## Chapter 137: The Many Faces of Politics (Part 2)
The rain outside continued to fall steadily, the dense raindrops almost forming a watery curtain. While seemingly transparent, it concealed Arthur and Disraeli within the cozy confines of the coffee shop.
Perhaps the tea had improved Disraeli’s mood, or maybe he had simply bottled up his feelings for too long. In this Greenwich district, far from Disraeli’s constituency, this unfamiliar coffee shop provided him with a safe haven to pour out his woes. Unknowingly, he was walking right into the trap meticulously laid by Arthur.
From Arthur’s perspective, the primary objective of domestic intelligence was to protect the nation’s sensitive information. To achieve this, Arthur, as a humble servant of the public, had to reluctantly begin by understanding this sensitive information.
A young MP who had caught the attention of the Rothschilds, a brilliant new-generation writer – their personal information was undoubtedly within this scope.
Holding his teacup, feeling the warmth radiating from the white porcelain, Arthur inquired, “I didn’t know you were a Jew who had converted to the Church of England. It’s quite unusual.”
Disraeli, clearly still harboring resentment towards his identity, replied, “If I were an Englishman, I wouldn’t be subjected to such fierce attacks. Even though my father sent me to the Church of England priest to learn the rituals since childhood, looking back, converting only allowed me to run for office. The prejudices buried deep within people’s hearts are not easily changed.
Mr. Hastings, I wouldn’t have so readily revealed my lineage if you hadn’t told me you didn’t have the right to vote. I am a Jew, but I am also an Englishman. Beyond that, I am a normal, devout Christian. Two-thirds of my being is very British, but they always prefer to focus on the other one-third.”
Arthur chuckled, “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I am an Englishman, but I am also a spiritual Oriental. On top of that, I am an abnormal, heretical Catholic. But the fact that I’ve reached my current position means that those people don’t actually care what you’re made of. What matters is what you can do for them.”
“Oriental?” Disraeli’s eyes lit up. “Are you referring to the Holy City of Jerusalem established by King Solomon?”
The Red Devil, who had been dozing by the window, instantly perked up at these words. He snorted, pushing up his glasses with an air of coolness, “When it comes to studying King Solomon, I’m your great-great-grandfather.”
Arthur glanced at Agareus, promptly silencing him. He turned to Disraeli, “The Orient includes Jerusalem, of course, but also regions further east. You are a writer, so you should understand that mysterious things always hold a unique allure.”
“Further east?” Disraeli pondered. “You mean India and China, right? That’s truly an ancient and mysterious region. A few years ago, when I traveled to Germany with my father, I heard that Goethe, the Duke of Weimar, was also fascinated by China. He spent all his time in the library searching for English and French translations of Chinese books.
One time, I even met him in the library. He was truly a kind man. I was just an insignificant young man, but he didn’t look down on me. He enthusiastically introduced me to a Chinese epic legend he was reading. The name of the legend was… was… what was it called again… something about an orphan…”
Arthur’s mind raced. He blinked twice, “Mr. Disraeli, as far as I know, there are quite a few Chinese novels about orphans. They are mostly collected in a large library called QiDian.”
“Really?” Disraeli was bewildered. “I only heard that the place where the Chinese Emperor lives is called the Forbidden City. Most of the Chinese tea we drink is shipped from Guangzhou and Quanzhou. As for a large library called QiDian, I’ve never heard of it. Is it a wonder of architecture like the Parthenon in Greece?”
Arthur responded vaguely, “Something like that. It’s truly a miracle that it can gather so many orphans.”
Disraeli muttered, “Maybe one day, my work will be collected there too. After all, I quite like writing about orphans.”
Arthur almost choked on his tea. He coughed repeatedly, “What did you say?”
Disraeli quickly waved his hand, “Nothing, nothing. Just some mumbling to myself.”
He then fell into deep thought. Suddenly, Disraeli’s eyes lit up, and he slammed his hand on the table, “I remember! Goethe was reading ‘The Orphan of Zhao.’ That ‘Zhao’ character is really hard to pronounce. No wonder I remember it so vividly. Goethe told me at the time that he intended to use it as the basis for a play. Years have passed, I wonder if he finished it.”
Arthur asked, “It seems you’ve traveled to many parts of Europe?”
Disraeli, upon hearing this, immediately opened up. “To be honest, I just came back from the Two Sicilies. Before that, I went to Switzerland. You know, I was distraught over the whole ‘Vivian Grey’ incident and needed to get away. I originally planned to continue my journey through the Balkans, visit Ottoman Turkey, and explore the Near East regions of Palestine and Egypt.
But I suddenly remembered that there was going to be a general election in the country, so I came back to try my luck. If I don’t get elected this time, at least I have my future travels planned out.”
