shadow of britain

Chapter 882 A Despicable and Rotten Tactic

The sun had just risen over the Saint-Michel bridge, and a small café on the Left Bank, frequented by students and journalists, was already open.

At a round table by the window, Arthur, Heine, Elder, and Dumas sat with four steaming cups of black coffee and a basket of freshly baked croissants on the table.

“Mercy!” Heine slammed his fist on the table, splashing a ripple in his coffee cup. “Arthur, you’re too merciful! You shouldn’t show mercy to a conman like Lister.”

Heine grew increasingly agitated, and his criticism became ever more scathing: "Liszt always liked to boast that he was the Paganini of the piano world, but in reality? You are the Paganini of the piano world! That 'La Campanella' is clearly your piece! He always puts on this savior act, as if Paris owes him a shrine! But in reality? Arthur, you are the one who crawled out of the coffin in St. Martin's Basilica!"

Dumas was drinking coffee when he heard this and almost burst out laughing: "Heinrich, that's enough. I remember you and Lister used to have a pretty good relationship, didn't you? Just because he accidentally owed you a little bit of royalties, you've been chasing after him and cursing him for years?"

“Alexander! I must remind you!” Heine slammed his fist on the table, speaking with righteous indignation: “This is not a matter of money, but a matter of character and artistic taste. Yes, I did mistakenly believe that Liszt was a promising young man worth befriending, but he doesn’t follow the rules of the art world, and that’s his fault.”

Upon hearing this, Elder echoed, "That's right. If you're in this business, you have to follow the rules. The same applies to the Navy."

“Ah! Mr. Carter!” Heine immediately paid him a Heine-style salute without any hesitation when he heard Elder agree with him: “I never thought that in this noisy and corrupt Paris, in this café filled with ink and the smell of money, I could hear a secretary of the Royal Navy speaking a truth of humanity that is clearer than all the German poets combined! You are indeed worthy of being the author of Robin Hood, you understand the principle of robbing the rich to help the poor very well.”

Elder, who was still a little drunk, was delighted by Heine's exaggerated praise and flattered him in return, saying, "Mr. Heine, your insights are far superior to those court writers who lick Metternich's sore throats."

Seeing this, Arthur quickly interrupted them: "Alright, Heinrich, Elder, now that things have happened, blaming you won't do any good. Let's think of a solution."

"How do we solve this?" Heine asked bluntly, "Why don't we just have a match with him?"

As he spoke, Heine pulled a newspaper from his pocket and slammed it on the table: "Look at this, look at this, Arthur, is Lister even speaking human language?"

He immediately unfolded the still-freshly inked paper.

The bold title reads: "True Piano Art and False Imitation".

Signed below: Franz Liszt.

Arthur frowned, his fingertips pressing against the corner of the paper.

Before Arthur could even read the contents clearly, Heine couldn't help but read it aloud in the coffee shop, his voice carrying a sharp sarcasm.

"On the Parisian stage, there are always some self-important figures, and there is never a shortage of pretentious hypocrites. They may know a few clumsy chords, or they may be able to find a few cheap tricks in the scores of their predecessors, and they can put together some lifeless tunes over and over again, and then they dare to put on the posture of a master."

Some say he wrote a short piece called "The Bell." Unfortunately, it was merely a superficial imitation, mimicking Paganini's technique but lacking his soul. Striking a few cold notes cannot make the bells resound in heaven; it only makes him look like a gravedigger tolling a death knell.

Some people like to use praise like "cultivation" and "moderation" to embellish his image, as if not going on stage is a sign of nobility.

How absurd! It's simply because they know perfectly well that if they were to actually stand on the stage, they would inevitably expose the barrenness of their fingers and the emptiness of their souls in the face of true art. So they simply hide in a corner pretending to be profound, and forcefully calling their cowardice noble.

True art is not about striking the piano keys like tombstones, but about igniting the entire instrument, transforming it into flames that illuminate the listener's eyes. Those narrow melodies are only fit to linger in shrouds, accompanying the coffin on its final journey!

Even with Arthur's composure, he couldn't help but change his expression upon hearing this undisguised attack.

He had heard far harsher criticisms than this article; the firepower and rate of fire of Fleet Street in 1832 were far superior to that of Lister's little steel cannon.

However, Arthur's status is no longer what it used to be.

When Arthur lay dead in St. Martin's Church, Scotland Yard could only vent its anger on the Home Secretary, Viscount Melbourne.

While Arthur was recovering from his injury, all he could do was urge The Englishman to give him a little bit of a voice, just to find some psychological comfort.

However, the man standing here today is not the Assistant Commissioner of Police of Scotland Yard, but Sir Arthur Hastings, Secretary General of the Commission of Police of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, Her Majesty Queen Victoria’s Resident Attendant, and Chairman of the Board of Directors of Imperial Publishing Company.

If Liszt were to offer Arthur some personal musical advice in a private setting, Arthur would certainly be willing to accept it.

