## Chapter 229: The Chameleon is the Badge of Politics (4K4)
The night had fallen, and Apsley House, the grand residence in London’s Number 1, was ablaze with light.
Despite being one of the most prominent figures in Britain, with a name that resonated throughout the land, the Duke of Wellington, Arthur Wellesley, hosted a rather sparsely attended gathering this evening.
Perhaps it was the Duke’s choice to keep the guest list limited, or maybe everyone was busy distancing themselves from the former Prime Minister who had resigned after opposing the Reform Act. Whatever the reason, the banquet hall, despite its grandeur, seemed rather empty.
Arthur stood by the window, watching the rain, a curtain of tiny, finger-sized drops, obscuring the streetlights in a blurry haze. He watched a lone pedestrian cross the street, his boots splashing in puddles, creating a spray of mud. The figure quickly vanished into the endless downpour.
The Red Devil, a shadowy figure, stood behind Arthur, whispering, “Arthur, do you see? Even shadows disappear in the rain. So, if you don’t want to be abandoned, remember to always walk in the sun. Why are you wading into this mess? Your reputation in the Whig party is on the rise. This association with Wellington won’t do you any favors. Isn’t the position of Chief of London’s Police Intelligence Bureau enough to satisfy your ambition?”
Arthur merely glanced at the Red Devil, “I’m just here for dinner, Agareus. Why are you making such a fuss?”
“Is that so?” The Red Devil raised an eyebrow, “You must understand, your actions today could have a significant impact on your future for the next ten years. Not everyone has a forgiving heart, especially the Whigs who are back in power after a thirty-year hiatus.”
Arthur simply murmured, “If you only want a position, you can stick to one path. But if you want to accomplish something, you need to balance the relationships involved. Britain is not France, so there’s no such thing as one faction being completely obliterated after losing power. Even in France, the factions that are wiped out will eventually come back, whether in ten or twenty years. It won’t disappear just because someone says they don’t like it. Not even God can do that. God hates devils so much, but Agareus, you’re still alive and well, aren’t you?”
The Red Devil chuckled softly, “Alright, Arthur, if you insist, I won’t try to dissuade you. But be careful, don’t play yourself to death. Many people think they’re invincible, only to realize too late that they’re beyond saving. You might not believe me, but God’s greatest love for humanity is giving you ignorant insects the equal right to die. Whether you’re the most devout believer or the most rebellious atheist, everyone has only one life. It’s remarkably fair.”
With that, the Red Devil dissolved into a wisp of smoke, disappearing into the hall.
Arthur snapped out of his thoughts and realized he was holding an empty wine glass. He shook his head, “All that talk, and it’s just for a free meal? The Duke of Hell, who commands thirty-one legions of demons, is only this ambitious.”
As Arthur finished speaking, Alexandre Dumas, who had been scrutinizing the pre-dinner desserts meant to entertain the guests, returned.
Accompanying Dumas was Vidocq, who, just a few days ago, had attempted to kidnap Dumas back to France, his arm wrapped in bandages.
Vidocq led Dumas towards Arthur, lowering his voice, “Let’s go. I’ve already informed Talleyrand, and he’s willing to meet with you.”
Arthur nodded. As they walked together, he asked, “Is there anything I need to be aware of?”
Vidocq pondered for a moment, “Talleyrand is generally quite amiable, but he dislikes it when people mention his limp. However, if you bring it up in a lighthearted, joking manner, not with any aggressive intent, he usually won’t mind.”
Dumas scoffed, “I bet Louis XVI, Robespierre, Napoleon, and Louis XVIII all thought the same thing.”
Vidocq stood outside the entertainment room, one hand on the doorknob, the other on Dumas’ shoulder, “Alright, Alexandre, they’re all dead. Why bring them up? But you have to understand, Talleyrand is still alive. And I must say, you’re young, so you haven’t experienced that era. Compared to those you mentioned, Talleyrand is much easier to deal with.”
With that, Vidocq knocked on the door, then opened it, introducing them, “Monsieur, Monsieur Dumas and Mr. Hastings are here to see you.”
Arthur peered into the room. He expected to see these influential figures from across Europe engaged in serious discussions over glasses of wine, but the scene before him was perplexing.
He saw a group of old men huddled around a poker table, playing cards. If it weren’t for their luxurious attire, they would have looked like any other group of old men playing chess in the park back home.
Talleyrand looked up, then threw down a Jack, “Come in and sit down. It’s just about lifting a warrant. What’s the big deal? Who hasn’t been wanted by the government in their youth? Vidocq, wasn’t it the same for you and me?”
Vidocq blushed, embarrassed, “Monsieur, I’ve long since reformed. I’m now a good citizen of France.”
Talleyrand glanced at the poker table, “Good citizens can’t do a good job as police officers, let alone in the Security Department.”
Vidocq was sweating profusely. He flattered, “Monsieur, I’m not as wise as you. Please don’t make things difficult for me. You and Monsieur Dumas and Mr. Hastings can chat.”
With that, Vidocq closed the door gently and went outside to smoke.
Having lost one target, Talleyrand quickly turned his attention to Dumas. He patted the empty seat beside him, “Sit down. I know you young people are healthy, but there’s no need to show off in front of this old man.”
Dumas seemed hesitant. Though he had promised Arthur to talk to Talleyrand, he couldn’t shake the knot in his stomach. After all, the collapse of the French Republic was partly due to Talleyrand’s actions.
Of course, it was equally true that Napoleon’s downfall was also a consequence.
Arthur, seeing his friend’s reluctance, shook his head and pushed him onto the bench, chuckling, “Monsieur, please don’t mind him. He’s a French republican, you know.”
Talleyrand smiled, “Oh, is he? Alexandre’s antics are just like his father’s. But I must say, Alexandre, I dislike your father, but I don’t dislike you… yet.”
