shadow of britain

Chapter 594: Fourth-rank Civil Servant Hei

Russia needs order and strict laws. There can be no self-righteousness or disobedience. I regard one's life as military service, because everyone is serving in the military. The revolution has reached the threshold of Russia, but I swear that as long as I have a breath left, I will never let it in.

——Nicholas I, the fifteenth Tsar of the Romanov dynasty of Russia and the eleventh emperor of the Russian Empire

Every respectable person is willing and aware of the need for a vigilant police force to maintain public order and prevent crime. The old police force only oppresses ordinary people and alienates the close relationship between the Tsar and the people, while the new security police force will bring a sense of security to honest and kind citizens.

——Count Alexander Khristoforovich Benckendorff, General of the Russian Imperial Army and first Director of the Third Bureau of the Imperial Chamber
Poland, girls, and...Liverpool.

Arthur had been repeating these words in Shubinsky's ear since the beginning of this impromptu cocktail party.

If Shubinsky did not know the inside story of the Liverpool bombing, he would have simply dismissed these words as the mumbling of a British lecher.

The decadent lives of European diplomats are well known, so it is not surprising that they are interested in exotic girls.

But Shubinsky knew the British friend in front of him very well. He was a British man with a Russian spirit, a senior police officer of the Royal Metropolitan Police with an iron will.

As a well-known figure in London society, Arthur had a wide range of interests and hobbies, and it was not difficult to collect his personal information.

When Shubinsky was working in London, he was ordered to investigate Arthur's background and even sent people to track his daily itinerary.

This man's life was as monotonous as a steam engine that never stopped day and night. He basically shuttled between Whitehall, Fleet Street and his residence in Hyde Park every day.

However, he occasionally went to Greenwich and the West End theatre to play.

Perhaps the most suspicious thing about him is that when he goes to the East District, he often disappears into the local narrow streets.

In order to solve this mystery, Shubinsky once sent more people to the East End to investigate, but the hooligans in Tower Hamlets soon made his men understand why this was their territory. Even if Napoleon's nephew strayed here, he would be stripped naked and tied up in a small dark room. The great French playwright would be charged per head here. The hooligans naturally looked down on a few Russian secret police.

If this single doubt is excluded, Arthur Hastings's public image is simply too good to be true.

Before he ordered the police to open fire, he was recognized as a role model in the police force in British society.

From high-ranking cabinet officials to the common people of London, people in the political, scientific, philosophical and music circles all considered him a leader among British youth.

Although the Church of England did not have a high opinion of him due to religious issues, the British Catholic Church felt that he was a promising talent.

What is most commendable is that in such a chaotic public opinion environment in London, Arthur Hastings has never had any chaotic private life dug up by street tabloids.

Perhaps this is a characteristic of all great men who have risen from small beginnings. Shubinsky felt that in this respect Arthur was very much like Fouché of France, and an even more enhanced version of him.

Because even someone like Fouché, who cared about nothing but work, could not help but replace his furniture with pure gold ones to show off to others after he became rich.

However, Sir Arthur Hastings was well aware of the principle of not showing off his wealth, and he did not even hire any extra cooks or grooms except a cleaning maid.

But does this mean that Arthur is honest?
Shubinsky didn't believe it.

As a political figure and a small figure in the upper class, Colonel Shubinsky knew that people who did this did not do so because they were away from vulgar interests, but because they had greater pursuits in other directions.

He lives a simple life in terms of food, clothing, housing and transportation, and is so careful about his reputation that it often means that he only covets supreme authority.

He has always been a clean man, but at a critical moment he took the initiative to take the blame for shooting citizens...

That can only mean one thing.

He did the math in his mind and realized that what he lost from this deal was definitely not as much as what he gained.

And the words just now also clearly revealed this point. A former assistant superintendent of Scotland Yard is about to be transferred to the position of cultural counselor of the Chinese Embassy in Russia.

When Shubinsky thought of this, his Adam's apple moved and he swallowed.

Perhaps for those big shots who are above Shubinsky, what difference would it make if Arthur was transferred to the position of cultural counselor?

But Shubinsky, a small-time figure in politics, could not take the risk of offending Arthur.

Cultural Counselor, this position can almost be regarded as the fourth or fifth person in the British Embassy in Russia.

Above him were the ambassador to Russia, Earl Daramore, the chargé d'affaires designated by the ambassador to take charge of the embassy in his absence, and the British military attaché to Russia.

There were definitely no more than two other counselors of the same rank as him, and below him were the assistant military attaché to Russia, secretaries of the first, second, and third ranks, mission attachés, and their assistants.

According to the diplomatic work principles stipulated by the Vienna Conference, there are three types of top leaders of ambassadors stationed abroad, based on their powers and responsibilities and the level of diplomatic relations between the two countries.

The first type is the highest-level diplomatic representative, the ambassador-level diplomatic representative who can fully represent the will of the king and the government. The British ambassador to Russia, Earl Darramore, belongs to this category. They enjoy the honorific title of "Your Excellency" in formal diplomatic occasions.

