The Shadow of Great Britain

758: Chapter 360 Revelation_2 758: Chapter 360 Revelation_2 “But I don’t blame you, because your lie was meant to comfort me, it was considered to increase happiness, so I don’t think you were wrong.

But…”

Bentham paused, then continued, “But I know my own body, and I now feel I am about to die.

I am too old, so old that I can no longer walk or eat much.

It’s only my body that’s still alive, but my soul is about to break free from the confines of this shell.”

Arthur was silent for a long time, unsure of how to continue.

In the end, all he could do was to say, “You must be joking.

If your body were really that weak, how could you announce no visitors?

Not allowing those young people to see you for the last time, you aren’t that heartless.”

Bentham’s smile lingered, “No, Arthur, you don’t understand me.

I am a true utilitarian.

For utilitarians, caring for others means minimizing their pain.

So, when I am about to die, please promise me, don’t let the servants come in, and stop those young people outside too.

Because when they find themselves helpless in the face of my death, they will suffer.

Death is a very painful thing, and that pain, I should bear alone.”

Arthur, upon hearing this, couldn’t help but be moved.

He held Bentham’s hand without a word, neither agreeing nor rejecting.

After a long while, he quietly asked, “Why me?

If it really comes to that, I will suffer too.”

Bentham gently patted Arthur’s hand, full of apology, “I am very sorry, Arthur.

If I could, I would handle these things myself.

But a dead man cannot do so.

And you are the strongest young man I have ever met.

I know, there might still be some hard feelings in your heart.

If it were not for the strife between the two parties, the Parliament reform being the current main focus, the ‘Anatomy Act’ might have already been pushed forward.

So, to prove my consistent principles of utilitarianism and to compensate for your pain, I will donate the last bit of my value to society.

I hope that when my cadaver specimen appears at the University of London, it will move the Parliament members and ease your pain.”

With that, Bentham, smiling, recited a phrase often used by priests at the time of death: “We come into this world naked, and we leave it just as bare…”

Arthur followed, reciting, “To live as splendidly as the summer flowers, to die as beautifully as the autumn leaves…”

Bentham, startled, stared at Arthur for a long time, then, contentedly squeezing Arthur’s hand, said, “Arthur, you have become a real utilitarian, and a utilitarian poet at that.”

At this, the old man even playfully winked, “My last request, I hope they make my cadaver specimen look a bit handsome, not necessarily as beautiful as autumn leaves, but at least looking dignified and imposing.”

Arthur, also smiling, replied, “Your last request, please hold on until the very end, because there might still be a chance.

At the very least, you should live to see the day the Parliament reform succeeds, for which you’ve striven for thirty years.

Wouldn’t it be a pity if you didn’t even get to see the fruit of your labor?”

Bentham’s face seemed to gain some life as he responded with a laugh, “Such a demand on an old man at death’s door is too much.

But I owe you this, so I will try.”

As soon as Bentham finished speaking, Agares’s voice rang in Arthur’s ear, “Oh, a distinguished thinker and jurist, his soul is quite valuable.

And since he doesn’t even mind his corpse being cut into pieces, then he would surely not hesitate to offer up his soul, right?

Arthur, what do you think?”

Arthur ignored the Red Devil’s whispered words.

He merely pulled the blanket up on Bentham, then backed away and bowed to the old man, “Mr.

Bentham, just wait here for me, don’t wander around.

I’ll be back soon to shoulder your pain, don’t let me find you missing then.”

Bentham, hearing this, also joked in a low voice, “If I could walk about, I’d come find you myself.

Where will you be then?

At Scotland Yard or the Westminster meeting hall?”

Holding the doorknob, Arthur struck a match to light his cigarette and said, “Who can say for certain what the future holds?

Perhaps when you ascend to Heaven and look down from the cliff, you’ll see me right there below.”

Hearing this, Bentham pursed his lips and shook his head, “Arthur, you are still young.”

“Yes!” Arthur nodded, “You know it, I am still young.”

With those words, Arthur closed the door and stepped into the corridor.

He had not yet begun to descend the stairs when he saw the butler, Andrew, silently standing at the foot of the stairs with a teacup in hand.

Arthur saw the man’s soaked hat, and the raindrops dripping like tears from its brim, and simply leaned on the armrest to ask, “Did you hear all of that?”

Andrew’s hands trembled slightly as he nodded.

Seeing this, Arthur did not offer much consolation but instead patted his shoulder, “Mr.

Andrew, don’t think too badly of things, one must always move forward.”

Andrew, struggling to hold back his tears and with the pride of a British gentleman, refused to let his tears fall, “Mr.

Hastings, I appreciate your comforting me.

However, you talking to me about this at your age does not seem quite appropriate since I am old enough to be your father.”

Arthur, smiling, replied, “Age doesn’t matter.

The Duke of Wellington could be my grandfather, yet I said something similar to him a few days ago.”

“What did you say to him?”

Arthur took a puff of his cigarette, leisurely exhaling a stream of smoke, “Your Excellency, I am not advising you to retreat, but rather to change your direction forward.”

…

Inside the departing carriage, Louis looked out the window at the receding crowd then at his companion Arthur, who was smoking beside him.

He felt that his superior had undergone some sort of transformation in demeanor compared to an hour earlier.

But for the Red Devil leaning against the car window, rather than saying Arthur’s demeanor was changing, it would be more accurate to say it was returning.

That damned, stubborn demeanor was rapidly returning.

Agares thought the shooting in Liverpool would serve as a wake-up call for Arthur, but what the Red Devil hadn’t anticipated was that the rhythm of this alarm bell wasn’t as somber and profound as he had preset.

Agares widened his eyes, furiously grabbing Arthur by the collar and roared, “Bastard, don’t think I don’t know what you’re thinking!

Who the hell do you think you are?

You think you can monopolize the play!”

The Red Devil and Arthur were locked in a celestial struggle.

However, from Louis’s perspective, he didn’t understand what was actually happening.

All he knew was that his young superior was silently smoking.

Perhaps wanting to lighten the mood, Louis suggested, “The mission was completed successfully, and it’s still early.

How about we visit the ‘British’ editorial office?

I heard that Alexander’s son recently arrived; we could invite Charles and others to join us for lunch?”

“Not a bad suggestion,”

Arthur extinguished his pipe, “But instead of Alexander’s son, you might be more interested in the latest news from Paris.”

“Paris?”

Just as Arthur had said, the mere mention of the city immediately intrigued Louis: “What happened there?”

Arthur began, “Alexander’s literary friend in Paris escorted the mother and son to London.

I met him last night at my house.

According to him, the current political atmosphere in Paris is just like at the onset of the French Revolution.

Both the Republicans and the Bonapartists are restless, and what’s worse, to calm the situation, a fanatic supporter of the Republicans, the mathematician Evariste Galois, was recently ordered arrested.

Now, Republicans are actively plotting to save Galois, and Mr.

Victor has been quite troubled lately.”