shadow of britain

Chapter 644 Lord Hastings, the Respected One

It was extremely cold, and the cold air had blocked the roads, freezing them smooth, and now it was knocking on the doors and windows of Moscow's houses. Night had fallen, and the streets were empty and silent.

A full moon looked down from behind the high clouds, its light was gentle and light, illuminating the streets as brightly as day.

A pony was galloping down the street, pulling a sleigh at a swift speed. On the sleigh sat a provincial nobleman who was on his way to a party. The sound of the horse's hooves could be heard far and wide.

On a day of family joy like Maslenitsa, lights were lit in the windows of most houses in Moscow. The lights were dim at first, then gradually grew bigger, emitting colorful light.

Through the windows of the aristocratic club, one could hear the conversation of the nobles as they sat around the carpet fireplace, drinking wine.

"Have you heard? We have a great event in Moscow."

"What's the latest news? Are you saying that the Emperor is planning to hold this year's Maslenitsa ball in the Kremlin?"

"If that's the case, the Emperor has made a good decision. This year we will let those Westernized bureaucrats in Petersburg see that our Moscow balls are the most authentic."

"Gentlemen, I am not talking about something vulgar like a ball, but something more noble and sacred."

"You mean the morning prayers on Easter Eve after Lent? The priest chants, 'Jesus is risen!' and we shout back, 'He is risen indeed!'"

"No! Haven't you heard? Sir Arthur Hastings is coming to Moscow!"

As soon as these words were spoken, the room suddenly became quiet. All conversation seemed to have stopped abruptly, leaving only the occasional crackling of the fire and the faint sound of sleds sliding across the ice in the distance outside the window.

"Sir Arthur Hastings!"

Although the nobleman in question did not know who Sir Arthur Hastings was, his strange pride in not wanting to admit his ignorance drove him to echo his companion's exclamation: "That's a great man!"

The expressions of the nobles quickly changed from initial bewilderment to a pretentious solemnity, as if each of them had a deep understanding and admiration for Sir Arthur Hastings in their hearts.

A young nobleman dressed in gorgeous clothes broke the silence first. He said in a tone as if he had known Arthur for a long time: "Oh! I have been his loyal fan for several years. I even dreamed that I met him last night. Unexpectedly, my dream came true. It's really God's blessing!"

Another nobleman also joined in the flattery, his voice carrying a hint of urgency, as if he was afraid of being overtaken by someone else: "Sir Arthur has arrived in Moscow? My God! Why did you wait until now to announce this news? If I had known he was coming, I would not have arranged to go hunting in the countryside tomorrow!"

As he was talking, he saw this cultured man who respected Sir Arthur Hastings very much walk away quickly, and stood in front of the club door and solemnly ordered the coachman outside: "Platon! Platon! Go to Duke Golitsyn's house now and inform them that tomorrow's hunting is cancelled, because I want to go to see Sir Arthur Hastings."

The nobles nodded in agreement, even though most of them only knew a few words about Sir Arthur Hastings, and some even heard the name Hastings for the first time. But at this moment, all the difficulties did not prevent them from becoming Sir Arthur's ten-year fans.

In such circumstances, any disrespectful words towards Arthur Hastings would become a target of public criticism, and any remarks that belittled him would be regarded as cultural blasphemy.

Even at Scotland Yard, the name Arthur Hastings did not enjoy the treatment it enjoys in today's aristocratic clubs.

After all, in the Metropolitan Police, Sir Arthur was at most a harmless statue, as he was "exiled" to Petersburg. But in the Moscow Noble Club today, Arthur has become a living saint.

Just as everyone was discussing Arthur Hastings enthusiastically, a member of the Moscow Society of Natural Philosophy finally dug out this high-frequency word of the night from the pile of old papers deep in his memory.

He said proudly, "Arthur Hastings? Oh, you mean the assistant of Mr. Michael Faraday? The rising star in the field of electromagnetism?"