Although he wasn't a prime minister, he still possessed a magnanimity that fell somewhere between a great man and a commoner.

However, Lister, publishing these offensive articles in the newspaper is rather shameless of you.

If this matter is not handled properly, at the very least, it could ruin Arthur's reputation in the music industry.

On a grander scale, that would be an insult to the nation!

After all, besides his political identity, Arthur was also known as a rising star in the British music and natural philosophy circles.

This isn't just slapping Sir Arthur Hastings's backside, it's slapping Great Britain in the face!
He removed his hand from the newspaper, slowly picked up his coffee cup, took a sip, and the rim of the cup trembled slightly as he unconsciously exerted force: "Gravedigger?"

Heine looked at him, a strange excitement stirring within him. He had been waiting for this moment of Arthur's fury: "Yes, he compared you to the gravedigger who tolls the death knell, said you were the Quasimodo of the piano world, and that your music was only fit to be buried in a shroud. Arthur, look, even street thugs wouldn't dare utter such language, yet Liszt dared to publish it so openly in the Music Gazette, sending it to the breakfast tables of every Parisian!"

Alexandre Dumas's expression was also somewhat strange: "Has Liszt made up his mind that he will never give a concert in London in his lifetime?"

Elder realized he might have messed up: "This guy... even Melbourne, Palmerston, or Sir Robert Peel wouldn't talk to Arthur like that. Does this Austrian think he's John Conroy?"

In fact, what Dumas and Elder said was not an exaggeration.

Although Arthur has stopped performing on stage in recent years, his influence on the London art scene has not diminished.

On the contrary, his control over the major theaters in the West End became increasingly solid as the Imperial Publishing Company grew.

Of course, this doesn't mean that Arthur can have absolute power in every theater in London, but Arthur can guarantee that any theater that offends him will be completely cut off from the latest adaptations of the works by the authors of "The Englishman".

And all of this was mainly thanks to Charles Dickens.

Perhaps because Dickens' novels are so close to contemporary British life, his novel adaptations are always very successful compared to those of other authors of "The Englishman." His "The Pickwick Papers" alone has been adapted into more than a dozen stage versions.

At his most frenzied period, Dickens could even get more than half of London's theaters to stage his adaptations on the same day. Of course, those smaller theaters couldn't afford Dickens's royalties, but that didn't stop them from simply changing the names of his novels and putting them on stage in a completely different light.

When the adaptation of *Oliver Twist* was announced earlier this year, managers of major West End theaters practically wore down the doorstep of the *The Englishman* editorial office in their quest for the premiere. Ultimately, St. James's Theatre secured the adaptation rights to this classic work by offering terms that were almost unequal.

They made significant concessions on box office revenue sharing and spared no effort in casting.

Miss Nancy is played by Mrs. Sterling, one of London's most popular actresses at the time, while Henry Hall plays the villain Bill Sykes (based on Sir Sykes, both in history and in this timeline). In addition, all of London's top actors, such as Edward Wright, Alfred Wigan, Mrs. Seymour, and Miss Alison, are in the cast. Even the theater manager himself took on the role of deacon Bumble.

Judging from the subsequent performance, the theater manager did indeed choose a good role. After the premiere, the scene where Bumble and the protagonist Oliver ate porridge in the workhouse ignited the entire city of London, and Oliver's line "Give me more!" became the most popular catchphrase in London that year.

According to statistics from the Fleet Street enthusiasts, since the release of "Oliver Twist" at the beginning of the year, 60 people have watched the 150 performances to date.

While this data may be somewhat exaggerated, Dickens's terrifying dominance in London theaters is undeniable. It is no exaggeration to say that Charles Dickens, the former court clerk, is the most successful playwright in Britain after Shakespeare.

Correspondingly, Empire Publishing, which owned Charles Dickens, was the most dominant cultural and entertainment company in British history.

Some might argue that even if major theaters refused to perform for Liszt because they didn't want to offend Imperial Publishing Company, there were still many smaller theaters in London.

Ideally, these small theaters might indeed take risks for the profits Liszt could bring.

However, given that Sir Arthur Hastings also controlled the Commissioner for Police Affairs, these small theaters that usually sold pirated plays had to reassess the business risks of accepting Liszt.

The Lord is turning a blind eye to piracy these days because he doesn't want to get involved.

Objectively speaking, for a writer of Charles Dickens' caliber, appropriate piracy could help enhance his social influence.

After all, not everyone can afford the expensive tickets to the West End theaters; the lower classes mostly go to those smaller theaters for entertainment.

For Arthur and Dickens, gaining influence among the lower classes is far more important than making those two measly coins.

However, regardless of the circumstances, if any foolish little theater insists on taking the risk, Arthur must show them just how many eyes the Black Lord has.

It's worth noting that many of the pirates he arrested back then are still not released today.

Arthur tapped his fingers lightly on the side of the coffee cup.

