The Shadow of Great Britain
Chapter 375 - 375 224 The Pinnacle of 19th Century Literature 5K6_3

375: Chapter 224: The Pinnacle of 19th Century Literature (5K6)_3 375: Chapter 224: The Pinnacle of 19th Century Literature (5K6)_3 Arthur heaved a sigh of relief upon hearing this, “Really?

So they’ve already made it there.

Lucky for Eld that he didn’t end up in the hands of the Cannibals?”

Perhaps because the life or death of Eld had been deemed worthless information by the Red Devil, he didn’t mind talking a bit more about it.

Agares snorted, “Cannibals?

You have no idea what that little bastard is capable of!

Just yesterday he shot down a mountain lion with a flintlock gun and even shared it with that little baldy, Darwin.

According to them, the thing tasted just like veal.”

“Eld is capable of that too?” Arthur couldn’t help but sneer, “Then Alexander is probably in trouble.

Ever since he bought that revolver, he’s been waiting for Eld to return to give him some trouble.

Now, it seems Eld could very well finish him with a single shot when he comes back.”

The Red Devil, impatient, asked, “You still haven’t answered me, why won’t you let me get close to Mary Shelley.

What, has this mountain lion of yours started to hunt?”

Arthur shook his head, “It depends on how you see it.

I’ve heard that people in difficult situations are more susceptible to temptation, and Mrs.

Shelley is clearly in a tough spot right now.

I remember hearing from the ladies of the Bluestocking Society that as a single woman, Mrs.

Shelley has had a hard time raising her child, and Mr.

Shelley’s father has always been harsh on her, showing little concern for his daughter-in-law and grandson.

If it weren’t for financial difficulties, Mrs.

Shelley wouldn’t have ventured into novel-writing and written ‘Frankenstein.’ Being a female author is still quite controversial in this era.

Besides, she’s also trying to edit and publish Shelley’s posthumous works, which requires a considerable amount of financial and energy resources.

If not for this, she probably wouldn’t have chosen to collaborate with ‘British.’

However, instead of opting for established literary magazines like ‘Blackwood’s’ and ‘Monthly Review,’ she ended up choosing the newly established ‘British.’ I’m curious what led Mrs.

Shelley to make such a decision…”

As Arthur was speaking, he suddenly heard thumping footsteps coming from upstairs.

Without turning back, Arthur called out, “Alexander, didn’t you beat your chest last night promising me that you’d wake up on time today to help me review the drafts?”

“What’s the rush?

Even if ‘Robinson Crusoe’ is on hiatus, and ‘Lyric Collection’ and ‘Young Duke’ have concluded, doesn’t ‘British’ still have my ‘Count of Monte Cristo’ and your ‘Hastings Case Files’ to back it up?

The magazine isn’t cooling off any time soon.”

The Great Dumas stretched lazily as he came down the stairs, plopped his rear onto the couch, and rubbed the corners of his eyes as he glanced over the boxful of manuscripts, “Damn, why is there so much?”

Then, he glanced at the reader letters next to Arthur, then at his own box, and finally flashed a proud smile, “Looks like the throne for ‘British’s’ most popular author won’t be taken from my hands any time soon.”

Seeing how smug the fat man was, Arthur instantly tossed the manuscripts at him, “Sorry, Alexander, but I fear that throne will belong to someone else starting next issue.

If you dare compete against him, you’d better carry an umbrella when you go out, otherwise you might be drowned by the saliva of his fervent supporters.

By the way, Eld is one of his loyal fans too.”

The Great Dumas caught the manuscripts, “What caliber can someone revered by Eld be?

Surely ‘British’ hasn’t sunk to publishing erotic novels.

Let me see…’Prometheus Unbound’?

Shit, isn’t this Shelley’s work?

Arthur, did you resurrect him?”

Arthur was about to explain to the Great Dumas when suddenly the doorbell rang.

Ding ding dang~

Arthur stood up and said, “I’ll talk to you about it when I return.”

Great Dumas, while holding a pen, was reading with great interest.

“I think it’s about time you considered hiring a maid or something.

It’s no problem for the two of us men to cook; it’s a kind of pleasure in life.

But when it comes to washing clothes and dishes, ladies do it with more finesse,” he said.

“So, is that why you ruined three pairs of your own trousers?”

“You aren’t much better than me!”

Arthur ignored Great Dumas’s retort and directly opened the door in front of him.

Just like the astonishment when seeing Shelley’s works, the person appearing outside the door surprised him, “Mr.

Thomas Campbell?”

The middle-aged gentleman, wearing an English-style high-collared white shirt and a short tailcoat, his hair grizzled, slightly lifted his hat and smiled as he spoke.

“Arthur, it’s been a long time since we last met after you graduated.”

Arthur also smiled slightly, “Mr.

Campbell, it’s truly unfortunate.

If you could have come a few months earlier, you might have still met Eld here.

I remember him saying that his favorite thing during his time in the Classical Literature department was attending your classes.

He also said that all his poetry skills were learned from you.

Your ‘The English Sailor’ will always be his favorite work; he often recited it to the sailors of the Royal Navy when he was idle on the ship.”

“Thank God!” Hearing this, Campbell pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his temples.

“Although receiving such high praise from that young man is indeed an honor, I feel that poets like Byron and Shelley, those ‘Satanic’ poets, had a greater influence on him.

Not to mention, the verses he composed were indeed devil-like, terribly chilling to listen to!”

Arthur couldn’t help but smile at this.

“So, are you just passing by to stop in today, or is there something I can help with?”

Upon hearing this, a smile spread across Campbell’s face.

“Arthur, you truly are one of our most outstanding graduates from the University of London.

Brougham really wasn’t wrong about you; you indeed value the alumni relations of the University of London.

Yes, I do have a small favor to ask today.

I heard from Mr.

Disraeli that ‘The British’ was founded by you and him together, is that right?”

As Arthur invited him in, he asked, “Do you want to submit an article to us?”

“No, not just me, there are also…

many friends exiled to Britain…

I initially inquired with Brougham, asking if he could publish their articles in the ‘Edinburgh Review’.

But Brougham tactfully declined, saying he was no longer an outsider and that the ‘Edinburgh Review’, as an organ of the Whig Party, was too sensitive an identity to publish those people’s works.

So, he recommended ‘The British’ to me,” Campbell explained.

The more Arthur listened, the more suspicious it sounded.

He stopped and abruptly asked, “Exiled friends?”

His gaze drifted to Great Dumas, and pointing humorously he asked, “Mr.

Campbell, could it be that your friends are French Republicans like my tenant, Mr.

Dumas?

If so, publishing their articles in ‘The British’ would be no problem at all, since we already have one here.”

“No, Arthur, you misunderstood,” Campbell began somewhat sheepishly, “My friends are Poles who have been exiled overseas.

I’ve brought them together to establish the Britain’s Friends of Poland Literary Society.

By the way, you must be aware of the events that have unfolded in Poland over the past six months, right?”