly dine his friends, and, with an income of a few hundreds,
provide a repast that shall rival that of one whose income consists of as
many thousands. Really, the force of folly can no further go. Hence,
then, it is clear that to the present customs of society a cattle-market
of some kind is essential. At one time it was held in Smithfield. There
it was a dangerous nuisance. The wise men of London did as they
generally do in such matters--first denied that it was a nuisance at all,
and when they were driven from that position, and compelled to yield to
public indignation, moved it a little further off.
It is early morn, and we wend our way to the New Cattle-market, in
Holloway, near the model gaol, and lying in that _terra incognita_
stretching away to Camden-town and the steep of Highgate-hill, where
juvenile cockneys some thirty years ago played, and called the waste
Copenhagen-fields. There the New Cattle-market is erected. In shape it
consists of a long square, if I may be allowed such an expression, on
every side surrounded with lofty walls, and covers many acres of ground.
In the centre of the market is a lofty clock-tower, and around it are
shops devoted to the sale of horse gear and cattle-physic, and the
banking-houses, where the cattle are paid for and the money deposited,
chief amongst which is that of an active alderman of the city of London,
and ex-Lord Mayor and M.P. The animals are ranged in pairs, others tied
to rails all around; and on the other side are layers, where the animals
that are not sold are lodged on payment of a trifling sum, and
slaughtering-houses. The salesmen, who are the middle-men, receive the
cattle from the drover, and sell them to the butcher, and pay the money
into the bank. The extent of the market is about ten acres. The market
is the property of the Corporation, who exact a toll of 3.5d. for each
beast, and 4d. a score of sheep; then there is a further charge of 1s. a
pen. As there are 1,800 pens and 1,450 rails, this rent must amount to a
respectable sum. In round numbers, the accommodation provided is for
25,000 sheep and 7,300 beasts. The summer is the best time for seeing
the market, as in the winter months it is not so numerously attended.
The market opens at two, A.M., and closes at two, P.M. Any buying and
selling after that hour is most strictly prohibited. The entrance into
the market is not open, as in Smithfield, but through iron gates, guarded
by vigilant police. The public-houses in the neighbourhood abound in
signs not known in more fashionable districts. Here is the "Butchers'
Arms," there the "White Horse;" here the "Lamb" Tavern, there the "Red
Lion;" and great is the business they do on Mondays and Thursdays. The
men are of a class not visible elsewhere in London. Farmers, graziers,
jockeys, jobbers, pig-drivers, salesmen, drovers abound here, whose
speciality is to know
"Quae cura bovum, qui cultus habendo,
Sit pecori."
However early you may come in the morning, you may be sure they are there
before you. At twelve o'clock on Sunday night the Sunday is supposed to
be over, and the poor beasts, who have been shut up ever since twelve on
Saturday night, are released from their confinement. Now comes the
difficulty and confusion. How can the beasts belonging to one man be
prevented from mixing with those of another? How can they be got into
proper order? I fear the answer must be chiefly by a system of terrorism
and physical force. Those wonderfully sagacious brutes the drovers' dogs
know every animal, know where he is to go, know where he ought not to go,
and take care that, somehow or other, the object aimed at by the defunct
Administrative Reform Association should be achieved, and that the right
one should be in the right place. Of a night the scene is something
extraordinary. The lowing of oxen, the tremulous cries of the sheep, the
barking of dogs, the rattling of sticks on the bodies and heads of the
animals, the rough and ragged appearance of the men, the shouts of the
drovers, and the flashing about of torches, present altogether a wild and
terrific combination. But all this is over by daylight, when the buyers
come upon the scene, and there is an appearance of order and cleanliness,
a strong contrast to Smithfield, as your eye glances from one row to
another of heads gathered from Northamptonshire, from Leicestershire,
from Scotland, from Ireland, from the fertile plains of far-away
Holstein, or the pastures of Spain, still more remote. The latter
animals it seems almost a pity to slaughter; they have something of the
appearance of the buffalo, minus his shaggy head of horrid hair; they are
cream-coloured, and with their long horns must be a very pretty ornament
for a gentleman's park. Our foreign trade in cattle is growing very
large. In the year 1857 there were imported into the United Kingdom,
oxen and bulls, 53,277; cows, 12,371; calves, 27,315; sheep, 162,324;
lambs, 14,883; swine, 10,678. The greater proportion come from Holland
and Denmark, and are put upon the rail and at once sent off to London.
There was a time when we were told this would be the ruin of the farmer;
yet, according to the speech of Mr. Grey, a north country agriculturist,
the other day, it appears that growing flesh is the most remunerative
employment for the farmer at the present time; and in spite of all this
foreign importation, we may observe that meat is high, and that
Paterfamilias, blessed, as he is sure to be, with a small income and a
large family, finds it difficult to make both ends meet. The returns of
the cattle-markets tell us that the population of London consume annually
277,000 bullocks, 30,000 calves, 1,480,000 sheep, and 34,000 pigs. Mr.
Hicks estimates the value of these at between seven and eight millions
sterling. The buyers here are the larger class of dealers; the smaller
ones go to the dead-meat market in Newgate-street, which is blocked up by
them from four in the morning till breakfast-time. If we come here on a
Friday, between ten and four, we shall find a market for the sale of
horses and donkeys--a market much patronised by costermongers. Let us
add, in conclusion, that the New Cattle-market bids fair to be as much of
a nuisance as the old, and that, sooner or later, there must be a
dead-meat market for London, and that alone; otherwise we shall have a
repetition of the sad tragedy to which the poet refers, when he writes of
"the cow with the crumpled horn, who tossed the maiden all forlorn."