shadow of britain

Chapter 497 Royalists, God is also a royalist!
Dear Bertanny,
Give my memoirs to Alexandre Dumas, and ask him to take them to London, to Sir Arthur Hastings, and God bless Italy, that they may not fall into the hands of the traitor Louis Bonaparte.

—Giuseppe Garibaldi
Rome, the Republic, or Death!
—Giuseppe Garibaldi
On April 1849, 4, the Second French Empire army began the siege of Rome.

At dusk in Paris, street lights gradually come on, illuminating the streets of this bustling city.

Inside the carriage, Arthur Hastings and Clara were sitting on soft velvet seats, and the scenery outside the window passed by like a picturesque scene.

Today, Clara was wearing a light blue silk dress, an exquisite feather hat, and an ivory lace fan.

There was a gleam of curiosity and anticipation in her eyes. Every girl dreams of wearing such a gorgeous dress one day, accompanied by a perfect gentleman who looked like he walked out of a classical oil painting.

This gentleman possesses the noble morals that can only be found in Bible stories. He adheres to the spirit of chivalry like the protagonist of a medieval novel. The glittering knight's medal symbolizing honor, the elegant black cane, and the sword at his waist show that he has enough power to protect his lover.

Clara looked at Arthur with a slight smile. Everything was too perfect, so perfect that even though you knew it was fake, you couldn't help but want to indulge in this fake world and never wake up again.

Arthur was wearing a well-dressed black tuxedo, and the gold watch chain on his chest sparkled under the car lights. He leaned his elbows on the car window, and the scenery along the Seine River swept through his slightly red eyes. The corners of his mouth were slightly upturned, looking like he was smiling gently, and seemed to be asking the girl next to him: "Ma'am, do you need any help?"

Clara's hand gently grasped the handle of the fan. All girls wanted to be princesses, and no one could escape.

Although tonight's performance has not yet begun, she has already entered the show.

"Sir Arthur Hastings?" She said stiffly, her shrill voice sounding a little nervous.

Clara thought, "Oh my! What a strange pseudonym he gave himself, but it does sound like an English name, and it sounds like an English knight."

Clara bravely continued to explore. Although she knew that a clever boy like Arthur must have memorized his own identity long ago, she still wanted to take this opportunity to satisfy her desire to be a lady in upper-class society.

Clara asked softly, "Your experience in London must have been very exciting, right?"

"Indeed." Arthur responded with a smile, his eyes revealing memories of the past: "London is a place full of opportunities and challenges. Especially during the time I worked at Scotland Yard, every day was full of unknowns and surprises."

Clara saw the young man lying without blushing or beating his heart, and she just thought to herself that this guy was really shameless. He was clearly a rogue with a debt of 10,000 francs not long ago, but today he pretended to be a British knight and acted as if it was a matter of course.

She wanted to see Arthur show his weakness, so she teased the young man with something that was not in the script: "I heard that you participated in suppressing the riots in London last year. That must have been a very dangerous time, right?"

Arthur's eyes turned and met Clara's without hesitation. He knew what the girl was thinking. "That period was indeed full of danger and tension. Riots broke out everywhere and social order was in jeopardy. But it was also that experience that taught me how to stay calm in chaos and find ways to solve problems."

To an outsider, this sentence sounded as if Arthur was really answering Clara's superficial question, but Clara knew that this bookish new liar was angry, and he was fighting back to show that he was calm and would not lose his composure because of Clara's little trick.

Clara met those eagle-like sharp eyes and subconsciously wanted to dodge, but after she came to her senses, she fought back without giving in.

She thought to herself, "This brat might have some potential in acting. His eyes are exactly like those of the policemen on the streets of Paris, cold and icy, as if someone has chained you up."

Clara covered her mouth with a fan to hide her gaffe: "I really wish I could have the opportunity to experience these exciting events like you. However, as a lady, my life seems to be always confined to social balls and family gatherings."

"Isn't it just bragging?" Clara's eyes narrowed into a crescent, and she thought to herself: "I can do this too. Parisians have mastered this skill since they were born, whether they are girls or boys."

"Listen to me, being confined to social dances and family gatherings is also a rare blessing." Arthur straightened the knight's medal on his chest: "This is better than lying in a coffin."

Clara almost laughed out loud when she heard this: "Sir, this is a bit too much."

"Yes, I think so too." Arthur stroked his hair, "But the people who fired the gun didn't listen to me at the time."

Just as Arthur finished speaking, there was a bang and the carriage suddenly shook violently.

Then came the French greeting from the driver in front, followed by a loud noise.

"What happened?" Clara stuck her head out of the car window: "Car crash?"

Arthur glanced outside and motioned to Clara: "You sit here, the gentlemen can solve these problems themselves."

"Remember to bring your gun."

"why?"

"No one listens to you in London, do you expect your words to be heard in Paris?"

Clara pushed Arthur out of the car, tossed him his holster, and slammed the door.

