What middle-aged frequenter of the Old Ship, Brighton, does not recall
the bland personality of ARTHUR BACON, part proprietor and principal
representative of the landlordism of the excellent ancient hostelrie:--
O don't you remember A. BACON BEN BOLT?
So smiling, so shiney, and brown?
How he chortled with glee when he saw us BEN BOLT,
And charged us an extra half-crown.
The gammon of BACON was admirable; and his strict attention to the
duties of servants towards visitors to the hotel was "aside of BACON"
not to be forgotten. A. B. was an ideal landlord, ever ready at his door
to welcome the coming and speed the parting guest.
* * *
[Illustration]
"The Grand" at Cromer is not an enormous hotel: it is a Semi-Grand. The
example of BACON aforesaid could be therefore easily imitated. Warned of
our arrival by letter, rooms secured, train punctual (from St. Pancras
to Cromer) to within ten minutes, we drove up to the door of the
Semi-Grand in our one-horse fly. Not a soul about. Surely the hotel is
open? Yes, the driver knew that much, "because he had taken some people
away from there in the morning." These might have been the last roses of
summer, the last visitors at the hotel for the season! We waited; no
signs of life. "Should he (the driver) ring?" Certainly: a most happy
thought. He descendeth; he ringeth. We wait. Then the sound as of a
somebody coming. "A Boots in sight appears. We hail him with three
cheers"--at least, we ask "if our rooms are ready," and the Boots is of
opinion that they are; whereupon another Boots appears, and the pair of
Boots lug our luggage into the hall, where we find an amiable lady with
keys in her hand who invites us to inspect certain apartments. Our
answer is an adaptation of _Hamlet's_ command to the _Ghost_, "Lead on,
we follow."
* * *
We see: we refuse. These are _not_ the rooms we had ordered. "No, they
are not." So much is admitted. Then, perhaps, we had better depart and
seek hospitality elsewhere. Our beckoner would rather not put us to such
inconvenience, and soon discovers what will suit us exactly. So we take
them then and there. They _do_ suit us exactly: not down to the ground,
as they are first floor. A room with balcony, in the shade all day,
facing north, commanding a lovely sea view. What more could mortal
require?
* * *
The air of Cromer, where there is "nothing between you and the North
Pole"--so any malicious reports to the contrary may be safely
disregarded--is most exhilarating. But the dust O! The dust! On with the
water-carts, and down with sandy dust! It is all sand--everywhere. As to
situation the Semi-Grand has a decided, and sea-sided, advantage over
the other hotels.
* * *
Delightful view from front windows of the Semi-Grand. Of course the back
rooms are rather behind in this respect. Which is but natural.
* * *
Civility, and a desire to please, are the characteristics of the working
staff at the Semi-Grand, directly you know them individually and
collectively. But, as the song says, "You've got to know 'em _fust_."
* * *
With the arrangements of the _salle à manger_ as worked at the
Semi-Grand under the superintendence of a distinguished and invaluable
foreigner _garçon en chef_, very little fault can be found. The
experiments of the youthful and less-experienced subordinates who are
probably there to learn English, are interesting from a certain point of
view, which is attained when, under the guardianship of their chief, or
one of his trusty lieutenants, you have had everything you require.
_Then_ you can sit and watch the recruits at their _garçonic_ exercises.
* * *
I wonder if the _Generalissimo_ has them out for drill every morning
before visitors are up? Are there any colleges, or barracks, for
waiters, where, as undergraduates, or recruits, they can learn their
business? From what I have seen I should say most probably not. But
there ought to be schools and colleges for waiters, with degrees
conferred and diplomas given. Switzerland would be the place wherein to
start this idea.
* * *
Were it not for the refreshing breezes, which rival and excel those of
Margate, the Cromerites would be burnt to cinders. As it is, they are
generally a delicate improvement on the colour of their own lobsters
when boiled. "To this complexion must you come at last"--if you stay
long enough at Cromer.
* * *
_A Curiosity at Cromer._--Exactly in front of where I am now seated,
enjoying the Cromeric morning breezes on the very edge of the cliff, and
at a distance of about twenty-five yards from the Cromer Sands, there
rises a remarkable wooden effigy, on the true import of which I
positively refuse to be enlightened by any native offering me a mere
matter-of-fact explanation.
* * *
[Illustration: Did Napoleon ever try to land at Cromer, and lose his
_celebrated cocked_ hat in the attempt?]
The object, which I sketch on the spot, in order that an experienced
hand shall give it artistic merit, appears to be the gigantic wooden
case "made and provided" for equally gigantic cocked hat, originally
worn by a Titanic Admiral, long since laid up in sea-weed, with all the
rest of his uniform, in the locker of Mr. Davy Jones, Neptune's wardrobe
keeper. This huge object is stuck on a pole, either as marking the last
resting-place, there or thereabouts, of colossal Admiral aforesaid, or
it has been for ages left here as indicating the fate certain to await
the ruthless and recklessly wrecked invader. It may mark the spot where
quietly, one dark night, the Great NAPOLEON rehearsed, _all by himself_,
the invasion of England; being only too glad to escape in the early
dawn, leaving his cocked hat behind him, which, as a Napoleonic relic,
was inclosed in a wooden case of three times its size, and here exposed,
with the motto in best Cromeric French, addressed to NAPOLEON, should he
ever have attempted to repeat his visit:--
"_Voici votre chapeau à cornes! Venez le prendre!_"
The inscription is, by flux of time and sea-water, almost, if not quite,
illegible.
* * *
Or it may mark the spot, banned and anathematised, where was buried,
according to the awfully solemn Masonic ritual, _the mangled remains of
The Man who couldn't keep a secret!!_
* * * * *