In this year there were sold at Smithfield 226,132 beasts, 1,593,270 sheep and lambs, 26,356 calves, and 33,531 pigs—to deal with which there were about 160 salesmen. Things went on very much in the same style as described in Punch until 1851, when the contracted space of the market, the slaughtering places adjoining, and many other nuisances, gave grounds for general dissatisfaction, and after an investigation, an Act (14–15 Vic., c. 61) was passed on 1 Aug. “For providing a Metropolitan Market, and conveniences therewith, in lieu of the Cattle Market at Smithfield.” A suitable site was found in Copenhagen Fields, Islington; the last market at Smithfield was held on 11 June, and the first at the new one on 13 June, 1855.
The Hampshire Guardian, copied into the Times of 12 Dec., gives us the story of the first submarine Telegraph: “We are enabled to supply the following additional particulars respecting the submarine Telegraph laid down across our harbour. It is now about three years since the telegraph
from the Nine Elms terminus to the terminus at Gosport was first established. Subsequently, from the inconvenience experienced at the Admiralty Office here, because of the distance to the telegraph station, the wires were continued from that place to the Royal Clarence Yard. With this addition, although the inconvenience was lessened, it was far from being removed, the harbour intervening, leaving a distance of upwards of a mile, to the Admiral’s house, unconnected; and, notwithstanding the wish of the authorities, both here and in London, that the telegraph should be carried to the Dockyard, no attempt has, hitherto, been made to do so, because it has been considered almost impossible to convey it under water. An offer, indeed, was made to the Admiralty, to lay down a telegraph enclosed in metallic pipes, which were to be fixed under the water by the aid of diving bells. This scheme, having been found to be impracticable, has been very prudently abandoned. Whatever difficulties may have hitherto interfered to prevent the establishment of submarine telegraphs, appear, now, to have been entirely overcome, for the time occupied from the commencement of carrying the telegraph from shore to shore, and transmitting signals, did not occupy a quarter of an hour. The telegraph, which has the appearance of an ordinary rope, was coiled into one of the dockyard boats, one end of it being made fast on shore, and, as the boat was pulled across, the telegraphic rope was gradually paid out over the stern, its superior gravity causing it to sink to the bottom immediately. . . . Independently of the simplicity of this submarine telegraph, it has an advantage which even the telegraphs on land do not possess—in the event of an accident, it can be replaced in ten minutes. The success of the trial here has, we understand, determined the inventors to lay down their contemplated line across the Channel, from England to France, under the sanction of the respective Governments.”
Such was the germ of the multitudinous cables which now span every ocean.
CHAPTER XXIX.
Medals for Army and Navy—Grenville library—Day of fasting—“Binding of Satan”—Suspension of transportation—New House of Lords—Jenny Lind—Bunn v. Lind—“Jenny Linden”—Death of O’Connell—Story of the Duke of Buccleugh—Abolition of Eton “Montem.”
At this time, at all events, we did not plaster our soldiers with medals for every trifling deed of duty, and it was not until January of this year, that a Commission was appointed to decide upon the medals which were to be presented to the officers and men who served in the Peninsula, under Wellington and other commanders. And it was not till the 1st of June, that an Order was issued from the Horse Guards, that claims might be sent in by those who were present in battles from 1793 to 1814—or, rather, the list began with Maida, 1806, and ended with Toulouse, 1814. The medals for naval service began with the “Glorious First of June,” 1794, and ended with the fight between the Endymion and President on 25 Jan., 1815. The Medal for Waterloo was granted some long time afterwards.
In January, the British Museum received the splendid bequest of the Library of Thomas Grenville, Esqre., who died 17 Dec., 1846. This magnificent library of over 20,000 volumes, valued at the very low estimate of £50,000, contains two copies of the Mazarin bible, one on vellum, a first folio of Shakespere, Caxton’s “Reynard the Fox,” and countless other literary treasures and rarities. He had intended to leave this library to the Duke of Buckingham—but, reflecting that as most of the books had been paid for with the proceeds of a sinecure office (Chief Justice in eyre, south of the Trent)
of £2,000 a year, which he had held from 1800 to 1817, when it was abolished, he felt it only just that they should be given to the nation, who had virtually paid for them. With them came, as curator, his valet, Mr. Holden, who remained with his master’s beloved books until three or four years since.
On 9 March a Royal Proclamation was issued for a day of Fasting and humiliation on account of the famine and distress in Ireland, and it was duly kept on the day set apart for it, 24 March.