shadow of britain

Chapter 752 The Millennium Fox

In the Westminster area of ​​London, there is such an axis of gentleman politics.

In this small area that includes Pall Mall and St. James's Street, famous London landmarks such as the National Gallery, Christie's auction house, the Travellers Club, the Army and Navy Club, the Oxford and Cambridge Union, the East India Company's Armed Forces Council and Regent's House are gathered.

And in such an influential area, politics is naturally indispensable.

The Brooks Club at 60 St. James' Street, the Budel Club at 20 St. James' Street, and the White Club spanning 37-38 St. James' Street. Only by joining these clubs can one gain a real stepping stone into British politics.

However, those gentlemen who are eager to make a name for themselves in the political arena should first consider their own status and find out who owns these clubs before joining them.

As the oldest and most prestigious club in British politics, joining the White Club has always been regarded by British aristocrats as a symbol of identity and status.

However, when the club was first founded in 1693, it was actually just a chocolate house opened by Mr. Francis White in Covent Garden Market.

However, because the chocolate here tastes so good, it has become a fashionable place for aristocrats to gather and drink hot chocolate, and has gradually evolved into a private club exclusively for Tory aristocrats and royal supporters.

Now, more than a century later, the White Club has become the base of the Tory Party's extreme conservatives, a group of royalists who advocate retro style.

This was reflected in their many internal rules, for example, it was one of the few clubs in London that did not admit women, a rule they would continue to maintain 200 years later.

As for the Budel Club, it is also a gathering place for Tory Party members and also belongs to the Tory conservative faction. However, with the contrast of the White Club, Budel's members seem much more open-minded.

This can also be reflected in the founding history of the Boudel Club. The founding members here were originally conservative gentlemen who were excluded and left the White Club. They often regarded themselves as "gentry conservatives" and used this to distance themselves from the White Club.

Today, the undisputed leader of the Boudel Club is the most respected gentleman in Great Britain - Arthur Wellesley, 1st Duke of Wellington.

In addition to the Buddle Club, the Brooks Club also split from the White Club in the last century.

The Boudell gentlemen were expelled for not being conservative enough, while the Brooks gentlemen were expelled for being too liberal.

That’s right, the founding members of the Brooks Club were none other than 27 Whig nobles, and during the period from the end of the last century to the beginning of this century when the Whig Party was in opposition, this was long a place where the Whigs gathered together for warmth.

Moreover, the Brooks Club's style of play is different from that of the White Club, which emphasizes authority and pomp, and the Buddle Club, which emphasizes dining etiquette.

To sum up, apart from political planning, the Brooks gentlemen spend their time playing cards and gambling.

The most shocking bet here was that in 1785 Lord Cholmondeley paid a deposit of two guineas to the Earl of Derby. The two agreed that if the Earl of Derby could have sex with a woman in a hot air balloon one thousand yards above the ground, he would receive another 500 guineas.

Unfortunately, despite the Fleet Street reporters' desperate efforts, they ultimately failed to make the right move, so that we still do not know the outcome of this bet.

But no matter what, judging from the style of the Brooks Club, the atmosphere here is indeed free, and the old-school gentlemen of the White Club did have good reasons to decide to expel these guys.

But the Brooks Club is ultimately more of a social club and is not suitable for discussing serious political issues.

Therefore, today the Whig Party has long moved its political center to the Reform Club founded by Edward Ellis, the Whig Whip, former Secretary of War, and director of the Hudson's Bay Company and the New Zealand Company.

So, correspondingly, where is the Tory Group, or the Conservative Group, based?
The carriage creaked to a stop on the cobblestones at the end of St. James's Street. A drizzle of rain was falling, and a cold wind was blowing through the alley from the direction of Pall Mall.

Disraeli looked up at the building before him and felt a little frightened.

This is a seemingly inconspicuous Georgian townhouse with a simple and neat brown brick exterior. A plaque with gold letters on a dark blue background hangs on the porch. It is so low-key that it almost blends in with the street scene.

But he knew better than anyone that this mansion was not an ordinary club.

This is the heart of the Conservative Party, the general staff of Toryism.

This was also the first place in the world to know that Robert Peel would be the next prime minister, because the meeting where the Duke of Wellington convened party members to support Peel's reorganization of the cabinet took place in the private box of the Carlton Club.

94 St James Street, Carlton Club.

"We're here, sir." The groom reminded softly.

