shadow of britain

Chapter 823 A Great Villain Appears as a Loyal One
If you were to ask what the top choice was for summer seaside holidays for the British in the 19th century, you would likely be wrong.
Without a doubt, it is Kent.

As the first region in England to develop seaside holiday projects, Londoners will definitely talk about the "Kent Coast Trio" whenever seaside holidays are mentioned.

It's called the "Three Treasures of the Coast," but it actually refers to three seaside towns in Kent: Margate, Ramsgate, and Broadstables.

Although these three places are all popular seaside resort destinations, they target very different consumer groups.

Margate was the first well-known seaside resort town in Kent. As early as the 18th century, it was famous throughout the country for its sea spa and health resorts. In addition, it was very convenient to travel to Margate from London by mail ship, the tickets were cheap, and the amusement facilities were well-developed, so it naturally became a gathering place for the middle and lower classes.

Ramsgate, compared to Maggate, appears to be more sophisticated.

This port city, built on a cliff, was awarded the title of "Royal Port" during the reign of George IV. Its dock facilities were not only superior to those of Margate, but its urban planning was also more orderly and spacious.

The streets of Ramsgate are lined with Regency-style row houses, their balconies adorned with wisteria and wrought iron railings, exuding a strong middle-class atmosphere.

Doctors, lawyers, pastors, retired military officers, and gentlemen and ladies who have worked hard in the city all year round love to stay here for a few days.

The sea breeze here is gentle, and there are all kinds of seawater bathing facilities to treat rheumatism. There are also choirs, small art exhibitions and poetry readings on the streets to help people pass the time. It is the perfect place for these wealthy people who do not care about money to spend and relax.

Brodestadt, the quietest of the three, is a truly secluded place.

It's not as bustling and lively as the Maggate, nor as full of social interactions among respectable people as the Ramsgate.

This small bay, nestled between two white cliffs, had only a main street, a few hotels, a small church, and a handful of fishermen's dwellings a couple of years ago. Most of the time, all you could hear here were the cries of seagulls, the soft clatter of horse-drawn carriages on the cobblestone streets, or the distant sounds of church bells mingling with the crashing waves.

But precisely because of this, it has become a favorite of many writers, artists, and artistic youths.

Weary young writers or heartbroken bank employees often rent a small cabin overlooking the sea in Broadstadt and spend a few days alone. They don't go to the beach or swim in the sea; they simply sit on the cliff edge, letting the wind blow and watching the mist swallow the distant sails, then write their thoughts in letters to console themselves.

If the description above looks familiar, then you've guessed correctly.

Because Mr. Charles Dickens owned a cottage here, and almost every summer he would come to Broadsters for a few days, perhaps to gather inspiration for his writing, or perhaps to look across the sea at his vanished first love and reminisce about that imagined happy time.

Of course, Kensington Palace's seaside vacation wouldn't be in a place frequented by artsy young people, nor would it be on the bustling Margate Beach; they would naturally go to Ramsgate, which has the most upper-class atmosphere.

In fact, as early as the 17th century, the wealthy class in England had a tradition of going to the seaside for summer vacations.

However, as time went on, with the development of industrial society and the accumulation of social wealth, the number of middle-class people who had both vacation needs and sufficient property steadily increased, and even relatively wealthy skilled workers in the lower classes gradually became able to afford travel expenses.

With the opening of railways in various places, passenger trains provided these trendy citizens with a more economical and efficient option than horse-drawn carriages and cruise ships when traveling between cities and beaches.

Take the Canterbury-Whitbury railway as an example. Since the railway was built and opened to traffic, during the peak tourist season, from the end of June to the beginning of September, tickets are almost always hard to come by.

Many declining harbors and fishing villages have been revitalized by the rise of tourism and the opening of railway lines. Streets that had not been updated for decades suddenly began to be filled with all kinds of shops, libraries, dance halls, theaters and hotels. Various Georgian buildings and crescent-shaped row houses have sprung up next to the dilapidated fishermen's huts.

