shadow of britain

Chapter 633: The Oriental Society in Petersburg
Compared with the luxurious houses near the British Embassy, ​​Bichulin's rental house in St. Petersburg seemed much more shabby.

This is an old two-story building, with gray-white lime painted on the exterior. The mottled walls and some old window frames show that the house is very old. In winter, snow piled up on the windowsills and icicles hung under the eaves, making people feel so cold that they will get hemorrhoids at a glance.

Fortunately, the house has a good location, right on Pea Street which runs through the center of St. Petersburg.

Although there are no conspicuous noble mansions, merchant residences or luxury stores on Pea Street, it is full of small shops and cheap hotels, making it a good place for ordinary citizens to live.

Since it is close to the station and the Winter Palace Square and living here is very convenient, low- and middle-level civil servants like Bi Chulin like to rent houses here.

Arthur followed Bicchulin up the stairs and as he passed the porch he could see an old iron lantern hanging overhead.

The lampshade of the lantern has turned yellow and the light is dim, obviously it has not been replaced for a long time in order to save fuel.

There is a wooden cross hanging outside the door of Bicchulin's room, which is both a religious symbol and a sign to outsiders that this is a priest's residence.

However, when Arthur thought about Bi Chulin's life experience, he still felt that hanging a cross in front of the door was a bit of a wolf in sheep's clothing.

While Bicchulin was opening the door, Arthur noticed some firewood piled on the ground beneath his feet.

The cross-sections of these firewoods are of varying thicknesses, and should have been chopped by Bi Chulin himself with an axe, because the wood sold by a serious woodcutter would not be in this shape.

Bichulin opened the door with his key. As soon as he put down the Bible in his hand, he hurried to light a fire and boil the samovar.

While he was busy, he explained: "Although my house doesn't look good from the outside, it's actually quite comfortable to live in."

Arthur smiled and didn't respond directly, but looked around the layout of the house.

The house was not big, but Bi Chulin had obviously tried his best to arrange it in an orderly manner.

The entrance hall faces the living room. In the corner stands a simple wooden bookshelf filled with books, manuscripts, and even a few rolls of yellowed parchment.

There was a pile of miscellaneous items on the floor next to the bookshelf, including a few wooden boxes with unknown contents, a tattered pipe box, and a fur hat that seemed to be very useful in winter.

There was a square table in the middle of the living room, covered with an old tablecloth, and surrounded by several wooden chairs, the armrests of which were worn to the point that the wood grain was visible.

Arthur pulled out a chair and sat down, and found that the teapot and several ceramic cups on the table were obviously brought back from the East. The glaze of the cups was painted with colorful and exquisite patterns.

"Did you bring this back from BJ?" Arthur picked up a teacup and examined it, his tone teasing: "It seems like you live a luxurious life there."

Bi Chulin poked his head out from the stove, holding an old pipe in his hand, and grinned: "Luxury? I don't deserve it. I just bought these things at the market. The price is very cheap, which is more cost-effective than the house I rent."

As he was talking, a blazing fire was burning in the stove. Bi Chulin deftly placed a small iron kettle on the stove rack. Soon steam began to rise. The coldness in the room was dispelled a lot by the heat from the stove and the fragrance of tea from the kettle.

Arthur turned his eyes from the stove to the wall and noticed a portrait of Bi Chulin wearing a Qing Dynasty official hat, as well as a hand-drawn map pasted on a wooden board, with several small pieces of paper covered with Chinese characters nailed to the side.

"Yakinov Bichurin in Chinese Costume" by Alexander Orlovsky, 1828

He walked over and took a closer look, and found that the slips of paper contained a number of sentences written in neat Chinese characters and Russian, including several familiar translations of Confucian classics.

What he placed in the most prominent position was a famous saying excerpted from "The Analects of Confucius" - Only when the winter comes, do we know that pine and cypress are the last to wither.

