The Shadow of Great Britain

Capítulo 1660: Chapter 46: British Literature Cannot Be Without [The British] (Part 3)

He slowly took a puff of his cigar, then exhaled slowly.

It seems that in today’s mature contest, it was indeed the ancient Devil Agares who triumphed.

The carriage came to a steady stop in front of Kensington Palace.

The palace gates were as solemn and silent as ever, with the plumed hats of the guards arrayed like clouds.

Arthur put away his cigar, adjusted his collar, then swiftly got off the carriage, stood firm, raised his head, and puffed out his chest.

“Sir Arthur Hastings.” A guard stepped forward, saluting as he spoke: “The Duchess of Kent and Princess Victoria have been waiting for quite some time.”

The Rose Hall at Kensington Palace is unusually quiet on weekdays.

The Duchess of Kent has always placed great importance on her daughter’s education, which is reflected not only in the meticulously detailed teaching plans but also in the arrangement of the educational environment.

During lectures, the door to the Rose Hall is always tightly closed, the curtains drawn, and the hearth burns gently, though the incense burner is never lit.

The Duchess of Kent believes that it is a French affectation that could distract her daughter’s attention to inconsequential matters.

Hanging on the wall is a neoclassical painting in the style of Ingres, depicting a woman who looks like a philosopher in deep contemplation, adorned with a golden leaf crown, as if she too is attending the lecture.

According to Conroy, this painting was only put up last spring, replacing a tapestry that depicted Saint George slaying the dragon.

It was Lady Leisen’s idea, though the reasoning seems a bit unfounded, suggesting that the Crown Prince should not be exposed to the culture of knights too early.

When Arthur was led to the Rose Hall by an attendant, the three ladies attending today’s class were already seated.

Student Victoria wore a pale gray morning dress, with long, cinched sleeves and a velvet bow on her chest. She was seated on a low chair near the fireplace, with a desk covered in light green silk before her.

The Duchess of Kent, responsible for supervising and accompanying the lesson, sat on a slightly elevated sofa chair, wearing a modest black satin gown nearly clerical in its simplicity, with a silver-rimmed crepe hat, and holding a short-handled folding fan.

The royal-appointed governess, Lady Leisen, stood by the window, her expression as reserved as ever. Arthur noticed she held a notebook, which was likely the legendary “Diary” that recorded Princess Victoria’s every word and deed.

If one wishes to understand Victoria, nothing could be more precious than the little notebook in Leisen’s hand, which has encapsulated every day Victoria has spent in this world since her birth.

After greeting, Arthur did not immediately begin the lecture. Instead, he took two thin volumes of poetry from his briefcase, the spines embossed in gold with “Tennyson’s Poetry Selection,” and the corners of the covers showed the poet’s fluent handwritten signature.

He respectfully stepped forward, handing one volume to Princess Victoria, while placing the other on the tea table before the Duchess of Kent’s knees.

“Mr. Tennyson asked me to convey his greetings to both of Your Highnesses. He said he could not imagine how his clumsy verses penned for the earth and stars could have reached the ears of the Royal Family.”

Victoria’s eyes lit up immediately, and she eagerly opened the first page of the poetry collection, soon exclaiming: “Is this Mr. Tennyson’s handwritten work?”

The Duchess of Kent also picked up the poetry collection in surprise, saying: “Has this poetry collection not been officially published yet? I have never seen it before.”

“That’s right, it’s an unpublished manuscript,” Arthur smiled and said. “Mr. Tennyson heard that Her Highness the Princess especially loves his line ‘To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield,’ so he stayed up all night to personally transcribe and sign it.”

Victoria’s brows relaxed in joy, and the usually reserved visage of the Duchess of Kent also showed a rare genuine smile.

The Duchess of Kent never imagined that Arthur would present such a valuable gift. The poetry collection is no longer a matter of price; Tennyson’s personal transcription alone is an honor.

Of course, to outsiders, it might seem that way.

However, to Arthur, wasn’t it just that Tennyson lent a hand in transcribing a dozen or so poems?

A trifle indeed.

If it weren’t for the fact that Dickens’ “Oliver Twist” and “The Pickwick Papers” were so lengthy, and that Great Dumas would rather lose his head than gift anything to the British Royal Family, what arrived at Kensington Palace today might not have been Tennyson’s poetry collection.

This claim is not Arthur boasting, as he happens to have an example.

Mr. Disraeli also wanted to present a handwritten copy of “The Young Duke,” but unfortunately, the length was too great for an overnight rush, so he had to reluctantly give up.

But even so, he insisted strongly to Arthur that he should recommend his masterpiece to the Crown Prince whenever possible.

Yet, even if Mr. Disraeli hadn’t said so, Arthur would have done it anyway, since his curriculum at Kensington Palace included not only Natural Philosophy and History but also Contemporary English Literature and Rhetoric, added just last night.

When discussing contemporary English literature, how could one bypass “The British?”

Could you imagine contemporary British literature without “The British?”

Wouldn’t that be like a British Parliament without members?