shadow of britain

Chapter 912 Hastings, the Loyal and Patriotic Minister

Morning light streamed through the tall French windows, casting a slanted glow on the silverware on the long table.

At 36 Lancaster Gate, the dining room of Sir Arthur Hastings's mansion was as quiet as ever, with only the ticking of the clock and the rustling of newspapers turning in the wind.

The maid Becky walked out of the kitchen carrying a tray, the hem of her apron swaying with each step.

"Sir, breakfast is ready."

She put down the tray, which contained Sir Arthur's four favorite items: freshly brewed black tea, soft-boiled eggs, golden-brown toast, and several neatly folded morning papers.

Steam rose from the white porcelain teapot on the tray, the aroma of tea mingling with the smell of ink, instantly recognizable as the scent of The Times.

"Thank you for your hard work, Becky."

Arthur sat at the dining table, wearing only a bathrobe, his face still bearing the faint scent of a hangover.

For the musicians who participated in last night's Buckingham Palace concert, performing was only part of the job; after the concert, there was a court dinner and ball to attend.

It's only natural that these musicians, who stole the show at the concert, would become the center of attention.

The lights, champagne, velvet, laughter, and the perfume on the ladies of Buckingham Palace were all dazzling.

Arthur recalled that the first person to surround him was Lord Francis Charles Hastings Russell, the eldest son of Major General Lord George Russell and nephew of Lord John Russell, the Home Secretary.

As can be seen from the young man's middle name, he is indeed related to Sir Arthur Hastings.

Or rather, he was related to the Hastings family, because his mother's uncle was the first Marquis of Hastings.

If we examine the generations closely, then it would be appropriate for Lord Russell Jr. to call Arthur his cousin.

In fact, Lord Russell Jr. was not fond of his policeman cousin, but his sweetheart, Miss Elizabeth Sackville-West, was a huge fan of Sir Arthur. Of course, Miss West had only become a fan today.

Miss West had heard the ladies of the Blue Stockings talk about the Hastings frenzy seven years ago, but this was the first time she had actually seen Mr. Hastings perform.

After all, seven years ago, Miss West was only 12 years old and was still living in her hometown in Cambridgeshire. She didn't often have the opportunity to come to London to see performances.

However, this did not prevent Miss West from becoming enamored with Arthur, who was arguably the most outstanding composer of contemporary Britain, upon her first visit to see his performance.

So, at Miss West’s insistence, Lord Russell Jr. had no choice but to swallow his pride and introduce her to his cousin Arthur.

Fortunately, the result was good. Uncle West was a very kind and generous man. He not only praised Miss West's musical understanding and encouraged her to continue to improve her piano skills, but also subtly praised Lord Russell in front of her, saying that he was a very reliable and handsome young man.

After bringing the young couple together, the minister's wife gathered around.

“I’m hosting a small party next week at Grosvenor Square, and it would be great if you could come.”

“When I was in Berlin, I had the privilege of seeing your arrangement of Turandot, which I will never forget. If you have time, you might as well come to my place sometime. My daughter, Gabrielle, often mentions you.”

Although the ladies used different words and phrases, their core desire was the same: to invite Arthur to join their social salon.

After all, for the wives of these diplomats, managing their husbands' social circles is their most important responsibility, and with a composer like Sir Arthur Hastings, who can win top prizes at Buckingham Palace concerts, the overall style of the social salon can be greatly elevated.

However, dealing with those "malicious" wives of ministers was much easier than dealing with those aristocratic ladies who had just entered the social scene.

These ladies usually just ask Arthur harmlessly questions, like what his baton is made of and which muse inspired him.

Of course, Arthur couldn't tell them that his real "muse" was a political conspiracy.

The young lady closest to him, about seventeen or eighteen years old, had a somewhat naive, "foolish" look in her grey-blue eyes. Her questions were full of loopholes that Sir Arthur could easily exploit: "Sir, why do you never look at the audience when you conduct? Is it because you're shy?"

