Arthur shook his head, picked up his teacup, and blew on the steam rising from the surface of the tea: "Don’t credit with all the good things. If Jas is soone who can’t be helped, even if you invite to be his godfather, I can’t save him. Jas did a very good job with the Golden Cross Station case. Since he perford so well, it’s only natural for to write him a recomndation letter. But even if the letter is sent, in the end, whether he can hold the position still depends on himself."
Hutter listened and smiled in agreent: "You’re quite right. He’s now just worried he can’t keep steady, working overti more desperately than when I was a constitutional soldier in Russia."
Arthur paused, his expression indifferent: "It’s not to that extent, tell Jas not to be too nervous. What the world lacks most is not smart people, but those who work diligently without being too clever by half. If Jas can understand this, further promotion is just a matter of ti."
Hutter nodded, jokingly replied: "I’ll be sure to pass that on. He’s indeed changed a lot in the past two years, not only is he steadier in his work, but more composed as a person. In the past, he’d lose his mind upon seeing a pretty girl, but now he at least knows to ask what the girl’s father does first."
These words from Hutter imdiately drew laughter from several officers sitting at nearby tables.
Arthur couldn’t help but chuckle softly, holding his teacup with a light smile: "Speaking of which, I owe you an apology. Back in Druiysk, didn’t I tell you I wanted to secure a Second-class Secretary position at the Embassy in Russia for you? I found the person, and wrote the letter too. Palrston initially agreed readily, but in the end, it still fell through."
Hutter was taken aback, as this matter was indeed a small knot in his heart. However, considering that Arthur had settled his brother well, Hutter had never brought it up again.
He waved his hand with a chuckle and said: "Sir, I had already guessed that would happen. After all, it’s a Foreign Office position, not sothing you can secure so easily. Even those second-generation aristocrats from Oxford and Cambridge find it extrely difficult to get a secretary position abroad in the Foreign Office. I’m already imnsely grateful that you’re willing to put in the effort on my behalf."
These words from Hutter weren’t entirely fake courtesy.
In 19th-century Britain, Foreign Office positions were considered highly coveted yet in short supply.
Firstly, the Foreign Office, like most departnts in White Hall, neither conducted exams nor had an open recruitnt system. To be appointed to the Foreign Office, one usually needed a recomndation.
Diplomatic positions were always seen as ideal careers for second sons of the nobility. The eldest son would inherit the title, while the second son would be sent to the Church, army, or Foreign Office, a common arrangent for many British upper-class nobility. Furthermore, only such upper-class nobility could find recomnders with sufficient political influence, who were often revered old noble family mbers, or friends closely connected to Cabinet mbers.
If you wished to secure a higher position like a Second-class Secretary abroad right from the start, then the weight of the recomnder had to be even more substantial, such as the Foreign Secretary himself, or mbers of the Privy Council (forr pri ministers, forr Cabinet ministers, the Archbishop of Canterbury, etc.).
Therefore, for soone like Hutter, who ca from a middle-class background, to be selected as an intern transcriptionist during a rare recruitnt by the Foreign Office was already a stroke of incredible luck. To beco a Second-class Secretary, he really didn’t dare to expect too much.
Take Henry Blackwell, who was just scolded by Arthur as an example; Blackwell belonged to that lucky batch.
But being lucky didn’t an Blackwell was worthless. This seemingly unremarkable attaché at the Embassy in Russia was a true gentleman of Oxford.
Although Arthur often joked about Oxford, he had to admit: in this era, a child from a middle-class family attending Oxford itself demonstrated strong learning ability and personal quality.
During his years in Britain, besides Blackwell, Arthur knew only four Oxford graduates from middle-class families.
The first was Isaac Newton, the second was Jeremy Bentham, the third was Thomas Malthus, and the last was the peculiar Oxford priest, the youngest fellow of Oriel College, Oxford, John Newman.
Although Blackwell couldn’t compare to these people, he was still a rare talent.
As a product of standard Oxford classical education, Blackwell mastered six foreign languages: Latin, Greek, German, French, Spanish, and Russian. Although his literary skills fell short of Eld Carter, the jewel of classical literature at the University of London, the gap between them wasn’t too vast, which was already very comndable.
Even though Hutter felt competent, he recognized the hard limits of his educational background and upbringing. Unlike Arthur, he didn’t have political heavyweights like Lord Brougham and Earl of Dalmo to back him, so failing to secure a high position in the Foreign Office didn’t cause him much regret.
Arthur put down his teacup and stood up, patting Hutter on the shoulder: "Let’s go, it’s too cold here, let’s find sowhere else to sit."
"How about the private box then?" Hutter smiled, getting up: "The one on the east side is reserved just for you by Miss Ivan, where the fire burns 24 hours a day."
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