He thought he could win everyone's attention with his extensive experience, but he did not expect to attract criticism and ridicule instead.

"Assistant? Rising star? What are you talking about?"

"Don't you understand the principle that a disciple can surpass his teacher? I don't mean to belittle Mr. Faraday, but I think that even if Sir Arthur Hastings is not as good as Faraday now, he will soon become a better electromagnetic researcher than Faraday."

"It seems that there are still people among us who know what's good." An old nobleman with a thick beard and wearing an exquisite velvet robe spoke slowly, with an unquestionable sense of authority in his voice: "Sir Arthur Hastings is not only a shining star in the field of electromagnetism, but also a bridge connecting Russian and European science and culture. His arrival will undoubtedly bring an unprecedented ideological storm to Moscow."

The old nobleman's words were like a stone thrown into a calm lake, causing ripples.

"If I were lucky enough to witness one of Sir Arthur's experiments with my own eyes, it would be the greatest honor of my life." A young nobleman said excitedly, his eyes flashing with desire and awe for the unknown world.

Another noble suggested, "Yes, this opportunity is rare. We must arrange a grand welcome dinner as soon as possible, just like the one we had for Mr. Humboldt, and invite all the city's important figures to let Sir Arthur feel Moscow's enthusiasm and respect."

At this time, the young noble who first brought up the topic said: "You don't need to worry about the welcome dinner. Because our dear Moscow Governor-General Prince Dmitry Golitsyn and the learned Moscow University Dean Prince Sergei Golitsyn are already planning it!"

As the nobles toasted to the foresight of the Governor and the Procurator, they did not notice a carriage passing by outside the window.

The owner of this carriage was none other than the European scholar whom they had longed to see, who had come all the way from London.

Arthur had loosened his elastic collar, was smoking a pipe, and even his top hat, which he wore for show, had been thrown onto the seat beside him.

If someone saw this guy at this moment, they would probably think he was some second-rate guy from East London, and the truth was pretty much the same.

With a cane in his left hand and a police knife in his right hand, a top hat that was knocked off by a gangster's punch is floating in the sewage puddle under his feet, and he is wearing a blue swallowtail uniform stained with the vomit of an Irish drunk. This is the daily appearance of Greenwich Patrol Sergeant Arthur Hastings.

However, although the person is still the same person, his identity is different.

So the civilized cane was replaced by a cane inlaid with turquoise, the police knife was replaced by an oak pipe, the police number on the chest was replaced by a ribbon ring, and even the top hat and tailcoat were changed from rough-made standard uniforms to exquisitely tailored fabrics. Even the stains on the clothes were changed from drunkards' vomit to red wine stains from private cocktail parties. Although the amount was not as much as before, the price of these red wine stains was far more valuable than vomit.

If there is anything similar between the past and the present, it is that Arthur is still wearing the same pair of white gloves he has worn since his Greenwich days.

A British knight, a renowned scholar, a musical genius, a literary giant, and…

The cutest, and most hateful, Scotland Yard cop.

Sir Arthur Hastings.

Arthur's mind was filled with the scene of sneaking into Moscow University today and being accidentally caught by two professors.

What can you do in one second?

Light a cigarette, have a drink, or let two respected old professors treat you with courtesy and humility.

For some reason, Arthur suddenly remembered the story told to him by the French detective Mr. Victor.

He simply revealed his name - François Vidocq - and the street thugs in Paris fled in panic.

Today, the name Arthur Hastings has the same effect in the scientific community.

Just as Herzen had ridiculed, the two professors first gave him a "long-admired" speech, and then flattered him in every way and felt inferior to him.

Perhaps in order to give themselves courage, they specially invited Arthur to the home of Count Panin, the deputy director of the school district. This deputy director, who was regarded as a scourge by Herzen, also found a number of professors who were close to him and whom he thought could demonstrate the academic quality of Moscow University.

It’s not that Moscow University does not have good professors, but the academic level of those professors who focus their academic efforts on building relationships with officials is mostly not satisfactory.

