I buy a steady trickle of secondhand books, from bookshops, from charity shops and occasionally online. It’s mostly an uneventful activity, as I’m usually buying books that relate somehow to my sphere of research. No chances of coming across rare first editions, even if I was remotely interested in that pursuit. However, people have a habit of leaving stuff between the leaves of books they then forget and discard. Again, my discoveries in this field of archaeology have been limited to pieces of blank paper, a supermarket receipt or two and a single bookmark.
But recently I found this:
It’s a card given away by the Liebig’s Extract of Meat Company, a manufacturer of a beef concentrate, founded in London in 1865, using cheap South American meat and processing plants, and which went on to create Oxo and Fray Bentos corned beef. I haven’t been able to date this one yet, but by the look of the image on the reverse it was probably issued in the early 20th century.
Given away from the second half of the nineteenth century until the 1950s, the cards are of course collected by enthusiasts. Since collectors prefer complete albums, my single card isn’t going to raise much excitement. Yet of course it fascinated me. I had no idea of the existence of either company or cards, and love the contracts between the bucolic image on the front of the card, complete with small child (a recurring theme?) and the industrial scene on the reverse, with its all-male workforce.
As a vegan I’m unlikely ever to sample “Liebig’s Fleisch-Extract” (it’s still made apparently), or even Oxo, but the long-forgotten card linked me, as memories do, to the past, to life a century or so ago, to pots of black gooey stuff that was sold as being good for you, and to rural fantasy and industrial reality in the recent past.