Considering Bi Chulin's experience of exile and his current optimistic attitude of finding joy in adversity, it is not difficult to understand why he likes this sentence.

Everyone likes to make friends with people who are self-reliant, even the old British spy is no exception.

Although the contact time was not long, it did not prevent him from liking this Russian 'pine and cypress' who seemed to be out of tune with the mainstream.

Moving your eyes to the other side of the wall, there are several Chinese calligraphy works with beautiful handwriting hanging on it. The desk below the calligraphy is covered with an old cloth and pressed with a few pebbles, apparently to prevent the paper pages from being blown away by the wind. On the table are an oil lamp and a pile of books and unfinished manuscripts, including annotations to the "Four Books and Five Classics" and some untranslated Sinology materials, and even several volumes of Manchu, Mongolian and Tibetan classics tied with silk thread.

Needless to say, these books must be the culprit for why Bi Chulin can only live in this small house.

Arthur knew only too well what a luxury it was to have such a large collection of books in this day and age.

When he was a scout in London, he had to grit his teeth and save money for a week if he wanted to buy an old novel with missing pages and a torn cover from a second-hand bookstore.

But if he took a fancy to a hardcover old quarto book, he would have to save up a month's money even if he lived frugally.

People like Elder who are familiar with Arthur know that it is difficult to anger this seemingly polite Yorkshire gentleman with verbal provocation alone.

If you really want to piss him off, all you have to do is spit on his collection of books.

As for how to irritate Mr. Carter?
The truth is actually the same.

Students at the University of London are all book lovers, and Elder’s collection of books is also his lifeblood.

The only drawback is that Elder’s collections are usually of a certain genre.

Arthur looked at the collections in Bichulin's room and wanted to buy them. "Would you like to sell your calligraphy of 'A room does not need to be big to be elegant, and flowers do not need to be numerous to be fragrant'? I'd like to pay 200 rubles for it."

Bi Chulin turned around and handed Arthur a cup of hot tea. He did not refuse directly, but tentatively replied: "Sir, a gentleman does not take away what others love, and does not force others to do something."

Arthur was disappointed when he heard this, but Bi Chulin saw Arthur's expression, as if Columbus had discovered the New World: "Do you understand?"

He originally thought that Pushkin was exaggerating. How could a British diplomat have any foundation in Chinese studies?

At most, I only know the basics and can speak a few words of Cantonese.

But now it seems that he might have done in-depth research.

The joy of suddenly discovering a fellow enthusiast overwhelmed Bi Chulin's mind. He put his pipe on the table, not caring about the steam coming out of the iron kettle on the stove, and excitedly approached Arthur, spreading his hands with a gleam in his eyes: "Tell me, sir, how did you learn Chinese? You definitely can't learn to this level just by studying with a tutor. Did you also live in BJ?"

Arthur saw Bi Chulin's reaction and wanted to say something modest, but the other party's anxious expression made him smile slightly. Holding the teacup, he said: "I can't say I have learned it. I just came across some Sinology materials occasionally when I was in London. I studied a little when I was interested. As for living in BJ..."

He paused, a hint of ridicule flashed in his eyes: "Not everyone is as lucky as you."

"Good luck?" Bi Chulin laughed so hard that he coughed twice. "Sir, you may not understand that our life in BJ was very hard! Don't look at how many books I brought back, they were all bought with the money I saved from my frugal life. At that time in BJ, it was a luxury to have a proper Russian stew."

"Really?" Arthur smiled. "But I think your room full of books is worth more than a pot of stew."

Bi Chulin narrowed his eyes, obviously agreeing with Arthur's words. Arthur turned and asked, "What about you? How did you learn Chinese?"

"Me?" Bi Chulin smiled. "I first got a Latin-Chinese dictionary from a Catholic monk. But as a study material, that dictionary is obviously not suitable for beginners like me. It is suitable for those who have already mastered the Chinese language. So, I developed my own method."

"what way?"

