The Shadow of Great Britain

Chapter 962: Chapter 43: The Old Nobility and the New Emperor

If London is the riddle, Paris is the answer.

——Gilbert Keith Chesterton

The brilliant crystal chandelier cast a soft and splendid glow, turning the ballroom into a dreamlike realm.

The air was filled with the scent of roses and violets, intertwining with the gentle champagne bubbles to weave a luxurious overture.

Liszt, in his splendid evening attire, drew everyone’s gaze, his fingers gliding with tremor akin to a majestic phoenix in flight, the melody shifting from gentle to intense, every note seeming to possess life, leaping, spinning.

Although Heine often disparaged Liszt’s performances to Arthur’s face, claiming they were technical but devoid of emotion, to Arthur, a novice in piano playing, Liszt’s performances were not merely displays of technique but outpourings of emotion. The seamless transition between delicate, mountain-stream smoothness and passionate, stormy intensity could not be achieved by technique alone.

”Symphonie Fantastique,” conducted tonight by Mr. Berlioz, is a representative work and a distinguished piece that won the Rome Prize for composition. This piece, expressing love, makes the perfect waltz.

The audience was deeply attracted by Liszt’s enchanting music, and the gentlemen who were chatting nearby couldn’t help but close their eyes and listen, as if feeling the passionate emotions Berlioz had when composing.

Some gazed at Liszt’s magician-like hands in wonder at how he could create such rich colors and emotions from the black and white keys.

The skirts of the ladies swayed gently with the rhythm, and the gentlemen unconsciously slowed their steps; the entire ball seemed conquered by this music, transformed into a giant resonant chamber.

Arthur’s attention was evidently fixated on the music, so much that he failed to notice his dance partner’s subtle emotions.

Miss DelaSalle softly asked, ”Since you came to Paris, haven’t you attended one of Mr. Berlioz’s concerts at the opera?”

Arthur slightly came back to himself and replied with a smile, ”I originally planned to, but because one of my enthusiastic friends caused some trouble for me, I now usually choose to avoid these luminaries of the Paris music scene.”

”Caused trouble?” Miss DelaSalle asked curiously, ”Could it be that your friend is a professional music critic?”

”Well...”

Arthur pondered Heine’s livelihood and realized that this German poet’s primary occupation was indeed hard to define, ”Not really, his main job is writing poetry, but he does love to critique — not just music, but also literature. However, his favorite target to criticize is politics; that’s his interest. In some way, I think he critiques music and literature just to fund his political critiques. After all, critiquing politics generally doesn’t pay and also carries risks.”

”Really?” Miss DelaSalle asked dubiously, ”I’m not usually concerned with politics, but if writing political commentary doesn’t pay, why are there so many political commentaries in the Parisian newspapers? Aren’t they afraid of starving?”

Arthur laughed at this, saying, ”Miss, I didn’t mean writing political commentary doesn’t pay; it’s critiquing politics that doesn’t pay. If you choose to praise politics, not only can you make money, you might even get a government position.”

Miss DelaSalle asked, ”Then why doesn’t your friend praise politics?”

Arthur thought for a moment about Heine’s character and smiled helplessly, ”Please show him some mercy. For him, to integrate into this society and become a respectable person both materially and spiritually, he’s already sacrificed most of what he could. In faith, he abandoned his ethnicity to convert to Protestantism. Financially, he left his home and came to Paris, even resorting to near-extortion for survival. If he were willing to praise politics, he could have started praising Prussia’s ’enlightened rule’ right after graduating from the University of Gottingen. Why wait until in exile in Paris to begin praising France’s ’freedom and democracy’?”

Miss DelaSalle asked perplexed, ”You mean your Prussian friend continues to critique the government even after coming to Paris? Isn’t he afraid of being arrested and thrown in jail? Last year, the Saint-Simonists’ newspaper ’Le Globe’ was raided by the police, and editor Michell Chevalier was sentenced to a year in prison. If it wasn’t for Mr. Thiers intervening, he’d probably still be locked up now.”

Arthur chuckled, ”What’s odd is that your words oddly improve my impression of Mr. Thiers. As for my friend, you needn’t worry; after going through hardship in Prussia, he’s become much more astute. Though he still critiques the government, he knows very well the limits not to cross to avoid arrest.”

Seeing Arthur’s fluent discourse, Miss DelaSalle pursued further, ”You seem very knowledgeable about political matters; were you a member of parliament in Britain, or did your elders teach you these things?”

Arthur didn’t shy away from his past profession, knowing that even if he didn’t say it, the lady could find out from the British Embassy that he was a York watchman dealing with ruffians before.

”In fact, like you, I’m not very concerned with politics, mainly because my job required me not to be concerned with politics. As for how I know about these matters, it’s quite simple because I was once a police officer who raided newspaper offices. Of course, today’s Britain isn’t like it was a decade ago; now we advocate for freedom of the press, so we can’t just shut down newspaper offices anymore.