Chapter 594: Fourth-Rank Civil Servant Mr. Hei

Russia needs order and strict laws. There can be no self-righteousness or disobedience. I regard one's life as military service, because everyone is serving in the military. The revolution has reached the threshold of Russia, but I swear that as long as I have a breath, I will never let him in.

——Nicholas I, the 15th Tsar of the Romanov Dynasty of Russia and the 11th Emperor of the Russian Empire

Every respected person is willing and aware of the need for the government to establish a highly vigilant police agency to maintain public order and prevent crime. The old police department will only oppress ordinary people and alienate the close relationship between the Tsar and the people, while the new security police agency will bring a sense of security to honest and kind citizens.

——Count Alexander Hristoforovich Benkendorf, General of the Russian Imperial Army and the first director of the Third Bureau of the Imperial Office

Poland, girl, and...Liverpool.

Arthur kept repeating these words in Shubinsky's ear from the beginning of this impromptu cocktail party.

If Shubinsky didn't know the inside story of the Liverpool bombing, he would have regarded these words as the mumbling of a British lecher.

The decadent lives of diplomats from European countries are well known, and it is not uncommon for them to be interested in exotic girls.

But Shubinsky knows the British friend in front of him very well. He is a British man with a Russian spirit and a senior police officer of the Royal Metropolitan Police with an iron will.

As a big celebrity in London society, Arthur has a wide range of interests and hobbies, and it is not difficult to collect his personal information.

When Shubinsky was working in London, he was ordered to investigate Arthur's background and even sent someone to track his daily itinerary.

This person's life is as monotonous as a steam engine that never stops day and night. He basically shuttles between Whitehall, Fleet Street and Hyde Park every day.

However, occasionally he will go to Greenwich and the West End Theater to play.

Perhaps the biggest doubt about him is that when he goes to the East End, he often disappears as soon as he enters the narrow streets there.

In order to solve this mystery, Shubinsky once sent more people to the East End to investigate, but the hooligans in Tower Hamlets soon let his men know why this was their territory. Even if Napoleon's nephew strayed into this place, he would be stripped naked and tied up in a small dark room. Here, the great French playwright would be charged per head. The hooligans naturally didn't take a few Russian secret police seriously.

If this only doubt is excluded, Arthur Hastings' public image is simply too good to be true.

Before ordering the police to open fire, he was recognized by British society as a model of the police.

From high-ranking cabinet officials to the common people in London, the political, scientific, philosophical and music circles all considered him a leader among British youth.

Although the Church of England did not have a high opinion of him due to religious issues, the British Catholic Church thought he was a promising talent.

The most commendable thing is that in such a chaotic public opinion environment in London, Arthur Hastings has never been dug up by street tabloids about his chaotic private life.

Perhaps this is the characteristic of all big figures who have risen from the bottom. Shubinsky feels that in this respect, Arthur is very similar to Fouché of France, and even an enhanced version.

Because even people like Fouché who care about nothing but work, after becoming rich, can't help but change their furniture to pure gold to show off to outsiders.

However, Sir Arthur Hastings is well aware of the principle of not showing off wealth. In addition to a maid who cleans the house, he doesn't even hire any extra cooks and grooms.

But does this mean that Arthur is very honest?

Shubinsky doesn't believe it.

As a political creature and a small figure in the upper class, Colonel Shubinsky knows that people who do this are not because they are away from vulgar tastes, but because they have greater pursuits in other directions.

Keeping everything simple in terms of food, clothing, housing and transportation, and cherishing feathers to such an extent, often means that he is greedy for only supreme authority.

He has always been clean, but at a critical moment he took the initiative to take the blame for shooting citizens...

That can only mean one thing.

He calculated in his mind that what he lost in this job was definitely not as much as what he gained.

And the words just now also clearly revealed this point. A former assistant police inspector of Scotland Yard is about to be transferred to the cultural counselor of the embassy in Russia.

