The Shadow of Great Britain

Ney lacked ability and was quite incompetent, but he’s already dead, so I won’t comment further.

Victor fought like an old woman, dragging his feet.

Massena was a very capable general, well-versed in the art of war, always exhibiting outstanding performance in the face of great danger, but would often fall into pitfalls when there was no danger.

I greatly admire Kleber, he was an even greater general, but his achievements were limited by his idleness and unwillingness to work, being idle all day long.

Berthier was like a nagging old woman. The Emperor fully understood his talents; he was like a machine, good at noting down orders and then executing them by the book. In all aspects, I could do better than him, but the Emperor was too smart, so he didn’t hire me to sit at a desk because he knew I had the capability to control and tame the wild soldiers, hence he hired me to do so...

If it weren’t for Arthur honing his acting skills to perfection at Buckingham Palace, he might have burst out laughing in the carriage.

After all, he clearly remembered that during the Battle of Waterloo, the chief of staff of the French Army was none other than Soult, and Soult’s greatest achievement in that position was not constantly correcting orders like Marshal Berthier, leading to Grouchy’s troops failing to return to the main battlefield in time while pursuing the Prussian troops, causing the French Army to lose its numerical and temporal advantage.

Of course, from the British perspective, the Duke of Wellington indeed had to thank Soult’s divine inspiration.

If Soult had commanded one hundred thousand men at the time, with Marshal Berthier as the chief of staff, the outcome of Waterloo might have been reversed.

But Arthur certainly wouldn’t say this in front of Soult, after all, he was very interested in the English translation of the memoir Soult was agenting, not to mention the other party was a French envoy from afar, from Paris, and should be given full respect both emotionally and logically.

After all, even though Soult was a historical inventor, he was not the only one doing this kind of work.

Soult, who was in high spirits, suddenly seemed to remember something, he turned to Arthur: ”You might not have heard, but Prince Talleyrand has passed away?”

Arthur, smiling, suddenly froze: ”His Highness the Prince has passed away?”

Soult nodded: ”Just a few days ago, on May 17th, at the Valence Castle, which the Emperor ordered him to purchase. I heard you are one of his executors of the will?”

Arthur didn’t quite know how to answer this question. He wasn’t surprised about Talleyrand, after all, reaching 84 years old could be considered a long life in any era, but actually hearing the news of this spiritual mentor’s passing left him somewhat melancholic and conflicted inside. Should he be glad there’s one less menace in the world, or should he lament there’s one less interesting character?

”Sort of,” Arthur nodded and said, ”Mr. Talleyrand left me some personal documents, and he hoped I could compile and publish these in a timely manner, letting him be an upright and honest person.”

”Upright and honest.” Soult slightly raised the corner of his mouth upon hearing this sentence: ”A man with six faces wants to be considered upright and honest after death. Alright, I think I finally understand why he wanted to confess to a Priest in his final moments. It’s a pity, I thought he would curse God vehemently on his deathbed as described by the Paris newspapers now.”

Arthur smiled and gently defended Talleyrand: ”Nowadays, there are more and more atheists, but in my opinion, it’s simply because they haven’t been tested by life and death yet. When faced with the fear of the unknown, humans habitually turn to deities for help; such moments are the best to see whether they truly do not believe in God or just felt they didn’t need God’s help before. I recall that the late King William once said he was not a believer when he was young, until he encountered a storm at sea, and thereafter he became one of God’s most devout followers.”

Soult relaxed into the carriage seat a bit: ”So, what about you, Sir Arthur, do you believe in God? I recall you once said at a salon in Paris that you had a near-death experience?”

Arthur did not appear troubled, he replied with a smile: ”Your Excellency, I am a member of Her Majesty’s Government.”

Soult naturally understood what Arthur meant because British government officials have to pledge their faith to the National Church when taking office.

However, using such an official answer to dodge now is already very telling.

Soult teased: ”So does that mean you have to not believe?”

”I think...” Arthur slowly began, ”if you insist on a short answer from me, then yes, I believe, but I don’t expect God to make decisions for me. I believe in God, not because I expect Him to save me, but because I hope there’s a place, beyond my control, to give my humble life a just definition at some point.”

Soult was initially stunned, then suddenly leaned back heavily, almost unapologetically bursting into laughter within the carriage.

”Prince Talleyrand once said there’s an interesting young man in London, and it seems he wasn’t lying about at least this.” Soult shook his head: ”Your words just now reminded me of an old story. Many years ago, a young officer asked me, ’Marshal, do you believe God is on our side?’ I answered him back then, ’I don’t know which side God is on, but I am quite sure that cannonballs never stray because of God’s blessing.’”