shadow of britain

Chapter 623: The British Claws
While Blackwell was still thinking about Arthur's words, Arthur had already stood up from the sofa.

He was leaning on an exquisitely carved cane. Although his short black hair was a little messy due to the north wind, he still looked aristocratic as he walked among the row upon row of bookshelves, wearing a well-tailored black tuxedo that had just been delivered yesterday.

The shop assistant was still yawning and sorting out the books that had not been put back in their place last night when he suddenly heard a mixture of Russian and French accents coming to his ears.

Arthur glanced around the store with a look of scrutiny: "I want to buy some authentic Russian literature. Do you have any recommendations?"

The shop assistant was stunned for a moment. He first looked at the unfamiliar gentleman. He was used to receiving middle-class scholars and occasional wealthy children, so he had long developed the ability to judge people.

But this stranger looked neither like the dandy boys who spent their days squandering their inheritance, nor like the poor students and civil servants who carefully flipped through the pages of books but dared not spend money. Coupled with his strange accent, the identity of this gentleman was obvious: he was either a foreigner or a newly naturalized Russian.

Such people were not uncommon in Petersburg. Every wealthy Russian noble liked to invite a British Jones or a French Kirk to teach their children, and even the Tsar was no exception in this regard.

If you are a university professor who was born and raised in Russia, you can only be awarded the eighth-rank civil servant title.

Even if you want to save face and beg people shamelessly, the most they will call you is "Major".

But if you are invited from abroad, it will be very different.

Foreign professors can start directly from the fifth-rank civil service, which is the same level as the presidents of Moscow University and St. Petersburg University.

When you go out, people will tactfully address you as "General" even if you don't mention it.

It was obvious at first glance that the guest in front of him was not an ordinary tutor. Even if he was not a foreign professor, he was at least a wealthy foreigner, or perhaps a prominent diplomatic official.

"Please wait a moment, sir." The clerk bowed hurriedly, turned around and went behind the bookshelf.

Not long after, he came trotting back with a stack of the store's best-selling Russian books: "How about these? Pushkin's Eugene Onegin, Poltava, and Roslavlev, Zhukovsky's Lyudmila, Bulgarin's Ivan Vizhkin, and... these are the most representative works of Russian literature."

Arthur did not answer, but raised his cane and pointed at the pile of books in the waiter's hand and said, "Pack these for me."

"And this row, this row, and this row." Arthur pointed in the direction of several different bookshelves in succession, his voice calm and firm: "I want them all."

The shop assistant's hands were already shaking. He quickly picked up a copy of Nikolai Karamzin's "History of Russia" and placed it on the counter. Then he moved the copy of "The Russian Military System" with a yellowed spine that had been in the shop for who knows how many years.

A thought flashed through his mind: "Can this gentleman really afford to buy all these books?"

But when he saw Arthur lift the gold coin with his fingernail and let it slide in an arc in the air and fall into his palm, the last trace of doubt in the guy's heart immediately disappeared.

The commotion here soon attracted the attention of the bookseller, a slightly plump middle-aged man with a flattering smile on his face. When his shrewd eyes saw Arthur's tuxedo and the gold watch chain vaguely exposed around his waist, they instantly showed an extra layer of respect.

He quickly put down his work and came over, instructing the waiters to wrap the books in fine parchment, while hurriedly bowing: "Dear sir! It is an honor for our store to have you here today! I can guarantee that our collection of books is second to none in the whole of St. Petersburg, and every book here will add luster to your bookshelf."

Arthur ignored him and pointed to a few bookshelves: "Give me one of each."

"You have really good taste!" The bookseller was ecstatic. Although he didn't want to look like a money-grubber, he couldn't take back the smile on his face. "Oh, God really gave you a pair of discerning eyes. You really have good taste! These books are all fine works shipped directly from Paris. They are famous works that Mr. Pushkin has also recommended!"

Arthur frowned when he heard this. "Are you sure these books were shipped from Paris? Would the French give books titles like "Napoleon is Defeated by Russian Emperor Alexander I near Paris", "The Russian Who Taught Napoleon to Dance", "Napoleon's Winter", "Napoleon's New Army of Strange Men", and "The Russian Strongman Drives Out the French"? "

"Ah!" The bookseller's smile suddenly froze, a trace of panic flashed in his eyes, he waved his hands hastily, and the flattery on his face instantly turned into embarrassment: "Sir, you misunderstood, misunderstood! I thought..."

He was at a loss for words, so he used anger to excuse himself. He grabbed a book-carrying clerk and scolded him, "Didn't I tell you not to bring these books in? Who on earth stuffed these books on my bookshelf? This really lowers the style of our bookstore! It's ridiculous!"