The second type is the usual foreign representative, which is the largest number and is responsible for connecting with the head of state of the host country. In formal diplomatic occasions, they will be respectfully addressed as "Your Highness".

The third type is the Charge d'affaires. The status of the Charge d'affaires is much lower than the previous two types. Because the Charge d'affaires is not sent to the head of state of the host country, but to the Minister of Foreign Affairs and the Minister of Foreign Affairs. The Charge d'affaires is used as a respectful title of "Your Excellency" in formal occasions.

According to British diplomatic practice, every year, foreign missions must send their attachés' titles to the Executive Directors in London and Middlesex to ensure that they can obtain diplomatic immunity. Along with this attaché list, there is usually a "Social Title List" and a "Rank Title List".

Given Earl Darramore's title as an ambassador-level diplomatic representative, needless to say, the British Embassy in Russia will benefit from this one person's success.

Earl Daramore was ranked first among British ambassadors in the "Rank List", and the British Embassy in Russia must be the first among British embassies abroad, and Arthur, the Cultural Counselor in Russia, must be the first among British cultural counselors abroad. And according to what Arthur said, he had a close relationship with Earl Daramore, and Earl Daramore might even appoint him as the temporary chargé d'affaires when the ambassador was away.

If that were the case, he would have been a Minister Counselor.

Even if he did not have such good luck, his current title of counselor alone brought him many privileges that Shubinsky could not even imagine.

There is no need to mention the common things like tax exemption and diplomatic immunity. Even after Arthur left the Russian embassy, ​​the Russian court would usually award him the medal that Shubinsky had been dreaming about in accordance with diplomatic conventions.

High-level ambassadors such as Earl Daramo are usually awarded the Order of the White Eagle.

Civilian counselors like Arthur are usually awarded the third-class Order of St. Vladimir.

In addition to these honors, the standard gifts for diplomats leaving office are also indispensable. At the very least, he can get a snuff bottle inlaid with diamonds, turquoises and various jewels.

When facing the Russians, Shubinsky, a middle-level cadre of the Third Bureau and the Gendarmerie Regiment, almost looked down on them, but when facing a senior diplomat like Arthur, he had to lower his posture.

Because when he was in London, he was only an assistant military attaché.

According to the Russian official rank table, he was only a ninth-rank army captain at the time.

Although he is now a colonel of the sixth rank of military police, according to the hierarchy of the Russian officialdom, Arthur, a counselor serving in a high-level embassy, ​​is absolutely a genuine senior civil servant, an undisputed fourth-rank official!

If converted according to Russia's local government positions, officials who can match Arthur should be senior officials in the border regions, senior officials in the inland core provinces, local prosecutors in the judicial system, provincial financial supervisors, and police chiefs in charge of public security in a province!

"Oh my God!" Shubinsky slapped his forehead and shouted his catchphrase again: "Arthur, my old brother, you said I got promoted, but in my opinion, it is you who got promoted! In the past, we were both errand boys under the big guys. Now, you are the big guy, but I am still the errand boy."

Shubinsky's words were implicit in his submission. He did not dare to say it too clearly, and could only use the "message of the messenger" to absolve himself of responsibility for the Liverpool bombing.

Shubinsky couldn't help but say with envy: "It seems that I will be able to see you at social banquets in Moscow and St. Petersburg soon. You will wear a blue tweed jacket with a black velvet collar with a V-shaped notch and a black velvet lining collar. The buttons on the chest and waist are gold-plated, and they are inlaid with the royal emblem of the left and right beasts."

When Arthur saw Shubinsky's appearance, he did not continue to push him to death.

He came out to make friends, not to make more enemies.

As for the Liverpool bombing, although he had never forgotten it, he was not so petty as to be hard on Shubinsky. Instead of taking revenge on Shubinsky, it would be better to use this as an excuse to build a good relationship with him. Besides, this was not the first time he had done such a thing. Wasn't it Mr. August Schneider from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs who had established a good friendship with him because of the bombing?
Arthur took out his pocket watch from his pocket and checked the time. He immediately stood up and patted Shubinsky on the shoulder: "Sergey, drink as much as you want today. I'll pay for all the expenses. I forgot to tell you that I contributed to the premiere of Turandot tonight. As for the Poles, you don't have to worry about them. If they want to come here to make trouble, I will shoot them before you do. Of course, except for the Polish girls. As we all know, they are very beautiful."

Shubinsky watched Arthur turn around and leave in a cool manner. The little German follower who followed him seemed to think it was impolite to leave like this. He took off his hat apologetically and smiled at him before stepping out of the bar.

But Shubinsky didn't care too much about Arthur's rudeness. He was still thinking about the meaning behind Arthur's words. For a moment, he even forgot about today's mission.

Shubinsky held the wine glass and murmured to himself: "My God! Hastings, a fourth-rank civil servant. A serf became a fourth-rank civil servant. It sounds absurd no matter how I hear it..."

……

While Shubinsky was still immersed in the shock of the possibility that the Tsar might award the "Order of St. Vladimir" to a York serf, the friendship activities between Moscow University and Göttingen University in the box on the second floor of the theater were still moving towards a climax.