"Shy? Maybe a little, but mainly because... I want to focus on what's in my own mind."

"And now?" She blinked. "What are you thinking about right now?"

“I was thinking…” Arthur took a sip of champagne, “If I take another step closer, your father will probably send someone to find me tonight.”

This remark successfully made the young lady blush, and the ladies around her laughed even harder.

The reactions of the onlookers were enough to give the old cop a chance to calmly retreat with his champagne glass.

Of course, Sir Arthur could have stayed here a little longer.

However, considering the presence of many ladies with impressive "firepower" nearby, such as Mrs. Levine, he had no choice but to forcibly withdraw from the position to avoid being surrounded by the enemy.

After all, as a great composer who had just performed the Wellington March, he had to absorb some of the essence of the Duke of Wellington's military strategy.

Even a renowned general like the Duke of Wellington had to patiently fight a drawn-out battle on the hills of Waterloo when facing Napoleon's French artillery.

What's more, Victoria and Flora were also present at that moment!
Arthur pulled his thoughts back from the splendor of the previous night and looked down to open The Times. The front page featured a report on the concert the night before.

The rivalry over who was the king of the European piano was ended by Wellington's March.

In recent months, the music world across Europe has been focused on the same question: Who is the greatest pianist of our time?

The newspapers of Paris and Vienna have been arguing about this, with one side calling Franz Liszt "the Napoleon of the piano," and the other praising Sigismund Thalberg as "the most perfect monarch of the piano." Last night, at a concert at Buckingham Palace, the two masters faced the most rigorous judgment under almost the same roof—from the ears of Queen Victoria and foreign envoys.

Talberg's performance of the Moses Fantasy captivated the audience with its gentle touch and elegant melody. This piece, taken from a Rossini opera, transformed into undulating waves in his hands; where his left and right hands intersected, the melody became as clear as a human chorus. Her Majesty the Queen particularly loved the choral section, and the dignitaries in the audience praised it as "truly cultured music."

However, when Liszt sat down at the piano, a mix of passion, provocation, ecstasy, and repentance instantly filled Buckingham Palace. *Reminiscences of Don Juan*, a musical theatre piece both decadent and magnificent, was performed. Several ladies even gasped in surprise during the performance. If Thalberg's playing was an elegant prayer, then Liszt's was utter seduction.

The competition between the two piano virtuosos had already brought the evening to its climax, but the real highlight came at the very end.

Just as the audience was still immersed in Liszt's "Steel and Fire," an unexpected musician took to the podium—Sir Arthur Hastings.

His appearance did not initially cause much of a stir.

After all, a pianist who has been away from the stage for a long time can hardly be regarded as an artistic figure who can be compared with the two piano masters.

But as it turns out, everyone was wrong.

When Sir Arthur Hastings stepped onto the podium to conduct his new work, the Wellington March, the atmosphere of the concert became solemn.

This meticulously structured and magnificent work possesses both the restraint of traditional British music and the power of a war epic. The music marches like an army in battle formation, culminating in a powerful chorus of brass instruments that shakes the entire audience. As the final chord fades, the orchestra's lingering resonance echoes under the dome, while the audience remains utterly silent.

After that, people stopped talking about which pianist was greater.

Because the most dazzling name last night belonged to Sir Arthur Hastings and his Wellington March.

……

Generally speaking, when someone sees news reports praising them so highly, they will inevitably feel smug.

But Arthur couldn't help but frown when he saw this.

He remembered that it had been quite a while since he had treated the editors and reporters of The Times to dinner.

Although Imperial Publishing owns a 30% stake in The Times, the company's actual control over this largest-circulation newspaper in Britain is not as strong as one might imagine. Currently, the most influential person within The Times remains its editor, Thomas Barnes.

While The Times under Thomas Barnes wasn't as radical as the underground tabloids in its editorial section, it was similarly rarely the subject of praise. The most typical example of this was their revelation of the truth about the Peterloo Massacre of 1819 under immense pressure. In other words, it was precisely because The Times was the most daring of the mainstream newspapers to challenge government authority that it amassed such a large readership.

