Chapter 199: Introducing you to a lucrative business.
Chapter 198: Introducing You to a Money-Making Business
In the evening, Disraeli sat on a bench by Hyde Park, looking up at the moon and stars rising in the sky.
Suddenly, he clutched his head in pain and roared twice at the sky, a roar that not only scared the pedestrians coming and going, but also startled the red-eyed dodo that flew from the Tower of London to the park to eat fruit.
The crows fluttered their wings and fled, and a feather as black and deep as the night sky landed in the palm of Disraeli’s hand.
He looked at the feather and felt nothing but tears.
Although he had known that he wouldn’t be able to elect a councilor, the fact that he had only received three votes in total was still quite a blow to him.
This was because according to his preconception, he should have at least four votes in the iron vote bank.
One vote for his father, one vote for his uncle, one vote for his childhood friend, and one vote for himself.
Originally was betrayed by friends and family is bad enough to make him, but Disraeli and can not bear to put things clearly, but this kind of thing in the heart but even more difficult to make him feel.
Therefore, after gathering enough courage, he finally made up his mind to find out who betrayed him. But what he never expected was that the investigation ended just as it began.
His father frankly admitted that he had not voted for him because he felt that his son could not be elected at all, since a Jew who wants to be elected to the council has to have a more than average working ability and calm character. His theatrical son clearly didn’t fit the mold.
Moreover, his son didn’t look too reliable, not like the Chosen One who had the ability to break the mold. So, based on the principle of maximizing returns, the father didn’t think he should waste valuable votes on Disraeli.
Therefore, he resolutely took the plunge and cast his vote for Disraeli’s direct rival, the other candidate in the Westminster district, the bomb-mad General Thomas Kirkland.
Disraeli did not understand, and could not figure out, whether he was not more worthy of a vote in his father’s eyes than a shipload of gunpowder.
He sat on a park bench, feeling only the cold wind of a late fall evening, but his heart was colder.
He suddenly fell to his knees and prayed at the moon in the sky, “Fall is over, winter is coming, and not an inch of grass grows in my heart. O God! Why are you tormenting me so much? Why don’t you simply just take me away!”
But after he yelled for half a day, not only did he not get half a response, but instead, the crowd passing by spontaneously formed a no-man’s land with Disraeli as the center of the circle and a radius of five or six meters.
Glancing hatefully at the group of guys who shunned him, he kicked his foot against the railings of Hyde Park, only to hear a not-so-lazy reminder accompanied by the buzzing vibration of the railings at the same time.
“Mr. Disraeli, what are you doing?”
Disraeli jerked his head back just in time to meet Arthur’s eyes.
He jumped back in shock, his pants hooking on the edge of the railing, “Officer Black …… Hastings?”
“Just call me Arthur, didn’t we have a nice chat last time? But …… “Arthur knocked on the iron sign hanging on the wall, “Haven’t you seen this notice? Vandalism of the garden’s buildings and decorations is prohibited.”
“I saw it.”
“And you kicked the railing when you saw it?”
“But I didn’t see you!”
Disraeli’s sudden honesty silenced Arthur at once.
He was silent for a few moments before he sat down on a bench and lit his pipe, exhaling smoke rings and saying, “That seems to make some sense.”
Disraeli smiled twice, embarrassed to sit down next to him, “Sorry, I’m not in a good mood today, you should know, I’m not usually like this.” “Hmm.” Arthur nodded, “You’re usually a good person when you’re in a good mood, you even helped me move things.”
Disraeli took off his hat and placed it on his chest, “Uh …… Arthur, I don’t really know what to tell you …… I …… I’ve always felt before that I should be quite popular, that I speak for the big boys, that I aspire to be an independent candidate without partisan interference.
I thought everyone would support me, but when I looked back I realized that I …… it was like I was in the middle of a harsh fucking winter in the snowy plains of Siberia, and as far as I could see, there was no one behind me.
I told you last time I was proud of myself, but now it seems I’m proud of nothing, I’ve lost seven thousand pounds on my business, I’ve been cursed out for writing a novel, and now I’ve no chance of getting elected as an MP, and I don’t even know what the hell I’ve done in my life that’s worth anything.”
