Capítulo 1481: Chapter 239: The Tsar Arrives in Person (Part 2)
“Not exactly a sudden ergence, he was already sowhat famous before, the author of ‘Dikanka Night Talk’, very appreciated by Crown Prince’s Tutor Rukovski, and he has a very good relationship with Pushkin, considered a promising talent unanimously favored in the literary circle.”
“A promising talent?” Tsar Nicholas I flipped to the next page: “His writing is quite interesting, ‘The History of Little Russia’, this is certainly an obscure research direction, but it has a lot of potential for further exploration. Which departnt does he work in?”
“He used to work in the Lands Departnt, and now he’s a lecturer at the won’s college.” Count Benkendorf added so details as the Tsar showed interest: “His ‘The History of Little Russia’ is indeed written with great skill, not only attracting the attention of our Minister of Education and Crown Prince’s Tutor, but also so international friends.”
The Tsar read the manuscript attentively: “International friends? Was this book published in Paris or Berlin?”
Benkendorf replied with a smile: “Not yet, the Russian version is still in print; the French and German editions won’t be out so soon. However, the English edition is already in preparation.”
“English edition?” The Tsar, upon hearing this news, looked at Gogol’s work with a higher regard: “Have any British publishers discussed the publication work with him?”
“Yes! And you know that publisher as well. Sir Arthur Hastings, he’s one of the founders and shareholders of that popular British magazine ‘The British’.”
Tsar Nicholas I put down the manuscript upon hearing the na: “He’s also a publisher?”
Count Benkendorf chuckled and nodded: “Well, the British—who doesn’t have a side business to earn money? After all, British nobility isn’t like our Russian nobility, relying entirely on estates and agriculture for a living. Look at the Earl of Dalhousie, doesn’t he hold shares in the New Zealand Company?”
“Ha! That’s quite novel.” Tsar Nicholas I chuckled at the unexpected information: “I don’t doubt that he has a sideline, but I thought he was a small banker or stock investor, not involved in news dia. It’s quite comical to imagine him running a publishing business while managing Scotland Yard, sending his police force to raid his own press!”
Count Benkendorf lightly flattered: “You are indeed sharp-eyed. When he was at Scotland Yard, Sir Arthur Hastings was indeed in charge of censoring London publications.”
Tsar Nicholas I laughed, coughing: “So that’s how he started his newspaper! If he were doing police work in Russia, I’d order Polevoy to be arrested in Peterborough, and he’d have released him right after, just so he wouldn’t miss out on profits.”
Count Benkendorf joked: “He wouldn’t go as far as releasing Polevoy, since they don’t know each other. But, as I ntioned, he has a good relationship with Mr. Gogol; at a cultural event earlier, I even heard him highly recomnd Mr. Gogol’s new work to our Minister of Education.”
“Really? How did he evaluate Gogol?”
“He said Gogol was Russia’s Adolphe Thiers.”
Tsar Nicholas I was surprised: “Does he hold Gogol in such high regard? Are you sure you didn’t hear it wrong?”
“Your Majesty, I never lie.”
“Hmm…” Tsar Nicholas I pondered for a mont and then instructed: “Gogol is now a lecturer at the Patriotic Won’s College?”
“That’s correct, but as far as I know, this young scholar seems to be aspiring to beco a university professor. Uvarov ntioned before that Gogol has already made several trips to Kyiv University.”
“Kyiv University?” Tsar Nicholas I imdiately decided: “Such a scholar shouldn’t go to Kyiv. If others find out, they might think that Russia doesn’t respect talent. Here’s what to do: once we return to St. Petersburg, bring a copy of ‘The History of Little Russia’. If it is indeed well-written, let him beco a professor at Peterburg University. As for the won’s college, I’ll discuss it with the Queen later; using such a scholar rely to teach noble ladies is a misuse of talent.”
Benkendorf made a note of the Tsar’s demand and then asked: “If you wish to see the book urgently, I can send soone to ask Sir Arthur Hastings; he seems to have a printed copy of ‘The History of Little Russia’, and he is currently in Moscow.”
“He’s in Moscow?”
When Benkendorf ntioned this, the Tsar’s interest was imdiately piqued: “What is he doing in Moscow?”
“On vacation, while also engaging in cultural exchange at Moscow University.” Count Benkendorf said: “He gave a lecture there last month, and I hear it was very well received, making friends with many Moscow nobles. Duke Dmitry Golitsyn even vacated his old mansion on Tver Street for him to stay in.”
Upon hearing this, Tsar Nicholas I’s face suddenly turned cold: “He does seem to have a lot of leisure ti! Ignorant about Polevoy’s matters, and then Moscow keeps catching fire; from any angle, as Governor of Moscow, he cannot shirk responsibility!”
The atmosphere froze, Benkendorf’s quill suspended on the parchnt, the ink shimring under the lamp’s blue glow.
“Should I arrange a eting afterward, Your Majesty?” he cautiously asked: “Perhaps Duke Dmitry Golitsyn can explain…”
“Explain how he turned Moscow into a scorched ruin?” Tsar Nicholas I, both angry and amused: “What’s the difference between him and Napoleon? After all, they both burned Moscow to the ground.”
Benkendorf, seeing the Tsar’s anger, did not dare to speak for Duke Golitsyn, even though they had a good relationship, he had no intention of sticking his neck out at this critical juncture.
The carriage suddenly jolted, a crimson glow flashed through the gap in the velvet curtains, and beneath the heavy gaze, the eastern part of Moscow began to spew grey-black smoke.
“It’s on fire again…”
In the distance, twelve clock chis resonated, and Benkendorf caught a glimpse of the snow-hidden spires of the Kremlin. Fifteen golden-dod churches stood like burning crosses through the blizzard.
He secretly glanced at the Tsar, whose iron-blue face contrasted sharply with the fiery light, the most noble figure in all of Russia.
“Send an invitation to Hastings.” As the carriage rolled over the icy Mokhovaya Street, Tsar Nicholas I suddenly spoke: “Tell him I wish to hear a British gentleman’s unique insights on ‘The History of Little Russia’.”
He took off his glasses to wipe the lenses, the snowstorm refracting into kaleidoscopic patterns, and he calmly said: “Rember to prepare whiskey from his holand, Englishn aren’t used to our vodka.”
“What about the eting previously set to gather all officials above the fifth rank in Moscow…”
“Have them wait outside the Kremlin.” Even though Tsar Nicholas I’s tone was calm, the underlying tumult was apparent: “I need my mood pacified by so rewarding topics, otherwise, I might not resist sending them all to Siberia.”
Benkendorf was about to respond when suddenly a gust of wind blew open the curtain.
Snowflakes, carrying the sll of scorched earth, rushed in. He saw a few black figures huddled at the Kremlin’s base, their bodies wrapped in rags quickly being enveloped by snow.
The Tsar’s saber was sheathed at so point, and only a few lting snowflakes were left on the velvet cushion.
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