shadow of britain

Chapter 581 Hastings's Dinner Today

Cooking a good meal is like doing a good deed every day. Eating is not just for living, but for enjoying life.

—Alexandre Dumas

On a cold autumn night, the sun had long since set and the gas lamps were lit on the streets, casting dim light on the cobblestone road.

At No. 76 Weind Street, in an elegant two-story building, warm lights shine through the windows, revealing the warmth of home.

The layout of the house is quite characteristic of a German middle-class family, with some landscape paintings hanging on the wall and a piano in the corner. Opposite the dining table is a bookshelf filled with all kinds of books collected by the owner, including historical records, literary plays and natural philosophy monographs. However, the most prominent position on the bookshelf is undoubtedly the various fashionable novels published by "The Brit".

Not far from the living room is the kitchen, which is emitting a warm yellow light. The kitchen stove is burning brightly, the fire is crackling, the charcoal in the oven is emitting a faint smoke, and the air is filled with the tempting aroma of stewed meat and spices.

In one corner of the kitchen hangs a variety of spices and preserved goods, such as sun-dried sausages, air-dried tomatoes and homemade pickles, all part of the family's stockpile, ensuring delicious ingredients are always available even in winter.

The picky fat French chef was wearing a white chef's uniform and a tall chef's hat.

His movements were swift and practiced. He methodically stirred the rich beef stew in the pot with a large spoon in one hand, and from time to time he took out a small spoon to taste it.

As for his other hand, he directed the other chefs under his command to check another small pot of potatoes cooking on the stove next to him.

As the bubbles rolled, the small pot made a gurgling sound. When the lid was opened, white steam came out and the kitchen was suddenly filled with a mouth-watering aroma.

Several young maids, also from Paris, were busy in the kitchen.

The maids wore simple grey dresses, white scarves on their heads, and had a look of concentration on their faces.

Their task is to prepare vegetables, some are now concentrating on peeling carrots and then cutting them into small, uniform pieces, while others are washing fresh leafy vegetables just picked from the garden, gently separating the leaves one by one and carefully checking for insects or foreign matter.

Beautiful ladies with one-eighth German, one-eighth French and three-quarters Russian ancestry also joined this busy battle. As a Russian woman, even a Russian woman who has moved abroad, whether she can make a pot of delicious borscht is still an important criterion for measuring whether she is virtuous.

Fiona put on a simple house dress bought from the market to protect her delicate clothes from getting dirty. Then she rolled up her sleeves solemnly and asked the maids to take out fresh beetroots, carrots, onions and a few potatoes. Then she skillfully washed, peeled and cut the beetroots into thin strips, and cut the carrots and potatoes into small pieces for later use.

When all the vegetables are ready, Fiona gently adds them to the boiling stock, adding some tomato paste to add a sour taste, which is one of the unique flavors of borscht. After stirring well and the soup exudes fragrance, she sprinkles in a handful of fresh bay leaves and a few black peppercorns to add a rich flavor to the soup.

To make a delicious borscht, every Russian family has its own tricks. The secret of Ivan's family is a few special ingredients: chopped fresh parsley, sour cream and a small dish of minced garlic.

Fiona knew that later when the guests gathered around the table, each person would be able to add these ingredients to suit their own taste.

The position next to the Russian female cook belongs to the Italian.

In most Italian families, the mother is the heart and soul of the kitchen. Unfortunately, there are no mothers in the Italian kitchens of Göttingen. Today, it is their sons who are in charge of the kitchen and always make a mess.

After a long period of confusion and gesticulation, these sailor sons, each of whom was worth a lot of money in various Italian states, finally reached a consensus that, at least in their families, fresh herbs, olive oil, pasta and dry cheese were indispensable.

Garibaldi worked hard to pound fresh cherry tomatoes, wholeheartedly making his favorite classic Italian homemade tomato sauce.

Several young Italian guys were also busy. Some of them were washing green leaf spinach, bright purple eggplants and emerald green zucchini.

Others were complaining about a hunk of cheese that wasn't from Parma. The Italians insisted that German cheese simply wasn't as good as Italian cheese.

With a click, the door opened and Arthur, looking exhausted, just returned from the office.