Disraeli did not respond immediately. He reached out and took out the letter from his arms. The ink on the envelope was a little damp and felt sticky.

The content on the letter was not long, it could even be said to be extremely brief, but it was as heavy as a brick.

- Mr. Disraeli: I look forward to meeting you at the Carlton Club at eight o'clock this evening. The Duke and I both wish to hear what you have to say.

—Robert Peel
This sentence gave Disraeli goose bumps, not because he was flattered, but because he had messed up the matter of getting Arthur into the party.

Thinking of this, Disraeli couldn't help sighing, but he got off the car after all.

Raindrops hit his top hat. He didn't open an umbrella, but just wrapped his cloak inside, took a deep breath, and walked towards the door.

There was no waiter or doorman welcoming guests at the door. There was only a dim gas lamp hanging in front of the door, illuminating a barely visible shield-shaped emblem on the doorknob, on which was engraved a line of Latin words in gold letters on a black background: Conservare quod bonum est (Conserve the good).

As soon as he raised his hand, the door opened by itself with a "click", as if it had been waiting for a long time.

Behind the door was a large and heavy vestibule. An elderly butler in a well-tailored suit with a golden key badge on his chest glanced at him, nodded, and without saying much, turned around and led him into the room.

They walked across a thick carpet, past portraits of several prominent Tories, and turned into a dim corridor. At the end of the corridor there was a half-open door, and the majestic voice of the Duke of Wellington was faintly heard from inside.

“How’s the election going in Bristol?”

Sir Peel did not rush to answer. He first glanced at the memo in his hand: "The situation is not optimistic, but it is much more decent than in 1832. The current election situation is roughly as we predicted. % of the rural constituencies are still firmly in our hands... However, this of course also means that the urban constituencies are still not firmly in our hands."

The Duke of Wellington took a sip of sherry and said in his usual cold tone: "I don't expect every town constituency to perform as well as London, but don't our support rates in Sheffield and Birmingham look a bit too much like a surrender?"

Sir Peel rubbed his temple helplessly: "Sir, I have always been cautious with my words and I am reluctant to call it surrender. I would rather say that in some municipal constituencies, the support rate looks more like we have not yet entered the field." As soon as these words came out, the waiter who was responsible for pouring wine next to him accidentally pulled up the corner of his mouth.

The Duke of Wellington noticed his little move and slowly put down his glass: "Robert, you see, this gentleman seems to be hinting to us that as long as the Conservative Party's support rate is not negative, they are all potential stocks."

The waiter bowed quickly: "I'm sorry, sir, I just feel..."

"No need to apologize." The Duke of Wellington said self-deprecatingly: "I have suffered a Waterloo, do I still want to forbid others to laugh at me?"

Sir Peel coughed lightly to interrupt this episode: "In fact, what we really need to pay attention to is the mood of the middle class. They don't listen to the bishop like the gentry, nor do they like to listen to speeches like the workers. Relatively speaking, they prefer to stare at money. Only when they understand that supporting us is more profitable than supporting the Whig Party, will they really vote for us."

"Is that why you keep mentioning the Constituency Association?" General Wellington rested a hand on the armrest of the sofa. "Is the pilot scheme in Birmingham and Lancashire worth all the trouble?"

"To be honest, the merchants in Birmingham still like to complain about taxes, and the textile manufacturers in Lancashire still complain about the rising prices of raw materials." Sir Peel paused. "But the new Conservative Constituency Associations in both places have at least learned how to win the war on the noticeboard with print. Our vote gap has been reduced from eighteen percentage points to less than five."

Wellington groaned for a while and said, "That is to say, we have gone from losing the battle to a local stalemate."

Peel nodded slightly and said, "Your Excellency, this can be called the spring of the Conservative Party in this season."

Boom boom boom!
There were three knocks at the door, and the Duke of Wellington and Sir Peel both looked towards it.

Disraeli nodded slightly, straightening his chest in his purple Flack gown and said, "Sir, thank you for summoning me today."

Pierre put down the memo in his hand, smiled and said, "We are also glad that you are here, Diz, please take a seat."

The Duke of Wellington did not speak, he just raised his eyes and nodded.

Disraeli had just sat down and adjusted his coat, which was slightly damp from the rain, before he said carefully, "I understand that your Excellencies have summoned me to give you a brief account of the friend we are all concerned about."

Peel nodded slightly and raised his hand to signal the waiter to pour Disraeli a glass of wine: "Yes, Sir Arthur Hastings."

