The Shadow of Great Britain

Capítulo 1398: Chapter 207: Double Blessings (Part 3)

The Tsar likes me?

Arthur found the hypothesis utterly absurd.

Although that old French cripple rarely said anything wrong in his life, nor did he ever commit any mistake, and he always managed to come out on top in the political game of choosing sides.

However, being superstitious about him isn’t wise either.

Because apart from exact science, nothing can obstruct speech; people can express different opinions about anything.

Oh! Damn it!

That’s what he said too!

Arthur, trapped in Talleyrand’s labyrinth, finally understood Napoleon’s feelings; as a proud person, it was really hard not to want to kill this cripple.

But you absolutely cannot do that, because you always have to carefully consider whether Talleyrand is right, and in most cases, this cripple is always right.

Though this hypothesis is absurd, perhaps it should be treated as an assumption for now.

Although Arthur is a novice in diplomacy, his old craft of investigation has not been lost.

Investigation is the art of continuously eliminating various possibilities and ultimately leaving the one closest to the truth.

Arthur sat back in his chair, his fingers unconsciously tapping the table: “Henry, help me compile a list, including officials recently in close contact with the Tsar at the Winter Palace, especially those who have expressed opinions on Ottoman affairs.”

“All of them?”

“No need to provide all of them.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Provided you don’t care about your promotion speed.”

“Uh…”

Blackwell, upon hearing this order, suddenly felt that this bastard might as well go lie back in the coffin for another three days.

He originally planned to attend a cultural salon in St. Petersburg tonight, where numerous socialites would gather. For this, he had specially prepared a beautiful evening outfit and ordered a brand-new pocket watch.

But with one word from the sir, all his good wishes were dashed.

Seeing Blackwell’s dejected expression, Arthur couldn’t help but scold him: “Henry, I’ve always told you to read more books, but you’ve always been dismissive, saying that all the manuals from the Foreign Office are already enough.”

He pulled out the copy of “Tao Te Ching” given to him by Pushkin from the table and shoved it in front of Blackwell: “Now I ask you, as the private secretary to the cultural advisor, can you understand what’s written here?”

Blackwell evasively defended himself: “Diplomats indeed should master multiple languages. I don’t know many, but… isn’t Latin, Greek, Russian, and passable French enough?”

“So, you can’t understand it?”

Blackwell only thought Arthur was throwing his official weight around. He glanced at the book full of boxy characters, convinced that Arthur wouldn’t understand it either. So, pretending to be humble, he sarcastically said: “If you don’t mind, could you explain it to me?”

“Hum!” Arthur saw through his intentions and, wanting to reprimand him, said: “I have three treasures, hold and preserve them: The first is kindness, the second is frugality, and the third, not daring to be ahead of the world! Henry, these three, you truly haven’t missed a single one and have committed them all.”

“You really understand that?” Blackwell was dumbfounded: “You wouldn’t have just made that up, would you?”

Arthur saw this boy was unyielding and not half as clever as Ledley, just about to give him a good repair.

Unexpectedly, a young attendant stumbled in from outside, reporting to Arthur: “Sir, a translator from the Russian Foreign Ministry named Yajin Fu Bichulin has arrived outside, saying he was introduced by Pushkin.”

“Bichulin?”

Arthur remembered this name; he was the priest who Pushkin mentioned as not believing in God, and recently he seemed to be translating many works brought back from China.

Arthur laid down his secretary’s report and straightened his collar: “Did Mr. Bichulin say what he’s here for today?”

“He didn’t say, but he gave me a newspaper as proof, saying if you didn’t believe him, just hand this newspaper to you.”

“A newspaper?”

Arthur took the newspaper from the attendant’s hand, and was greeted by dense Chinese characters.

The first article on the newspaper was “A Brief Account of the Peaceful Change in France.”

During those twenty-six years, there were many rebel generals of great fame, but there was one whose supreme name from ancient times to now was incomparable; his name was Napoleon, also called Napolyon, the names could be used singly or together, as in: Napoleon・Napolyon. He called himself the Great Emperor – Napolyon too.

In the twenty-sixth year of Qianlong, Napolyon was born within the Central Sea on an island named Gorcsiga. His father was a lawyer, or rumor had it that his mother indulged and became pregnant with him. Napolyon went to the capital of France in his youth to study martial arts, holding a minor military position in charge of artillery in his teens…

When Arthur read this, he couldn’t help but twitch at the corners of his mouth.

No need to say more, anyone who could come up with the Chinese translation of ‘Napolyon・Napolyon’ and randomly fabricate Napolyon’s background, such colorful writing was undoubtedly written by the British.

Sure enough, the author’s column prominently stated: Morrison.

The name Morrison might initially seem unfamiliar, but if Robert Morrison was mentioned, many at the Foreign Office would surely know who he was.

He was the newly appointed commercial superintendent in China, and the secretary and translator for William Napier, the prosperous Lord Napier, whose first cousin was Charles Napier the General in Portugal.

Since Bichulin was willing to pull out such a treasure from the bottom of the box, then naturally Arthur had to meet him.

Not to mention anything else, at least he had to finish reading this commentary on Napolyon・Napolyon, right?

If time permitted, he even planned to translate this article into French and send a copy to Louis.