He knew very well that if it were a real contest on the piano keys, he would be no match for Liszt.

However, the stage in Paris is only the stage in Paris.

As the saying goes, "One minute on stage requires ten years of practice off stage."

If you can't outplay someone on stage for even a minute, you can only figure things out offstage.

He folded the newspaper and pushed it in front of Alexandre Dumas: "Alexander, are you acquainted with the people at the Constitution?"

“The Constitutional Gazette?” Dumas didn’t react for a moment: “I know their editors, though. What, are you going to publish an article to retaliate against Liszt?”

“I do have that idea.” Arthur took a sip of coffee. “But before that, I plan to see Talberg. I heard that Lister has been looking for him since last year?”

Heine perked up at this: "It's more than just stirring up trouble! What Liszt said was utterly inhuman. He was staying in Geneva with Countess Marie de Agoo when he heard the news of Thalberg's sensational work in Paris. He immediately abandoned Marie and rushed back to Paris, and he even published several articles in the *Musical Gazette*, saying things like: 'It's a shame that such empty, mediocre works can produce such a huge effect. The public insists on linking our names together as if we were fighting for the same laurel in the same arena.' At the time, Fétis, the editor of *Musical Review*, and I couldn't stand Liszt's petty behavior and even debated him in the newspapers."

Arthur hesitated for a moment: "Fettis? Are you referring to Fettis, the director of the Royal Conservatory of Brussels?"

Heine nodded and said, "That's right, it's him. Before being invited to Belgium by Leopold I, he lived in Paris. Even now, he still goes back to Paris every year for his holidays."

Upon hearing this, Arthur roughly understood the situation: "I originally did not want to get involved in the dispute with Lister, but Mr. Talberg is my friend and my junior. He can insult me, but he cannot treat Mr. Talberg like this out of jealousy."

Unlike Arthur, Elder's attention was not on music; instead, he was very concerned about the Countess who had accompanied Liszt to Geneva: "Heinrich, the Mary you mentioned, the Countess, is her relationship with Liszt public?"

Dumas, who was listening intently, almost spat his coffee in Elder's face: "You rascal, besides the lowlifes and the Admiralty's cables, what else do you care about?"

“Quite the opposite,” Heine interrupted, raising his hand to stop him. “Mr. Carter’s focus is spot on. Liszt is such a despicable fellow. Can you imagine? Countess Marie de Agoo abandoned her husband and enviable social standing for him. Many around her were laughing at her, but Marie didn’t care. She set a bright future for Liszt, encouraging him not to be merely a virtuoso performer, but to settle down and become a composer who could win immortal acclaim. But Liszt was still scheming about how to make himself even more famous, using Marie to elevate his own status…”

Upon hearing this, Alexandre Dumas couldn't help but exclaim, "Heinrich, you sound like you can read Liszt's mind! How did you know all this? Did you overhear from under Liszt's bed?"

"Don't interrupt!" Heine slammed his fist on the table in anger. "You must trust the judgment of a Liszt scholar who has studied Liszt for many years. Think about it, although the scandal with Countess Marie de Agoo ruined Marie's reputation, what loss did Liszt suffer? On the contrary, his name was frequently heard in aristocratic salons! When did he become famous? When did he become popular? Liszt is a scheming man!"

Elder commented, "This sounds a lot like Lord Byron."

"Don't use Liszt to insult Byron! Compared to Byron, he's just a clown dancing on the piano!"

Heine, his face radiating righteous indignation, gritted his teeth and angrily denounced Liszt's numerous misdeeds: "Think about it, if he cared even a little about Marie, how could he have so hastily abandoned her and rushed back to Paris just because Talberg became famous there? Look around, has anyone seen Liszt and Marie together this year? They used to be inseparable. That foolish woman, she only wanted to live her ideal life with Liszt, but she didn't see Liszt's true nature. This guy is incredibly ambitious, always looking for opportunities to rise above others, and he'll use any means necessary to create a reputation. Just like I wrote in the Music Gazette, charitable donations are one of his methods. He loves applause too much, he craves fame too much. Just wait and see, it won't be long before the woman beside him is another countess."

As Heine spoke, he had already torn the croissant on the table to shreds, scattering crumbs all over the table.

He turned his head and saw that Arthur remained silent. Heine couldn't help but ask, "Arthur, what are you thinking about? If you want to curse Lister, just do it. Keeping things bottled up will only dirty your mind. If I were you, I would have already taken a whip and ambushed Lister at his doorstep!"

Arthur slowly raised his eyes, his gaze sweeping over the people at the table before finally settling on the half-cold cup of coffee.

His fingers tapped lightly on the side of the cup, as if he were counting beats.

A moment later, he suddenly laughed, a laugh that carried an unexpected ease: "Heinrich, I was wondering, didn't you just say that the men's seats next to Countess Marie de Agoo are currently empty?"

(End of this chapter)