## Chapter 161: The Royal Navy’s Lesser Lights
Marylebone, London, a renowned district in the 19th century, known for its affluent inhabitants.
This relatively small area housed the essence of British art, culture, education, and environment.
The Royal Academy of Arts, St. Marylebone Parish Church, Regent’s Park, along with the London Zoo and the Queen Mary’s Rose Garden within Regent’s Park, the British Museum surrounding it, and Arthur’s alma mater, the University of London, all resided within this district.
Of course, one couldn’t forget the pilgrimage site for future detective novel enthusiasts – Baker Street. Decades later, the statue and memorial of Sherlock Holmes would be erected at the Marylebone Crossroad, where Arthur had just passed.
Just five years later, Madame Tussaud, a French socialite who had relocated to London, would establish her first wax museum here, even before the great detective Sherlock Holmes.
However, Madame Tussaud’s wax-making experience wasn’t as romantic as most people imagined. Her proficiency in the art of wax sculpture stemmed from the French Revolution, where countless heads were severed.
Therefore, Madame Tussaud, who served as a housekeeper for the physician Curtis and learned the art of wax sculpture from him, never lacked fresh, lifelike materials.
Not far ahead was a sandwich shop, an interesting fact being that it was owned by the Earl of Sandwich.
Why was this simple snack, consisting of two slices of bread filled with vegetables, eggs, and meat, called a sandwich?
It’s easy to guess. It was, of course, invented by the fourth Earl of Sandwich, John Montagu.
This Earl, who served as the First Lord of the Admiralty three times, made significant contributions to the Royal Navy’s reform and exploration efforts. But in London, whenever people spoke of him, they were more interested in his gambling addiction than his achievements.
Many Londoners claimed that the Earl of Sandwich invented the sandwich, a convenient and quick snack, so he wouldn’t have to leave the gambling table.
Legend has it that whenever he got hungry while gambling, the Earl would yell, “Bring me a sandwich!” Thus, the name stuck.
Although the Montagu family always claimed that this was a fabrication spread by their political rivals to attack the noble Earl, over time, it became an amusing anecdote, and no one bothered to delve into its veracity.
Just like the Duke of Wellington’s nickname, “Iron Duke,” perhaps in a hundred years, people would forget why he earned that nickname, because newspapers mocked him for replacing his windows with iron to withstand the mob’s assault when he opposed parliamentary reform.
Speaking of the Montagu surname, one cannot ignore another Montagu, Lady Mary Wortley Montagu.
The founder of the “Blue Stocking Society” was hailed as the most eccentric woman in 17th-century England.
She refused her father, the Earl of Kingston’s, arranged marriage and eloped with Edward Montagu, a Whig politician and lawyer. However, this relationship wasn’t particularly smooth. After her husband became the British ambassador to the Ottoman Empire, their affection quickly cooled.
Later, she became infatuated with the Italian writer, Francesco Algarotti, who had visited London. But this romance ended abruptly when Francesco was summoned by Frederick the Great, the King of Prussia.
After that, Lady Montagu, residing in France, fell in love with a young Italian viscount. This time, the relationship lasted longer, enduring for ten years.
After years of traveling, Lady Montagu finally embarked on her journey back home.
Fortunately, throughout her life, Lady Montagu not only engaged in literary pursuits, inspired by her uncle, Henry Fielding, and provided future novelists with numerous themes and templates. Most importantly, she fully utilized her travel experiences, bringing back the method of inoculating against smallpox to England, which truly saved many lives.
Arthur’s thoughts raced, and before he knew it, the open carriage he was riding in slowly stopped in front of a gate, protected by a red brick wall and adorned with black iron carvings.
The coachman doffed his hat, turned, and greeted Arthur, “Mr. Hastings, I’ll have dinner at the nearby Ponsonby Restaurant and return here to wait for you until nine tonight. The bill for this trip will be sent to your residence by the London Luxury Carriage Rental Company within a week.”
Arthur, gazing at the coachman, who was as well-dressed as himself, put on his top hat and joked, “Perhaps I should switch careers. Being a respectable coachman at your company might be more lucrative than being a police officer at Scotland Yard.”
The coachman chuckled, “You flatter me, sir. We just earn a living. You’re just a Scotland Yard officer, not a real Scotsman. If you were a Scotsman, I must admit, I might be better off than you.”
Arthur understood what he meant and replied with a smile, “Yes, everyone knows that English coachmen feed their horses oats, while in Scotland, oats are their national food. That’s why English horses are all outstanding, just like the robust physique of the Scots.”
The coachman couldn’t help but laugh heartily, as if hearing this traditional English joke for the first time.