"Whenever I had free time, I would walk the streets of Beijing and explore the alleys. When I came across something I didn't recognize, I would ask the owner to tell me what it was and write it down in Chinese characters. Then my Chinese teacher would check the correctness of the words. This practice allowed me to come into contact with Chinese people from different social classes, especially government officials and farmers in the suburbs."

At this point, Bi Chulin walked to the bookshelf by the wall, pointed to a neatly bound Chinese book and said, "Do you know what this is?"

Arthur stood up and took a closer look. The pages were densely written with Chinese characters, with a few lines of Russian notes occasionally inserted. The handwriting was strong and powerful: "Let me guess..."

He ran his finger lightly across the cover, his brows furrowed tighter and tighter, as if he had exerted great effort: "Is this the Taiping Jing?"

"That's right!"

Bi Chulin clapped his hands and smiled, "This is one of the manuscripts I brought back from BJ. It took a lot of effort to organize. I was just curious about what these scriptures talked about, but I didn't expect that the more I studied, the more fascinated I became. Did you know that the things they talked about about the operation of heaven and earth and moral cultivation are actually quite similar to those of the Orthodox Church?"

Arthur stood aside, holding a cup of tea. "You mean, missionaries can also learn something from Taoism?"

"Of course!" Bi Chulin, an atypical missionary, answered succinctly: "Knowledge has no boundaries, and wisdom has no boundaries. We can draw nourishment from any culture. The key is whether we have a pair of eyes willing to discover."

He paused, as if remembering something. "Oh, by the way, sir, the calligraphy you just mentioned - a room doesn't need to be big to be elegant, and flowers don't need to be numerous to be fragrant - I didn't actually buy it. It was given to me by a friend in BJ."

"Friends?" Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"That's not the case." Bi Chulin shook his head and smiled, "He is a calligrapher named Wang. He is the director of the Lifanyuan, has a cheerful personality, and admires my research spirit. Once he saw that I was interested in calligraphy, he wrote this calligraphy for me. You know, their writing style is completely different from ours. They pay attention to 'lively spirit and charm', which is not something that can be achieved by just writing casually."

Having said that, Bi Chulin ran to the glove box more excitedly and picked for a long time, then took out a brush as if he was presenting a treasure.

Bi Chulin had spread out the paper, and judging from the situation, he was preparing to teach Arthur a lesson on the spot.

Bi Chulin sat down, picked up the brush, dipped it in the ink bottle, and wrote the eight big characters "A room does not need to be big to be elegant, and flowers do not need to be numerous to be fragrant" on the paper, stroke by stroke.

As he wrote, he kept muttering, "I brought this brush back from BJ. Calligraphers in Beijing all use this kind of wolf-hair brush. Your Excellency, you may not be familiar with these details, but in the art of calligraphy, tools are more important than skills."

Bi Chulin's writing style was smooth and full of vitality, and it was obvious that he had put a lot of effort into it. After he finished writing, he put down his pen, gently lifted the scroll, and placed it in front of the lamp on the table. He admired it carefully, and then handed it to Arthur: "Look, this is the essence of vitality. If you like it, I won't sell it this time, I'll just give it to you."

Arthur held Bi Chulin's calligraphy in his hands and admired it for a long time. Although it was not up to the level of a calligrapher, it was definitely worthy of the evaluation of being neat and dignified. At least his handwriting was much more beautiful than Arthur's.

Maybe he sensed Arthur's thoughts, but Bi Chulin actually held out the brush to Arthur and asked, "Would you like to try it?"

With Bi Chulin's example before him, Arthur actually backed out at the first moment of his invitation.

Bi Chulin noticed his nervousness and patted his shoulder with a smile: "Don't worry, sir. When I first learned Chinese characters, even '一二三' was written crookedly. You just try it. The important thing is to feel the strength and balance when holding the pen. This is the fun of calligraphy."

Arthur thought about it and decided that it wasn't a big deal if the writing wasn't good.

The British can write Chinese characters, and this should be praised first.

