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Since the Eighteenth Century
old maid-servant's, and a little boy is seated at night in the lonely drawing-room poring over Manfroni; or, The One-handed Monk, so frightened that he scarcely dares to turn round."
As it was when Thackeray wrote, so it is now, half a century later. The Common is as beautiful as ever, but the thousand bright villas he saw have since his day multiplied unceasingly. The Pantiles remain, and an orchestra still discourses music from the bandstand ; but how many who walk on that parade give a thought to the glory that once was Tunbridge Wells? The watering-place, the resort so dear to the leisured of several generations, is a watering-place still, but the glory has departed with its Balls, its Card-Assemblies, and its Masters of the Ceremonies. Folk in all ranks of life may—nay, most certainly do—go there to-day; but it is for seclusion, not for gaiety; to avoid the Fashion, not to meet it. Perhaps the town is all the better for that. Anyhow, Tunbridge Wells, with something still of an old-world air, is a delightful spot at which to stay a while, away from the bustle, the worries, the duties of town life. |
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