The Shadow of Great Britain-Chapter 548 - 284: 19th Century Early Access Experience

"I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Schweya."

In a small coffee shop outside the Liverpool Customs, Arthur took a business card from John Schweya’s hands, glanced it briefly, and then slipped it into his jacket pocket.

The gentleman sitting opposite him was dressed rather oddly, his head wrapped in a dark black turban, his body draped in an indigo flannel coat that fell past his knees, beneath which was a wine-red vest sizable enough for Great Dumas, followed by a honey-colored rubber chest protector and two layers of a white shirt, and most peculiarly, he was wearing a pure white mask connected to a perfume bottle on his face.

It was naturally quite difficult to forget such a distinctive character, and Arthur couldn’t help but jest, "Sir, you’re lucky my jurisdiction is not in Liverpool. If you appeared on the streets of London like this, I’d definitely have to stop you and ask a few questions."

Upon hearing this, Schweya quickly removed his turban and mask, revealing his true face.

It must be said, even without these embellishments, his appearance could definitely be described as handsome. From Arthur’s initial estimation, just in terms of hair volume alone, Mr. Schweya had already beaten ninety-nine percent of his contemporaries in Britain, and he might even outpace a youngster like Darwin.

Seeing him fumble in haste, Arthur started joking again. He pointed to a branch next to the other man and asked, "Sorry, although I’m not doubting your word, are you sure you really deal in import and export trade, and not a British Druid sect’s wizard?"

Schweya hurriedly waved his hands, "Mr. Hastings, don’t misunderstand, I know this attire is a bit peculiar. But it’s all to prevent the invasion of cholera as recommended by magazines. As for this branch, it’s not just any branch, but a juniper berry branch. Juniper berries have a scent similar to pineapples, and doctors say they help dispel miasma."

Arthur sipped his tea and commented, "Hmm... I’m not sure if it can dispel miasma. But in my hometown, locals often use it to brew alcohol. Whether it’s for cooking stout or porter, they always like a touch of juniper berries."

"This..." Schweya first paused in surprise, then inquired, "Are you perhaps from York?"

Arthur smiled and replied, "Sir, you are indeed a wizard. Congratulations, you guessed right."

Seeing Arthur so amiable, Schweya also relaxed and smiled back, "I never thought we’d be from the same place. When I first heard your last name, I thought you might be a member of the Hastings Marquis family."

Arthur just smiled and said, "You’re not the first to think so, and you probably won’t be the last. However, in Britain, the story of a penniless poor boy transforming into a renowned person is not uncommon, though not frequent.

You might not be aware, but historians like to keep track of this sort of statistic, and such stories often appear in the newspapers. Half of the millionaires in Birmingham made their fortunes from nothing.

Arkwright, who invented the water-powered spinning machine, was born into a poor peasant family and received no formal education. Spelling words was a challenge for him. At the age of eight, his parents had signed an eight-year apprenticeship contract with someone else for four British Pounds and six Shillings, and he became a barber’s apprentice.

Yet, this impoverished lad who wasn’t even worth five pounds, in the decade following his patent, turned into a landlord with carriages, servants, and twenty thousand pounds in properties. By the time he died, the figure had reached fifty thousand pounds, with annual revenues surpassing most of the royalty in Germany.

The growth of trade and the Industrial Revolution created a wealth of wealth and opportunities for Britain. If a poor boy can become an Arkwright, then emerging as a Chief Inspector of Scotland Yard is nothing unusual."

Schweya couldn’t help but feel nostalgic, "Indeed! For us poor folks, this may already be the best of times. You might not know, but I also started from scratch.

Until the age of twenty-three, I was a textile worker in York. My family had a small workshop, purely manual. We didn’t make much, but it was stress-free living.

However, as machines became widespread, whether in terms of production quantity or quality, our human labor couldn’t compete with those iron chunks. Plus, with the end of the Napoleonic Wars, Britain’s trade had normalized. With the constant supply of cheap cotton and linen, my small workshop couldn’t compete with the big factories anymore.

At that time, I had only two choices: either continue to stay in York guarding the workshop until death, or take a chance, spend all my savings, and even borrow some money to also get a few machines!"

Arthur asked with a smile, "So you ran from York to Liverpool then?"

Schweya nodded, "Exactly. Rather than setting up a factory in York, it made more sense to do it directly at the port, which also saved on shipping costs. I was already struggling with the initial investment at that time, so naturally, I tried to reduce costs in other areas as much as possible. However, looking back, this decision was wise. freewebnøvel.com

When I first arrived in Liverpool, the factory only had four machines and fewer than ten workers. Now, the factory has over fifty machines, employs hundreds of people, and the Schweya brand is quite renowned locally in Liverpool. Not just that, but our products also get exported to North America and the West Indies. Mr. Hastings, if you ever need fabric for clothes, choosing our materials will definitely not disappoint you. Our product quality is nothing less than that of the large factories in London."