When Shubinsky thought of this, his Adam's apple moved and he swallowed his saliva.

Perhaps for those big figures who are above Shubinsky, what can Arthur do even if he is transferred to the cultural counselor?

But Shubinsky, a small figure in the political arena, cannot take the risk of offending Arthur.

The cultural counselor, this position can almost be regarded as the fourth or fifth person in the British Embassy in Russia.

Above him are the ambassador to Russia, Earl Daramore, the chargé d'affaires appointed by the ambassador to be in charge of the embassy when he is away, and the British military attaché in Russia.

There are no more than two other counselors at the same level as him, and below him are the assistant military attachés to Russia, first, second and third class secretaries, mission attachés and their assistants.

According to the diplomatic work principles stipulated by the Vienna Conference, there are three types of top leaders of envoys stationed abroad, based on their powers and responsibilities and the level of diplomatic relations between the two countries.

The first type is the highest-level diplomatic representative at the ambassadorial level who can fully represent the will of the king and the government. The British Ambassador to Russia, Earl Durham, falls into this category. In formal diplomatic situations, they enjoy the honorific title of 'Your Excellency'.

The second type is the representative abroad in the usual sense. It is also the largest number and is responsible for communicating with the head of state of the host country. In formal diplomatic situations, they are honored as 'noble subordinates'.

The third type is agency. The status of agents is much lower than the previous two. Because the charge d'affaires is not dispatched to the head of state of the host country, but to the foreign minister and foreign minister. The agent is in a formal situation and has the honorific title of "Step".

According to British diplomatic practice, every year, diplomatic missions abroad must send their lists of attachés to the Chief Executive in London and Middlesex to ensure that they can obtain diplomatic immunity. Along with the release of this attaché directory, there is usually a "Social Title Directory" and a "Positive Title Directory".

According to the title of Earl Durham's ambassadorial diplomatic representative, it goes without saying that one person in the British Embassy in Russia has ascended to heaven.

The Earl of Durham ranks at the top of the list of British envoys abroad in the "Road of Ranks". The British Embassy in Russia must also be the first among the British embassies abroad, and Arthur, the cultural counselor in Russia, must also be the top. The first counselor among British cultural counselors abroad.

And according to what Arthur said, with his close relationship with Count Duramo, maybe Count Duramo would also designate him to be the charge d'affaires when the ambassador is away.

If that were the case, he would have become a minister-counselor.

Even if he doesn't have such good luck, his current position as counselor alone brings him many privileges that Shubinski can't even imagine.

Forget about commonplace things like tax exemption and diplomatic immunity. Even after Arthur left the Russian embassy, ​​the Russian court usually awarded him a medal that Shubinsky thought about day and night in accordance with diplomatic practice. .

High-ranking ambassadors such as Count Duramo are usually awarded the Order of the White Eagle.

Civilian counselors like Arthur are generally awarded the third level of the Order of St. Vladimir.

In addition to these honors, diplomats are also required to receive standard gifts when they leave office. At the very least, he can also get a snuff bottle studded with diamonds, turquoise and various jewelry.

When facing the Russians, Shubinsky, a middle-level cadre of the Third Bureau and the Military Police Regiment, just wanted to look at people with his nose, but when facing a senior diplomat like Arthur, he still had to lower his attitude.

Because when he was in London, he served only as an assistant military attaché.

According to the Russian official ranking list, he was only a ninth-grade army captain at that time.

Although he is now a sixth-grade military police colonel, according to the hierarchy of Russian officialdom, a counselor like Arthur who serves in a high-level embassy is definitely a genuine senior civil servant, an undisputed A fourth-grade officer!

If converted according to Russia's local government positions, officials who can match Arthur should be senior officials in border areas, senior officials in inland core provinces, local prosecutors in the judicial system, provincial financial supervisors, and responsible for the security of a province. The chief of police!

