shadow of britain

Chapter 862 The Hastings Gang in Whitehall
The two policemen, having almost finished eating, hurriedly put down their tin trays, tossed a few pennies into the stall owner's hand, and continued their low-pitched banter as they walked away. Their boots splashed water onto the wet stone pavement, sending up tiny droplets that soon disappeared into the mist.

On the other side of the stall, on a long wooden bench that no one had noticed before, sat a gentleman dressed in ordinary clothes.

He wore a low-brimmed top hat, and the buttons of his wool coat were all neatly fastened from top to bottom. A polished cane lay at his feet.

He quietly took a sip of the now-cold tea, then slowly put the teacup down, tapping the porcelain rim with his fingertips, making a soft sound.

The stall owner peeked over and recognized Mr. Hastings, a regular customer. He smiled and said nothing, simply picking up a slice of freshly baked bread and handing it over.

Arthur took the steaming slice of bread, and before he could even say thank you, he heard the sound of heels tapping on the cobblestones coming from the misty street corner.

Before anyone could even see the visitor's face clearly, his loud voice had already pierced Arthur's ears.

"Damn! This weather in London! I've only been out of my house for less than half an hour, and my hat is soaked through, like I just pulled myself out of the Thames!"

The stall owner looked up and quickly greeted him with a smile, "Mr. Carter! You're here so early? The usual?"

"Same as always, of course! James, besides the two thin steaks, do you have any French veal steaks available?" Elder muttered as he vigorously flicked his coat over his shoulder, sending the mist droplets flying everywhere.

When Arthur saw his old friend arrive, he waved and said, "Eld, over here."

Elder swaggered down and sat down, the chair creaking under his weight.

He casually tossed his soaking wet hat onto the table, then took a slice of bread from the stall owner and crunched it loudly. "Hey Arthur," he said, "you're sitting here like an old monk, slowly munching on bread. You know what? The Admiralty's been buzzing with rumors these past few days that Her Majesty plans to confer baronies on a group of men before her coronation, and your name is on the list."

Arthur looked up at him, picked up his teacup, and said, "The rumors from the Admiralty are probably not much more reliable than the weather in London."

"Damn it, stop pretending!" Elder took a bite of half a piece of bacon. "This news didn't come from the Navy Department, it came from inside the palace. How could it be unreliable?"

Arthur took a sip of his black tea: "Of course it's unreliable."

"What's unreliable about it?" Elder looked incredulous. "You dare say it's unreliable when it comes from the palace?!"

Arthur put down his teacup and said calmly, "Because I refused."

Suddenly, the noisy air fell silent.

“You…” Elder nearly choked on his bread, patting his chest for a long time before recovering: “Are you out of your mind? That’s a baron! Even if it’s just the most shabby hereditary title, it’s enough to nail your name to the top of the pyramid. You don’t care? Do you know how many people are desperate to get in? Robert Peel was just a baron.”

“Then how about I go and talk to Her Majesty the Queen and ask her to bestow this title upon you?” Arthur said casually. “From Baron, the Carter family has truly brought glory to their ancestors.”

Elder was stunned for a moment, then slammed his hand on the table, almost knocking over the teacup.

He declared righteously, “Arthur, what kind of person do you take me for? This kind of freebie baronial title is an insult to my character and a trampling on the glory of the Carter family for hundreds of years! Our Carter family, though not a hereditary noble family of England, is still a prominent Irish family with red and blue roots. We have produced members of parliament, generals, plantation owners, and political leaders. Each generation has been clean and honest, and we have always acted on our own merits!”

He became more and more agitated as he spoke, even ignoring the teapot offered by the stall owner, and Elder slammed his fist on the table and roared.

“My great-great-grandfather, Thomas Carter, was on the city walls during the siege of Derry! For 105 days, when everyone in the city was starving, he was still sticking his pipe up the walls to prevent James II’s men from climbing up! Later, in the Battle of Boyne, he followed William III in the charge, routing James II’s royalists and French reinforcements, storming the lines, and personally capturing James II’s documents and seals.”

Then there's my great-great-grandfather, Thomas Carter Jr., who served as Ireland's chief judge and minister of state. He formed a triumvirate with Henry Boyle, the Speaker of the House of Commons, and Anthony Malone, the Chief Attorney General of Ireland. He was one of the founders of the Irish Patriots Party and the most trusted aide to the Duke of Bedford, the Governor-General of Ireland.

My great-grandfather, Henry Boyle Carter, though not particularly successful in politics and never serving as a minister of state in Parliament, did far more practical things than Parliament itself. As the owner of Martin Castle Estate, he was the kind of man who commanded respect at Dublin City Hall. My great-great-grandmother, a widow of the Shahn family, was of genuine Annaly aristocratic lineage. When she married into the Carter family, she brought with her hundreds of acres of land and a whole host of troublesome cousins.