At first glance, it inevitably gives people a feeling of being in another world.

The Treasury’s economic survey report also clearly pointed out that these seaside resorts are becoming important centers for driving the UK’s economic growth, with the development speed of several seaside cities even keeping pace with that of traditional manufacturing cities.

The 1833 census report conducted by the Home Office showed that the two cities had the highest population growth rates. One was Brighton, the most famous aristocratic resort in the country, and the other was Bradford, the hometown of Sir Arthur Hastings, an industrial city in York and a center of wool textile manufacturing.

On the beach in Ramsgate, the August sun shone through the thin clouds, and the sea glittered like scattered silver.

The sea breeze gently caressed the travelers carrying parasols and luggage, causing the edges of the ladies' white dresses to flutter lightly.

The men, adjusting their hat brims, laughed and remarked that the air was "much fresher than in London."

Unlike the beach recreation we are familiar with today, people in 1835 still held a sense of awe for the sea.

Seawater bathing is a new medical trend, rather than simply a form of leisure and entertainment.

People come to Ramsgate not to get a tan on the beach, but to recover their health.

Doctors posted posters throughout the city and published articles in newspapers, claiming that regular sea bathing could regulate bodily fluids, invigorate the nerves, and eliminate phlegm and dampness. As a result, large numbers of middle-class and respectable families, along with the elderly and children, flocked to this small town on the south bank during the summer.

On the beach, rows of bath vans are parked at the edge of the tide. These wooden cabins, resembling small campervans, have wheels and curtains. Ladies change their clothes inside the vans before the owners push them to deeper, shallower waters to avoid the embarrassment of exposing their bodies in public.

There were also specific rules about how women went into the sea; ladies were usually accompanied by bathers.

The term "bathing girl" is actually a polite way of referring to a profession unique to seaside cities. Bathing girls are typically tall, strong, middle-aged women who help their customers, ensuring the ladies aren't swept away by the waves. As for the gentlemen, they're less particular. They usually wear only a vest and knee-length shorts, and some of the bolder ones even dare to swim dozens of yards out, proudly displaying their muscular physiques through the binoculars of the ladies on the beach.

Even those who don't plan to go into the water can have plenty of fun on the beach.

The children searched for small crabs and starfish on the rocks by the tide, carefully putting them into tin buckets.

Ladies in flowing gowns sat on tweed-covered chaise lounges, their foreheads shaded by long-handled umbrellas, sipping warm lemonade while reading the latest issues of *Gentlemen's Magazine* and *The Englishman*. If they were lucky, they might even catch a glimpse of an impromptu performance by the local choir from a nearby wooden platform.

The area near the pier is even more lively than the beach, with rows of souvenir vendors, candy merchants, sketch artists, and street performers. The sketch artists usually draw the background in advance, and if you are willing to spend a few shillings, you can have a "Madam (Miss)'s Wonderful Memories of Ramsgate" in about ten minutes.

At the foot of the eastern cliffs at the end of the beach, hotel owners are busy welcoming guests, and their shops usually display signs that read "Tea for sixpence" or "Fresh fish breakfast for one shilling per person." Although these prices are much higher than in London, since they are already traveling, guests usually don't fuss over these minor details.

However, the Duchess of Kent and Princess Victoria would certainly not share a hotel with the common people.

Months ago, they had already booked the Albion Villa, a place reserved for members of the royal family and high-ranking nobles.

As with Victoria's processions in recent years, the streets of Kensington Palace were already packed with onlookers as the royal carriages drove along Ramsgate toward the harbor. As The Times put it: the fact that the royal family was coming directly among them was a welcome sight for the English.

The entire city of Ramsgate seemed to be ignited by the morning sun. Triangular flags hung from the windows along the streets, children waved from the balconies of the row houses, and people threw "petals" cut from colored paper from the upper floors, which landed on the roofs of the royal carriages traveling through the streets, like some kind of secular coronation.

