In London, the most beautiful scenery always surrounds the squares distributed around the city.
The squares in the West District are fashionable, those in the North are elegant, the South towards Holborn and Oxford Street is outdated and old-fashioned, and the Northern Portman Square is magnificent, much like Grosvenor Square in the upper-class gathering Mayfair District.
Of course, benefiting from the gradual accumulation of Britain’s wealth, nurous pretentious nouveau riche-style squares have erged in London in recent years, mainly appearing in the newly affluent areas of Chelsea, Kensington, Islington, and the south bank of the Thas River.
But if you were to ask where Arthur feels most comfortable?
He doesn’t like to cluster with the Lords in elegant and fashionable places; Belgravia and Berkeley Square are fortresses of noble life, residences for gentlen and the wealthy, but Arthur doesn’t consider himself nobility. He hasn’t been educated at Oxford or Cambridge, nor can he speak with a standard Eton accent. Unless necessary, he has no interest in finding discomfort there.
Although, to the upper class, Arthur’s occasional York accent may seem more noble than a London accent, compared to the refined tones cultivated in Eton College, ah, this forr police star is ultimately of humble origin. Forcing himself into their circle most often belongs to the realm of seeking embarrassnt.
Yet Arthur’s dislike for noble gathering spots doesn’t an he likes suburban squares that match his nouveau riche identity.
Though the people gathered there are mostly of similar social status to him, a group of Britain’s true middle class: Anglican Church priests, naval and army officers, mid-level officials in judicial, dical, and governnt departnts, university professors, reputable headmasters of small schools, engineers, architects, and various erging professions, such as accountants, journalists, surveyors, insurance agents, police station chiefs, and small shop owners.
However, even within the middle class, there are distinctions of high and low.
The lesser ones have a family annual inco that fluctuates around 100 pounds. While these people live a decent life, they are not affluent enough to afford servants.
So, to so extent, they might be classified as leaders of the lower class.
Of course, they themselves are certainly unwilling to accept this label. If you dare to deny them mbership in the middle class to their face, you’d better beware of getting punched in the nose.
To prove they belong to this class, they grit their teeth and spend the remainder of their family inco on maintaining appearances.
No matter how busy they are, they must visit the theater at least once a month, and plan an annual trip without fail.
The male and female hosts must possess more than three sets of clothing to deal with various occasions, including casual wear, social attire, and grand occasion costus used to show off.
The ho must have a high-grade set of dinnerware for entertaining guests.
The male host desperately tries to possess artistic taste, squeezing his brain to decorate the house well within tight budgets.
The female host strives to learn the recipes found in various household magazines used at upper society banquets.
Compared to this group who struggles to maintain a middle-class status, families with an inco of 100-300 pounds obviously live much more comfortably; most of these households can afford a full-ti maid’s salary, forming the backbone of Britain’s middle class.
But living comfortably does not an they spare themselves.
The higher one rises, much like water flowing downward, this principle holds true everywhere.
Families with an annual inco of 100 pounds might restrain their behavior in aligning to upper-class lifestyles due to limited budgets, but families with incos ranging from 100-300 pounds are different.
A representative of this is Arthur’s old friend, Assistant Secretary August Schneider from the Foreign Office.
Arthur once invited him hunting in the suburbs; when Arthur arrived at his house at seven in the morning, Mrs. Schneider ordered the maid to serve breakfast consisting of: grilled mackerel, grilled sardines, minced at pie, fried bacon, boiled eggs, roasted potato wedges, porridge, and bread spread with jam.
According to Schneider himself, aside from doing "big business" with Arthur, his legitimate inco annually amounted to around 120 pounds to 150 pounds, while the yearly expenses on food and drink exceeded 70 pounds.
Of course, this only pertains to household dining expenses. Due to his workdays, his regular lunches are settled outside, which alone costs 30 pounds annually.
After all, a diplomat is quite an esteed profession; if your lunch is too poor and visible to Whitehall colleagues, though they might not say anything publicly, behind closed doors, you’re likely to beco a laughingstock.
Spending 100 pounds just on als, combined with the Schneiders’ social needs, especially since Mrs. Schneider is a devoted fan of great musicians like ndelssohn and Chopin, and has recently caught the "bad habit" of art collection encouraged by other "Whitehall ladies"...
Thus, it’s easily imaginable how much cash flow pressure the Schneider household is under.
No wonder Schneider often visits Nightingale Mansion to release pressure; frankly, anyone returning ho to a room full of invoices would often want to whip themselves.
Due to severe financial strain, Schneider used to secretly do so "small business," but ever since eting Arthur, he truly comprehended what it ant to fleece Britain’s wool and undermine Vienna’s walls; in this line of work, it’s the audacious who thrive and the timid who starve.
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