Chapter 281: All Brothers at All Places (k)

Chapter 280: A Brother in All Lands (4k)
In front of the couch in the living room, Arthur, Disraeli, and Dumas sit around the couch discussing the battle plan against Gladstone.

One could read from Disraeli’s gnashing of teeth how much the fellow really hated that brilliant Oxford graduate who had come out of nowhere.

But I can’t blame the Tory bigwigs for admiring Gladstone so much, it’s really that this young man from the academic background to the character traits are too accurate in their political aesthetics.

Graduated from Eton and Oxford successively, clean-cut life style, rich sense of public responsibility, do not smoke, do not drink, do not mess around with men and women, and even never had a girlfriend.

In terms of morality, he was a typical Calvinist with a traditional conservative attitude.

In terms of political philosophy, he agreed with a series of legal reforms carried out by Lord Peel and advocated justice, and publicly declared that ‘late justice is not justice’.

At the same time, however, he was opposed to parliamentary reform and to liberal reforms such as the Whig proposal to give Jewish Jews the right to vote in parliamentary elections and the opening of existing universities to “non-nationals”.

If the last few sentences were erased, Mr. Gladstone would undoubtedly be a popular young politician with the British public.

But once the last few sentences are added, Mr. Gladstone’s popularity zone is naturally narrowed. He is transformed into a young politician who is unpopular with Jews and non-nationals, but who can still command a huge following in the Tory party.

And unfortunately, the three people sitting in front of the sofa today were quite a mixed bag, with a Yid and an Afrikaner in there. As for the last remaining one, it’s obviously worse, because it’s a French literary figure who can’t be made to support you no matter what slogans you shout.

Disraeli clapped his hands and said, “Arthur, did you see that? Gladstone isn’t just targeting me here, he’s targeting non-nationals like you, and I’m knocking him down not just for myself, but to do justice to you and Alexander.”

Dumas sniffed without much concern and said, “Come on, Benjamin. What’s that British slang saying? Just don’t hang yourself on the flag and scare people.”

Arthur took a sip of his tea and added, “In the East, that phrase could also be called pulling the tiger’s skin over the flag.”

Dumas nodded his head at that and said, “Wow? Is that so? Arthur, staying with you is really a way to learn something new every day.”

Disraeli was still not dead when he heard this, he opened his mouth and asked, “Arthur, although you agreed that I added a scene at Scotland Yard, I don’t think that with that alone there is a way to completely knock down Gladstone. Those documents you handed me earlier are still useful, I think. You are right, attacking Lord Russell alone will not satisfy me now, and perhaps I should find an opportunity in the near future to attack Viscount Palmerston publicly?”

As soon as Arthur heard Disraeli’s intention to go after Palmerston, he hurriedly raised his hand to stop him, “Benjamin, I just had a somewhat in-depth discussion with His Excellency the Viscount yesterday about the Polish issue and matters related to the censorship of books and newspapers. Although I also agree with your intention to attack him, I feel that this behavior is best not to happen in the near future, or else it will not only cause trouble for The Englishman, but may even affect your electability in the upcoming general election. I don’t suppose you want the Whigs to concentrate their fire on you either?”

When Dumas heard this, before Disraeli could speak, he frowned and pre-empted the question, “You went to meet with Palmerston? Has his attitude toward the Polish question changed?”

Arthur said vaguely, “His Excellency the Viscount is also highly concerned about the treatment of Polish exiles and he intends to do something practical for the Poles. Yesterday His Excellency the Viscount told me that he intends to go and pay a personal door-to-door visit to Prince Czartoryski, the leader of the Polish exiles, to see if he can help them solve part of their problem.”

Saying this, Arthur put down his teacup and looked at Disraeli, “It is for this reason, Benjamin, that is why I don’t recommend that you attack him on the Polish issue in the near future. Otherwise, if you just finished attacking the Foreign Secretary in one foot and the headline of him caring about Polish refugees appears in the newspaper in the next foot, then you will be reduced to the laughing stock of Britannia’s political scene.”