Arthur flipped open one of the books and raised his hand to dissuade him, "It's okay. I think these books are actually quite interesting. Give me two copies of each. I'll keep one for myself and send the other to my French friend."

"Ah! So you like this type of book?"

The bookseller seemed to have discovered the Book of Wealth. He recommended it to the bookstore immediately, "Why don't you come with me to the third floor? There are all the best French novels there! The most outstanding one is De Kock. There are novels like The Husband Changed by His Wife, Wife, Husband and Lover, My Wife's Son, The Barber of Paris, and The Beauty from the Suburbs. We have them all here. Reading French novels is the best way to kill time. Moreover, at the salon banquet, as long as you bring up these novels, it is equivalent to opening the chatterboxes of the ladies. Women love these things from Paris the most, whether it is perfume, novels, French food or fashion. They even want to marry a Frenchman."

Paul de Kock?
Arthur felt something was wrong when he heard the name.

If we say that popular novels today are divided into three categories: high, medium and low-end, then Alexandre Dumas is undoubtedly the absolute king in the high-end category, while Mr. Coke dominates the mid-end market. As for the low-end category...

Since most low-end novels are not welcome in any country, writers who make a living from this usually move from one place to another, changing their pen names after publishing a book, in order to avoid being caught by book and newspaper prosecutors in various countries.

Therefore, there is currently no author in this field who has enough appeal.

But as the saying goes, gold will always shine. Even if one changes his pen name frequently and fails to gather a fan base, there are still people who can break through the encirclement with their strong personal strength, and make every book they publish a hit and every book they write a banned, such as a famous author of "The Englishman".

As expected, when the bookseller saw that Arthur didn't nod, he immediately lowered his voice and asked in a low voice, "How about I take you to see the hard goods? Generally speaking, only regular customers can have this treatment, but when it comes to business, it's better to be familiar with each other, so there's no need to be too particular about those rules and regulations."

Arthur was not uninterested in the bookseller's proposal, but the problem was - he couldn't look at the hard goods today.

Arthur snapped his fingers and called the secretary's name: "Henry."

Blackwell quickly stood up with his briefcase under his arm: "Sir."

Arthur pointed to the pile of books filling the counter and said, "You contact the bookstore, make a list of books to buy, and then go through the process to get reimbursed by the embassy."

Blackwell was obviously not surprised by such situations. Compared with the behavior of previous cultural counselors who used diplomatic funds for eating, drinking, whoring and gambling, at least buying books was really linked to cultural research.

While the secretary was doing the accounting, Arthur asked him about the latest situation in the Russian cultural world: "I think Russia and Britain are similar. Nowadays, it is all about fashionable novels." Blackwell nodded while taking notes. "That is indeed the case. Since the emergence of fantasy novels, adventure novels, pornography and storytelling, traditional books such as the Acts of Saints and Grand Dukes in early Russia have been pushed to the margins of the literary field, just like the religious rituals in ancient Russian history before Christianization."

Arthur picked up the book "The Russian Strongman Drives Out the French" and asked, "Are these books popular in Russia these days?"

"This kind?"

Blackwell scratched his head. "Actually, it's not that recent. This kind of book appeared after the end of the War of 1812, and it has been very popular in the market. However, two years ago, Uvarov came up with an 'official theory of popular nature', saying that Orthodoxy, autocracy and popular nature are the last ray of hope for the great cause of Russian society. Therefore, it is necessary to change the existing educational situation in Russia, enhance students' mastery of their own national history and culture, and resist the corrosion of Western ideas by strengthening national confidence in culture. Therefore, in the past two years, the Russian government has begun to increase its support for this kind of works from a policy perspective, and provide government subsidies to writers who create such themes. Naturally, more people will write when there is money to be made. In this regard, Russians are no different from British people."

At this point, Blackwell was afraid that Arthur was not familiar with the Russian government's "Official List", so he added: "Uvarov was previously the Moscow Inspector of Education. Because he proposed the 'Official Popularity Theory', he was appreciated by the Tsar and has now been promoted to the Minister in charge of the Ministry of National Education."

After that, Blackwell also gave his own opinion at the right time: "However, the book "The Russian Strongman Expelled the French" is really poorly written. If you want to study the progress in this area, I can recommend a few books to you. The books of Zagoskin, Bulgarin and Grech are all worth reading. Krylov's comedies are also very funny and much more interesting than these inferior books."

After hearing this, Arthur finally understood how the "Slavophile School" and the "Western School" in the Russian literary world, which were at loggerheads with each other, had ended up like this.

In the past, the two groups could still communicate frequently. Some bold people, such as Karamzin, had the courage to publicly shout out at the ceremony of becoming a member of the St. Petersburg Academy of Sciences in 1818: "Peter the Great transformed the motherland with his powerful hand and turned us into people similar to Europeans. Complaining is meaningless. The spiritual connection between ancient Russians and modern Russians has been broken forever."

