shadow of britain

Chapter 651 I emphasize again: I am not a scientific star!
When Sir Arthur Hastings visited Moscow, he was given a grand reception at Moscow University by the Moscow Society of Natural Philosophers, whose members included the chancellor, the prosecutor, and the leading men of various Moscow offices, in short, people who had never studied natural philosophy or non-natural philosophy.

Hastings was a diplomat appointed by the King of England, and the Tsar had awarded him the Order of Anna and ordered him to be exempted from material and certificate fees, so his reputation naturally reached the ears of these people. They knew that this British knight was a scientific leader in the European electromagnetic community, often visited the Allmark Club in London, was received by King Louis Philippe of France in Paris, and was successively commended by the Royal Society, the Paris Academy of Sciences, and the Berlin Academy of Sciences. Therefore, they were determined not to make a fool of themselves in front of this great man.

To this day we treat Europeans and Europe as provincials treat the inhabitants of the capital: we fawn and flatter, we regard every difference as a defect, we blush for our own peculiarities, we try to conceal them, and we always humble ourselves and imitate others. The reason for this is that we are intimidated, and the Russians have not yet freed themselves from the ridicule of Peter the Great, the insults of Biron, the contempt of German bureaucrats and French teachers.

Westerners say we are insincere and treacherous, and they regard our sense of face and self-praise as deliberate deception. In our country, the same person can have two faces: ready to shake hands with liberals and also willing to act as the most orthodox royalist. This is not out of any ulterior motive, but just out of respect and to please others. On our skulls, the tubercles that please people are particularly developed.

Hastings's reception at Moscow University was truly extraordinary. From the entrance to the auditorium of the Natural Philosophical Society, ambushes were set up everywhere: here was the president, there was the dean, here was a fledgling professor, there was an old expert who was about to retire and therefore spoke slowly, everyone congratulated him in Latin, German, and French, and all this took place in the terrible tunnel called the corridor. Staying here for even a minute would result in a cold for a month.

Hastings had to take off his hat to everyone, listen attentively, and reply to every word. I had warned him not to repeat Humboldt's mistakes, but he obviously didn't take me seriously. So when I heard him complain about this experience to me, I laughed, a helpless and sad laugh.

Hastings walked into the school hall and just sat down, thinking that he could finally have a moment of peace.

However, as soon as his buttocks landed, he had to stand up again.

Because Sergei Golitsyn, the proctor of Moscow University, thought it necessary to issue a short and powerful order in Russian to commend the great achievements of this famous scientist. Then, the literature professor "officer" Sergei Glinka recited his masterpiece in a hoarse and low voice, which he used when he participated in the Patriotic War in 1812. It began like this:
Hastings, Son of Electricity and Magnetism,
Like Prometheus of Olympus,
Steal the fire from the sky,

Grant the light of wisdom to the mortal world.

The glaciers in the north melted,
The Volga River whispers:
"This is the wisdom bestowed by the sky on the human world."

Like Archimedes' lever, prying the universe

Like Galileo, he could see the sky...

The reason I have left this poem unfinished is not that I have any wish to conceal anything, but that the man to whom it belongs, Sir Arthur Hastings, has said that he will not tell me any more of it.

When Professor Glinka recited his poems, he seemed to be in a battlefield filled with smoke. His pronunciation was powerful and his voice was sometimes high and sometimes low. He slapped the manuscript paper in his hand with force after each sentence, as if he was afraid that the audience would be disrespectful to this scientific superstar who came from afar. The air in the auditorium became heavier, and the applause from the audience rose and fell. It was obvious that the students who were forced to participate were trying to cater to this performance.

Hastings tried to remain dignified at first, because his Russian was not good enough to support him to understand the overly ornate words. However, when he gradually realized the professor's exaggerated metaphors and dramatic speaking style, he lowered his head slightly, covered his mouth with his hands, pretended to adjust his collar, but in fact he was so embarrassed that he wanted to find a hole to crawl into.

