Now for a sudden transition from the ancient to the modern, from mediÆval shadows to undimmed sunlight, from the comparatively humdrum stillness and gravity of ordinary daily life into the midst of vivacious holiday activities, from the pent-up Rows to the glorious freedom of Yarmouth’s magnificent Marine Drive and unrivalled Beach. Who could reasonably desire the realisation, in the course of a few brief moments, of a wider contrast or a change more refreshing? Where, but in Yarmouth, could such a transition take place in so short a time, for where, but in the renowned old borough can such a series of such Rows be found? And where else can be seen a Beach of such proportions, with its far-reaching stretches of dry, clean, soft, “golden” sand, and its uninterrupted view of the German Ocean, continuous from north to south, and bounded along the east by the horizon alone? Measured by miles, both Beach and Marine Drive afford ample scope for the enjoyment of thousands of visitors of all classes. Small cause for wonder is it that a veritable army of recreationists, at least a hundred thousand strong (including day-trippers), should be attracted thither year by year, it would be surprising were they not to come. From the Rows to the Beach we go, with anticipations of pleasure of an altogether different description, and find amusement in watching for a time the varied ways in which the present detachment of the season’s welcomed battalions of visitors are disporting themselves. Let us see what delights on a favourable day in summer our splendid sands afford!

Proceeding by a convenient wooden gangway laid upon the sand from the Marine Drive to high water mark, close to the Britannia Pier, we are at once in the midst of a lively spectacle, people of all ages and sizes are here, happy in the consciousness of being able to enjoy themselves in the way their fancy leads them. Pleasure is the prevailing object on which all minds are set. Many of the fair sex are quietly seated upon the accommodating sands, perusing their favourite books, papers, and periodicals, or engaged in some light and fanciful work whilst quietly noting the ever-changing scene going on around them. Nursemaids in charge of juveniles are keeping guard over sundry cast-off shoes and stockings, whilst carefully watching the youngsters paddling joyously in the foaming surf. Paterfamilias, too, is in the surf, and provides a centre of attraction to a number of ladies whose interest, however, is not in him, but in the young olive branch—his very smallest—whose wriggling extremities he is endeavouring to bathe in the spreading waves. As his holiday inexpressibles appear likely to receive more from the sea than the unwilling child, his better half rushes forward to the rescue and hastily “reefs” them.

Beach sketches Bare-legged children in goodly numbers are paddling about and with shovels and tiny buckets are busily engaged in digging small docks and trying to fill them with water, others are making sand pies or erecting buildings in original styles of architecture, and castles and towers not remarkable for stability. From the paddlers to the bathers our attention turns. Two young ladies have emerged from the bathing machines and are bravely swimming away, whilst the bathing of the other naiads consists in tightly holding the ropes attached to the machines, and giving a succession of hysterical jumps that display the intense ugliness of their dresses. In this ugliness we detect a device. The main desire of the designer, surely, must have been to divert the unwelcome attentions of too obtrusive individuals of the opposite sex. In the distance are the gentlemen’s machines, and near them can be seen a number of heads dotting the restless waters. [25] For lovers of the sea seeking enjoyment upon, rather than immersion in it, the boatmen are on the qui vive. “Hi, hi, hi, any more going!” shouts one. “Here you are, sir, a jolly sail out,” says another. Whilst a third, on business bent, cries, “Come along, we’re going to give you a treat, sixpence for a sail, any more going?” We watch the filling and launching of one or two of the boats, and note the jaunty air and smiling faces of some adventurers as they go aboard, and have little doubt that some of their smiles will soon be exchanged for more reflective countenances. Presently we are invited to have a trip in a rowing boat, “Have a row, sir, nice day for a row.” Numbers at the time are indulging in that pleasant form of enjoyment. A party of eight are seated in a rowing boat waiting to be launched, when a little stripling about seven summers old, bare-legged and brave, seeing their readiness, tries with all his might to give the boat the impetus it needs. Some day, his indomitable will and energy will, we hope, be more amply rewarded.

Watching the return of the sailing boats and the landing of the passengers is found by many to be interesting, especially when the sea is inclined to take a mean advantage of those standing awaiting their turn to land, by unceremoniously bumping the boat, and causing the whole company simultaneously to lose their equilibrium and receive a shower of spray. Of course they laugh as well as their friends on shore, indeed, everybody regards it as great fun. Turning from the sea to the beach, we often find a small “dock,” caused by the incoming flood or left by the last tide upon the beach. This is a source of supreme enjoyment to numbers of juveniles. Here, with perfect safety, paddling is being indulged in. Here miniature vessels are sailing, and, as from a reservoir, water is being conveyed in buckets for supplying the various needs of those actively engaged in raising fortifications, planning gardens, and making fish ponds.

