The Shadow of Great Britain
Chapter 399 - 399 232 Prime Minister's Peak Duel 6K

399: Chapter 232: Prime Minister’s Peak Duel (6K) 399: Chapter 232: Prime Minister’s Peak Duel (6K) Disraeli was holding the document, thinking of opening it, but before he could start, Arthur stood up and held his arm.

“Benjamin, just take this back with you and read it.

It’s best to continue doing what the editorial department should be doing.”

Upon hearing this, Disraeli grinned and said, “Isn’t this exactly what I am doing?

Arthur, can’t I even review a manuscript?”

Arthur gently shook his head, “I advise you not to.”

“All right then.”

Disraeli hoisted himself towards the desk, looked at the document in his hand, and finally couldn’t resist asking, “At least tell me what is inside this document?”

The keen-nosed Frenchman also became suspicious, “Indeed!

Although you do things every day that can’t see the light, you don’t have to hide it from your own brothers, right?”

Tennyson, also uneasy, said, “Should I step out for a moment?”

Arthur raised his hand to press him back into the chair, “No need, Alfred, no one here considers you an outsider.

Since everyone is interested, there’s no harm in telling you.”

The Great Dumas, pinching his chin and squinting, asked, “What is inside it?”

Arthur picked up the teapot and began pouring water into a teacup, “Nothing much, just some comparative studies on English and Russian literature.

Haven’t we recently allocated a column slot for the Friends of Poland Literary Association?

With an attitude of promoting interactions between both parties, I wanted Benjamin, as a major shareholder, to deepen his impression of Eastern European literature.”

Upon hearing this, Tennyson suddenly became enthusiastic, “Really?

Is this about Russian literature?

Speaking of which, I do have some understanding of Russian poetry.

Do you know Mr.

Pushkin?

‘If life deceives you, do not be sad, do not be in a rush!

In melancholy days, one must remain calm.

Believe, happy days will come!’ This ‘If life deceives you,’ although short, is indeed a readily memorable masterpiece.

In these bitter days of my father’s passing, it is this very poem that has inspired me.”

As Arthur listened, he couldn’t help but interject, “If you really like Mr.

Pushkin’s works, feel free to interact more with our new column writer, Mr.

Mitskevich, the Polish poet, who happens to be a close friend of Mr.

Pushkin.

At the same time, he is also a close comrade-in-arms of the Russian poet, Mr.

Lei Lieyev.”

“Lei Lieyev?” Tennyson couldn’t help but ask, “Is it the leader of the Decembrists, Mr.

Lei Lieyev?”

The Great Dumas nodded, “Exactly, the great republican who wrote ‘Narivaiyco’ and bravely faced death.”

Great Dumas said this and couldn’t help but chant, “If anyone first stands up against the oppressors of the people, I know that destruction awaits him.

Fate has already decreed that you should die.

But tell me, where and when has freedom ever been redeemed without sacrifice?

Lei Lieyev, truly a masterpiece!

Both his poetry and his brief life.”

Tennyson also couldn’t help but recall, “I heard that Mr.

Lei Lieyev, during his interrogation, never confessed any of the insurgents, and even petitioned the investigative committee to execute only him.

Is this true?”

Arthur, with his arms crossed leaning on the desk, replied, “This isn’t much of a secret, so I can confirm to you, it is indeed true.

He truly possessed a heroic spirit.

From the information I have, Mr.

Lei Lieyev said during his interrogation: If one man’s death benefits Russia, then that man should only be me.

I always hoped that death would stop with me, so that they could return to their families, their homeland, their Tsar, under the mercy of God.”

The Great Dumas, hearing this, couldn’t help but excitedly bang on the table, “Great Souls, great Lei Lieyev, he has spoken my mind completely!”

Arthur added, “By the way, I heard that Mr.

Lei Lieyev was holding a collection of Lord Byron’s poems in his hands as he went to the gallows, and he never let go of it till his death.”

Upon hearing this, Tennyson covered his forehead with his hand, “God!

Why do you punish such a devout ascetic?

Arthur, you are right, perhaps I really should go and talk with Mr.

Mitskevich.

Poland is also suffering similarly at the moment, and I worry whether he might become the next one.”

Seeing that the atmosphere was now well-set, Arthur stood up, picked up his teacup, and walked over to Disraeli, “Speaking of which, I heard from Mr.

Thomas Campbell that a few days ago, he represented the Friends of Polish Literature Association and went to the Foreign Office to request Viscount Palmerston to provide a certain amount of humanitarian aid to Polish exiles.

Do you know how their discussion went?”

Disraeli, initially heartbroken, suddenly realized what he was holding in his hand.

First stricken with grief and astonishment, he soon saw his mouth gradually pulling into a smile, “Ah…

ah…

that matter!

I heard that Viscount Palmeston sympathizes deeply with the plight of the Polish people, even inviting Polish exile representatives to dine with him and even shedding a few tears in front of them.”

The Great Dumas, upon hearing this, couldn’t help but frown, gave a soft snort, “Since tears were shed, that means, he isn’t planning to give a penny, is he?”