When Arthur heard this, he simply recited Shelley’s famous line, “Let the trumpets of prophecy play! O west wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?”
Disraeli was stunned at his words, “What, do you think I’m still saved? Or did you come here today to discuss literature with me?”
Arthur didn’t answer positively either, as he recited another sentence, “If you cherish your feathers excessively, and don’t let them suffer the slightest damage, then you will lose both of your wings, and will never be able to fly in the air again.”
Although Disraeli was young and impetuous, he was not stupid, and for these two metaphors of Arthur’s, he naturally heard the strings.
“Alas …… you …… do you also think I should choose between the Whigs and the Tories?”
Arthur frowned slightly when he heard this, “Also? Has anyone else said something similar to you?”
Disraeli didn’t have the intention to hide it, he nodded his head and said, “Hoo…… that’s right, Mr. Rothschild also said this to me, he said to me that there is no future for a person to fight alone, I have to find myself a force that I can rely on as a backing.
In Britain, if you want to win in a small constituency, you have to rely on the power of the two parties, because the voters in those constituencies are basically controlled by them. And if I choose a large constituency, I need a vocal outlet with enough voice.
Like the Whigs’ Edinburgh Review or the Tories’ Quarterly Review. A single post on there is going to gain far more influence than the amount I’d get from a year’s worth of speeches in Hyde Park.”
Hearing this, Arthur didn’t immediately spill the beans, but inquired tantalizingly, “So, if you don’t want to be dictated to by the two parties, but you want to continue your political career, you’ll have to start a newspaper of your own? My goodness! That must cost a lot of money, right?”
Disraeli waved his hand and said, “Money isn’t the main problem, the printing machines and premises I had previously acquired are still in my hands after the Rep, which I started with that son of a bitch Murray a couple of years ago, went bust. And even though it went bust last time, I still more or less figured out the publishing world, such as sales channels and whatnot, so if I really want to do it, all I need to do is to re-recruit a few employees.
And as I mentioned to you last time, right, even though I converted to the state religion, I grew up in the Jewish community, so our family has a bit of a connection with the Rothschild Bank, so even if I don’t have enough money on hand, borrowing a little from them wouldn’t claim to be a particularly big problem.”
Arthur nodded slightly and said, “Doesn’t it all seem fine then? Why don’t you want to start the newspaper again?”
Disraeli sniffed and said hatefully, “Need I say more? Of course it’s because I’ve offended everyone in the publishing world with that Vivian Grey book, and they’ve been clamoring to screw me over, to make sure that I don’t have a foothold in the literary circles of Britain. If I were to take the lead in the newspaper business, no one would dare to submit articles to me, because to do so would be to declare war on the great literary magazines like Blackwood.
And it’s not as easy to sell newspapers as you might think. Readers’ tastes change every day, and it’s not easy to catch their eye. Even if I were to re-do the newspaper, I’d have to find my own niche and figure out exactly who my target group is.”
Hearing this, Arthur smiled and gave an example, “So, do you think Mrs. Cowper plus Mrs. Codrington, Mrs. Milbanky, Mrs. Somerville, the lovely ladies of the Blue Sox, would work? Oh yes, and perhaps add a few gentlemen of the Royal Navy to that list, and also that General Thomas Cochrane who defeated you in the Westminster constituency.”
Disraeli had originally made a casual remark, but when he heard this list of names reported out of Arthur’s mouth, he couldn’t help but stare in disbelief, “Arthur, are you kidding me? Why should these gentlemen and ladies buy my newspaper?”
Arthur didn’t say much, he pulled out the manuscript of The Count of Monte Cristo from his bosom and shoved it over.
He smiled and said, “Because these gentlemen and ladies told me that as soon as any newspaper publishes this thing, then they are willing to order a year’s worth first. Also, I’ll add that Blackwood’s just called this manuscript trash today, so that’s why I came to ask if you’re interested in it?”
(End of chapter)