He wanted to talk about the new progress made at the European Electromagnetic Conference last year, and share with Moscow the scientific reports he obtained from Faraday, Gauss and others, and the scientific journal Nature he founded. However, our principal, Mr. Devi Gubsky, chose to present him with a bunch of antiques woven with Peter the Great's hair...

Fortunately, Sir Arthur Hastings had good personal cultivation and was well versed in Russian history, so his anxious nonsense finally put a perfect end to this ridiculous farce.

Whenever I recall this incident, it always reminds me of Humboldt's scientific expedition in Siberia.

A Ural Cossack who worked in the Perm Provincial Office always liked to tell how he escorted the "mad Prussian Prince Humboldt" deep into Siberia.

People asked, "What did he do there?"

The Cossack replied: "I do stupid things: gather grass, look at the sand. Once in the salt marsh, he said to me through the interpreter: Go down into the water and fetch me some soil from the bottom. I fetched it, just ordinary soil. But he asked: 'Is the water cold down there?' I thought to myself, no, brother, you can't fool me. So I saluted solemnly and answered: 'Your Excellency, that's what I should do, and as long as it is my duty, I am happy to serve you.'"

Really, although I love my motherland deeply, sometimes I can't help but feel that there is a reason why Europeans look down on Russia. But in the final analysis, this is not because Russians are stupid, on the contrary, it is because Russians are too smart, so that we have too many minds that we shouldn't have!

——Alexander Herzen, Past and Remembrance

The cold wind from Moscow blew through the high walls of the Kremlin and into Herzen's study on the outskirts of the city. In the study, the fire was burning brightly, and Herzen and Sir Arthur Hastings sat opposite each other, with a pot of hot tea and a porcelain plate of Russian pastries between them.

"Mr. Herzen."

Arthur said with a helpless smile, "I have to admit that I lost the debate with you before. Although there are also many guys in the Royal Society who cannot be called natural philosophers, you can at least chat with them about natural philosophy. After all, natural philosophy is a fashion in London, and the generals of the Royal Navy and the Royal Army have always been very concerned about the latest developments in science. But the Moscow Society of Natural Philosophers... Now I really believe that the people who really understand natural philosophy there may not even be enough to stand in a corner of the hall."

Herzen held back his laughter. If he had not graduated, he would have gone to the school auditorium today to see with his own eyes how embarrassed Arthur was on the stage.

Standing beside this British knight were Gauss, Humboldt, Faraday, Ampere and Ohm.

But today, standing next to him were Dvigubsky, Panin, Chumakov and Myakhov.

Just thinking about this scene, Herzen couldn't help laughing: "This is the wonder of Russia, sir. We always turn all profound things into a grand show in our own way."

“It’s really impressive how grand it is.”

Even Secretary Blackwell couldn't help but complain: "From the moment we entered Moscow University, the knight became a sacrifice on the altar. The president, professors, and officials who couldn't even pronounce scientific terms greeted him in various languages. You know, this soon became a competition to see who could congratulate him in the most difficult Latin, German or French."

Arthur really didn't want to dwell on this issue any further. If it wasn't for the purpose of getting closer to Herzen, he didn't even want to mention what happened today at Moscow University.

The main reason why he came to meet Herzen today was for another matter: "Do you know that the Moscow Telegraph has been closed down? Their editor-in-chief Polevoy has been arrested and is currently being held in the residence of the Governor-General, Prince Dmitri Golitsyn."

"Polevoy was arrested?" Herzen's eyes first showed a look of shock, and then he covered it up and said: "This is really unfortunate news, but...but what does this have to do with me?" Arthur said: "I was chatting with Mr. Zubkov, the secretary of the Governor-General yesterday, and we happened to talk about liberalism and the French Revolution. I asked him what the attitude of young people at Moscow University was towards liberalism. He simply gave me a few examples and told me that despite all its shortcomings, in the final analysis, Russia's hope lies in Moscow University. Then he talked to me about several graduates of Moscow University, including you."

"Zubkov told you about me?"

