shadow of britain

Chapter 792 Mr. Carter always manages to surprise people.
Just as Arthur picked up his teacup and stared blankly at the rising steam on the surface of the tea, heavy, slow footsteps came from the other end of the stairs.

"Damn it! Who waxed these stairs? They're so slippery."

Arthur looked up at the stairwell and, sure enough, saw a hungover Elder staggering down the stairs.

I had a hangover last night, but after a good night's sleep I'll be full of energy again.

This wasn't particularly surprising for Elder; perhaps because the Carter family had long been rooted in Ireland, they had acquired some Irish alcohol resistance genes. In any case, the men of the Carter family were always heavy drinkers and rarely suffered from hangovers.

"Good morning, Your Excellency the Provost." Elder yawned, squinting. "You're preparing lessons so early in the morning? These kids studying at the University of London are really lucky."

Arthur shook his head helplessly: "Should I say you slept soundly, or should I say you haven't improved at all?"

“It’s true you sleep well, and it’s also true you haven’t made any progress.” Elder sat down opposite him casually. “By the way, do you know what happened between Lord Brougham and the Duke of Wellington in the House of Lords the other day?”

"What is it?" Arthur recalled Lord Brougham's personality and temperament, and immediately sensed something was wrong: "Could he have made sarcastic remarks about the Duke to his face in the House of Lords?"

Speaking of Lord Brougham, although he often appeared in front of Arthur as a kind and tolerant teacher, those who knew Brougham knew that the kind and tolerant Brougham was like Christmas and Easter, appearing only once a year.

Most of the time, his friends saw Brougham as someone who couldn't tolerate even the slightest injustice. His enemies, however, saw him as cruel, ungrateful, and sharp-tongued.

As expected, things turned out exactly as Arthur had guessed.

Elder poured himself a cup of tea: "You're not far off the mark. To be more specific, our Chairman of the Board of Governors, Lord Brougham, made the same old mistake when he spoke in the House of Lords the day before yesterday about Lord Radnor's College Pledge Act. He basically said that the Duke of Wellington opposed the College Pledge Act only because he didn't understand modern thinking and was completely ignorant of students' consciences. He also said that the world needs smarter brains, not neater uniforms and sabers."

Upon hearing this, Arthur couldn't help but shake his head slightly, rubbing his forehead: "He's always been sharp-tongued. But I can understand why he said that. It seems that the collaboration between the University of London and King's College has not only angered us students, but also provoked him."

“Yes.” Elder nodded. “But I heard he crashed this time.”

"Huh?" Arthur was taken aback by what he heard.

Elder put down his teacup. Although he hadn't been there, the thought of the scene still made him feel quite embarrassed: "Just as Lord Brougham was giving his impassioned speech, the Duke of Wellington suddenly raised a finger from across the table and shouted, 'Now, watch what you say next!'"

Upon hearing this, even Arthur felt a chill: "Lord Brougham, he...didn't contradict the Duke, did he?"

“No,” Elder said. “Greville said that Lord Brougham seemed to be frightened at the time, and he immediately interrupted and changed the subject. But I think we can only believe half of what Greville said, because he seems to hate Brougham, so as soon as he finds any news that could embarrass him, he immediately exaggerates it and spreads it around.”

Arthur also knew something about Greville: "I remember Lord Broham seemed to look down on this Privy Council Secretary, didn't he? And you said last time that he was a very vain and jealous fellow?"

“Indeed.” Elder shrugged. “But ultimately, things seem to be going badly for the University of London. The Duke of Wellington seems unusually resolute in his opposition to the liberalization of university education.”

“I think His Excellency the Duke may be held back by the titles of Honorary Chancellor of Oxford University and Chancellor of King’s College.” Arthur took a sip of tea. “Although the Duke of Wellington is far from being a representative of the High Tories, and his thinking is much more open than that of the High Tories, he has always retained the traditional aristocratic mindset in his character. If others received an honorary title like Chancellor, they would most likely just put it on their business cards, but if you give this title to the Duke of Wellington, then he is definitely not just doing it in name only.”

Upon hearing this, Elder stroked his chin and pondered for a while, then suddenly seemed to understand something, slapping his thigh and exclaiming, "No wonder!"

