Shadow of great britain

#666 - The Tsar comes

The endless convoy on the snowfield was like a black centipede, and the thirty-two pairs of steel wheels crushed the last moonlight on the snowfield.

Nicholas I took off his gold-framed pince-nez and wiped the ice crystals on the lenses with a velvet cloth.

Count Benckendorff, who was traveling with the Tsar, noticed that the old scar on the Tsar's index finger was trembling - a souvenir left by the Decembrist rebellion in 1825.

"Your Majesty, Moscow has been put on level three alert." The Tsar's most trusted favorite folded the secret letter into the shape of a swan: "Moscow Governor-General Duke Dmitry Golitsyn insisted on welcoming you in person, but according to your instructions..."

"I don't want to see him now. Let him go to St. Basil's Cathedral to pray." The Tsar's saber cut a tear in the carriage carpet: "Tell Shubinsky that I want to see the original interrogation record before dawn - not Volkov's perfumed copy."

In the distance, the golden dome of the Kremlin has emerged from the blizzard.

The secret journey to Moscow overnight seemed to make Nicholas I, the supreme ruler of Tsarist Russia, tired. He held his forehead with one hand and gently closed his eyes, but his thoughts were not interrupted.

"How is Polevoy of the Moscow Telegraph now?"

Count Benkendorf's voice lowered, as if he was worried about disturbing the Tsar's nap. "According to your order, Polevoy has been taken to the prison in Peterborough Fortress. At first, he was silent all day long, but in the past two days he seems to have realized his mistakes. Almost every day he asks the jailer to let him write to you to confess his sins. Do you want to find time to summon him recently?"

"Don't worry, he still needs to reflect on himself." Nicholas I's deep voice sounded particularly harsh in the silent environment: "Everyone who is imprisoned always says that they know they are wrong and swear to God that they have deeply reflected on themselves. But if they are not allowed to taste the real pain and feel the fear and trembling in the depths of their souls, then it won't be long before they relapse."

Benkendorf did not refute the Tsar's words, but he still insisted on reporting the good news he had just received yesterday: "I heard that Polevoy's reflection this time was very thorough. Although he was imprisoned in the fortress, he did not give up his creation."

The Tsar opened his eyes and said with some mockery in his tone: "What a good writer who never stops writing. What did our Jacobin leader write this time?"

“It’s an improvement over the past.”

Benkendorf began: "This time he did not focus too much on the content that is harmful to society and the public interest. I have read the content and story outline of the first few chapters. The protagonist of this story is a young woman from a poor Siberian peasant family. Her family is poor and her parents died early. She is forced to live alone and struggle for a living. In order to escape the plight of her family, she left her hometown and moved to a relatively large city. In this city, Balasha was exploited and abandoned by some irresponsible men, and her life became more difficult. She had no choice but to succumb to the pressure of survival and do some menial jobs. Even though she tried to maintain her self-esteem and longed for a better and more dignified life, her health gradually declined, and finally she could only die in loneliness."

"A classic tragic story." Nicholas I sneered, "Is Polevoy writing about a peasant girl? Why do I feel like he is writing about himself?"

Count Benkendorf nodded slightly. "Yes, Your Majesty, his spirit has been completely crushed by your iron will. God bless Russia. I believe that in the near future, we will gain a great tragic writer with impeccable literary skills. As for the personality of the Russian Jacobin leader, it will be completely erased from Polevoy."

It was hard to tell whether Nicholas I was happy or sad. He said calmly, "When Polevoy's new work is finished, take the manuscript to the Winter Palace. He will receive the same treatment as Pushkin for this work. To celebrate Polevoy's rebirth, I will serve as the sole censor of this new work that will go down in history."

"As you wish, Your Majesty." Count Benckendorff placed his hands on his chest and bowed slightly.

After a moment of silence, the Tsar added: "Remember to send someone to give our great writer some hope, tell him that a peasant girl can also change her fate. There are indeed many bastards in Russia, but at least I am still very humane. A true nobleman cannot bear to see someone die alone. If this work is satisfactory, I will grant him the right to settle in St. Petersburg."

The moonlight shone on Benkendorf's face, outlining his sharp features. "With such lenient treatment, I believe Polevoy will set a good example for the liberals in the country."

The Tsar then ordered: "Polevoy's Moscow Telegraph has been banned, and new publications must be started as soon as possible. Odessa News and Tbilisi News are doing very well. How is the preparation for the Ministry of National Education Magazine going?"

Count Benkendorf took out a stack of documents from his briefcase and placed them next to the oil lamp on the small table. "These are the articles that will be published in the first issue of the Journal of the Ministry of National Education. Each one is very well written. This one in particular was highly recommended to me by Uvarov."

Nicholas I put on his gold-rimmed pince-nez, took the manuscript and glanced at it: "Nikolai Vasilyevich Gogol Yanovsky? I haven't seen this name before. Is he a newcomer who has emerged recently?"

"He didn't emerge out of nowhere. He was already famous before. He was the author of Evenings on a Farm Near Dikanka. Zhukovsky, the Crown Prince's tutor, admired him very much. Pushkin also had a very good relationship with him. He was considered a rising star that was unanimously favored by the literary circle."

"A rising star?" Nicholas I turned to the next page. "It's quite interesting. History of Little Russia. This is indeed an unpopular research direction, but it has great potential for further exploration. Which department does he work in?"

"He used to work in the Land and Resources Department, and is now a lecturer at the Women's College." Seeing that the Tsar was interested in this man, Count Benckendorff added some details: "His book, The History of Little Russia, is indeed very well written. Not only is it favored by our Minister of Education and the Prince's Tutor, it has even attracted the attention of some international friends."

The Tsar read the manuscript carefully: "International friends? Was the book published in Paris or Berlin?"

