The Shadow of Great Britain

Chapter 1449: Chapter 226: Let Me Emphasize Once Again: I’m Not Some Science Celebrity!

Sir Arthur Hastings visited Moscow when the Moscow Natural Philosophers Association hosted a grand welcome ceremony for him at Moscow University. The association’s members included high chancellors, prosecutors, and prominent figures from various Moscow offices — in short, individuals who had never studied natural philosophy, nor any unnatural philosophy.

Hastings was a diplomat appointed by the King of Britain, and having been awarded the Anna Medal by the Tsar, along with exemptions from material and certificate fees, his reputation naturally reached these people. They knew that this British Knight was a leader within Europe’s electromagnetism community, frequently visited Almack’s Club in London, was received by King Louis Philippe of France in Paris, and had been recognized by the Royal Society, the Paris Academy of Sciences, and the Berlin Academy of Sciences. Thus, they were determined not to embarrass themselves before such a distinguished person.

To this day, we treat Europeans and Europe like provincial folk treat the residents of the imperial capital — with humility, flattery, regarding every difference as a flaw, being embarrassed by our own characteristics, and trying to conceal them. The reason lies in how we are intimidated, with Russians still not liberated from the taunts of Peter the Great, the insults of Byron, the disdain of German bureaucrats and French teachers.

Westerners speak of our duplicity, cunning, and treachery, equating our obsession with face and self-promotion with intentional deceit. Here, one can wear two masks: ready to shake hands warmly with the Liberals and willing to play the most orthodox Royalist simultaneously. This is not a sinister intent, just a courtesy to please others. On our skulls, the nodules for pleasing people are particularly developed.

At Moscow University, the reception for Hastings was indeed extraordinary. From the entrance to the auditorium of the Natural Philosophers Association, ambushes were laid everywhere: here was the principal, there the department head, here the fledgling professor, and there the soon-to-retire, and thus slowly speaking, veteran expert, with each congratulating him in Latin, German, and French, all transpiring in the terrifying tunnel known as the corridor. A minute’s stay here could mean catching a month’s cold.

Hastings had to remove his hat and listen attentively to everyone, responding to each comment. I had initially warned him not to repeat Humboldt’s mistake, but clearly, he hadn’t taken my words seriously. Therefore, when I heard him complaining to me about this experience, I couldn’t help but laugh — it was both helpless and frustrating.

Just as Hastings entered the school’s auditorium and sat down, hoping to find a moment of peace.

However, no sooner had he settled in than he had to rise again.

Because Sergey Golitsyn, the academic director of Moscow University, deemed it necessary to issue a succinct yet powerful statement in Russian, praising the remarkable achievements of this illustrious scientist. Following this, ”Officer” Sergey Glinka, the literary professor, took up his voice from his participation in the War of National Defense in 1812, and with a hoarse, deep tone, recited his creation, starting thus:

Hastings, the Holy Son of Electricity and Magnetism,

Like Prometheus of Olympus,

Steals the heavenly fire,

Granting the brilliance of wisdom to the mortal world.

The glaciers of the Northern Country melt for him,

The waters of the Volga River murmur:

”This is the sage bestowed upon the mortal world by the heavens.”

Like Archimedes’ lever, he moves the cosmos,

Like Galileo’s telescope, he sees through the heavens...

I do not complete this poem not because I wish to conceal anything, but because Sir Arthur Hastings himself was unwilling to continue recounting it to me.

When Professor Glinka recited the poem, it was as if he were on a smoke-fogged battlefield, articulating words powerfully, with varying tones. Every time he shouted a line, he forcefully slapped the manuscript in his hand, seemingly afraid the audience might exhibit a shred of disrespect towards the far-traveled scientific luminary. The atmosphere in the auditorium grew increasingly heavy, and applause from the audience rose one after another, evidently being students coerced into participating to cater to this performance.

Initially, Hastings forcibly maintained his poise, as his Russian was not yet proficient enough to comprehend the overly ornate phrases. However, as he gradually realized the professor’s exaggerated metaphors and theatrical presentation style, he slightly bowed his head, covering his mouth with his hand, pretending to adjust his collar, but truly he was desperately wishing to find a crack to slip into.

He had intended to discuss recent advances at the all-European electromagnetism conference last year, pulling out scientific reports he had obtained from Faraday, Gauss, and others, presenting his founded science journal ”Nature” to share with Moscow. But, our principal Mr. Devegubsky unexpectedly brought out an antiquity woven using Peter the Great’s imperial hair, requesting his appraisal...

Fortunately, Sir Arthur Hastings possessed considerable personal grace and was quite adept in Russian history. Hence, his frazzled, nonsensical blabber somehow managed to conclude the laughable farce perfectly.

Recalling this event always reminds me of Humboldt’s scientific expedition in Siberia.

A Ural Cossack employed in the Perm Province office enjoyed recounting how he escorted the ’Prussian madman Prince Humboldt’ deep into Siberia.

People ask: ”What was he doing there?”