He took off his heavy coat and hung it on the coat rack in the hallway. He walked into the dining room and saw that the table was already covered with a clean linen tablecloth, the silverware was neatly arranged, and the glass wine glasses were crystal clear.

He walked into the kitchen, placed the fresh bread he had just bought from the market on the table, and asked the cook and the maid if they needed any help, but he was obviously even more unwelcome in the kitchen than he was at the foot of the Tower of London.

The sassy girls in Paris told him that he'd better not get in the way. Fiona told him that dinner would be ready soon. The Italian guys were also afraid that the British guy's joining would ruin the feng shui of the kitchen. Only Dumas threw him a washed cucumber from a long distance so that he could take a bite to fill his stomach if he was hungry.

Arthur left the kitchen angrily, walked around the living room, and went straight to the study.

But what he didn't expect was that the atmosphere in the study was even more tense than that in the kitchen.

The two Jewish boys occupied the north and south corners of the study respectively. Each of them had a mortar. From the smell in the room, one could probably judge that their assigned task should be to grind basil, oregano, rosemary and other commonly used kitchen spices.

Although the two gentlemen would certainly not admit it, in Arthur's opinion, they both belonged to the same category.

First of all, they both had great ambitions. One wanted to become the Caesar of Britain, and the other wanted to be the Moses who would show Germany the direction to cross the sea.

Secondly, they both had a strong desire to win and self-esteem. One of them dared to ridicule all the members who looked down on him when he first appeared on the stage in the House of Commons, while the other was an authority in the field of German anorectal medicine.

Finally, they balance their ideals while being willing to accept reality, for example: both of them are converts.

However, it is one of the strangest things in the world that two people who are so similar are so incompatible with each other.

"Good evening, Arthur. If it weren't for you, I would have thought I was in a lunatic asylum."

"Thank you for bringing some fresh air into the study. Look what I found today. Something that stinks worse than the Thames!"

"Oh, I understand you, Mr. Disraeli. He who has smelled too much hemorrhoids cannot smell the sweet scent of freedom."

"Oh, I understand you, Dr. Heine. In the eyes of a madman, normal people are crazy. I recommend that you go to the Royal Hospital of Bethlem for treatment. There are many people like you there."

Arthur dragged a chair and sat down. "Okay, gentlemen, be quiet. This is not the lobby of Westminster Palace, and you are not hooligans who like to quarrel there."

Heine took the opportunity to speak: "I'm sorry, Arthur, I don't mean to criticize your memory. But I must clarify for Mr. Disraeli that he is indeed a member of that national criminal gang, although he himself may argue that he was kidnapped."

Disraeli shot back with disdain: "Only petty people are interested in those trivial matters. Stubborn people are sad and complain about their fate, while smart people believe in opportunities and act decisively. And this is the biggest difference between people like Arthur and me and you." "I agree with this point." Heine shot back: "It's just that I would rather use a small cup of truth, goodness and beauty to organize a happy family than use several large ships of furniture to organize a boring family. Smart people come up with new ideas, and foolish people spread them widely. I never choose easy things to do, and this is the biggest difference between people like Arthur and me and you."

"I agree with you," Disraeli retorted, "but wise people know that what we expect rarely happens, and what we least expect often happens. Arthur and I expect the best, but we also prepare for the worst."

"You're right," Heine mocked. "The stars are smart. They have a reason to stay away from us humans and hang high in the sky, like the lights of the world, forever safe. Although shooting stars like Arthur and I will eventually fall to the ground, we will not be discouraged by our momentary brilliance."

Arthur originally didn't want to pay any attention to the two of them, but Heine and Disraeli insisted on taking him along, which made the spy chief, who didn't like being hung in the sky or falling to the ground, very unhappy.

"Excuse me, but don't you both agree with each other? If so, what's the reason for you to quarrel?"

"Agree? That's ridiculous. It sounds like Mr. Carter's three-volume novel. It's totally unacceptable to discuss."

"Arthur, I thought you were a poetic person, but now it seems that you lack understanding."

Both of them were very dissatisfied with Arthur's point of view. Disraeli and Heine, who were determined to determine who was better today, asked Arthur to take side.

