IF, early on a summer morning, before the smoke of countless fires had narrowed the horizon of the metropolis, a spectator were to ascend to the top of St. Paul"s, and take his stand upon the balcony that with gilded rail flashes like a fringe of fire on the summit of the dome, he would see sleeping beneath his feet the greatest camp of men upon which the sun has ever risen. As far as he could distinguish by the morning light, he would behold stretched before him the mighty map of the metropolis; and could he ascend still higher, he would note the stream of life overflowing the brim of hills which enclose the basin in which it stands.
In the space swept by his vision would lie the congregated habitations of two and three-quarter millions of his species, -but how vain are figures to convey an idea of so vast a multitude! If Norway, stretching from the Frozen Ocean down to its southern extremity in the North Sea, were to summon all its people to one vast conclave, they would number little more than half the souls within the London bills of mortality! Switzerland, in her thousand valleys, could not muster such an army; and even busy Holland, within her mast-thronged harbours, humming cities, and populous plains, could barely overmatch the close-packed millions within sound of the great bell at his feet.
As the spectator gazed upon this extraordinary prospect, the first stir of the awakening city would gradually steal upon his ear. The rumbling of wheels, the clang of hammers, theclear call of the human voice, all deepening by degrees into a confused hum, would proclaim that the mighty city was once more rousing to the labour of the day; and the blue columns of smoke climbing up to heaven would intimate that the morning meal was at hand.
At such a moment the thought would naturally arise in his mind, -In what manner is such an assemblage victualled? By what complicated wheels does all the machinery move by which two and three-quarter millions of human beings sit down to their meals day by day, as regularly and quietly as though they only formed a snug little party at Lovegrove"s on a summer afternoon?
As thus he mused respecting the means by which the supply and demand of so vast a multitude are brought to agree, so that every one is enabled to procure exactly what he wants, at the exact time, without loss to himself or injury to the community, thin lines of steam, sharply marked for the moment, as they advanced one after another from the horizon and converged towards him, would indicate the arrival of the great commissariat trains, stored with produce from all parts of these isles and from the adjacent continent. Could his eye distinguish in addition the fine thread of that far-spreadingweb which makes London the most sensitive spot on theEarth, he would be enabled to take in at a glance the two agents-Steam and Electricity-which keep the balance true between the wants and the supply of London.
The inadequacy of figures to convey a clear impression to the mind of the series of units of which the sums are composed, renders it impossible to give more than a faintidea of the enormous supplies of food required to victual the capital for a single year. But the conception may be somewhat assisted by varying the process. Country journals now and then astonish their readers by calculations to show how many times the steel pens manufactured in England would form a chain around their own little town, or how many thousand miles the matches of their local factory would extend if laid in a straight line from the centre of their market-place. Let us try our hand on the same sort of picture, and endeavour to fill the eye with a prospect that would satisfy the appetite of the far-famedDragon of Wantley himself.
If we fix upon Hyde Park as our exhibition-ground, and pile together all the barrels of beer consumed in London in a single year, they would form a thousand columns not far short of a mile in perpendicular height.
Let us imagine ourselves on the top of this tower, and we shall have a look-out worthy of the feast we are about to summon to our feet.
Herefrom we discover the Great Northern Road, stretching far away into the length and breadth of the land. Lo! as we look, a mighty herd of oxen, with loud bellowing, is beheld approaching from the north. For miles and miles the mass of horns is conspicuous winding along the road, ten abreast; and even thus, the last animal of the herd would be seventy- two miles away, and the drover goading his shrinking flank considerably beyond Peterborough.
On the other side of the park, as the clouds of dust clear away, we see the Great Western Road, as far as the eye can reach, thronged with a bleating mass of wool; and the shepherd at the end of the flock (ten abreast), and the dog that is worrying the last sheep, are just leaving the environs ofBristol, one hundred and twenty-one miles from our beer-built tower.
Along Piccadilly, Regent Street, the Strand, Fleet Street, Cheapside, and the eastward Mile End Road line, for seven and a half miles, street and causeway are thronged with calves (still ten abreast); and in the great parallel thorough-fares of Bayswater Road, Oxford Street, and Holborn, we see nothing for nine long miles but a slow-pacing, deep-grunting herd of swine.
As we watch this moving mass approaching from all pointsof the horizon, the air suddenly becomes dark-a black pallseems drawn over the sky-it is the great flock of birds (game, poultry, and wild-fowl) that are come up to be killed. As they fly wing to wing, and tail to beak, they form a square whose superficies is not much less than the whole enclosed portion of St. James"s Park, or fifty-one acres. No sooner does this huge flight clear away than we behold the park at our feet covered with hares and rabbits. Feeding two thousand abreast, they extend from the marble arch to the round pond in Kensington Gardens-at least a mile.
Let us now pile up all the half-quartern
loaves consumed
in the metropolis in the year, and we shall find they form a pyramid which measures two hundred square feet at its base, and rises into the air a height of one thousand two hundred and ninety-three feet, or nearly three times that of St. Paul"s.
Turning now to ward the sound of rushing waters, we findthat the seven companies are filling the mains for the day. If they were allowed to flow into the area of the adjacent St. James"s Park, they would in the course of the twenty-four hours flood its entire space with a depth of thirty inches ofwater, and the whole annual supply would be quite sufficient to submerge the City part of London (one mile square) ninety feet.
Of the fish we confess we are able to say nothing: when numbers mount to billions, the calculations become too trying to our patience. We have little doubt, however, that they would be quite sufficient to make the Serpentine one solid mass.
Of ham and bacon, again, preserved meats, and all the countless comestibles, we have taken no account; and, in truth, they are little more to the great mass than the ducks and geese were to Sancho Panza"s celebrated mess-"the skimmings of the pot."The railways having poured this enormous amount of food into the metropolis, as the main arteries feed the human body, it is distributed by the various dealers into every quarter of the town: first into the wholesale markets, or great centres; then into the sub-centres, or retail-shops; and lastly into the moving centres or barrows of the hawkers. By this means nourishment is poured into every corner of the town, and the community at large is supplied as effectually as are the countless tissues of the human body by the infinitely dividednet-work of capillaryvessels. These food distributors amount
to about 100,000. Among them are no less than 7000 grocers, nearly 10,000 bakers, and 7000 butchers.
- DR. WYNTER
London, as a city, is in its arrangements and regulations perhaps the most complete in the world. All seems in the most perfect order,-everything in its place, like the brooms, brushes, dusting-cloths of a perfect housekeeper; and for that prime virtue, cleanliness, it is, perhaps, more remarkable than any other. Even the air of London is sweet, save in a few localities. The atmosphere is often, indeed, thick with mingled smoke and fog, but the sense of smell is rarely offended; and this is the best evidence of an all-pervading cleanliness. As a remarkable example of arrangement, nothing can be conceived more complete in all its parts than the management of the Post Office department in London. Several times every day throughout London there is a delivery of letters, newspapers, and parcels; and notes, often scarce bigger than the wax that seals them, are conveyed with exactness and rapidity to and from every street, lane, and alley of the vast metropolis.
QUESTIONS
What is the population of London? Illustrate its extent by comparison with Norway. With Switzerland. With Holland. What are the two agents which keep the balance true between the wants of London in the matter of food, and the supply?If all the barrels of beer consumed in London in a year were piled together, what would they form? How far would the oxen stretch, ten abreast? And the sheep? And the calves? And the swine? What area would the birds cover? And the hares and rabbits? Of what size would a pyramid of the loaves consumed in a year be? Give an idea of the annual water supply. How is this food distributed in London?