Arthur still remembered that one of them was an old professor named Fyodor Fyodorovich Rice. Although it might not be respectful to say this, in Arthur's opinion, this chemistry professor's understanding of chemistry did not seem to go beyond the basic scope of hydrogen and oxygen.

According to Herzen's report, the reason why the old man became a professor was not because he was outstanding, but because his uncle had studied this subject. Therefore, at the end of Catherine the Great's reign, Russia sent people to Germany to invite his uncle. But the old man was unwilling to come, so he recommended his nephew to replace him.

In short, this Mr. Nan Guo from Germany has been filling in the classrooms of Moscow University for forty years.

When Arthur thought of this, he couldn't help but want to speak up for Gogol.

Case after case has proved that the reason why the little Russian could not become an associate professor at the University of Kiev was not a problem of his academic qualities.

Rather, it was because he was Russian, lacked luck, and lacked a famous uncle.

But Arthur is obviously luckier than Gogol. Although he was born as a swineherd and was a dismissed assistant police inspector, his bachelor's degree from the University of London gave him the confidence to show off.

Halfway through the private reception at Count Panin's house today, he received a message from Prince Dmitri Golitsyn, the Governor-General of Moscow.

Duke Golitsyn first welcomed Arthur's arrival, and then talked about his friendship with Count Daramo, the ambassador to Russia.

After the explanation from Secretary Blackwell, Arthur finally understood that Duke Golitsyn and Count Dalamo were actually close friends. Whenever the two met at a dance, Duke Dmitriy Golitsyn would always pull Count Dalamo aside and ask him about his well-being with great enthusiasm.

The cause of the incident seemed to be due to a remark made by Count Daramo: Prince Dmitry Golitsyn was a true Whig with the true soul of a Whig.

Although Arthur did not understand how there could be a Whig among the Russian nobility, there was no doubt that this compliment was very helpful to Duke Golitsyn, and it also made other Russian nobles look up to him.

Therefore, Duke Golitsyn showed great concern for Arthur, Count Daramo's favorite student.

Even if you shed the skin of a graduate from the University of London, it is still a very tempting option to make friends with Sir Arthur Hastings, a well-known scholar, writer, musician, and a "true royalist with the true soul of a royalist" recognized by His Majesty the Tsar.

He privately canceled the hotel reservation for Arthur and specially allowed this travel-weary guest to live in his old house on Tverskoy Street in Moscow, assigning him two cooks and several clumsy but capable and obedient servants.

Not only that, even the private secretary, Mr. Blackwell, was assigned a boy to carry his bag.

The carriage that Arthur rode in was, of course, the best one that Duke Golitsyn had rented from a coach shop.

The condition for all this was that Prince Dmitri Golitsyn hoped that Arthur would take time out of his busy schedule to attend the welcome party held for Arthur by the Moscow upper class, where he could tell them about the recent important developments in electromagnetism and educate the group of young people at Moscow University who were ignorant and idle all day long on behalf of his cousin, Prince Sergei Golitsyn, the dean of Moscow University.

If you do not recognize Sir Arthur Hastings in Moscow today, I would advise you to correct this omission as soon as possible.

For the Governor-General, Duke Golitsyn, could play Boston with no one else as satisfactorily and fully as with Sir Arthur Hastings.

As soon as Arthur's carriage stopped in front of the Golitsyn family residence on Tverskaya Avenue, the secretary with a ruddy face respectfully opened the door and cleared the snow in front of the car for Arthur, and respectfully invited the boss who had made him complain all the way to leave.

But before he could ask Arthur to leave, he saw a guy with snow on his shoulders standing up on the steps nearby.

The man rubbed his frozen hands, shook off the snow on his body, revealing his hidden military police uniform. He walked to the carriage with stiff steps and saluted: "Hello, Sir Arthur, do you remember me? Military police captain, Richard Huett."

(End of this chapter)