Seeing this, Arthur could only shrug his shoulders and say, "It's no big deal. At worst, I can just go back to my coffin and lie down."

"That won't do." Agares, who was lying on the roof of the car, picked up a small stone and hit Arthur on the head. "It's not difficult to find Dickens and Dumas again. There are many prostitutes in Paris, but I don't think the French will welcome Wellington to visit here."

Arthur held the small stone in his hand and just aimed at the Red Devil, who immediately turned into a puff of red smoke and disappeared without a trace.

Seeing this, Arthur could only comment indifferently: "You have learned the essence of Fleet Street."

He walked forward, and just as he reached the front of the carriage, he saw the driver arguing fiercely with two men.

"Do you know what it means to drive on the right? The road is so wide, but you didn't take the road assigned to you, but insisted on taking my road. Now that you have a car accident, you still have the audacity to say that it's all my fault?"

"You bastard, it was obviously you who changed lanes first. There are so many people on this crowded street. There are no rules for driving. Isn't it natural for those who come later to give way to those who come earlier?"

"Damn it, you guys are obviously from other provinces as soon as you hear me."

“We are Italian!”

"Not just in Italy, anywhere in Europe, you should drive on the right."

Arthur walked forward and asked, "What happened?"

Seeing his employer coming, the coachman quickly took off his hat and said, "Sir, please tell me if all carriages in Europe must drive on the right."

"Hmm..." Arthur lit up a cigarette. "You're asking the wrong person. I'm not European."

"You are not European?" The groom looked Arthur up and down. "Then where are you from?"

Arthur blew out a smoke ring and straightened his collar. "I'm a British."

"Damn it!" The coachman slapped his forehead and said, "I seem to have heard that the carriages in your place do seem to be on the left."

"Sir Arthur Hastings?"

Just as Arthur was discussing the relationship between Europe and Britain with the groom, someone suddenly called his name.

Arthur turned his head and saw that there was a familiar face among the Italians who had had a conflict with the groom.

He was of medium height, well-proportioned, blond, blue-eyed, with a Greek nose, forehead and chin, wearing a torn white hat, an old military uniform and a pair of cracked boots, just like a living walking Greek sculpture. It was him, our Mr. Giuseppe Garibaldi.

This gentleman was as enthusiastic as ever. It was not known whether he was captivated by Elder Carter's sailing stories or because he was just innocent and straightforward by nature. He did not guard against Arthur like Mazzini did. Instead, he walked up to Arthur and shook hands cheerfully.

While shaking hands, he introduced his companion in Italian: "Lamorino, this is Sir Arthur Hastings, whom I mentioned to you before. He is the best novelist."

The gentleman named Ramorino, with a pipe in his mouth, said, "You don't need to introduce me. When I was chatting with Mr. Chopin before, I heard him mention Mr. Arthur Hastings more than once. He always said that he was a man of great stature and a friend of the Poles."

Although Arthur did not master Italian, he had learned Latin well, so he could still understand the general idea by guessing.

Ramorino walked up and shook hands with Arthur: "Girolamo Ramorino, nice to meet you."

Perhaps this name is not as well-known as Garibaldi to ordinary people in later generations, but for a British spy living in 1833, this guy is much more difficult to deal with than Garibaldi.

you ask why?
That's because this gentleman, who is not even 40 years old yet, is not only a wanted criminal in various Italian states, but also has the honor of being listed on St. Petersburg's "Must-Hit List".

As an Italian who joined Napoleon's army at the age of 17, Mr. Ramorino followed the Italian Legion in the Napoleonic Wars and participated in many important wars, including the Battle of Wagram, the Expedition to Russia, and the Battle of Leipzig. When Napoleon was defeated at Waterloo, Ramorino had risen from an ordinary soldier to a quartermaster of the Legion.

After the fall of Napoleon, Ramorino was not idle either. In 1821, he participated in the Piedmont Uprising that overthrew the Kingdom of Sardinia, and went into exile in France after its failure.

After the Warsaw Uprising last year, he immediately set off for Poland. At first, he was only a colonel, but after the victory of Mionjak-Podlaski, Ramorino was immediately entrusted with an important task and became the commander of the Second Warsaw Army. He defeated the Tsarist Russian army in the subsequent Battle of Warka.

Such a resume makes it easy to explain why he was associated with Chopin.

After all, for the Poles, Ramorino, like Hastings, is an old friend of the Polish people.

Arthur quipped, "Perhaps I should call you General, after all, you are a major general in the Polish Army."

"Major General is certainly an honor." Ramorino said, "But I prefer you to call me Captain, the Imperial Artillery Captain, which is my rank in the Italian Legion."

Arthur smiled and replied, "Captain of the Imperial Artillery, this is indeed a good title. But Captain of the Kingdom of Italy may sound better."

Ramorino had been observing Arthur's reaction. He nodded slightly when he heard Arthur's answer: "I think so too. But it is still a bit difficult to do this with our current strength."