And all this is thanks to the sudden appearance of a Frenchman.

Mr. Dumas seemed particularly lonely in the theater without the company of actresses, but fortunately, the stories of Napoleon's wars told by young people filled the emptiness in his heart.

"When Napoleon arrived in Moscow, my father was still tidying up everything. He was always slow in doing things, not neatly and efficiently at all. Finally, everything was arranged properly and the carriage stopped at the door. My father and uncles hurried to have breakfast, but unexpectedly a servant suddenly rushed into the dining room and reported: "Something bad has happened! The enemy has entered the Dragumilov Gate!"

Everyone was shocked and their hearts sank. Everyone prayed in their hearts: My God! God bless! Everyone was panicking and running to the street. They were sighing and gasping. They saw Napoleon's dragoons running all over the street. They were wearing helmets and their horse tails were raised behind them. The city gates were all closed. My father had to resign himself to fate, and I was also unlucky. At that time, I was still in my cradle, and my nurse Darya was holding me and feeding me.

The French soldiers were careless in the first few days after they entered the city. Sometimes two or three soldiers came in and gestured to ask if there was any wine. The servants in the house poured them a glass as usual, and they left after drinking, even saluting before leaving. But then a fire broke out in the city, and the fire burned more and more fiercely. The city became chaotic, and looting and various disasters occurred.

I heard from the nurse that our family was living in the wing of Princess Mescherskaya's house, which was also on fire. So my uncle advised us: "Let's go to my house, which is made of stone, with a deep yard and a solid wall." We went there, and the master and the servants walked together, because there was no distinction between the superior and the inferior at that time.

The family walked to Tverskoy Boulevard and saw that the trees there were already on fire. Finally, we arrived at the Golokhvastovs' house and saw that it was filled with smoke and flames were leaping out of all the windows. My uncle was stunned and couldn't believe his eyes. There was a large garden behind the house, and we turned there, thinking it would be safer.

We were sitting on the bench worrying about our lives when a group of drunk soldiers suddenly came from nowhere. My uncle was wearing a big fur coat for traveling at the time, and one soldier rushed over and wanted to strip him of his fur coat. The old man refused, so the soldier drew his dagger and chopped him in the face, leaving a scar on his face when he died.

Several other soldiers attacked us. One of them took me away from my nurse and unwrapped my swaddling clothes to see if there were any banknotes or diamonds inside. There was nothing. My nurse Ardamonovna would get so angry every time she talked about this that she would grit her teeth and curse: "The damned one deliberately tore the swaddling cloth and threw it on the ground. As soon as they left, there was another big mess. "

We had a servant named Platon, who was later sent to the army. He was a heavy drinker, and that day he was really naughty, hanging a saber around his waist and wandering around. It turned out that the day before the enemy entered the city, Count Rostopchin opened the armory and distributed weapons to everyone, and Platon got a saber. That evening, Platon saw a dragoon riding into my yard. There was a horse in the stable at home, and the dragoon wanted to take it away.

But Platon jumped up to him, grabbed the reins and said, "The horse is ours, we won't give it to you." The dragoon raised his pistol to scare him, but the gun was obviously empty. My father was there at the time and saw this, so he shouted to Platon, "Give him the horse, it's none of your business."

But Platon was a man of bad temper, and he would not listen to my father, but drew his saber and struck the dragoon in the head, and the dragoon staggered, but did not fall, so Platon struck him again, and everybody thought, this is the end of us, and if the dragoon's comrades find out, we shall be finished.

But Platon was not in the least concerned, and when the dragoon fell, he seized him by the feet, dragged him into the cesspool, and left him there, still breathing. The dragoon's horse stood motionless, kicking the earth with his hoofs, as if he knew what was happening. We shut him up in the stable, and there he was probably burned.

We all fled out of the yard, and the fire was getting worse. We were exhausted and hungry, so we found a house that was still on fire and went inside to rest. But within an hour, our people were shouting from the street again: "Come out, come out, there's a fire!" My nurse immediately tore a piece of rough canvas from the billiard table and wrapped me in it to keep me from catching a cold at night.

So, the nurse and the nanny took me to Tverskaya Square, where the French were putting out a fire because their chief lived in the Governor's Palace. We had no choice but to sit on the street, watching patrols coming and going everywhere, some on foot and some on horseback. At that time, I cried desperately because the nurse had no milk and could not find a piece of bread.

At that time, our maid, Konstantinovna, was with us. She saw a group of soldiers eating in the corner, so she took me to them, pointed at me and said, "The child needs food." At first, the soldiers were very fierce, shouting at her: "Alai, Alai!" Konstantinovna scolded them: "You beheaded people, and you said a lot of nonsense."

The soldiers didn't understand anything and laughed loudly. They gave me some water-soaked bread and a piece of bread to her. The next morning, an officer came and took away all the men, including my father. Only the women and the injured uncle were left. They were taken to the surrounding houses to put out the fire. As for the women, without a backbone, they could only stay alone in fear until the evening, and they just sat there crying..."

(End of this chapter)