Logically, even if The Times had a good relationship with Imperial Publishing, they shouldn't have used the same intensity to praise Arthur as Heinrich Heine.

But how could this be...?

Arthur glanced down and quickly discovered the truth.

Below, in the advertising section, a line of newly launched advertisements is prominently displayed.

[New Release] Wellington March Recording – A Great Movement Dedicated to the Battle of Waterloo

"When the drums sound, you will hear the heartbeat of the empire."

Composed by Sir Arthur Hastings, one of Britain's most acclaimed young composers, and Prince Albert, this is a live recording from Buckingham Palace.

It uses the patented vinyl record from the London Acoustical Society and is published by Imperial Publishing Company.

Price: 8 shillings and 6 pence

The set includes a limited-edition copperplate print, "The Queen's Performance," hand-painted by a court artist.

Sales locations: 50 Bond Street, Chappell Music & Instruments / 28 Halls Street, Thomas Busey & Sons / 35 Central Avenue, Wheatstone Musical Instruments
Arthur scratched his cheek.

No wonder he found it strange.

After all that fuss, it turns out it was just the payment for this quarter to The Times that had been credited to their account.

Just as Arthur was trying to figure out what had happened, he heard Elder's low chuckle: "How about it, Arthur? What do you think of my advertising slogan? When the drums beat, you'll hear the heartbeat of the Empire. I've been thinking about this line all night."

Arthur glanced at him and slowly put away the newspaper: "Eld, I want to ask you a question."

"What's the problem?" Elder casually picked up Arthur's teapot and poured himself a cup of tea. "If you're asking about the cost of the advertising copy, then I think ten pounds would be a very fair price."

"Let's leave the advertising copy aside." Arthur took a sip of tea. "What I want to ask is, what exactly are you going to do with that new house you bought? You're not homeless, so why do you have to come here and loiter every day?"

"Why?" Elder shamelessly replied, "Because your breakfast is better than mine, and you have Becky..."

He gestured with his chin toward the kitchen: "The black tea she brews is much better than the one I make myself."

Becky, who was busy in the kitchen, blushed upon hearing this and said, "Mr. Carter, you flatter me."

"Stop talking nonsense." Arthur poured some more milk into his teacup. "Your house is near Piccadilly, isn't it? It's less than a five-minute walk from all the clubs. You come here every day just to have a cup of tea?"

“I was just worried you’d be lonely.” Elder’s smile widened. “Look at your house, three stories high, just you and Becky living here. Wouldn’t it be more lively with more people?”

"Are you afraid I'll be lonely, or are you hiding from your creditors?"

“A creditor?” Elder scoffed, “Arthur! What do you take me for? I’m not some social scum like Benjamin.”

Arthur countered, "Really?"

Elder paused uncertainly upon hearing this, then added, "At least not anymore."

“Really?” Arthur clapped mechanically. “That’s wonderful. I think I should find an opportunity to invite both Charleses, Alexander, and Benjamin over to throw you a celebration party to celebrate your rebirth.”

"Please don't!" Elder sighed, forced into a corner, and finally confessed, "Fine, since you insist on knowing the truth, I'll tell you the truth. Initially, I bought the house because I wanted to live a decent life..."

"Decent?" Arthur raised an eyebrow.

“Yes!” Elder spread his hands with a wry smile. “You know, I’m the deputy director of the Chart Bureau now, so I have to make a respectable impression. When people hear that Mr. Carter has a house in Piccadilly, they think I’m doing well. But if you actually move in, things will get complicated.”

"How exactly is it troublesome?"

“You’ll need to hire people,” Elder said, counting down his fingers one by one. “First, there’s the experienced housekeeper. After all, the housekeeper is the face of the business. She’ll provide room and board, and her salary will be at least £35 to £40 a year, plus various allowances. Then there’ll be the male servants, who will cost £30 a year in addition to room and board. The cook will cost at least £18, and she’ll also need to bring a maid to help with chores, so that’ll add another £10.”