"what happened?"

Elder began, “Have you forgotten? Whenever the Duke of Wellington is in London, he makes sure to take a walk around Hyde Park every day. Last time, I saw him reprimand a few young men riding at breakneck speed in the park because their horses frightened elderly people taking a stroll. After that, he even put up several signs along the park's riding paths, specifying the maximum riding speed and prohibiting horses from encroaching on the grass, etc. I didn't know why before, but now I realize it's because he has the honorary title of Hyde Park Ranger!”

Arthur, unfazed, said, “What’s so surprising about that? Didn’t His Excellency the Duke set up a complaint mailbox at the park entrance before? You might not believe it, but I must say, I’ve seen him reviewing those complaint letters several times when I visited Apsley’s estate. And he seems to be drafting a set of traffic rules for the park recently, such as driving on the left and not allowing carriages to make U-turns on the avenues to avoid blocking the way. He even wrote to me specifically to consult on the drafting of these traffic rules.”

Upon hearing this, Elder couldn't help but complain: "He's really meddling too much. No wonder Fleet Street draws cartoons every day to satirize him, saying that he's making a big deal out of nothing."

The satirical cartoon "The Duke of Wellington Walking in Hyde Park," drawn by Irish artist John Doyle in 1829.

Compared to Elder's complaints, Arthur actually hoped that William IV would now give the Duke of Wellington the title of "Princess Victoria's love advisor," so that he wouldn't have to worry about Lord Elfenstone's affairs.

With the joint bill from the University of London and King's College London looming large, there's also the worry about the Crown Prince potentially losing his right to the throne.

Suddenly, Arthur felt that even Nicholas I's image had become so kind and approachable.

Arthur sighed, "Let's not talk about this anymore, it's pointless."

Elder nonchalantly took the plate of bread Becky had given Arthur: "So what do you think is meaningful?"

"I don't know either. Right now, I have two bulls clashing in my head, one called University College London and the other called Kensington Palace. I'm stuck in the middle, and I'm either going to get trampled to death or be tossed around."

"Then you'll have no way to survive, won't you?"

“I don’t need a way to survive right now, I need time. Even just enough to let those two cows stop and catch their breath.” Arthur racked his brains and came up with a poor solution. Whether he was blinded by greed or desperate, he actually asked Elder for his opinion: “Do you have any good ideas?”

Elder stuffed a piece of buttered bread into his mouth: "You're asking me? I'd like to ask you the same thing. After all, you're the representative of our University of London. If you can't even hold your own, how can you expect me, a third-class clerk in the Admiralty Hydrographic Office who hasn't even started working yet?"

"Hmm?" Arthur frowned. "Your matter is settled?"

Upon hearing this, Elder couldn't help but reveal a smug smile. He lowered his voice and said, "Keep it low-key. Although there's no follow-up yet, I heard from my uncle that it's probably pretty much a done deal."

“Third Secretary?” “That’s right, the Third Secretary in charge of the External Communications and Data Acquisition Section of the Royal Navy Hydrographic Office.”

As a seasoned veteran of Whitehall's bureaucracy, Arthur knew just from hearing the name that Elder had probably landed a key position in some important department.

He wanted to find out the department's role from Elder, but he was worried that the guy wouldn't tell him explicitly.

But as an old friend of Elder's, he had his own way of getting things out of Elder's mouth.

“External Communications and Data Acquisition Section…” Arthur gently put down his teacup: “This sounds like a place for copying documents. Your uncle isn’t planning to put you in some break room to coast along, is he?”

"The tea room?" Elder snorted in dissatisfaction. "Arthur, how dare you look down on your dearest friends and relatives like that? External Communications and Data Acquisition Section, although the name sounds like it's in charge of copying letters, in reality, I have quite a lot to manage."

Elder counted on his fingers, listing off the details for Arthur: "Think about it, all the ships in the world—whether they're sailing, fighting, smuggling, missionary work, or weather forecasting—whether they're Royal Navy fleets, merchant ships of import/export companies, or small patrol boats under ambassadors abroad, as long as these ships are registered in Britain, they have to send nautical logs, weather records, hydrographic conditions... and what else? Coastal fortresses, port locations, new paint schemes for foreign ships, which lighthouses have recently been turned off—they all write it down clearly."