Then there was my uncle, John Carter, who joined the Royal Navy at the age of 13, serving on HMS Illustrious in the Mediterranean Fleet. Later, as a cadet officer, he participated in the blockade of Malta on HMS Penelope, capturing the French second-class battleship William Tell. He then followed Admiral Horatio Nelson on HMS Victory in the Egyptian campaign and the Battle of Trafalgar. To this day, the sword and binoculars given to him by Admiral Nelson still hang on his wall…

Elder became more and more excited as he spoke, and the stubble he had just shaved off that morning seemed to be sprouting back from his chin.

He was about to recount the story of how General Nelson personally handed his uncle the telescope when he heard Arthur speak up quietly beside him: "Fine. Since you don't care about any titles, I'll pass on a message for you when I go to Buckingham Palace the other day. Tell Her Majesty the Queen that you don't even want the Royal Medal anymore."

Elder was about to tell Arthur about the heroic deeds of his Carter family, but as soon as he finished speaking, he froze as if struck by lightning, his whole body stuck in mid-air like a piece of wood.

"Wait a minute... what did you say? What medal?"

Arthur slowly poured half a cup of tea: "The Royal Medal. It's not a title, not an order of honor, and not a knighthood, but it's still a genuine medal bearing the coat of arms, personally approved by the Queen, and bearing the name of George IV. It's currently with the Royal Society, and they're going to hold a meeting at the end of the year to decide on it. Originally, the Royal Society's list of nominees this year only included Charles. The day the list was sent to Buckingham Palace, I happened to be with Her Majesty the Queen, and she asked for my opinion on the list."

“I… my dear Arthur.” Elder’s mouth opened and closed like a flounder stranded on the shore: “The Charles you just mentioned… who is he? Is it that bald Charles Darwin?”

“If it’s not Charles Darwin, then it must be Charles Dickens, right?” Arthur took a sip of tea. “You can’t exactly tell me it’s Charles Rowan, can you?”

Elder couldn't contain his excitement, but he still tried to remain calm and asked, "Then... what did you say to Her Majesty the Queen?"

"I told her that while the outstanding contributions of Mr. Charles Darwin during the Beagle's voyage could not be ignored, the leadership of Captain FitzRoy and the assistance of Mr. Elder Carter should also be taken into account. So Her Majesty wrote a letter to the Royal Society expressing her wish to include both of your names on the shortlist for the Royal Medal."

Upon hearing this, Elder practically jumped out of his chair: "So... you mean... I, Elder Carter, will be the recipient of the Royal Medal this time next year?"

Arthur nodded and said, "Pretty much, if the Royal Society doesn't object."

"They... probably won't object, right?" "Hmm..." Arthur pondered for a moment, stroking his chin. "Hard to say."

Elder froze, as if he had been doused with ice water: "Hard to say? What do you mean hard to say?! Just because my father and grandfather weren't members of the Royal Society like Charles's father and grandfather, does that mean it's hard to say for me?"

Arthur calmly sipped his tea: "That's not entirely the reason, but ultimately, you've never published any philosophical or natural philosophy papers, you don't belong to any public school faction, you've never attended a single academic salon, and there's not even a record of you in the Royal Society's archives..."

"What about my drawings?" Elder suddenly became anxious, scratching his head and protesting his innocence: "Where is my 'Atlas of the South American Coast of the Beagle'? Even that bald Charles borrowed that roll of drawings several times for reference! How can that be considered a lack of academic achievement? Arthur, you should know that I put more effort into drawing the nautical charts than you wrote the reports!"

“Dedication is one thing…” Arthur said with a smile, “If you hadn’t drawn those self-created sea monsters in that atlas and labeled them ‘Carterosaurs appear,’ I think it could have been considered an academic achievement.”

Elder blushed and argued, "You don't understand! That was scientific humor!"

"But you know, the Royal Society probably wouldn't appreciate that kind of humor."

"Shit!" Elder slammed his hand on the table, but this time the sound was much quieter. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? That way I could have rewritten the drawings, added a hardcover, and made the Caterpillar more formal before republishing it... Damn it... It's all Alexander's fault! That fat guy told me readers might like this commemorative design."

Arthur looked up at him: "But didn't you just say that titles and medals are an insult to your character?"

Elder paused, his eyes darting around quickly before he immediately adopted a sanctimonious expression: "Arthur, I'm talking about a Baron! A Baron is something used to keep sycophants and people who live off nepotism! But the Royal Medal is the crown of intellect, the embodiment of the Imperial spirit, the medal of honor for natural philosophers... I cannot fail Her Majesty's expectations, nor can I fail you, Arthur, after all, you were the one who put my name on it!"

Arthur gave a soft "Oh," and then instructed, "Then you'd better hurry. The Royal Society's annual meeting is scheduled for September this year, and they need to prepare all the nomination materials for the candidates a month in advance. If your roll of drawings is still tucked in the brown paper bag, then I advise you not to wait until August to start."