Disraeli broke out in a cold sweat at his words, and he fished out a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe away the beads of sweat on his forehead, “My God! Arthur, it’s fortunate that I came to see you for a while today, otherwise, I might really have to run headlong into the wall.”

Dumas skeptically said, “But …… Palmerston talks about improving the treatment of Polish refugees, and you believe him so easily? Didn’t Benjamin say that the guy didn’t have a few words of truth in his mouth?”

Arthur nodded, “That’s right, Benjamin’s judgment is correct, and you, Alexander, have no problem with your suspicions. Viscount Palmerston certainly isn’t going to change his attitude towards Poland just because of a few words from me, he’s just going to pretend to do so openly. So I just hope that Benjamin will be able to raise the questioning of Viscount Palmerston in Parliament again after he has been elected to Parliament.

Analyzing the content of my exchange with Viscount Palmerston, he is not someone who is very resistant to using unconventional means. If Benjamin criticized foreign policy while holding a civilian identity, and at a time when Viscount Palmerston had just finished putting on an act, I could not guarantee that he would do something. After all, at that juncture, public opinion was on his side, and it seemed barely justifiable if he suddenly saddled Benjamin with a charge of slandering the cabinet.

And let’s not forget Bernie Harrison. Scotland Yard hasn’t moved him until now not because we’re trying to put the matter to rest. It’s because Mr. Harrison is still in the limelight because of his funding of Mrs. Poland. When no one cares about him for ten days and a half months, Scotland Yard can rightly invite him into the interrogation room to concentrate on that murder.”

Disraeli heard this and knew there was no point in continuing to insist on the matter.

He turned to counsel, “It’s true that it can’t be a wise move to go messing with Palmerston so close to the election. But it’s just as well to make a splash in other areas, I ……”

This time before Disraeli could finish, Arthur spoke up, “Don’t be in a hurry, Benjamin, I’ve got another thing for you to make a splash in, besides moralizing at Scotland Yard. Viscount Palmerston made a generous offer of work for the Polish refugees yesterday, and in order to prevent him from continuing to dwell on the Polish article in the Cockney, I told him that our editorial department could contribute a couple of posts.

According to Viscount Palmerston’s personality, he will certainly take the matter to the papers and brag about it, and you, as our major shareholder and editor-in-chief, will be able to rub a few interviews in with him then.

And in the future, if you are elected as a member of parliament, if you intend to give him trouble on the Polish issue, you can also use your position as an employer of Poles to tell everyone that the lives of most of the Polish refugees have not been improved. Why not kill many birds with one stone?”

When Dumas heard this, he just put down his teacup and sighed through clenched teeth, “Black! It’s so damn black! Arthur, it’s a great pity for British politics that you don’t run for parliament.”

And Disraeli, whose conscience is still alive, was a bit worried about Arthur’s situation, “But if I come this way …… Arthur, won’t you have problems on your side? When I’m elected to Parliament, I’ll be free from the threat of Palmerston, and no one will dare to come after The Cockney. But you’re doing it at Scotland Yard, after all, and aren’t you afraid that Palmerston will come back to haunt you in the aftermath?”

Arthur leaned back on the sofa holding his teacup in disbelief as he listened, “Benjamin, Viscount Palmerston is the Foreign Secretary, and his hands can’t be inserted into the Home Office for the time being. I know that he has a good relationship with Viscount Melbourne, the Home Secretary, but if I can make Viscount Melbourne feel that I am important to him, then nothing will happen to me in a short period of time.”

Disraeli asked, “So do you think you are important to Viscount Melbourne?”

Arthur took a sip of tea and slowly shook his head, “It’s not important enough to talk about right now, at most he will be slightly courteous to me on the face of Lord Brougham.” Dumas wondered, “And where does your confidence stem from?”

Arthur smiled softly, “From Mr. Bernie Harrison and their good friend Judge Norton, of course.”

This paragraph of Arthur’s speech put Dumas and Disraeli in a cloud of confusion, they simply could not guess what kind of thing Arthur was talking about. Just as they were about to pursue their questions, they suddenly heard a knock at the door.