"Oh my God!" Shubinsky slapped his forehead and shouted out his mantra again: "Arthur, my old brother, you still said that I was promoted. In my opinion, it was obviously you who was promoted. That's right! We were both servants of the big shot in the past. Now, you have become the big shot, but I am still the servant."

Shubinski's words were overtly and covertly submissive. He did not dare to make his words too clear, so he could only use "the waiter's nonsense" to take away his responsibility for the Liverpool bombing.

When Shubinsky said this, he couldn't help but envy: "It seems that it won't be long before I can see you at social banquets in Moscow and St. Petersburg. You will be wearing a green woolen top with a V-shaped The notched black velvet collar and black velvet material collar, the buttons on the chest and back are gold-plated, with the royal emblems of the left and right beasts inlaid on them.”

Seeing Shubinski's appearance, Arthur did not continue to push him towards death.

He came out to make friends, not to add more enemies.

As for the Liverpool bombing, although he has never forgotten it, he is not stingy enough to have trouble with Shubinski. Instead of retaliating against Shubinsky, it would be better to use this leverage to build a good relationship with him. Besides, this isn't the first time he's done something like this. Wasn't the last person with whom he established a good friendship because of the bombing case Mr. August Schneider of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs?

Arthur took out his pocket watch from his pocket and looked at the time. He immediately stood up and patted Shubinsky on the shoulder: "Sergey, you drink with your belly today, and I will pay for all the expenses. I forgot to tell you, tonight I had a hand in the premiere of "Turandot." As for the Poles, you don't have to worry about them. If they want to come here to cause trouble, I will kill them before I can, except for the Polish girl, of course. As we all know, they are very beautiful.”

Shubinski watched Arthur turning around and leaving in a graceful manner. The little German follower behind him seemed to think it was impolite to leave like this, so he apologetically took off his hat and smiled at him before stepping out of the bar room. .

But Shubinski didn't pay too much attention to Arthur's rudeness. He was still thinking about the meaning behind Arthur's words. For a moment, he even forgot about today's mission.

Shubinsky held the wine glass and murmured to himself: "Oh my God! Hastings, a fourth-grade civil servant, a serf becoming a fourth-grade civil servant, it is really ridiculous no matter how you hear it..."

…

While Shubinsky was still immersed in the shock that the Tsar might award the Order of St. Vladimir to a York serf, the social activities between the Moscow State University and the University of Göttingen continued in the second-floor box of the theater. Advancing towards climax.

And all this is due to the sudden appearance of a Frenchman.

Mr. Alexandre Dumas seemed particularly lonely in the theater without the actress, but fortunately, the Napoleonic War stories told by young people filled the emptiness in his heart.

"When Napoleon arrived in Moscow, my father was still cleaning things here and there. He always did things slowly and not cleanly at all. Finally everything was arranged and the carriage stopped at the door. My father and uncle They hurried to have breakfast, but a servant suddenly rushed into the dining room and reported: Something bad happened! The enemy has entered the Dragumilov Gate!

Everyone was stunned when they heard this, and their hearts dropped. Everyone prayed in their hearts: Oh my God! God bless you! At this time, everyone was in a panic, in a mess, and was gasping for air. When they ran to the street, they saw Napoleon's dragoons galloping all over the street. They were wearing steel helmets and had a horse's tail raised behind them. All the city gates were closed, and my father had no choice but to resign himself to fate, and so did I. At that time, I was still a baby and was being nursed by my nurse Darya.

In the first few days when the French soldiers entered the city, they were just so-so. Sometimes two or three soldiers came in and made gestures to indicate whether there was wine. As usual, the servants at home poured a cup for each of them, and they left after drinking, saluting before leaving. But then a fire broke out in the city, and the fire became more and more intense. The city became chaotic, with robberies and various disasters occurring.