Arthur took a deep breath, took the brush from Bi Chulin, dipped it in ink, and carefully wrote the word "室" on the paper. His movements seemed unfamiliar, but he tried to be neat.

However, I don’t know if it’s because my hands were cold or because I was nervous, but the thickness of the strokes was not evenly controlled, and there were clumps of ink at several turning points.

"Hmm..." Bi Chulin came over, pinched his chin and looked at him for a while, then showed an encouraging smile on his face: "It can be seen that you have a good understanding of the structure. Although you are not proficient enough, you have already got some shape and spirit."

"Shape and spirit?" Arthur looked at his "Room" and then at Bi Chulin's, and couldn't help laughing: "I'm afraid my shape and spirit are like a drunk trying to imitate an officer's salute."

"You are too modest!" Bi Chulin waved his hand and said, "Don't forget, calligraphy is a process of continuous improvement. Perseverance is the key. Come on, keep writing and finish the whole sentence."

"Or I should change to a shorter one."

Arthur changed a piece of paper and thought about writing something familiar. He held his breath and concentrated.

Bi Chulin was watching with interest when suddenly there was a knock on the door.

Bi Chulin had no choice but to leave Arthur behind and run to open the door.

The door creaked open, and the cold Petersburg winter night air immediately flooded into the house.

Bi Chulin stood at the door and saw several familiar figures outside. He couldn't help but grin: "You guys, you come to see me in such a cold weather, do you want to drink tea again?"

"It's more than just tea!"

The leader, Sergei Lipovtsov, laughed and stepped into the house. He was wearing a heavy woolen coat and shook off the snowflakes on his hat: "We are here with good news, and by the way, we want to see if you, a book collector, have frozen yourself recently."

"A book collector? How can I dare to be one?"

"If you don't dare to take the title, no one else will. Everyone knows that when you left China, you brought back 400 poods of information, and the shipping cost alone was 750 rubles. More than half of the books in the Petersburg Asian Museum were contributed by you!"

Behind him, Vasily Solomirsky took off his scarf, his eyes flashing with smiles. "Yakinoff, your place is really simple. There's not even a decent chair. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs gives you 1200 rubles a year, plus 300 rubles for stationery allowance. You put the money in your pocket and don't spend it. You deliberately live in a place like this. Are you afraid that the house you live in is too good and we intellectuals will stay here and not leave?"

"This is called 'A room of elegance does not need to be big', you don't understand." Kraevsky took over the conversation and put down the gift box in his hand: "Yakin, this is a good product I specially got from the tea merchant. I wonder if it is as good as the ones you brought back from BJ?"

Odoyevsky clapped his red hands and said half seriously and half jokingly: "I think he should just open an Oriental Studies Salon here. After all, he is the pride of our Asian Department. Even the Academy of Sciences awarded him an award. This year's Academy of Sciences Demidov Award-winning book is "A Historical Review of the Oirat or Kalmyk People: From the 15th Century to the Present", written by Yakinev Bichulin!"

Krylov, who came in last, closed the door with a smile on his face: "Although this place is small, it is very warm. It is much more humane than the noble mansion."

Bi Chulin quickly invited everyone in: "Find a place to sit down. But I have to remind you that there is nothing good in this room. Just drink my tea."

After saying that, he turned to the stove and boiled some water again.

But halfway through his walk, he remembered that Arthur was still there, so he turned back and introduced Arthur.

"I almost forgot about you! Let me introduce you. This is Sergei Lipovtsov, who is a translator of the Asia Department like me. He is very proficient in Manchu and is responsible for the translation of the Manchu New Testament. Solomirsky over here is an active figure in the literary circle. Four years ago, we worked together in the East Siberian Expedition organized by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. As for this, Kraevsky, it goes without saying that he is a backbone figure in Russian literary criticism. As for Odoevsky and Krylov, you must have heard of them a long time ago. They are both great Russian writers and well-known scholars."

(End of this chapter)