Dumas got up and pulled open the door of the room, what appeared in front of him was a young man wearing a close-fitting tuxedo, tied with a dark gray bow, with a thin figure and eyes revealing a little melancholy.

The man’s face looked slightly haggard, and although he tried to be strong, it was still immediately obvious that life had left traces of exhaustion on him.

He looked at the burly Dumas, forced a polite smile, took off his hat and inquired in his half-baked English, “Excuse me, is this the apartment of Mr. Arthur Hastings?”

Dumas shot him a strange look, cupped his chin and asked, “Are you a Frenchman?”

The youth was slightly surprised, “Why would you say that?”

Dumas returned, “Because your accent is so strange, it’s practically the same flavor as when I first learned English.”

The youth just smiled gently at his words, “I am indeed half French, my father was a Frenchman, but both my mother and I are unabashedly Polish.”

Dumas laughed out loud at this, “Really? Then we have some similarities. My grandfather was a Frenchman, but my grandmother was unabashedly a black slave girl.”

The youth heard this and politely inquired, “Is this …… then your servant to Mr. Hastings?”

“A servant? No, no, no, there is no one in the world who could make me a servant to him.”

Saying this, Dumas added, “Especially that French sledge master Louis Philippe.”

Hearing this, the youth just laughed bitterly, “Although I don’t want to oppose you, I think the reason why you loathe the king of France so much is because you haven’t yet met the tsar of Russia.”

Dumas thought about this as he nodded his head, “You are right about that, at the very least Louis Philippe can still be considered a humanoid creature. For the sake of Poland, my friend, come in first. I can see that you’re not a very difficult person to get along with, and fortunately for you, the man you’re looking for, Mr. Arthur Hastings, is the same way.”

Arthur got up from the sofa and asked, “Alexander, is anyone here?”

Dumas led the youth inside and introduced Arthur, “Arthur, this is …… uh, I forgot to ask, who are you again?”

Hearing this, Disraeli couldn’t help but snicker, “Thank God, Alexander! Luckily he gave you a pair of hands that can write The Count of Monte Cristo, if you go to be a janitor, sooner or later you will starve to death.”

The youth only smiled at this and returned, “This is not the fault of the gentleman next to me; it is I who did not explain clearly to him. To make a sudden visit without a prior appointment is really presumptuous of me, this is my business card, please be sure to accept it from a few of you.”

Arthur first sized up the other party, then solemnly took the business card from the other party’s hand.

He swept his head down, only to see that the thin and plain to unadorned business card only had a few short but useful paragraphs of information written on it.

Frederic Chopin.

A young pianist who learned to play the piano at the age of six, composed at the age of seven, and made his debut at the age of eight playing at a charity concert at the Palazzo Radziwillow, graduated from the Warsaw Conservatory, and at the age of nineteen gave a mini-concert in Vienna.

Chopin looked at the calm Arthur with some apprehension, he did not know why Arthur had to look at such a short business card for so long.

At the thought of it, he couldn’t help but feel a little chagrined, perhaps he shouldn’t have come to this place today in the first place. If he hadn’t been forced to live with so little money left in his pocket, and he needed to save up enough for a ticket to Paris, he would never have paid a sudden visit to a stranger he didn’t even know.

Even though the stranger had always been well regarded in the outside world, to the extent that Prince Czartoryski, the leader of the Polish exiles, had praised the stockholder of Cockney magazine, and even more unbelievably, the young Englishman, whose main job was as a Superintendent of Scotland Yard, was actually the pianist of the London Philharmonic Society on the side.

Chopin’s eyes couldn’t help but drift to Arthur’s hands, and when he saw those long, slender fingers, his inner restlessness finally eased, replaced by a ray of wonder.

Those hands should be able to span twelve degrees, right? It did seem like the basic condition that a guy who could write The Bell should have.

Just as Chopin was staring at those hands, he suddenly realized that they were moving.

Arthur gently received the business card into his jacket pocket and spoke with a smile, “Mr. Chopin, or, do you mind if I address you directly as Frederick?”

(End of chapter)