The Shadow of Great Britain-Chapter 764 - 362: The Duality of Britain and France_3

In light of the riots caused by parliamentary reform and the cholera epidemic in various parts of Britain, Viscount Godric ordered the local army units stationed domestically to assist local governments with temporary control work within reasonable bounds.

The Home Secretary, Viscount Melbourne, was meanwhile taking the opportunity to push through his "Municipal Police Bill," which, compared to the resistance he encountered last year, was clearly proceeding much more smoothly this year.

If Arthur were to guess the reason, he believed it would be that the municipal authorities across Britain had finally realized that having the police force manage public order was clearly more reassuring than deploying the army.

Moreover, Viscount Melbourne was no longer insisting that the Home Office must have complete control over the national police force’s leadership but was willing to manage it jointly with the municipal authorities.

As for another reason why the municipal authorities were willing to compromise, it was the recently passed British Urban Renewal Plan. If complying with central control over the cholera could mean benefiting from such good fortune, then they didn’t mind considering it.

Just a few days ago, Mr. Benjamin Disraeli, a rising star in the Tory Party, won over two-thirds of the votes in the Lower House with a stunning speech, successfully persuading Parliament to pass the long-planned urban renewal projects.

There were mainly two reasons for Disraeli’s success.

The first was the current cholera epidemic, which had made MPs feel they could no longer ignore urban sanitation.

For even in Westminster Palace, where MPs gathered, every summer, the stench wafting over from neighboring Thames River became so unbearable that the windows had to be closed during sessions of both Houses.

In the past, because such plans were really too expensive, MPs were still hesitant about urban renewal. But the arrival of cholera and other epidemics gave urban renewal a valid reason. On this point, whether it was the Whig Party or the Tory Party, it was easy to reach a consensus.

The second was a certain secret document provided to Mr. Disraeli by an enthusiastic friend.

Or rather, the propaganda documents calling for the people to rise up by the Parisian Republicans and Bonapartists during the cholera — "Appeal to the People."

The poor are not dying of cholera, but of starvation! The rich seldom encounter threats because they have fled. The unfortunate have even less labor and bread, and people forbid the dead’s relatives and friends from entering the hospitals.

Why let cowards, selfish individuals, take survival resources and flee the border, leaving the people to live in Paris? Disease ravages densely populated districts, because they are both filthy and overcrowded.

People abandon clean and spacious houses that disease cannot penetrate; empty they stand, while hospitals are overwhelmed with the afflicted. The misery of the poor and their cramped dwellings consume those who are barely clinging to life.

Ah! Let those useless mansions take in the unfortunate who have nowhere to live but the stinking streets. Ah! Since the wealthy masters have abandoned them, let the people reside there!

When Disraeli read the document in the Lower House, the chamber fell into a deathly silence for a full half-minute. Every nostril there smelled the scent of the Great Revolution of France, and every eye betrayed a touch of gravity and doubt.

And when Mr. Disraeli raised his arm and pronounced what he believed to be an immortal saying, the Lower House erupted in thunderous applause.

"A divided kingdom cannot last for long. When the base of society is unstable, the superstructure cannot stand on its own. After the thatched cottages collapse, the marble pillars of St. James’s Palace will tremble. The external environment is often beyond our control, but our own actions are always within our grasp. And we, with our actions, will prove the superiority of Britain’s political system!"

It must be said, that statement sounds quite impressive.

But the reason Arthur was so clear about Disraeli’s shining moment in the House of Commons was naturally that this was already the eighth time today that Disraeli had mentioned his glorious achievements.

Disraeli, with one hand resting on the back of the editorial room’s sofa and the other holding a wine glass, spoke eloquently.

"Really, I truly wished you were all there. And it wasn’t just you I wanted there, I also wished my father, my sister, all of them were there. To show my father whether his son was as flamboyant as he thought, that I too can be a person of dignity and gravity, it’s just that I don’t like to be so. On that day in the House of Commons, I was like Caesar, like Augustus, like Suleiman, I am a born leader, everyone will listen to me involuntarily."

Great Dumas gave Arthur an odd look and then turned his gaze back to Disraeli: "But I remember when you first made your appearance in the House of Commons, didn’t you say your ancestors were Rabbis in the Jewish Temple? How quickly have you changed your role?"

"No, Alexander, you don’t understand, being a Jewish Rabbi is certainly an honor, but being Caesar or Augustus is an even greater honor."

Disraeli smiled so widely that his mouth could hardly close: "Just as you see, I have evolved again."

He stood up, grabbed the tail of his tailcoat as if dancing, and strutted about: "Look at what I’ve done for the poor, as long as things go smoothly, they will soon have spacious and clean new houses. Which country in the world would consider the poor like this? Only Britain does. And Britain does so because of me, Benjamin Disraeli, the conscience of Britain. In this country, only I am wholeheartedly considering the people."

Great Dumas, sitting cross-legged, sighed and then turned to Arthur to ask, "Where did you pick up this drama king today?"

"It wasn’t me who picked him up, he came to me on his own." Arthur took a sip of tea: "I was on my way to the editorial office with Louis in the carriage, and suddenly Benjamin burst out of the crowd on the street and blocked our way. I thought someone was after my life again, I was so scared I almost drew my gun to shoot him dead."

Louis smiled and said on the side, "Mr. Disraeli has every right to be proud of accomplishing such a great deed. If France could have a member of Parliament like Mr. Disraeli, the situation in Paris wouldn’t be so bad."

At this point, Louis turned his head to ask Dumas: "Speaking of which, Alexander, haven’t you introduced us to these new guests yet?"

Upon hearing this, Dumas let out a mischievous grin and began, "No, your excellency, it’s not that I’m introducing you to the new guests, but rather, I’m presenting these guests to you."

With that, he put his arm around Stendhal’s shoulder and asked, "I remember you are a Bonapartist, right?"

Stendhal nodded slightly: "How so, is the gentleman next to you one as well?"

Dumas laughed heartily: "Well... you could say so, but you’re only half right."

"What do you mean?"

Dumas wrapped his arm around Louis’s shoulder and said to Stendhal: "Come, meet my friend, this is Mr. Charles-Louis-Napoleon Bonaparte."