He raised his whip and lightly tapped his forehead, saying, “Mr. Hastings, although I haven’t known you long, we’ve enjoyed each other’s company. If you need carriage rental services in the future, feel free to come to the company and ask for me. Well, I won’t disturb you any further. Have a pleasant evening.”
“Have a pleasant evening at the Ponsonby Restaurant too. And please, for the sake of having to drive me back home, don’t get too drunk there. Finally, this is a small token of appreciation for your high-quality service.”
With that, Arthur pulled out two shillings from his pocket and left them on the carriage seat. Then, he stepped out of the carriage and watched the coachman drive away.
Only when he could no longer see the coachman on the street did Arthur sigh with a touch of heartache, “What is high society? High society is where the usual full fare only covers the tip.”
Agareus, perched on the red brick wall and iron railing, watching from afar, couldn’t help but smile and nod, “Arthur, it seems you’ve grasped part of the essence.”
Arthur ignored the Red Devil, walked to the pitch-black gate, and gently shook the copper bell hanging from the gate, tied with a red ribbon.
A jingling sound echoed, and the front hall, supported by ivory white marble pillars behind the gate, quickly opened its double doors.
Two people emerged, one a middle-aged male butler, clad in a neat and stylish tailcoat, wearing white gloves, and sporting a semi-long hairstyle, and the other a young maid, with a lace headband, wool stockings on her legs, a black linen dress, and a white pleated floral apron over it.
Arthur glanced at the butler, then at the maid, and nodded slightly.
There was a resemblance, but definitely not as exaggerated as depicted in Japanese manga.
He took out a calling card from his breast pocket, where he kept his handkerchief, and handed it to the butler, smiling as he spoke, “Please inform Lord and Lady Codrington that Arthur Hastings, Chief Inspector of the East London District, Metropolitan Police, and a natural philosopher in the field of electromagnetism, has arrived as scheduled.”
The butler extended his white-gloved hand to take the calling card, carefully examined it, and quickly bowed slightly, a smile on his face.
“Mr. Hastings, I didn’t expect you to arrive so early. Lord Codrington thought you might be late, as a scholar like you might need some time to prepare your experimental equipment and thoughts.”
Arthur smiled slightly, “Since this is my first time attending General Codrington’s party, it’s always good to arrive early. However, your words reminded me. In order to demonstrate the progress in the field of electromagnetism today, I specially borrowed some things from Mr. Faraday. A Royal Society carriage should be transporting the relevant equipment shortly. If they arrive, please inform me.”
The butler nodded slightly, “Don’t worry, leave it to me.”
With that, the butler instructed the maid behind him, “Jenny, take Mr. Hastings to the drawing-room first. Also, inform the kitchen that the refreshments can be served gradually.”
The maid named Jenny stepped forward, curtsied slightly, and then said, “Mr. Hastings, please follow me.”
Arthur, following the etiquette taught in the “London Social Guide,” raised his right hand and lightly touched the brim of his hat in return, then followed the maid three steps behind her into the front hall and entered the three-story mansion of the Royal Navy’s White Ensign Vice-Admiral.
As soon as he stepped into the front hall, the first thing that caught his eye was a portrait of General Codrington hanging on the wall.
General Codrington’s appearance was indeed passable, and his stylish naval uniform made him look imposing. The bald spot on top of his head also adequately illustrated his past career, allowing anyone to tell at a glance that he must have served as Commander of the Mediterranean Fleet.
Of course, to avoid being impolite, Arthur refrained from expressing his artistic commentary on the portrait in public.
He simply asked softly, “Am I the first to arrive today?”
Jenny, with both hands pressed against her abdomen, smiled demurely. As she led the way, she replied, “There are a few guests already in the drawing-room. They’re chatting and playing cards. If you find it boring alone, you can join them, or you can read a book.”
Arthur, upon hearing this, couldn’t help but ask, “Would you be willing to tell me who they are?”
“Well… those who arrive early are usually young people. I remember they seem to be Lord Codrington’s current or former subordinates, all gentlemen from the Royal Navy. Like John Franklin, Colonel of the Royal Naval Reserve, Robert FitzRoy, Captain of the ‘Beagle,’ and Sir George Elliot, King’s Naval Aide-de-Camp and Commander of the flagship ‘Victory’ at Portsmouth Naval Base.”
Arthur, having grasped the scale and level of the gathering, felt reassured and relaxed. He couldn’t help but joke, “You remember so clearly, madam. You’re sure to become the head maid here in the future.”
Jenny, upon hearing this, couldn’t help but blush and laugh, “Mr. Hastings, you’re truly jesting.”
With that, she gently knocked on the mahogany door of the drawing-room, then curtsied slightly, “Gentlemen, we have a new guest.”
(End of Chapter)