Dumas, who had initially intended to avoid speaking to Talleyrand, couldn’t help but turn around and ask, “Why?”
Talleyrand dealt a pair of 5s, “I’ve always believed that you can’t trust someone who wasn’t a republican before the age of thirty, and you shouldn’t trust someone who’s still a republican after thirty. You fall into the former category, and your father belongs to the latter.”
Alexandre pondered the words, “Why is that?”
Arthur, hearing this, simply added for Talleyrand, “Because those who weren’t republicans before thirty have no conscience, and those who remain republicans after thirty have no brains.”
Talleyrand burst into laughter, addressing his friends at the poker table, “See, I told you, good citizens can’t be good cops.”
Dumas couldn’t help but frown and ask Arthur, “Do you have a conscience?”
Arthur, neither confirming nor denying, replied calmly, “Alexandre, entrapment is my job. Do you want to join Scotland Yard?”
Talleyrand was amused by their banter. He put down his poker cards and said, “When Vidocq told me he found a talent at Scotland Yard, I immediately thought of Fouché, that heartless, soulless bastard. But now it seems you and Fouché are nothing alike. If it were Fouché, he would have already kidnapped Alexandre, the fat boy, and made a private deal with us. But it’s good that you’re not like Fouché. After all, Britain and France are different. Maybe you’ll do better here than he did.”
His friends at the table joined in, “Young man, you’re in for a treat today! Talleyrand has a 100% success rate with his predictions so far. He said Napoleon would fall, and Napoleon fell. He said Robespierre wouldn’t succeed, and Robespierre lost his head. Talleyrand, you were a bishop in your youth, did God tell you all this?”
Talleyrand joked in return, “Of course, God told me. You might not know this, but when they chose me as bishop, I warned them, ‘You’ll regret this!’ Everyone thought I was just scaring them, but now they know better.”
His friends teased back, “Oh, really? What language did you use when you spoke to God?”
Talleyrand laughed heartily, “Spanish, of course. Don’t you remember Charles V’s saying? With God, I speak Spanish, with women, Italian, with men, French, and with my horse, German.”
Arthur added, “Communicating with the devil is much simpler. Whether it’s English, French, or German, you just need to speak human.”
This remark again elicited uproarious laughter.
Arthur wasn’t sure why they were laughing. He was simply stating a fact, but it was always taken as a joke.
Agareus, leaning against the poker table in the entertainment room, munching on candy beans, said, “You don’t even need to speak human. I can communicate with monkeys. I mean, if you’re willing to admit you’re a monkey.”
Arthur glanced at him, about to retort, but Dumas, sitting beside him, finally couldn’t hold back.
He spoke, “I have a question.”
Talleyrand raised an eyebrow, “Go ahead. Since I’m willing to see you, I’m not afraid to discuss your questions with you. I’ve been surrounded by questions my whole life. One more won’t hurt. But I guess you’re going to ask one of those two: why I betrayed Napoleon, or why I rebelled against the Republic? I’ve talked about these things until my lips are chapped. Which one do you want to hear about?”
“If you’re willing to answer, I’d like to hear both.”
Talleyrand placed one hand on the poker table and sighed, “I was actually hoping to have a pleasant evening. But since you insist, I’ll tell you. About the Republic, I already expressed my opinion in 1792: the old monarchical beliefs had crumbled, but the new ideals of freedom weren’t widely accepted. I saw that France would plunge into a sea of blood, a time of barbarity without justice.
My assessment proved correct. I can tell you with utmost seriousness that you’re sitting here unharmed because you’re sitting in front of Talleyrand. If Robespierre were sitting here, your head would be elsewhere by now.”
Dumas frowned, “I’m a republican.”
“Oh, really?”
Talleyrand chuckled, “Danton, Marat, Brissot, Hébert, Desmoulins, they were all republicans. Even Robespierre himself was sent to the guillotine. You don’t like me because I opposed their indiscriminate killing?”
Dumas, after a long pause, finally said, “I think you could have corrected them with your abilities.”
Talleyrand simply shook his head, “Perhaps you overestimate me. I’ve always believed that when making a choice, standing on one side, you must first understand whether that side can ensure your victory. Without such assurance, joining in is madness. And at that time, everyone was clearly mad. No matter which side you joined, you were courting disaster.”
“So that’s why you went abroad during that time?”
“Of course.”
“Then how do you explain your betrayal of Napoleon?”
Talleyrand, hearing this, simply said, “I didn’t betray Napoleon, but Napoleon betrayed France. I warned him not to launch a campaign against Russia, but he insisted, leading the entire French nation to its downfall. So, what’s wrong with me finding a way out for the French people beforehand?
Napoleon left France with a multitude of orphans, widows, a bankrupt treasury, and a crumbling economy. At least, I managed to secure surrender terms at the Congress of Vienna that didn’t involve territorial concessions, reparations, or the return of previously looted spoils. I didn’t want to boast about it, but Alexandre, if you insist on claiming the benefits Napoleon brought to France, I disagree.
But you’re young, so I don’t blame you. You didn’t live through those turbulent times. I’ve seen so many people over the past half-century claiming to be able to save France. But what did they ultimately bring to France? Have you really thought about it?
Those thirty years were filled with fickleness, with endless justifications for every action. But behind those justifications lay a seemingly endless cycle of brutal killing. Nobody cared about the starving people, the families of fallen soldiers didn’t receive pensions, the streets of cities grew wild with weeds, and they were constantly at war, but no one truly won.
For those thirty years, France was always being saved by different people for different reasons. I was used to it. But thankfully, that era has passed. But Alexandre, this next question is important. You’d better think carefully before you answer. Are you going to tell me you’re going to be the next one?”
(End of Chapter)