At this point, Elder paused, then added with a wry smile, "Of course, if you want to maintain a respectable appearance in Piccadilly, you need a decent four-wheeled carriage. I don't lack that; I still have my Brougham carriage. But if I were to use that carriage regularly, the annual maintenance and replacement of the tack would cost about 60 to 70 pounds, plus the coachman's salary, veterinary care, feed... it would come to about 120 pounds a year."

Arthur gently blew on the teacup, causing a ripple to appear in the teacup: "So, in order to be seen as a respectable gentleman, you can't even save a penny from your meager salary at the Admiralty?"

“Pretty much,” Elder shrugged helplessly. “This doesn’t even include the small expenses like entertaining guests, newspaper subscriptions, club fees, and Christmas bonuses for the servants. If you factor all that in, my entire salary from the Admiralty wouldn’t be enough.”

"So you're just begging to stay here and even owe rent, and you don't feel any guilt at all?"

"Hey, don't put it so harshly, Arthur. This isn't about being behind on rent."

"What's that called?"

"This is called temporarily borrowing the hospitality of a friend."

Arthur continued drinking his tea: "I really should have found you a girl from a good family at the social dance, so you could go to their house and eat at their house."

Upon hearing this, Elder righteously refused, saying, "Arthur! I'm not like Benjamin!"

“You’re not like Benjamin?” Arthur put down his teacup and said, “Eld, not being able to and not being able to are two different things. I think you might be the latter.”

Elder Carter said righteously, “I think you might be mistaken. Arthur, although we are friends, I, Elder Carter, as a recipient of the Royal Medal, must point out the factual errors in your statement.”

"I shouldn't have let Her Majesty the Queen give you that award in the first place."

"If I didn't win this award and it was just that bald Charles who got it, wouldn't that be a complete conspiracy? In that case, what value would this Royal Society award have?"

Looking at Elder's confident aura, Arthur really didn't know how to evaluate this recipient of the "most prestigious" Royal Medal in history.

But Elder didn't care about all that. He felt that his award was well-deserved and irrefutable. Of course, he did not deny that his friend Sir Arthur Hastings had indeed played a significant role in his winning the award.

However, as we all know, connections are sometimes an indispensable part of strength.

Darwin, who was part of the Cambridge alumni network, received the Royal Medal. Is that comparable to Carter, who was part of the University of London alumni network, receiving the Royal Medal?

From this perspective, Elder's view does seem to be correct.

In order for his friend Sir Arthur Hastings to go further in his research, Elder believed it was necessary to continuously help and encourage him. Of course, encouragement was the primary focus, as he couldn't offer much direct assistance at his current level.

Elder asked with a grin, "Speaking of which, Arthur, did Her Majesty the Queen grant you permission to go on vacation to Brighton last night?"

Arthur nodded nonchalantly: "That's true. Her Majesty the Queen was very satisfied with last night's performance, and she felt that I wasn't feeling well, so she specially granted me permission to use the Royal Sanatorium in Brighton."

Upon hearing this, Elder could barely contain his expression: "Well... you say, of course, I'm not saying I have to go with you, but... I mean, if you insist that I go with you, I can..."

Before Elder could finish speaking, Arthur raised his hand to signal him to stop: "Brighton will definitely go, but before that, I need to take care of the matter that the Ministry of the Interior entrusted to me."

"The Ministry of the Interior entrusted you with this matter?" Elder's face darkened. "The Ministry of the Interior has audacity! Are they planning to defy Her Majesty the Queen's decree?!"

“I don’t know whether the Ministry of the Interior would dare to disobey Her Majesty the Queen,” Arthur said, taking a sip of tea. “However, from the perspective of national stability, I must nip any possibility of radicals causing trouble at Liszt’s London concert in the bud.”

(End of this chapter)