It was not surprising that Herzen was on good terms with Zubkov, for, after all, there were only a handful of liberal circles in Moscow.

If you want to enter this circle, you must at least have attended college, received higher education, or come from a wealthy and prominent family and have received guidance from high-quality tutors. Otherwise, you will not even understand what liberalism is.

These two prerequisites overlap in most cases, which means that almost every liberal in Moscow knows everyone else.

Herzen asked tentatively: "Have you ever visited him at home?"

"went."

Arthur smiled and replied, "I have to say, that place surprised me. Of course, I'm not referring to the exquisite villa he lives in, but the portraits of revolutionary celebrities hanging in the villa's study. I originally just wanted to see the bird specimens, but in fact I saw a wall full of John Hampton, Count Mirabeau, Sieyès, Jean-Sylvain Bailly..."

Herzen joked: "But he didn't dare to hang up the portraits of Cromwell and Robespierre after all."

Arthur shook his finger. "Perhaps that's why Mr. Zubkov is the first secretary in Moscow, and Polevoy of the Moscow Telegraph has been ordered arrested."

Herzen nodded in agreement and said, "I really envy his knowledge of the ways of the world, especially his subtle and sarcastic way of rebutting. I rarely praise officials, but Zubkov is a man I admire very much. He is a liberal, but what is even more surprising is that even though I know this, I still think that this shrewd and capable gentleman will become Russia's Minister of State in the future."

Arthur replied: "I heard from him that you and Polevoy were very close. Are you two friends?"

Herzen looked very conflicted: "We can be considered friends, probably... I really hope he considers me a friend, but we had a quarrel over our positions some time ago..."

"What happened between you and him?"

"I..." Herzen sighed, looking upset. "I was irritated by his comments on Saint-Simonianism, and his rebuttal was really absurd, so I accused him of becoming the kind of backward conservative he had opposed all his life, and called him a coward..."

"However, this backward conservative, the coward you mentioned, has now been arrested by the government."

Arthur picked open Herzen's scar: "As far as I know, cowards are not qualified to stay in such a place."

Herzen stood up upset: "I should go and apologize to him, I...I should have gone earlier."

"No, you should be glad that you didn't go." Arthur advised: "Alexander, you are lucky. Young people's vanity is of no help in solving problems in most cases, but this time a small probability event happened, so you escaped a disaster."

"Is this kind of luck...really considered luck?"

On the one hand, Herzen felt like he had escaped death, but on the other hand, he felt very ashamed.

The 'coward' was sent to prison, while he, the self-righteous 'warrior', was celebrating his escape.

Herzen paced the room anxiously. Suddenly he stopped and asked, "Do you know why they took Polevoy away?"

"What? Nothing more than to make him admit his crime - deliberately attacking the Russian political system and conspiring to overthrow the Russian state system."

Hearing this, Herzen's face suddenly turned pale, and he muttered: "This...if he admits it, he will probably be exiled."

Secretary Blackwell reminded him, "No, you are naive. It's the same even if he doesn't admit it. You probably haven't dealt with the military police. I know a military police colonel in Petersburg. He once boasted to me that he could interrogate a few ink stains even on a flawless white paper."

Herzen swallowed his saliva. He knew that Blackwell was not exaggerating and that the gendarmes did have such means.

Polevoy used to think that as the editor-in-chief of Moscow Telegraph, he could enjoy certain privileges in speech due to the influence of this newspaper.

But now it seems that Nicholas I does not think so.

Herzen couldn't help but ask Arthur: "Do you... do you think there is still hope for the situation?"

"A turning point? Perhaps." Arthur said, "As far as I know, your governor, Duke Dmitri Golitsyn, has a mild temper and is an upright, knowledgeable and decent man. Moreover, he can also be considered a nobleman with liberal tendencies. Therefore, he may give Polevoy a chance."

"Opportunity? What opportunity?" Herzen asked quickly.

Arthur tapped the tabletop with his fingertips. "A chance to save his own skin."

(End of this chapter)