Benkendorf smiled and replied, "No, the Russian version of the book is still being printed. The French and German versions may not be released so quickly. However, the English version is already in preparation."

"English edition?" Upon hearing this news, the Tsar could not help but take a more favorable look at Gogol's article. "Has a British publisher discussed publishing with him?"

"Yes! And you know the publisher. Sir Arthur Hastings, the founder and one of the shareholders of the popular British magazine, The Brit."

When Nicholas I heard this name, he even put down the manuscript in his hand and asked: "He is also a publisher?"

Count Benkendorf nodded with a smile and said, "Who among the British doesn't have a sideline to make money? After all, the British aristocracy is not like our Russian aristocracy, who relies entirely on manors and agriculture for their livelihood. Look at Count Darramore, doesn't he still hold shares in the New Zealand company?"

"Oh! This is really novel." Nicholas I couldn't help laughing when he heard this incredible information. "I don't doubt that he has a side job, but I thought he was a small banker or a stock investor, but I didn't expect that he was actually working in the news media. He works in the publishing industry while being in charge of Scotland Yard's business. He sent his own police to ban his own newspaper. Isn't this scene too funny?"

Count Benckendorff flattered him lightly: "You really have a keen eye. When he was at Scotland Yard, Sir Arthur Hastings was indeed in charge of the publication ban in London."

Nicholas I laughed so hard he coughed. "Come on, now I know how he opened his newspaper! If he came to Russia to work as a policeman, I would order Polevoy to be arrested in Peterborough, and he would have to release him the next moment. After all, this would delay his making money."

Count Benkendorf joked, "He won't release Polevoy, after all, they don't know each other. But, as I said before, he has a good relationship with Mr. Gogol. At the previous cultural event, I heard him strongly recommend Mr. Gogol's new work to our Minister of Education."

"Really? What did he say about Gogol?"

"He said Gogol was the Russian Adolphe Thiers."

Nicholas I was surprised and asked, "Does he think so highly of Gogol? Are you sure you heard it right?"

"Your Majesty, I never lie."

"Hmm..." Nicholas I pondered for a moment, then ordered: "Gogol is now a lecturer at the Patriotic Women's College?"

"Yes, but from what I know, this young scholar seems to be seeking to become a university professor. Uvarov mentioned to me before that Gogol has already made several trips to Kiev University."

"Kiev University?" Nicholas I made a prompt decision: "How can such a scholar go to Kiev? If other people knew about this, they would think that Russia does not respect talents. How about this, when you return to St. Petersburg, bring me a copy of "History of Little Russia". If the book is really well written, let him be a professor at St. Petersburg University. As for the Women's College, I will talk to the Queen later. It is really a waste of talent for such a scholar to only teach noble ladies."

Benkendorf wrote down the Tsar's request on a piece of paper, and then asked again: "If you are in a hurry to read it, I can send someone to ask Sir Arthur Hastings. He seems to have a printed copy of "History of Little Russia", and he is in Moscow now."

"He is in Moscow?"

It would have been better if Benkendorf hadn't mentioned it. But when he did, the Tsar immediately became interested: "What is he doing in Moscow?"

"He's on vacation and he went to Moscow University for cultural exchange." Count Benckendorff said, "He gave a lecture there last month. I heard it was well received and he made friends with many Moscow nobles. Duke Dmitri Golitsyn even vacated his old house on Tverskaya Street for him to live in."

When Nicholas I heard this, his face immediately turned cold: "He has a lot of free time! He knows nothing about Polevoy's affairs, and then there are fires in Moscow. No matter from which angle, he, the Governor-General of Moscow, cannot escape blame!"

The atmosphere was frozen for a while. The tip of Count Benckendorff's feather pen hovered over the parchment, and the ink glowed with a faint blue luster under the oil lamp.

"Do we need to arrange a meeting later, Your Majesty?" He began cautiously, "Prince Dmitri Golitsyn may be able to explain..."

"Explain how he burned Moscow to ashes?" Nicholas I laughed in anger: "What's the difference between him and Napoleon? They both burned Moscow."

When Benkendorf saw that the Tsar was angry, he did not dare to speak for Duke Golitsyn. Although they had a good relationship, at this critical juncture, he had no intention of taking the blame for the other party.

The carriage jolted suddenly, and a scarlet light flashed between the gaps in the velvet curtains. Under the solemn gaze, a gray-black smoke screen rose again in the east of Moscow.

"There's a fire again..."

Twelve bells rang in the distance, and Benckendorff caught a glimpse of the Kremlin spires looming in the snow. The fifteen golden-domed churches looked like burning crosses in the blizzard.

He secretly glanced at the Tsar out of the corner of his eye. In sharp contrast to the fiery light was the iron-blue face of the most noble Majesty in all of Russia.

"Send an invitation to Hastings." As the carriage rolled through the icy Mokhovaya Street, Nicholas I suddenly said, "Just say I want to hear the unique views of the British gentleman on the History of Little Russia."

He took off his glasses and wiped the lenses. The snowstorm reflected a kaleidoscope of light on the mirror. He said calmly, "Remember to prepare whiskey from his hometown. The English are not used to our vodka."

"The previously scheduled meeting of all Moscow officials above the fifth rank..."

"Wait outside the Kremlin." Although Nicholas I spoke calmly, everyone could hear the turbulent waves behind his calm words: "I need some topics that can calm my mind and relieve my fatigue. Otherwise, I am worried that I may not be able to resist and send them all to Siberia."

Benkendorf was about to respond when a gust of wind blew away the car curtain.

Snow flakes carrying a burning smell blew towards him. He saw several dark figures huddled against the Kremlin wall, their bodies wrapped in rags being quickly buried by the snow.

The Tsar's sword had been sheathed at some point, and only a few melting snowflakes remained on the velvet cushion.