"Yes." Disraeli coughed lightly and smiled reluctantly. "I had a long talk with him recently. His trust in you two is beyond doubt, and he is grateful for the goodwill of the Conservative Party. However, he is still cautious about publicly participating in any party affairs."

Wellington smiled: "Prudence? Is his answer really so formal? It sounds more like a diplomatic document. Does he think we are Palmerston?"

Pierre chuckled, took over the conversation, and helped to clear the situation up: "If he really thought we were Palmerston, he would have added a sentence in French: Avec mes plus sincères assurances (With my best regards). The fact that he used caution shows that our relationship may not be that far-reaching."

The Duke of Wellington leaned back on the sofa and said, "Mr. Disraeli, I can understand Sir Arthur's caution, but I must also remind you that there are already enough people in the world who are cautious about the Conservative Party. What we need now is not another onlooker."

"Your Excellency!" Seeing that the Duke of Wellington was about to get angry, Disraeli quickly spoke up to defend Arthur: "I don't think he meant to ignore him, but... I think Sir Arthur has always been very cautious about his public image, especially at this critical juncture when he has just restored the reputation of Scotland Yard and is getting closer to the royal family. I think he may not want to put any party label on his head too early."

Peel nodded slightly, as if agreeing with Disraeli's defense: "Diz, we understand. I have known Arthur for a long time, perhaps earlier than you. His prudence is an advantage, not a burden."

But the Duke of Wellington still refused to give in: "Advantages? Perhaps, a knight who does not participate in the war can keep his armor shiny and beautiful in appearance, which is indeed an advantage. Mr. Disraeli, I do not doubt your loyalty or your wisdom. But I want to remind you of one thing. If Sir Arthur Hastings really attaches so much importance to the future of the country and is as far-sighted and ambitious as you said, then he should understand that at this critical moment, not expressing a position is actually a statement. I have high hopes for him, and I do not doubt his bravery, but..."

Upon hearing this, Sir Peel could not help but look at the Duke of Wellington and interrupted him: "Sir! Didn't we agree on this? This time, please trust my judgment."

When the Duke of Wellington heard this, he paused for a moment with his mouth half open, then shook his head and said, "Forget it, you are the leader of the party."

Disraeli was horrified when he heard this, but he pretended to be calm.

"I know what you are expecting." He spoke with a sincere and cautious tone, "I also believe that Arthur is not unwilling to join the Conservative Party. He just doesn't want to make a hasty decision."

Sir Peel saw sweat on his forehead and knew that there was no need to put pressure on him, so he stood up and said to him, "Okay, Diz, that's all for today. Congratulations again on your victory in Tower Hamlets. Go back and prepare well during this time, because you will have greater challenges in the future."

"Challenge?" Disraeli was stunned for a moment, then he understood: "You mean...you plan to..."

Peel didn't say it explicitly, he just smiled and said: "The government needs some young blood."

He put his hand on Disraeli's shoulder affectionately: "Young people always feel that they enter the game too late, so... I intend to enter the game earlier this time."

He gently pushed the door open and personally escorted Disraeli to the corridor, walking at an unhurried pace, like a mentor seeing off a student.

"Your Excellency...I..."

Disraeli seemed to want to say something more, but he bowed deeply and said, "I assure you that I will do my best and will definitely bring him with me in the end, at the most appropriate time."

Pierre nodded slightly: "No hurry, and besides Sir Arthur Hastings, I also think highly of you."

After saying this, he waved his hand, signaling the waiter to put on Disraeli's cloak, and watched him leave Carlton House.

At this moment, in the box of the Carlton Club, the Duke of Wellington, who had been holding back for a long time, couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"Look at how grateful he was. He almost knelt down on the spot."

Pierre coughed lightly. "He's not that exaggerated, but...he really acted well."

"You too." The Duke of Wellington narrowed his eyes. "I believed your words 'the government needs some young blood'."

"You don't believe it?" Pierre turned around and shrugged: "I really intend to give him some stage."

"What about that young man Arthur?"

"That's all right." Sir Peel returned to the sofa and crossed his legs. "Anyway, you and I didn't expect him to agree to it right away. Besides, he has spent so much effort to get into Kensington. Wouldn't it be a waste to call him back now? It's enough to let him know that we value him very much and let him know that he should keep a distance from the Whig Party."

(End of this chapter)