Toilers in the sands

This central position of the beach being most frequented by visitors, it is also the chief resort, the happy hunting ground of the numerous class who have a keen eye to business. Nearly all of them are vendors of only one kind of article each, and this peculiarity tends to multiply their numbers, the variety of merchandise among the whole being considerable. There are so many—and some of them are strangers to Yarmouth—that, were they not civil, and usually take the first refusal, persistency with frequency would be an annoyance little short of a nuisance. Take a seat and your troubles begin. “Here’s your chocolate creams.” “Buns, two a penny.” “Yarmouth rock, penny a box.” “Apples, penny a bag.” “Hokey Pokey, two a penny.” “Nuts or pears—fine Williams.” “Lemonade, three-a-pence a bottle.” “Pears or grapes, all ripe, buy a nice bunch of grapes, sir.” “Walnuts, eight a penny, fine walnuts.” “Milk, penny a glass.” These and many other solicitations are made to unfortunate visitors whilst reclining upon the sands or occupying seats, reading the morning papers, Conservative, Radical, and Sporting, or engaged in knitting, sewing, or fancy work of some kind, nursing, chatting, novel reading, or lazily watching the ever-changing scene on the Beach, or meditatively listening to the everlasting music of the sea. Fancy the effect of such a succession of interruptions upon a couple who had passed the spooning period of life and were intently engaged in writing, probably letters to their friends, jotting down their impressions fresh from the sands; before subscribing themselves as ‘Yours ozoneously, Jim, or Jemima,’ we can imagine they would be able to lay much to the charge of these itinerating traders.

Yarmouth beach in its summer aspect

Spooning Real fun, that is thoroughly appreciated by all classes, is supplied when a sailing boat has to be drawn above high water mark upon the beach. Young and old of both sexes and all classes willingly lend a helping hand at the long rope, and merrily runs the boat, responsive to the united pull, to the destined place. Spooning couples are in profusion upon the sands. The vicinity of the Beach Concert-ring appears to be a favoured spot with them. Groups of pleasure seekers are reclining upon the clean, soft sand in all directions. Some of them, like children, finding amusement in trifling things. The most objectionable form of “larking” with each other is the throwing handfuls of sand. Country bumpkins find special delight in this. Such a Tom Tiddler’s ground would not be overlooked by gipsies; three of the tribe are present with keen eyes for clients, and a sharp look out for policemen. One of the gipsies tries to effect a capture, but the desired coin is not forth-coming. But gipsies have not a monopoly in fortune-telling. A bronzed peasant from the sunny south is here, with birds and papers, ready to make any ninny-hammer giggle at the small charge of one penny. “Ladies and gentlemens, these Indian birds will take a planet of your fortune.” The next moment, and we find yet another opportunity of peering into futurity, being invited to “try the Fairy Press for your fortune” to be announced in the form of an Instantaneous Photograph of your future partner; this also for one penny. Photographers, without future pretences, of course, are here, and appear to be in eager demand. Edwins and Harrys, who have already selected their Angelinas, are prepared to pose placidly with them by their sides, under the searching scrutiny of the Photographers’ lens. At the al fresco concert a small and select company are informed by the singer, in connection with his song that his “wife was gone where briny breezes blow, after being married four years and sixteen months.” At an Electric Battery an interested group are watching a sturdy individual, who declines to cry “peccavi” to the evident surprise of the electrician. The next who submits himself is soon satisfied with his pennyworth. The open door of the Camera Obscura invites those who prefer less excitable pleasures to enter within its calm and retired seclusion, and there see what is to be seen. The Happy Family is at hand to throw more entertainment into the morning’s programme, and to give a lesson in social and domestic felicity. Then the familiar face presents itself, of one who is on excellent terms with himself, and with all around. Our Beach friend, an illusionist, has just planted his little table upon the sands, placed his guinea pig upon it, and is gratified to see the circle of expectant admirers who immediately gather round. After widening the circumference of the circle a second time, turning up his sleeves, etc., he prefaces his usual performance with “Ladies and gentlemen, I shall have much pleasure in showing you some entirely new tricks.” Before performing the culminating trick, which is really extremely clever, he favours the company with what he terms his “shell trick,” collecting contributions first from the outsiders, whom he names “the gallery,” and next from those within “the stalls.” For those desirous of being told something about their own craniums and capabilities, there are three Professors ready to enlighten them. The first we reach is delineating a most unsatisfactory skull. He is advising the young woman, if she is in the habit of drinking tea, to give it up, and to drink Cocoa instead, to eat plenty of fruit, and to take all the out-door exercise she can, and be in the sunshine as much as possible. He says, with much frankness, “Her head is a large one; she has little respect for other people, will tell them what she thinks of them, and will say much more than they like. She thinks herself as good as other people. When anything happens she does not like, she will go down in the dumps, and be like a dying duck in a thunderstorm. She is not generous, and has not much confidence in herself. She will be influenced more by love of approbation than by religious influence. She is inclined to be severe to people, and I would advise her to keep her monkey down, as when it is up it is a very warm monkey indeed. She has a keen sense of the ridiculous, and can appreciate it, and I would advise her to read Dickens’ works. She can reason well and criticise well, and her tongue could go nineteen to the dozen.” We find that Palmistry is being practised by the next Professor upon the hand of a female. We hear him inform her that her fingers are long; that she does not achieve all that she would like to achieve; that her thoughts and imaginations are of a romantic kind; that her character is flexible; that she has a disposition for a broad circle of friends, and so on. The seat when vacated, is soon filled by a man. “This is the hand of a mechanic, large, broad, takes a broad grasp. He would do very well as a Civil Engineer. He does not confine his thoughts to every-day life. He has a love of home, and a fondness of seeing the world very broadly. He likes to know, and he will know; he will stir up the water till the mud rises but what he will know. He is a type of man who could command as a general in the Army. In mercantile life he would succeed in everything he undertakes. In politics he takes rather a broad range. He is not an eloquent exponent of his own thoughts. He has a good memory, can tell a story he has heard, and add a little to it. Imaginativeness is well developed in his nature. He has the hand of one that is tolerably cool; were he a gentleman with nothing in his pocket, he would push on until he had made a fortune.” All this, and more the Professor saw with the aid of a powerful magnifying glass. The third professor, a lady, is endeavouring to get an occupant for an empty seat. “If any lady be present who doesn’t wish to take her bonnet off, I am as able to read her face as her head; or, if there are any persons present who would like to have their hands read, I am quite prepared to do it.” How very accommodating!