"Come on, tell me, is it better to be a star that watches over the world, or a shooting star that falls flat on its face and makes a big hole in the ground?"

"I think Arthur has already given the answer with his actual actions. He fell flat on his face. This is a meteor."

"What nonsense! He did fall to the ground, but that didn't stop him from rising again. Open the window and look wide. He's hanging in the sky over Hanover now!"

After saying this, Disraeli opened the window with a bang, pointed to the brightest star in the sky outside the window and asked: "Come on, Arthur, tell him what star that is?"

Arthur glanced out the window and shook his head secretly, "That's not one star, but seven stars. The Big Dipper is also called the Ursa Major in the east. Benjamin, if I hadn't learned a few things from Mr. Gauss at the observatory during this period, I might have been stumped by your question."

"Did you hear that?" Disraeli, who felt that he had the upper hand, shouted, "Look up and see the Big Dipper!"

Arthur sighed and turned the topic to Heine: "Forget it, let's talk about the railway investment first."

"Railway investment?" Disraeli suddenly grasped the key words. Although competing with Heine was important, railway investment was obviously more important.

The Great Western Railway shares that he, Arthur and others bought last year have skyrocketed this year. However, even so, Disraeli still has no intention of selling it, because according to the calculations of professionals in the City of Finance, after the Great Western Railway is opened to traffic, the annual dividend may be as high as 20%.

With such a high return on investment, today's railway industry is simply the East India Company of the new era.

Those guys who took the opportunity to cash in on railway stocks were simply the most amateur investors and the stupidest people in the world.

If given the opportunity, Disraeli would not only not sell, but would continue to increase his holdings.

After the three volumes of The Young Duke were sold in London and Paris this year, Mr. Disraeli still had some money to spare.

As for Heine, this guy obviously acted faster than Disraeli.

Although his life fell into poverty for a while after his uncle cut off his financial support, fortunately he still had the English copyrights of several books that had not been sold, so he mortgaged the publishing rights of these books to Arthur early on, exchanged for 600 pounds in cash, and invested it in Lister's railway project.

As for where the 600 pounds in cash that Heine exchanged came from, it is probably not difficult to guess.

However, as a poet who was publicly accused of being a traitor by the German Confederation, it is not surprising that Heine was connected to the Italian Revolution. It would be surprising if he had no connection with that group of people.

As for Mr. Disraeli, Arthur did not clearly tell him who those Italians were.

But with his intelligence and Garibaldi's straightforward character, he naturally knew part of the truth of the matter.

Compared to the Germans’ fear of being associated with Young Italy, when Disraeli discovered the true identities of Garibaldi and others, he was overjoyed. After all, in Britain, although the government had different views on the Italian and Polish revolutions, public opinion was overwhelmingly on the side of Italy and Poland.

On this point, the citizens of Paris and London were rarely seen in the same trench, supporting the freedom fighters in both countries in overthrowing their tyrants.

However, due to the French government's political control, most French politicians will hardly express radical views on issues such as Italy and Poland.

But it was different in Britain. There were many people in Parliament who firmly supported the revolutions in the two places and some who firmly opposed them.

Although Disraeli disdained some of the programs that Mazzini had established for the organization, the fact that Mazzini had caused such a stir in Italy with just his pen still made the young politician who aspired to become Caesar find something to like.

Disraeli had vaguely revealed his thoughts to Arthur, who felt that he was too weak to rely on his own strength in the Tory Party. Therefore, he also planned to organize a force loyal to him personally, just like the Huskisson faction, Peel faction, Canning faction and Royalist faction in the Tory Party.

The name of this organization seems to be riding on the popularity of Young Italy.

Disraeli called it - Young England.

As for why Disraeli chose Mazzini's route, according to Disraeli himself, it was entirely because young people are easy to fool.

This applies not only to urban and rural youth, but also to aristocratic youth.

If Mazzini could do this with his pen, there was no reason why Mr. Disraeli, the Tory patriarch, could not duplicate his success.

Ding-ding-ding-ding.

Miss Clara, the maid, opened the door.

Bismarck, dressed in formal attire, stood in front of the door with a few friends and spoke a little nervously.

"Please tell Professor Hastings that we are here for tutoring."

(End of this chapter)