"And then all this information is compiled and sent to you?"

“Yes.” Elder grinned from ear to ear. “To be precise, it’s first sent to the Navy Department for registration and filing, and then transferred to us. We’re responsible for classifying, extracting, and comparing it with old maps. Sometimes we also have to contact captains or diplomats stationed abroad to ask them to supplement the maps, measurements, and annotations. Don’t underestimate this job; you might just unearth some big news if you’re not careful.”

Hearing this, Arthur finally breathed a sigh of relief: "This is the best news I've heard in a while, Elder. I'm so happy for you. When you get promoted in the Admiralty, I might need your help."

“It’s just a matter of a word. We’re like family.” Elder was already imagining his wonderful future: “Once I’ve accumulated some experience and connections in the Admiralty, maybe I’ll step into Parliament someday. Perhaps I’ll become the Minister of the Navy, or maybe even the Prime Minister.”

"You? Become Prime Minister?"

"What? No?"

"It's not that it's impossible, but if you become prime minister, where will Benjamin go?"

"Don't worry, I'll leave him a job. I'll make him a minister without jurisdiction, a special advisor to the cabinet on Jewish affairs, in charge of Nazirites and Levites."

Elder munched on a slice of bread, blinking as he stared at Arthur. "But speaking of which, you don't look too good today. It's not as simple as being sandwiched between two cows. Tell me, what's bothering you? Heartbroken? Or have you just fallen for someone?"

Arthur was silent for a while: "Eld, have you forgotten everything you said yesterday?"

"What I said yesterday?" Elder's face turned deathly pale, and he nearly dropped the teacup he had just picked up. "You...you wouldn't..."

Arthur's face darkened: "So you understand the seriousness of the problem now?"

Elder's facial muscles froze instantly. He tentatively spoke, his voice a full tone lower than usual: "Listen to me, I really don't remember what I said last night... but if I did say anything... I mean, if I really did say something, it was definitely just drunken talk! Don't take it seriously!"

Arthur was momentarily stunned: "What are you talking about?"

"Stop pretending!" Elder covered his forehead with his hand: "Didn't I mention to you last night that I was almost detained at the mansion of a local Argentine noblewoman during my round-the-world voyage?"

Arthur thought Elder would come up with something big, but it turned out he was just repeating the same old tricks, making up stories about how popular he was with ladies.

"Elder, I'm not interested in your new one-night stand story."

"Arthur, I..."

"Alright, alright, I believe you, I believe you. Can we talk about what's next?"

Elder was initially afraid of the truth being revealed, but when he heard Arthur question his charm, he became furious.

He glanced at Becky in the kitchen, and only when he was sure she hadn't noticed his conversation with Arthur did Elder abruptly rip open his robe, revealing the rose tattoo on his waist.

“You…” Arthur was stunned for a long time when he saw the tattoo, and almost shouted out, “Eld, have you lost your mind? Why did you get this tattoo? Don’t you know what Whitehall’s attitude is towards tattoos? If they find out, you can forget about being a patrolman at Scotland Yard, let alone a third clerk in the Admiralty! This little rose alone is enough for them to give you a certificate of incompetence.”

Arthur's words were not an exaggeration, because in 19th-century British society, tattoos were never considered a good way to express individuality.

Whether in the upper or lower classes, it was generally believed that only slaves would have tattoos as a mark. Even among those who were not slaves, this act of defiling the body was thought to only occur among criminals, prostitutes, or Gypsies.

In addition to being well-dressed and behaving with restraint, Londoners also generally consider the absence of scars and tattoos to be a basic requirement for upper-class gentlemen.

Elder quickly gestured for Arthur to be quiet, and said with a bitter expression, "I didn't get this tattooed on myself, it was that Argentine lady who did it for me."

"Then why don't you fight back? Don't tell me you can't even control a woman."

Elder's face was contorted with pain: "Arthur, you know me, that night, I drank too much..."

Arthur slapped his forehead: "I'd rather it was Elphinstone who was drunk... Wait? Elphinstone?"

(End of this chapter)