The Shadow of Great Britain

Eld bowed courteously to Lady Dalmo: "Yes, Madam. My mother’s name is Charlotte Pelham-Clinton."

"That explains it." Lady Dalmo nodded slightly, her tone gaining a touch of congeniality: "Your family name is quite familiar in Nottinghamshire. I remember your maternal grandfather’s branch had close ties with the Duke of Newcastle’s Mansion."

This time, Eld responded quickly: "Indeed, Madam. But those matters are already from a past generation’s social season."

"You can’t say it like that." Lady Dalmo smiled slightly: "In London, the names of the past generation are often more enduring than the resumes of the present. I heard you just mentioned Eton and Harrow. You must have quite the insight into public school education?"

Eld raised an eyebrow and said with a hint of self-deprecation: "If speaking from the perspective of a Winchester College graduate, Madam, my memories of public school are probably not pleasant. Moreover, if you scrutinize, you’ll find that the education provided by public schools is far from what everyone imagines. We all know that whether it’s Eton, Harrow, Westminster, Rugby, Winchester, Charterhouse, or Shrewsbury, almost every public school claims to offer the best classical education for students. But if they haven’t lied, then why is it that the most intellectual and literary figures in our society today, so few of them have attended public schools?"

Eld counted on his fingers and listed to Lady Dalmo: "Take those famous writers and poets, for instance, Dickens, Bulwer-Lytton, Disraeli, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Tennyson, and the Mr. Hastings beside you, the very Arthur Sigma himself—none of these great figures representing our era received public school education. Or, more bluntly, it is precisely because they didn’t attend public school that they could achieve greatness."

Arthur couldn’t figure out what happened to this lad today. He was about to tease Eld a little, but as soon as Eld saw Arthur about to speak, he immediately pointed at Arthur and said: "Oh, Arthur, I know you’d definitely say, Eld, aren’t you a public school graduate and a writer too? Winchester trained you, and yet here you are disparaging your alma mater?"

Arthur intended to deny it, but considering Eld’s insistent eye signals, Arthur had to swallow the words that came to his lips.

Lady Dalmo wasn’t particularly impressed by the young man in front of her earlier, but when she heard Eld was also a writer, her interest finally piqued: "You’re a writer? May I ask what works you have... Oh, I’m really silly, Eld Carter, are you the one considered the heir to Sir Walter Scott?"

Out of Lady Dalmo’s sight, Arthur couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Eld.

Such poor performance—it’s hard to imagine that this individual graduated from the same university as Britain’s renowned performing artist, Sir Arthur Hastings.

"Madam, you are overestimating me." Eld said and solemnly pressed his hand to his chest: "Sir Scott is a figure standing on the shoulders of time. If I dared to claim myself as his heir, I’m afraid by tomorrow morning, all the booksellers in London would jointly sue me. I’m merely a restless imitator at best. Writing stories from the old times to amuse those ordinary readers who have yet to experience true art. Such trifles really can’t be called literary achievements."

Navy Department bureaucrat Eld Carter apparently doesn’t hold as much allure as the famed writer Eld Carter. Sure enough, after learning of Eld’s writer identity, Lady Dalmo’s attitude towards him became much more amiable than before.

"In that case..." Lady Dalmo seemed genuinely curious: "I do want to ask, did your experience at Winchester College help you with your writing in any way?"

"If I said it was of no help, that would obviously be lying." Eld pondered slightly: "But if I said it was greatly beneficial, that would be too unjust to those years I spent at Winchester."

Arthur heard Eld lamenting about his hatred for public school education with tears and snot during university.

Despite the fact that the status of a public school graduate is almost emblematic of a gentleman in British society, repeatedly referenced to prove one’s reliable background, stable disposition, and ’natural responsibility-taking’ character. Yet perhaps because no one dared to question the quality of public school education, the many vices existing within them have never been properly acknowledged.

According to Eld, when the clock struck every morning, they had to rise from bed. To cultivate their strong will, the water used for washing was often ice-cold, even in winter. Although being late for class wasn’t entirely unforgivable, it always came with some consequences, like making you take off your pants and then, in front of all the students, whipping your bottom with a water-dipped cane.

Among all the courses, Latin naturally held the core position.

If your Latin grades are poor, well...you’ve got something to worry about.

Because in public school education, failing to learn Latin isn’t merely about poor grades; it’s also regarded as a moral defect.