The Shadow of Great Britain

Chapter 1650: Chapter 43: Of 1 Stone of British Literature, Sir Arthur Alone Claims 8 Dou

The dinner took place in a tastefully decorated dining room in the west wing of Kensington Palace.

The candlelight flickered inside, casting a warm glow over the exquisite silverware and ceramics under the lights, the crackling firewood in the hearth dispelling the chill of the London night.

The deep red wallpaper set off a portrait hanging behind the main seat, a likeness of the Duke of Kent in his youth, dressed in red and blue military attire, his expression confident and determined, yet this once most talkative Prince had now become the most silent presence in the room.

At the center of the long table, the Duchess of Kent sat, with Victoria beside her, and Arthur was placed on the opposite side.

The three young ladies of the von Bloh family were seated at a farther distance, accompanied and tended to by Lady Leisen, clearly to prevent the dinner from becoming too noisy.

Dish after dish was served, from the venison jelly and pan-fried foie gras with black currant sauce for starters, to the roast squab and candied radish for the main course, each reflecting the meticulous thought the Duchess put in, meeting the court’s standards without being overly lavish.

To welcome Arthur, the Duchess of Kent had certainly put considerable thought into the choice of dishes.

In the past week, she had dispatched people to conduct a thorough investigation into Arthur’s family background and upbringing, much like how Arthur had previously done with her.

As they say, ”a prime minister must rise from the provinces, a mighty general must emerge from the ranks,” and Sir Arthur Hastings is indeed a representative of such people.

As a young man born into a farming family in York Country, he had steadily climbed to his current position one step at a time.

For a person with such a growth story, even if you disagree with his views, you cannot help but admire his legendary journey.

From an inconspicuous farmer to a scholarship award winner at the University of London, his future seemed bright, but due to economic downturns, he had to work as an unnoticed street patrolman.

Yet Sir Arthur Hastings did not give up because of this, and instead, after a courtroom speech, he finally ”soared into the sky like a great roc, rising with the wind for ninety thousand li.”

From a star officer at Scotland Yard, to the new Tsar of the Police Intelligence Department, and then a gunshot under the Tower of London.

Then, he pioneered a new battlefield at the University of Gottingen and, due to his outstanding work, was seconded by the Foreign Office to go to St. Petersburg.

Unfortunately, like the previous two experiences, just as his fate had improved, he was implicated in uncontrollable events.

Although he was only 25 years old this year, his life had already experienced three major ups and downs, with the scars at the corner of his eye and the bullet marks on his chest proving his colorful life experiences and his powerful inner strength.

This young man was very unfortunate, yet it did not prevent him from always saying with a smile when talking about his past experiences: ”Thank God, I have been very lucky in my life.”

And when he talked about his failures, you would always hear him quote Napoleon’s famous saying: ”Your Highness, as Napoleon said: ’The glory of life lies not in never failing, but in rising every time we fail.’ I respect the defeated, as much as I respect the victorious. Although the results differ, I believe both possess equally noble qualities.”

After the Duchess of Kent learned about Arthur’s growth experience, she had already developed a good impression of this young man.

But after meeting him up close, she found that Sir Arthur Hastings himself was even more outstanding than what the reports described!

This young man was not just ordinarily ”ambitious,” nor was he one of those opportunistic floaters in the political arena.

The open-mindedness he developed through multiple setbacks was not a disguise of arrogance but an aura of a true strongman from the inside out.

And this strongman’s aura is most reassuring.

The Duchess of Kent paused slightly as she put down the silver knife and slowly spoke: ”You, at such a young age, are already capable of viewing failure in this manner. I do not mean to flatter you, but you are indeed the most mature young man I have ever seen.”

Arthur smiled and responded after hearing this: ”Your Highness, thank you for your compliment, but if there is anything about me that is truly commendable, I would rather attribute it to the education I received at the University of London.”

The Duchess of Kent chuckled and asked: ”So, are all graduates of the University of London as gentlemanly as you?”

Upon hearing this, Arthur suddenly thought of an old friend who was having an adventurous voyage on the Pacific Ocean, and he felt a rare chill run down his spine, causing him to shiver slightly.

But fortunately, he quickly racked his brains and remembered another famous alumni of the University of London: ”Alfred Tennyson, an exceptional poet comparable to Coleridge and Wordsworth, in any case, I am certainly beneath him.”

”Hmm...Mr. Tennyson, full of grandeur and melancholy.”

The Duchess of Kent casually recited a classic line from Tennyson’s masterpiece ”In Memoriam,” published two years ago: ”Now I know, the transparent mist, like a veil shrouds my land, your nameplate in the black church is faintly revealed in the dawn light...”

Arthur couldn’t help but blush upon hearing this.

Indeed, Tennyson’s elegies were excellently written, and Arthur was even willing to place this young friend on the throne as the King of Britain’s elegiac poetry. He also greatly appreciated Tennyson’s regard for their friendship and was willing to consider him a lifelong friend.

However, now that Arthur, as the subject of Tennyson’s elegies, had come back to life and heard these verses again, it inevitably made him feel bashful.

But the unknowing Duchess of Kent remained completely indifferent and began another masterpiece by Tennyson: ”Come, but not in the sleepless long nights, but in the warm daylight, come, your posthumous beauty, like the finest, light of lights.”