The Shadow of Great Britain-Chapter 1595 - 21: Why Didn’t You Tell Me About Such Good Things Earlier?

Wheatstone hadn’t spoken yet when Arthur stepped in, broke the bread and placed it in front of him: "Would you like some jam? I remember when you were neighbors with Louis in the ’Safe Room’, you used to eat several jars of raspberry jam a day."

"I don’t like that stuff anymore." Wheatstone pushed the jam jar aside: "Too sweet, it’s easy to cause inflammation."

"Inflammation?" Arthur widened his eyes, pretending to be shocked: "When did you fall for witch doctors? Should I invite a herbalist to have tea with you next time?"

"Don’t give me that!"

Wheatstone was relentless with his words, but still unconsciously picked up the freshly buttered bread, taking a slow and careful bite.

Arthur picked up the teacup and took a sip: "Are you satisfied with the laboratory you rented near the Financial City? Beautiful surroundings and a quiet, comfortable atmosphere; such a place is perfect for scientific research."

Wheatstone became furious as soon as Arthur mentioned the laboratory he rented: "Don’t bring it up! That’s probably the second stupidest thing I’ve done in my life, second only to knowing you."

Arthur feigned ignorance, already knowing that Wheatstone would surely be dissatisfied with the place, yet he still asked knowingly: "What’s wrong? Can’t the golden location of the Financial City satisfy you? It’s the center of London."

"Yes! The center! The slaughter center of the entire London, even England! Damn Smithfield Market, from Monday to Sunday, you can hear the wailing and moaning of animals every day!" 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

All old Londoners know that London has many distinctive markets, such as the Covent Garden Market known for luxurious imported food and various second-hand goods, and the Billingsgate Market next to the Thames River, the largest fish market in the world, where fresh local varieties like Thames carp, European flounder, smelt, plaice, salmon, eels, and dace can be bought every morning.

As for the Smithfield mentioned by Wheatstone, it is an older place than the Covent Garden Market and Billingsgate Market. Approximately five or six centuries ago, it was already London’s main market for horse and livestock trading.

Smithfield trades horses on Fridays, primarily trades hay from Monday to Wednesday, and holds large markets on Thursdays and Saturdays.

Whenever a market day arrives, about 2500 cattle and nearly 15000 sheep are brought here for trading. Such a large volume of transactions inevitably leads to congestion, but unfortunately, in London, roads leading to all city center markets are narrow and hard to find. Therefore, on trading days, the streets near Smithfield become a mortal hell.

Old London Dickens always held a deep hatred for Smithfield Market, and often criticized this market heavily in his novels and news reports.

As Dickens said:

On market days, Smithfield’s ground would be covered in filth and mud almost ankle-deep. The whistles of carters, the barking of dogs, the ’mooing’ and scurrying sounds of cattle, the ’baaing’ of sheep, the grunting and squealing of pigs, the cries of vendors, the shouting, cursing, and arguing from both sides of the streets, the ringing of bells, and the whistling noise of the crowd...

The large number of animals crammed into such a small space makes extreme acts of brutality commonplace. In order to get young bulls into their allotted enclosures, people continually punished and mistreated these poor animals—poking fragile areas on their hooves with sharp forks, twisting their tails, causing pain throughout their spines. Carters roared and ranted like savages, screaming, cursing, yelling, whistling, waving short sticks, mercilessly battering the animals. Cattle were tied to rails, the ropes so tight that they spewed swollen tongues, then had their leg tendons severed, their hind legs were brutally beaten until they limped.

The market’s reputation is so bad that many tanners refuse to use leather from Smithfield. Animal protection societies are furious with the daily atrocities happening here, and to shut down this market, they even went so far as to submit an investigation request to Parliament in 1828.

But unfortunately, even though Parliament conducted detailed investigations and held hearings on Smithfield Market’s atrocities, nothing could sway the unfeeling London Financial City Government.

Even though Parliament repeatedly called for relocating the market to a more spacious and quieter area, the Financial City couldn’t bear to part with the annual rent of ten thousand pounds that the market brought in, trying every way possible to delay the relocation plan.

And judging by the current situation, their stalling tactics are quite successful, as 3 years have passed since Parliament demanded the market’s relocation, yet Smithfield is still there.

"Do you know what I most frequently see while doing experiments? A whole cart of cattle! Along with cattle and horses and the shouting of the carters, it sounds like Vikings are waging war in front of my window. Every time I head out for lunch, the ground is covered in pools of blood and viscera, you wouldn’t believe it till you look at the cracks in the stone slabs in front of my laboratory, all caked with animal waste. Also, the day before yesterday afternoon, halfway through my experiment, I heard someone knocking at the door outside. I had just opened the door, when a madly beaten cow charged in from the street, and with just one kick, knocked over my phonograph and the telegraph set complete with the stands and wires. Can you imagine a piece of equipment worth dozens of pounds struggling among the horns and hooves? I can tolerate outdated equipment, I can tolerate lack of funding, but I cannot tolerate having an abattoir right outside my laboratory!"