I heard from the nanny that our family was staying in a wing of Princess Mecherskaya's house, and that the house was also on fire. So my uncle advised us: "It's better to come to my house. My house is made of stone, the yard is deep, and the walls are strong." ’ We went, and the master and his servants all walked together, because at that time there was no distinction between superior and inferior.

The family walked to Tver Boulevard and saw that the trees there were on fire. Finally, when we arrived at Golokhvastov's house, we saw that the house was filled with smoke and flames were shooting out of all the windows. My uncle was stunned, not believing his eyes. There was a big garden behind the house, and we turned there, thinking it would be safer.

We were sitting on a bench and worrying, when suddenly a group of drunken soldiers came in from nowhere. My uncle was wearing a large fur robe for traveling. A soldier rushed towards him and wanted to peel off his fur robe. When the old man refused, the soldier pulled out a dagger and slashed his face, causing him to die when he died. , leaving a scar on his face.

Several other soldiers started to deal with us. One soldier took me away from the wet nurse, unswaddled me, and looked to see if there were any banknotes or diamonds inside. There was nothing there. Every time my nanny Ardamonovna mentioned this, she would get so angry that she would gnash her teeth and curse: "Then for God's sake, I deliberately tore the wrapping cloth and threw it on the ground." As soon as they left, there was a big mess again. ’

There was a servant named Platon in our family, who was later sent to serve as a soldier. He was very greedy for drinking, and he was really fooling around that day. He hung a saber on his waist and wandered around. It turned out that the day before the enemy entered the city, Count Rostopchin opened the armory and distributed weapons to everyone, and Platon got a saber. That evening, Platon saw a dragoon riding into my yard. There was a horse in the stable at home, and the dragoon wanted to take it away.

Unexpectedly, Platon jumped up to him, grabbed the reins and said: 'The horse belongs to my family, we won't give it to you. ’ The dragoon raised his pistol to scare him, but the gun was obviously unloaded. My father was there at the time. Seeing this, he hurriedly shouted to Platon: ‘Give him the horse, this is none of your business. ’

But Platon had a bad temper. He didn't listen to my father at all. Instead, he drew his saber and aimed it at the dragoon's head. The dragoon swayed but did not fall, so Platon hit him hard again. Did it a few times. Everyone thought at the time that this was the end for us, and that as soon as our fellow dragoons found out what had happened, we would be finished.

But Platon didn't care. As soon as the dragoon fell, he grabbed his feet, dragged the unfortunate guy into the cesspool, and left him there. The guy was still breathing. The dragoon's horse stood aside, motionless, kicking the dirt with its hooves, as if it knew what was going on. We put him in the stable, where he was probably burned to death.

Everyone hurriedly escaped from the yard, and the fire became more and more terrible. Exhausted and hungry, we found a house that was still on fire, so we went inside to rest. Unexpectedly, less than an hour later, our people shouted from the street again: ‘Come out, come out, there’s a fire! ’ My nanny immediately tore a piece of canvas off the pool table and wrapped me in it to keep me from catching a cold at night.

In this way the wet nurse and the nurse took me to Tverskaya Square, where the French were putting out a fire, for their chief lived in the Governor's Palace. We had no choice but to sit on the street. We saw patrols coming and going everywhere, some on foot and some on horseback. At that time, I was crying desperately because my wet nurse had no milk and couldn't find a piece of bread.

At that time, the maid Konstantinovna was with us. She saw a group of soldiers eating in the corner, so she carried me to find them, pointed at me and said, "The child needs food." At first, the soldiers were very fierce and kept shouting at her: "Alai, Alai!" Konstantinovna scolded them: "You beheaded people, you still talk a lot of nonsense. '

The soldiers didn't understand anything, and they laughed happily. They gave me some soaked bread and gave her a piece. The next morning, an officer came and took away all the men, including my father, leaving only the women and the injured uncle. They were taken to the surrounding houses to put out the fire. As for the women, without a backbone, they could only stay alone in fear until the evening, just sitting there crying..."