Although Ramorino just mentioned it casually, Arthur read a different meaning from this sentence.

Poland has produced an Italian general, so Italy can naturally produce a Polish general.

It seemed very reasonable for the Poles, who were oppressed by Tsarist Russia, and the Italians, who were oppressed by Austria, to come together.

It was as if God wanted to verify Arthur's idea. Not long after the thought came to his mind, he saw a burly man getting out of the carriage.

"What's wrong? Haven't you reached an agreement yet?"

Garibaldi turned his head and looked at the big man. "Mr. Grafsky, it's okay. We met an old friend. He is not only our friend, but also Mr. Chopin's friend, Sir Arthur Hastings of London."

Gravsky was startled when he heard the name, then he slapped his head and said, "Is it the British knight who helped us publish the article in London? I heard Prince Czartoryski mention him before. It seems that he also helped to publish Mr. Mickiewicz's Ancestors' Sacrifice."

Gravski walked forward enthusiastically. He wanted to give him a hug, but when he saw Arthur's formal attire, he stopped right before the hug. "Hello! Joseph Gravski, Major Commander of the 4th Light Cavalry Artillery Battalion of the Kingdom of Poland!"

Arthur smiled and took off his hat in return, saying, "I have heard Mr. Mickiewicz and Mr. Chopin praise you more than once for your heroic charge at the Battle of Igagne and your excellent artillery fire at the Battle of Ostrolenka."

Arthur glanced at the three of them. "Are you three going to listen to Mr. Chopin's concert at the Paris Opera tonight?"

"Ah... Mr. Chopin's concert is certainly not to be missed, but unfortunately we have other plans today."

Grafsky began to explain, "But we can be together some other time. Mr. Chopin gave Giuseppe and me two tickets for next Wednesday."

Garibaldi turned around and asked, "But is Wednesday still in time? Didn't the French government ask us to evacuate France by next Monday?"

Ramorino waved his hand. "It's okay. You and Joseph can stay. He's Polish, and you've only joined for a short time. Your name isn't even on the roster yet. I can explain to you two about Mazzini and say that you have some property in Paris that you haven't dealt with yet."

"Will you explain..."

Garibaldi scratched his cheek. "He is not a man who is easy to talk to. He always keeps his word. The plan must be executed immediately. If he knew that we stayed to listen to the concert, he would definitely be furious."

Ramorino did not seem to take Mazzini's order seriously: "He has never been a soldier, nor has he commanded any battle. He thinks that fighting is like drawing a plan on a blueprint. He thinks that he can drive the Austrians out of Italy by shouting slogans? How to transfer funds, how to recruit soldiers, where to purchase weapons, where to board the ship, where to land, how many enemies there are, and how much firepower they have? There are still many things that have not been clarified. In my opinion, with the current preparations, it would be great if we can make progress within half a year."

Although Arthur didn't know whether Ramorino was simply careless or deliberately discussing these secrets in front of him, since the other party dared to say it, he naturally dared to listen.

Appearing timid at this time will make the other party feel that there is a problem.

"Feel sorry."

Arthur said, "If I understand correctly, are you planning an expedition against a certain Italian state?"

Grafsky said bluntly: "In fact, I would rather launch an expedition against Poland, but if I do that, it will be the Poles who will be expelled instead of Young Italy. In order for our compatriots in distress to stay in Paris peacefully and Mr. Chopin to continue playing the piano at the opera house, we can only settle for the next best thing for the time being."

Unlike Ramorino, Grafski seems to really treat Arthur as one of his own.

After all, compared to the Italians, Arthur did make contributions during Poland's difficult times. Moreover, even if he didn't label himself as a "Polish sympathizer", the lords of Whitehall Street already thought so.

In this case, it would be better to stick to one path until the end. After all, this is also one of the ideas of Bentham's disciples.

More importantly, there are currently a large number of people in this faction in the parliament.

Seeing this, Arthur took off his hat and said goodbye to them: "In that case, I wish you success. I have always been your supporter, whether in London, Paris or anywhere else, my position has always remained unchanged."

As soon as Arthur finished speaking, the Red Devil's sinister voice came from his ears: "Is it the same in St. Petersburg?"

"we'll talk about it then."

"Okay, we'll talk about it later." Grafsky said goodbye with a smile on his face: "I will visit Mr. Chopin's house this weekend, we'll talk about it then."

Garibaldi also echoed: "Yes, I will go too. You haven't finished telling me about Elder Carter last time. I'm sure you have many more stories about tough guys like him."

Arthur watched the three of them get into the carriage with half of its door smashed, and watched them disappear in the crowd. He then wiped the sweat from his forehead and said, "I only lied to Louis that Young Italy was in danger, but I didn't expect that they were really going to make a front-page headline for themselves."

"Then how are you going to explain to that kid from the Bonaparte family?" The Red Devil sneered, "Young Italy is actually a royalist?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows and said, "People are two-faced. If God can be a royalist, then why can't Young Italy be one?"

(End of this chapter)