The Shadow of Great Britain

After all, as the great composer who had just finished performing the Wellington March, he really ought to absorb a bit of the Duke of Wellington’s genius for deploying troops.

Because even a famous general like the Duke of Wellington, when facing the French artillery under Napoleon, had to obediently form solid lines and fight a plodding battle on the heights of Waterloo.

All the more so since Victoria and Flora were both present at the moment!

Arthur pulled his thoughts back from last night’s splendor to reality, lowered his head, and opened The Times; the front page was a report on last night’s concert.

"The Dispute of the European King of Piano, Ended by the ’Wellington March’"

In recent months, the entire European music world has been focused on a single question: who is the greatest pianist of our time?

The newspapers of Paris and Vienna have argued endlessly over this: one side hails Mr. Franz Liszt as "the Napoleon of the piano," while the other acclaims Mr. Sigismund Thalberg as "the most flawless monarch of the keyboard." And last night, at the concert held in Buckingham Palace, these two masters were subjected, almost under the same roof, to the most exacting of judges: the ears of Queen Victoria and the foreign envoys.

Talberg’s performance of the Moses Fantasy conquered the audience with its gentle touch and elegant melody. This piece, drawn from a Rossini opera, became under his hands layer upon layer of rippling water; where the hands crossed, the melody was as clear as a choral of human voices. Her Majesty the Queen was particularly fond of a certain chorale-like passage, and the guests below the stage lavishly praised it as "music truly in keeping with good breeding."

However, when Liszt sat down at the piano bench, emotions of passion, provocation, ecstasy, and repentance instantly flooded Buckingham Palace. Memories of Don Juan—at once dissolute and resplendent—a musical theatre in itself. Several ladies could not help but cry out in surprise during the performance. If Talberg’s playing was an elegant prayer, then Liszt’s performance was sheer temptation.

The duel between the two piano giants had already pushed the soirée to its peak, but the true climax came at the very end.

Just as the entire hall was still immersed in Liszt’s "iron and flame," an unexpected musician ascended the conductor’s podium—Sir Arthur Hastings.

His appearance at first did not stir much of a ripple.

After all, a pianist who had long been away from the stage could hardly be regarded as an artistic figure on a level with the two piano giants.

But as it turned out, everyone was wrong.

When Sir Arthur Hastings stepped onto the podium to conduct his new work, the Wellington March, the atmosphere of the concert grew solemn.

This tightly structured, magnificently imposing work possessed both the restraint of British tradition and the power of a war epic. The music advanced like ranks of marching troops, and the brass in unison at the end shook the entire hall. When the final chord fell, the resonance of the orchestra lingered under the dome for a long time, yet the audience remained utterly silent.

After that, people no longer discussed which pianist was greater.

For the brightest name last night belonged to Sir Arthur Hastings and his Wellington March.

...

Normally, when a person sees a news report praising him so extravagantly, he can hardly avoid feeling a bit pleased with himself.

But when Arthur reached this point, he couldn’t help but knit his brows.

Because he remembered that it had been quite a while since he’d last treated the editors and reporters of The Times to a meal.

Although Imperial Publishing holds thirty percent of the shares of The Times, in reality the company’s control over the largest-circulation newspaper in Britain is not as strong as one might imagine. For now, the person with the greatest say inside The Times is still their editor-in-chief, Thomas Barnes.

And under Thomas Barnes’s leadership, although The Times cannot rival the underground rags in radicalism on its editorial pages, it is likewise very sparing with its praise for anyone. The most typical case is that back in the day they once revealed the truth of the 1819 Peterloo massacre in defiance of tremendous pressure.

Or rather, it is precisely because The Times is the most willing among the respectable papers to challenge Government authority that it has been able to gain such a large readership today.

By rights, even if The Times has decent relations with Imperial Publishing, they should not be using the same level of enthusiasm as Heinrich Heine to flatter Arthur.

And yet, how could this...

Arthur’s eyes dropped down, and he quickly discovered the truth of the matter.

In the advertisement column below, there was a newly printed ad in bold.

[New Release] Wellington March record—A great movement dedicated to the Battle of Waterloo

"When the drums begin to beat, you will hear the heartbeat of the Empire."

Composed by Britain’s most renowned young composer Sir Arthur Hastings and Prince Albert, recorded live at the Buckingham Palace concert.

Produced using the London Acoustic Association’s patented discs, issued by Empire Publishing Company.

Price: eight shillings and sixpence

Includes a complimentary limited copper engraving—"Performance Before the Queen," hand-drawn by a court painter.

Sales locations: Chapel Company, 50 Bond Street / Thomas Busi and Sons, 28 Holes Street / Whistone Musical Instrument Store, 35 Central Street

Arthur scratched the side of his face.

No wonder he’d found it odd.

So after all that fuss, it turned out the quarterly top-up to The Times had just cleared.

Arthur had just figured out what was going on when Eld’s low chuckle sounded at his ear: "Well? Arthur, how’s my tagline? ’When the drums begin to beat, you will hear the heartbeat of the Empire.’ I spent an entire night thinking that one up."