Elder was already reaching into his pocket, as if he was about to pull out paper and pen to start outlining: "Arthur, what do you think? Should I mark the route from Plymouth all the way to the Falkland Islands, and then from there past Tierra del Fuego and the Galapagos Islands, or should I just pick out a few representative charts? Does Her Majesty prefer black and white, or watercolor? I can ask my sister to help me with some new charts; she studied gouache when she was little..."

Arthur watched him pace back and forth around the stall like a spinning top and couldn't help but tease him, "But if you really win the medal, don't tell people it's because of me. After all, I declined the baronial rank precisely to avoid any appearance of impropriety."

Elder didn't take Arthur's words to heart at all. While thinking about how to draw the picture, he replied, "Don't worry about that. I swear, if I really win the medal, I will put up a sign in front of my house that says, 'This medal was not obtained through nepotism, but through my own true talent and ability.'"

Arthur glanced at him: "It would be better to add a line to the signature: 'Elder Carter—the earliest discoverer of Carteron.'"

Elder, shameless as ever, replied, "Of course! The Royal Society will certainly thank me for this groundbreaking discovery!"

However, turning around, Elder also sensed something was amiss: "You just said... you declined the title of baron to avoid suspicion?"

“The main reason is that I don’t want to stand with Sir John Conroy when I receive the title,” Arthur said casually. “It could easily lead to inappropriate associations with others, especially given that Mr. Faraday has once again refused the royal appointment of him as a baron.”

"Faraday refused the investiture?" Elder was completely bewildered. "What's going on here?"

Arthur glanced at the sky and, seeing that it was still early, patiently explained to Elder, "As you know, there needs to be a reason to confer a title upon someone. John Conroy was conferred a baronetship because of his many years of loyal service to the royal family..."

Elder, who had experienced the Ramsgate incident with Arthur, immediately understood: "Alright, I know you don't want to use the same reason."

“That’s right, and Her Majesty the Queen doesn’t want to use that reason either,” Arthur said. “So she came up with another pretext, intending to promote me to Baron for my outstanding contributions to the field of natural philosophy. However, in the field of natural philosophy, especially in electromagnetism, there are clearly many people more qualified than me to receive the title of Baron. Especially Mr. Faraday; if he is unwilling to accept it, how can others in the field of electromagnetism accept an award from Her Majesty the Queen?”

When Elder heard that "Faraday refused the title of baron," he was even more shocked than when he had just heard that Arthur had refused the title of baron.

After all, given Arthur's relationship with the Queen, if he missed this opportunity, there would be another.

But for Faraday, once this opportunity is missed, it may not come again.

If the Queen hadn't wanted to bestow a title upon Arthur, no one else in the field of natural philosophy would have been qualified to share in the spoils.

"Has he gone mad?" Elder stared, mouth agape, looking as if he'd been blinded by Darwin's head. "I thought only weirdos like you would do something like this... How did he reply to Her Majesty the Queen?"

“Don’t be so surprised. The King tried to make him a baron in 1830, and he had already refused once then,” Arthur said. “Mr. Faraday said, ‘As a scientist, I do not want to receive honors outside my duties for a purely academic job.’ When Her Majesty the Queen saw that he refused, she offered him the position of advisor scientist to the Royal Family. At first, he refused again, and it took me almost half a month of persuasion before he reluctantly agreed. And this was on the condition that he would not receive a salary, wear a uniform, or participate in court activities. Because he said that he only wanted to be a servant of natural philosophy, and not a servant of any power.”

Elder raised an eyebrow: "Judging from his tone... it feels like he wasn't just saying this to Her Majesty the Queen, but also to you?"

Arthur didn't speak immediately, but picked up his teacup and gently blew on the cooled tea: "Perhaps. Mr. Faraday seems to be somewhat disappointed in me. Based on his research in natural philosophy, he has always felt that I should be a scientist, not a Whitehall bureaucrat."

Elder rolled his eyes. "He really doesn't understand. Once you're a Whitehall bureaucrat, you can easily become a scientist, but once you're a scientist, becoming a Whitehall bureaucrat again is much more complicated. You want to get a membership in the Royal Society? Isn't that easy?"

Hearing this, Arthur suddenly asked, "By the way, how's your work at the Chart Bureau going?"

When the topic of work came up, Elder complained: "If I had known that my job at the Chart and Survey Bureau was to organize the data brought back from the Beagle's circumnavigation, I should have burned it all when I came ashore! But thanks to Charles, he has been a great help to me this year."

"Hmm..." Arthur was relieved to hear that everything was going well for Elder: "By the way, you've been in the position of Third-Class Scribe for two years now, haven't you?"

“Pretty much.” Elder leaned back in his chair. “If you hadn’t mentioned it, I would have thought he’d been in jail for twenty years, counting down the days at the Admiralty.”

Arthur chuckled softly upon hearing this: "Well... after you receive the Royal Medal, and with the reshuffling of positions in the Navy this year, don't you have any thoughts about going to jail somewhere else?"

(End of this chapter)