The band was already waiting at the corner of the main street leading to the pier. The brass instruments played loudly in the sea breeze, but the rhythm always lagged behind the conductor's movements by half a beat. It was clear that these "musicians" were borrowed from the church and therefore did not seem professional.

Standing behind the band were members of the local council, almost all of whom wore sixteen-inch top hats and their best coats, which they had just ordered and were flushed with heat, yet refused to take off a single button.

The crowd thronged around the carriage, shouts, cheers, and the sound of hats being thrown into the air all mingled together.

Vendors push carts full of candy around the edge of the street, while the more savvy ones take the opportunity to sell their pre-ordered "royal souvenirs."

Children clung to their mothers' skirts, crying and demanding a handkerchief "like the one worn by Princess Victoria." Young men stood on tiptoe, trying to see if the princess sitting in the jeweled carriage was truly as beautiful as rumored, or if she really had a leg ailment.

Victoria wore a pale purple dress today, with a small cape trimmed in silver and gray, her hair styled in a round bun, and a small hat adorned with feathers.

She sat inside the carriage, a gentle smile on her face, mechanically waving to the crowds on both sides, but her arms were already stiff and her back was starting to ache.

She should have been pleased with the scene, after all, she was only the Crown Princess, not the Queen, but the citizens were already paying tribute to her with the enthusiasm of welcoming the King.

But in the end, she was still just a person. Before she arrived in Ramsgate, she had already received the same warm welcome along the way and responded to the expectations of the people with the same friendly attitude as always.

"How much longer?" she asked in a low voice to the man in the black tuxedo beside her.

Arthur didn't answer immediately. He looked up at the window to make sure there was still a short distance to go before turning his gaze back to her. "Soon, Your Highness. However, you will need to give a speech to the city council and citizens afterwards, thanking them for their warm welcome and praising Ramsgate's urban development and beautiful scenery."

Victoria nodded listlessly: "I understand."

Arthur knew that such a schedule was indeed exhausting, but it was part of the Kensington system, and the part that Arthur considered most beneficial.

Therefore, he could only persuade Victoria to persevere and encourage her: "Your Highness, people of high status are a bit like actors on stage; they must try their best to please their audience. You have always done a good job in this regard. I know you may be in pain right now, but please persevere a little longer, just a little longer. The most painful part will soon be over."

He smiled, looking out the window at the crowd waving to them, his voice carrying a hint of encouragement, yet also a touch of cruelty: "These people have been standing on the street since morning, shawls draped over their shoulders, children in hand, braving the scorching sun, just to catch a glimpse of you. They don't know if you've slept well, how long you've traveled by boat and carriage, or if you're tired of this grand event. But you certainly know that these people have high expectations of you, and Great Britain has high expectations of you."

Victoria remained silent for a moment.

“They think I am the future.” She finally spoke, her voice very soft, as if she were talking to herself: “But I don’t even know where I will be tomorrow.”

“Yes, they really do think you are the future.” Arthur paused, turning to look out the window at the seemingly endless cheering crowd. “Your Highness, this country has not truly respected its ruler for far too long. Therefore, if you want to know where your tomorrow lies, you must respond to their expectations, for they certainly hope that you will be on the throne in the future.”

This statement, though not harsh, is perfectly measured.

After listening, Victoria still didn't turn around to look at him, but straightened her back and smiled: "I also want to know where I'll be tomorrow. Let's give it a try, and do a good job performing today first."

She then turned to Arthur, her eyes clearer than before, though she was still tired: "Do you still have my speech?"

Arthur nodded with satisfaction, took out the speech from his calfskin bag and handed it to her: "Your Highness, since your speech is after the Duchess of Kent's, I have slightly modified the opening acknowledgments. I hope Your Highness will not mind."

(End of this chapter)