But if anyone dares to say this publicly now, it is probably because he feels that he is not satisfied with the beatings in the third round.

At least for now, the official articles in St. Petersburg newspapers are all filled with Tyutchev's famous saying - Russian bread cannot be made in other people's way.

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Arthur was still thinking about where to start his "cultural work" when he suddenly heard a fierce quarrel coming from upstairs.

"You ask about 'Evenings in the Suburbs of Dikanka'? To hell with it! I won't publish a sequel!"

"You really won't consider it? Mr. Gogol, this book is selling very well! You will make a lot of money. Let me offer you 5,000 rubles, and you can think about it. You know, Pushkin's Eugene Onegin sold so well, but it only sold for 12,000 rubles, which is already a very high price!"

"So what if it sells well? Although making money is not superfluous to me, I won't write for the sake of a few dollars and add to the story! I don't have any talent for speculative business. If you hadn't reminded me, I would have even forgotten that I was the author of "Evening Talks in the Suburbs of Dikanka"!"

"What about the characters? The fate of the characters in your book has not yet ended. Readers are eagerly looking forward to your writing the second part."

"The fate of the characters? No one knows their fate! For the time being, I can't write anything weighty, great, artistic."

"Then have you considered writing poetry? Pushkin's poems cost ten rubles per line. Since this is your first time writing, I'll give you half of Pushkin's price. You can get five hundred rubles by writing a hundred lines. Why not?"

"Write poetry? I'm doing nothing right now. I don't want to write small things, and I can't think of big things. To sum it up in one sentence - I'm intellectually constipated!"

Gogol walked down the stairs angrily with a dark face and wearing a sheepskin coat. It can be seen that his hemorrhoids did not flare up today, or maybe he had an flare up but was so angry about being harassed by the publishers that he forgot the pain.

The female college teacher who had been so humble in front of the gendarmerie colonel in the hotel never returned. When Gogol got angry, he was even more arrogant than the Tsar in front of the publisher.

To sum it up in his own words, all in all, he walked with great vigor today.

As soon as Gogol went downstairs, he ran into Arthur's smiling face. He didn't have time to brake and almost fell into Arthur's arms.

"You...Hestingoff?"

"Hestingoff?" Arthur took off his hat and extended his hand to greet him. "I don't hate this name, but it's still very rude to give someone a nickname when you first meet. Hello, Mr. Gogol. I'm Sir Arthur Hastings."

Gogol looked as if he had seen a ghost. He didn't want to have anything to do with this man.

No matter what purpose this Englishman had in disguising himself as a gendarmerie colonel, he didn't want to get involved. He was just an eighth-rank civil servant, and his biggest wish at the moment was to get a position as an associate professor at the University of Kiev.

As for the struggle among the upper classes and the Decembrists, although he had some opinions in his mind, he never mentioned them.

He is different from Pushkin. Although they are friends and Gogol is an avid supporter of Pushkin, please do not equate the behavior of an idol to that of a fan.

After all, he did not have as much face as Pushkin. Even in front of the Tsar, Pushkin could still express his true feelings without changing his expression.

When the Tsar asked Pushkin in person in the court: "If you were in Petersburg on December 12, what would you do?"

"Then I will join the ranks of the rebels," Pushkin replied.

What is even more unexpected is that despite Pushkin's words, the Tsar did not do anything to him. Instead, he praised Pushkin as an honest man, issued an edict to pardon him from exile and return him to St. Petersburg, and promised that Pushkin could live in Moscow, St. Petersburg or anywhere else in the country, including several summer palaces used by the Tsar for vacation.

If you were to ask what the only flaw is?

That is, the Tsar gave Pushkin a great honor. From now on, the Tsar, Nicholas I himself would become the sole censor of Pushkin's works.

When the news of Pushkin's pardon was announced, it caused a sensation throughout Russia. Moscow, which was already extremely lively and busy due to the coronation of the new tsar, attracted many foreign readers. Muscovites and the entire Russian literary world celebrated Pushkin's return as a most important event.

Gogol believed that he was not as powerful as Pushkin, and it was even more impossible for him to have the same influence as Pushkin. If he was involved in any political event, he would most likely have to sit on the tiger bench in the third round.

It is well known that people with hemorrhoids are not suitable to sit on the bench.

Gogol took a step forward, brushing against Arthur's shoulder and trying to run away, but how could he escape from the clutches of the British just by wanting to?
Arthur's hand locked his arm like an iron clamp, and the cultural counselor lowered his voice in his ear and said, "Mr. Gogol, is the position of associate professor at Kiev University so worthless to you?"

(End of this chapter)