Yarmouth sands

All these things are going on within a comparatively small compass, between the Britannia Tier and the Jetty. And now without being allured into the “Skylark Tea Saloon,” where “small parties are catered for on the Sands;” whether small parties of skylarks, or skylarking parties, we were left to imagine; or, pausing to scan the Roadstead through the telescope placed in readiness, or indulging in a seat in the weighing machine, we pass on to a calmer region, where gratifications of a less exciting character may be enjoyed. For this we had not to travel far. Passing the boundary line of the Jetty we instantly find, between that greatly improved structure and the Wellington Pier, a great transformation scene has taken place. Loose sand and shingle have given place to a capacious and beautifully terraced garden artistically laid, adorned with vases and fountains, and with a bandstand in the centre. While the young, the healthy and the boisterous may find the fullest opportunities for thorough enjoyment elsewhere; here the quiet, the weakly and the meditative may get away from the madding crowd and calmly indulge in reflection. Between this garden and the sea, an Esplanade of magnificent proportions has been made, and provided with sitting accommodation along the entire length, where Visitors may, free of charge, recline, facing the sea; and, whilst taking rest, may take in the strains of sweet operatic music discoursed by the Military Band upon their instruments; or, while perusing their favourite books, inhale the fragrance of the flowers, or the ozone from the sea. When promenading upon this Esplanade, we overheard the remark made by a Visitor (which is probably often to be heard), “I don’t think Lowestoft is a patch upon this place.”

The Esplanade and Beach Gardens

To lovers of peace and solitude, Yarmouth can hold forth an inviting hand, and point to its miles of Marine Drive and its level Beach, with its soft sands, rendered agreeably smooth and firm by the retreating tide and dried by the sun. Seats and shelters in abundance have been provided upon the Drive and the Jetty. A short rest in one of these agreeable shelters will now be welcome, and, while resting, the visitor will find ample food for reflection in observing the infinite variety in the appearance and bearing of the many passers by. One thing is obvious: there is unmistakable evidence of enjoyment stamped upon them all.

By the Jetty are numerous Drags, awaiting the time to convey into the country their complements of passengers. Persons fond of variety are willing, for a short time, to leave the attractions of the Beach and Jetty in exchange for a pleasant drive. A good choice of destinations is given, Caister Castle, Ormesby Broad, Fritton Lake, Somerleyton Park and Lowestoft being amongst the number.

As we perambulate our spacious and recently much-improved Promenade on the Marine Drive, we cannot fail to notice how great is the supply of vehicles provided for all classes; numerous well-appointed carriages meet our view; omnibuses, brakes, traps, bicycles, tricycles, goat chaises, perambulators, Bath chairs, and donkeys are in readiness for all who desire them. On the latter, venturesome visitors may feel perfectly safe.

Much more might be said, but we must now close and allow the second Beach Garden, the Jetty, the two Piers, the Aquarium, the Tower, the Switchback and Bicycle Railways, and the Sailors’ Home Museum to speak for themselves. All we need remark is that each and all of these have special attractions that are sought out and enjoyed by multitudes of delighted Visitors.

The busy scene we have depicted, of life and animation, of good temper and well-earned enjoyment may be witnessed through the entire season in propitious weather. The whole assembled multitude may be divided into two classes, the pleasure seekers and those who minister to their gratifications. Were some of the latter more considerate, and less persistent in their endeavours “to make hay while the sun shines,” and bear well in mind the fact that the enjoyment of seaside visitors (although the bracing air conduces to appetite) does not altogether consist in eating chocolate, sucking sweets, cracking nuts, drinking half-pints of milk, consuming penny buns, or munching “beautiful Williams:” our lovely and much resorted-to Beach, attractive as it is, in spite of all these unnecessary drawbacks, would be more thoroughly enjoyed and appreciated by the tens of thousands of Visitors who resort to it year after year.