The Shadow of Great Britain

"Worried?"

Schneider spoke up: "What's there to worry about? The noble education follows a three-step process, with two paths. Either you send them to the Naval Academy at age 10. After six years at sea, they return to take the Navy Department exam. Based on their opportunities, abilities, and connections, they might become a general if they're lucky. If not, they become a colonial officer. Or, a safer option is to first attend Harrow or Eton College, then proceed to Oxford or Cambridge, and finally buy a commission in the army. After serving a few years, they return and run for Parliament."

"The problem lies here," Arthur said: "Lady Granville is unwilling to let her son serve in the military because she's afraid he will contract some strange infectious diseases in the Southeast Asian rainforests or the African savannah. She knows I used to work at Scotland Yard, so she specially asked me if there was any future in the police profession."

"Oh…" Schneider couldn't help but laugh: "It seems the 'Royal' title of Scotland Yard indeed adds to the prestige of the police, so much so that even the nobility is beginning to inquire about serving in the police force."

"But I think it's a foolish idea."

Arthur shrugged: "In Britain, the police profession is not suitable for polishing one's resume. Given young Lord Granville's background, with his father being a renowned diplomat and a Tory Party stalwart who has served as both Ambassador to Russia and Ambassador to France, expanding in the diplomatic field is clearly a better choice. Even if the young man isn't interested in diplomacy, he could take his mother's path. The Cavendish family, who hold the hereditary title of Duke of Devonshire, is a founding family of the Whig Party. Even if he doesn't want to serve overseas, I believe his uncle, the Earl of Northumberland, could find him a position within the Northumberland Regiment."

Although Arthur's words were correct that the police profession in Britain indeed doesn't offer much prestige, his suggestion against Lady Granville allowing her son to train at Scotland Yard was still somewhat self-serving.

For Arthur, the worst thing would be for his old haunts at the Greater London Police Department to be infiltrated.

If the nobility treated it as a polishing destination, all his efforts at Scotland Yard over the years would go to waste. After all, nobility wouldn't stoop to being patrolmen, and if the leadership was filled with aristocrats, it would block the paths of the 'progressive youth.'

If Ledley, Plunkett, Jones, Tom, and Tony couldn't make progress, then Sir Arthur Hastings's sacrifices would be in vain.

"The Northumberland Regiment? You mean the Fifth Regiment?" Schneider pondered, rubbing his chin: "I think the problem might just be there. Did you forget the Fifth Regiment's nickname? 'Wellington Guard,' it's the Duke's permanent headquarters guard. Although serving in the Fifth Regiment doesn't require being sent to colonies, buying a commission there is not only expensive but also requires difficult networking."

"True," Arthur mused: "Perhaps after he graduates from Oxford, it would be more suitable for Lady Granville if he furthered his studies at the four Inns of Court and pursued a judgeship."

"Who cares, he's not my son," Schneider retorted: "No wonder you've been in Paris for so long without venturing into their real core areas; it turns out Lady Granville misled you."

"What's wrong?"

"Well, I don't intend to slander Lady Granville here, but…"

Schneider cleared his throat: "Lady Granville, as a hostess and the ambassador's capable partner, is undoubtedly qualified. But her character is actually not suited for Paris; she's just forcing herself to do what she doesn't enjoy. She's too classical, like living in the Renaissance. Though she can smile and socialize at receptions for hours, deep down, she looks down on the French nobility. Last year, at a reception when Earl Granville returned to London for debriefing, I personally heard Lady Granville privately complain that most of Paris's nobility was both superficial and empty. At these events, she's more like a babysitter than a hostess, treating the guests as children to appease."

Arthur put down the wine glass; he seemed somewhat drunk, exposing opinions he usually kept hidden.

"Isn't that so? From what I've seen and heard these past few days, they're all clever and learned but idle, indulging in pleasures, spending their years in leisure, self-absorbed, considering all sins as mere play, exaggerating appetites as spiritual needs, and attributing relationships between men and women to sensual pleasures."

"Oh, look at what I heard. Arthur, you sound just like a philosopher."

Schneider winked at him with a smile: "But trust me, playing a philosopher in diplomacy doesn't bode well. You can be vulgar, lecherous, and sinful, but you must never see yourself as superior. In this field, no one buys into that. Even if someone claims superiority, they're just using such an image to attract those overwhelmed by desires, to exploit and extract information."

"I understand your point. But, August, I still have to tell you how absurd my recent experiences have been."

Arthur openly discussed his findings in a Parisian theater: "Do you know? Just the other day, I watched a play at the Saint Martin Theatre. It's actually not that novel a play, depicting a scene of a couple undressing. Yet, to conceal this, the playwright went to great lengths to complicate the scene, ensuring not only the audience sees it but also the other characters in the play."