The Shadow of Great Britain-Chapter 551 - 285: The Insightful Hastings_2

Lady Cordington would cry every time she brought it up, berating General Cordington anew. She wondered aloud what was so great about the Royal Navy anyway. Her father had spent his life at sea, and now her three sons were destined to do the same. What good was it to become an Admiral if you lost your life? Why not live peacefully on land, become a Representative, and spend your days playing cards and watching plays?

General Cordington had been called back to Britain after a dubious promotion following the Battle of Navarino, and she was probably the happiest person in all of Britain.

Upon hearing this, Great Dumas couldn’t help but whistle. He burst out laughing, "You can tell, this Lady seems to have a quite harmonious relationship with her husband. Although I understand her perspective, I must say that ladies obviously see things differently from gentlemen."

"In my view," he added, "if one wishes to die a glorious death, it should be on the battlefields of a revolution. Of course, if you prefer a more romantic demise, contracting tuberculosis would be the way — the sort where each surge of emotion makes you cough up blood. That gesture alone is simply too splendid. This kind of romance, however, is only suited for those under thirty. Once you pass that age, you can no longer pull off the frail aristocrat look."

Arthur took a sip of his coffee and dryly remarked, "Then you’d better hurry. If I’m not mistaken, you turn twenty-nine today. You have one more year before the noble young man tag leaves you. But, speaking of which, isn’t it true that those of you in the literary business tend to indulge somewhat in that sort of thing?

I remember Lord Byron once publicly expressed his wish to die from tuberculosis, and he fantasized about the ladies at his funeral touching his cheeks and saying, ’Look at poor Byron, how interesting he looks in his final moments.’"

"Vulgar, Arthur, you are utterly vulgar!" Great Dumas retorted disdainfully. "Does your head, filled with various files and records, and your dull temperament, not have a single corner for romance and poetry?"

Arthur stroked his chin, "Alexander, to me, temperament and destiny are simply two names for the same concept. My destiny does not allow me to reserve much room for romantic temperament. Using a romantic temperament in a policing job would leave you without a grave. Trust me, a romantic can write poems or paint, can give charity in the streets, but he certainly cannot wield power."

Great Dumas challenged, "So according to you, can a dry person, nothing but kindling, wield power?"

Arthur shrugged, "I didn’t say that. But, Alexander, you must understand, humans are an extremely narrow-minded and shortsighted species. Everyone claims to be making progress every day, but their so-called progress is merely replicating the trajectory of their first success. Hence, a person’s initial success greatly impacts their life, making them believe that it is the only way to succeed, completely ignoring that their success might just be a fortunate fluke. In other words, if someone were to wield power through romanticism, things would certainly get interesting. I’m not criticizing, but romantic people are often impractical."

Great Dumas raised an eyebrow, "Well then, let me bring you some good news, Mr. Hastings. I’m honored to inform you that our great ’British’ majority shareholder, the gossipy London fashion novel mogul, the secretly corset-wearing Jewish lad steadfast in pragmatic politics, the rising star on Britain’s political scene — Benjamin Disraeli, has just announced his victory today in Maidstone, Kent. He will represent the Tory Party in the House of Commons, hoping to voice the concerns of the vast British populace with a compassionate spirit."

Arthur, holding his coffee cup, paused mid-sip, his eyebrows twitching three times.

Although he’d suspected that Disraeli, who had close ties with the Tory bigwigs, stood a great chance of winning, Arthur couldn’t help but express admiration when his friend actually secured the position.

"Benjamin... he really did it. Who would have thought? Just a year ago, this guy was a rat everyone in Britain wanted to strangle, and now, a year later, he has transformed into a dazzling Member of Parliament."

Great Dumas rolled his eyes, "Could he not have become a Member? He prepared well over a thousand British Pounds for his campaign. He spent nearly all his earnings this year, and even borrowed a good amount from us. If he couldn’t win with that, then it would only mean that Britain’s political system is excessively pristine."

Walking about the room with his hands behind his back, Arthur grinned broadly, "No, no, no, Alexander, you are French, so you don’t quite understand Britain. Benjamin secured this seat with just one thousand five hundred pounds, which actually proves his skill. Money is necessary for a seat in Parliament, but if you think money alone can secure it, then one thousand five hundred pounds is definitely not enough. Before I was born, in 1807, a seat in Parliament in York was sold for as much as one hundred thousand British Pounds."

Hearing this, Great Dumas almost spat out his tea, "One hundred thousand pounds? Was that person mad? When I served in the artillery, I earned just 120 Francs a month as a lieutenant. A regular private received only 40 Francs. With the exchange rate of 20 Francs to a British Pound, one hundred thousand pounds could hire several thousand French soldiers to fight a war for him for a year." fгeewebnovёl.com