Arthur nodded slightly, “It’s clear that you are a person with a strong sense of purpose and planning. If you become Prime Minister one day, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
The Red Devil, sitting beside them, couldn’t help but chuckle, covering his mouth. “Oh, Arthur, you truly are a wicked little bastard. Grandstanding is a young man’s game, especially when they are insignificant and idle. By flattering him like this, you’ll make him willingly pour his heart out to you.”
However, Arthur acted as if he hadn’t heard Agareus’ words. Disraeli, sitting opposite him, had already turned a rosy red with excitement.
Becoming Prime Minister, he had already imagined it countless times in his mind. But even though he had fantasized about it countless times, hearing it spoken by another still filled him with immense joy.
Disraeli tried his best to control his emotions, but his gradually upturned lips and twitching facial expressions betrayed him.
“While I don’t want to criticize others, Mr. Hastings, you might be mistaken this time. Compared to those truly outstanding greats and statesmen, like Plato, Aristotle, Julius Caesar, William Shakespeare, or Napoleon Bonaparte, I still have a lot to learn and improve upon.”
Agareus, upon hearing this, couldn’t help but pause for a moment. Then, he pushed up his glasses and nodded earnestly, “I underestimated this young man’s arrogant ambition. He just suffered a major setback, yet he still compares himself to these stars of human history.”
Arthur nodded slightly, leaning back in his chair. He spoke with amusement, “Although I don’t have the right to vote, would you be willing to share your political views with me? I’m genuinely interested in you as a person.”
Disraeli, clearly intoxicated by his own passionate fervor, readily agreed.
“Of course! I’m delighted that you’re willing to spare the time to listen to me talk about this. I usually disdain explaining these things to ordinary people. But Mr. Hastings, you’re different.
Because I feel you are like me. I am a proud man, and my efforts stem from my pride. Yes! It’s pride that motivates me, not ideals! I should become outstanding. This isn’t because of my pursuit of goals, it’s because I am inherently destined to become outstanding.
Although I am still a humble nobody now, I shouldn’t remain mediocre for the rest of my life. Mr. Hastings, you must feel the same way, don’t you?”
Arthur readily accepted the identity recognition Disraeli offered.
He smiled and nodded slightly, “Of course. We will both become great figures in Great Britain one day. Although you are a Jew and I am a spiritual Oriental, what’s the big deal? Nobody likes to be stuck in the mud for the rest of their lives.”
Disraeli nodded excitedly, “If I become Prime Minister, my first priority is to eliminate the public’s hostility towards those of different races and faiths. Englishmen, Scotsmen, Welshmen, Irishmen, Jews – we are all ultimately British. Christians, Catholics, Jews – we are all God’s chosen people.
I know it might be difficult, but as Bacon said, ‘Good fortune may make a man envied, but it is the conquering of misfortune that makes him admired.’ I want everyone to admire me. I want to be like Lord Byron, even if misfortune plagues me, even if I fight the fiercest enemies, I will achieve ultimate victory.
Are you a fan of Lord Byron? While I disagree with some of his views, his life and books have truly given me a lot of strength.
He spent all his fortune supporting Greece’s independence movement and eventually, like the ‘Byronic heroes’ in his writings, tragically died for Greece.
Goodness! Who would have thought that this man, who had been expelled from Britain during his lifetime, would be given the highest state funeral honors by Greece after his death? This name, once taboo in Britain just a few decades ago, has now become one of the most dazzling stars in British history!”
Disraeli spoke endlessly about his ideals and ambitions, but the rain outside showed no signs of letting up.
The rain fell densely, the twilight sky hazy.
In the quiet atmosphere, Arthur gazed at Disraeli’s passionate expression, simply smiling without responding.
After an unknown amount of time, Disraeli finally finished pouring out his heart.
He sighed contentedly, stood up, and grabbed the coat hanging on the back of his chair.
He smiled at Arthur, their address for each other having become familiar by now.
He said affectionately, “Arthur, let’s go back together. Your place isn’t far from mine anyway. This coffee shop is pretty nice. We’ll come back here again if we have the chance.”
Arthur also stretched, “No problem. You go call a cab, I’ll go settle the bill with the owner.”
Disraeli winked at Arthur, pointing a finger at him, “Okay, I’ll wait for you outside.”
Arthur watched him leave the coffee shop before licking his lips and slowly pulling out a brown paper bag from his side bag.
The bag’s cover simply had a few lines of writing on it.
“London Temporary Measurement and Investigation Statistics Bureau: File No. 001”
“Input Person: Code A”
“Investigation Target: Benjamin Disraeli”
Arthur looked at the brown paper bag for a moment before finally pulling out a pen from his chest and casually drawing two strokes on it.
——Person Importance Level: Attention Level
——Ideological Danger Level: Very Safe
——Subsequent Investigation Arrangement: Continue Monitoring
(End of Chapter)