"I come from humble beginnings, ma'am, but I am not low."

He sighed, "Hell on earth is here, and as long as I walk in, I can't get out of him!" ”

- "Red and Black"

Fleet Street, London, The British.

Dumas snuggled himself up in a comfortable sofa chair and sat comfortably by the fireplace.

In normal times, he would have complained about the drizzling, foggy London winter.

Today, however, all his attention was drawn to the manuscript he had sent from Paris.

As a playwright with superb literary appreciation, Alexandre Dumas has always looked down on second- and third-rate works.

As for Paris, the capital of literature and art, there are many freshly baked scripts that come out every year, but there are few that can be used by him.

But this book, called "The Red and the Black", made Alexandre Dumas feel a lot of shame.

To be fair, Alexandre Dumas believes that he has not produced a work comparable to The Red and the Black so far.

In fact, he loved this "Red and Black" more than Hugo's new work "Notre Dame de Paris" that the members of the Second Bundese sent him from France.

To make matters worse, both "The Red and the Black" and "Notre Dame de Paris" made Alexandre Dumas feel ashamed.

Such feelings directly broke down the psychological defense of pride that he had built up in the past year due to the creation of "The Count of Monte Cristo".

The fat French man slapped the manuscript in the face and cried out with envy and jealousy: "Alexander, look what kind of rubbish you have written!" That's it, that's literature! I can tolerate being defeated by Victor, but where did this Mr. Stendhal come from? He can write works of this level, how can he not be famous at all before? ”

And when he couldn't stop complaining loudly, the Red Devil, whose legs were numb behind him, couldn't help but speak: "Damn! This one is really wonderful! ”

In order to express his love for this work, Agareth, who has a strong memory, even recited the middle chapter: "His cheeks were red, and he looked down at the ground. The young man was eighteen or nineteen years old, and he was quite weak in appearance. The facial features are not upright, but they are very delicate, the nose is very pointed, the eyes are big and dark, when they are quiet, they seem to be thoughtful and studious, and they are enthusiastic, but at the moment they have a deep expression of resentment. ”

The Red Devil savored this description of Yu Lian, the protagonist of "Red and Black", as if he remembered some old things, and he grinned with relish.

Yu Lian, the son of a carpenter, wanted to get ahead, but he had no choice but to join the army, and finally chose the path of the church. By chance, he was favored by the mayor, became a tutor, and then became the marquis's secretary, so that he rose all the way, but in the end he ...... Hehe......"

At this point, the Red Devil did not continue.

As his red-eyed eyes flashed through the door, he saw that Mr. Hastings, who had just finished his work at Scotland Yard, had walked out of the door with a blank face.

Although Agareth did not specifically analyze the interests of a human being, after spending so much time with Arthur, he could still tell from Arthur's eyebrows that his little client was unhappy and unhappy.

For Arthur, this was his expression of deep resentment.

In this regard, the Red Devil didn't want to say much, he just collapsed on the sofa and began to recite the chapters of "Red and Black" with ease.

"This young man has a very high self-esteem, although he is from a low background, and if it hurts his self-esteem, he will do things that are not very rational. All he felt was hatred and disgust for the so-called high society, which actually only accepted him at the end of the table. ”

Click.

Arthur pushed open the door to the editing room, and as soon as he took off his hat, he saw Dumas and Agareth lying dead on the sofa chair.

Immediately afterwards, he turned his head to look at Tennyson's seat, but unfortunately, the rising star of British poetry was not much better.

He was holding a manuscript, even the hand holding the manuscript was shaking, even his lips were pale, and the tears couldn't stop flowing down, he raised his sleeve to wipe away his tears, but each wipe only made more tears on his face.

Arthur thought that he was in a bad mood today, but he didn't expect that there were two better than him in the editorial department, which was really unexpected.

However, compared to Alexandre Dumas, Tennyson's situation was clearly worse.

Arthur paced up to Tennyson, and asked in as light a tone as he could, "Alfred, is there anything I need help with?" ”

"No, Arthur......"

When Tennyson saw him coming, he hurriedly took a sip of water and tried to calm his emotions: "I...... I was just touched by this poem, and I did have a rough year this year...... My father died, and I was a creative mess...... Therefore, I was a little uncontrollable for a while. ”

Arthur smiled and said: "The setbacks are only temporary, but this poem can actually impress a poet of your level, it seems that it is indeed very level." ”

The Red Devil on the couch yawned and said, "Arthur, why bother, are you still in the mood to care about others now?" ”

Arthur glanced at him, then smiled at Tennyson and said, "Can I take a look at this work?" ”

"Of course." Tennyson handed over a thick stack of manuscripts: "This is a masterpiece that is as fake as it gets. ”

I, the glorious son of immortality,

For thy sin, I condemn thee,

At that time, I had to pretend to be,

A demon from purgatory.

……

At that time I hid my face with my hands,

I couldn't stop crying, and I was ashamed.

I've long thought of returning to the heavenly realm,

But he hesitated.

I'm afraid to meet your mother,

I was afraid that she would ask me questions:

"What's the news in the world?

What has changed to my hut?

Is my son at peace in his dreams? ”

When Arthur saw this, he immediately understood why Tennyson's emotions were so excited.

He must have been here remembering his deceased parents.

Immediately after, Arthur's gaze swept downward.

What? Are you sad for us? - Who are you worried about?

It's not crying for me, is it? Excuse me, what's my use?

If it's in combat.

There is nothing to say, Mr. Freinde can still fight.

Perhaps also cut off the backbone of a couple of Don Cossacks.

But in times of peace, even if I live 10,000 years,

I can only scold the Moscow devils for a hundred years, and then die.

……

If they shackle me and send me into exile in Siberia,

The brothers in Lithuania will see me and will think:

This is our noble bloodline, and our youth are being destroyed.

Wait, Moscow devils!

Wait, Tsar murderer!

Someone like me, Tomash, would rather be hung on the gallows and die!

People like me - can only serve the Motherland by dying!

When Arthur saw this, he couldn't help but turn a few pages forward.

Sure enough, on the first page, he found the familiar name, the poet whom the Literary Society of the Friends of Poland had highly recommended to the British, Mr. Adam Mickiewicz.

His motto is also written in a handsome and chic font - for the motherland, knowledge and justice.

And this manuscript is the third part of his latest work, "The Sacrifice of the Ancestors".

Needless to say, this is an immortal masterpiece, and for the Poles it is a great chapter that will eventually be recorded in the annals of national history.

But......

For the Russians, this work is tantamount to tantamount to rebellion.

Even if it were not 1831, but 1968, the book would have been forcibly banned in Poland.

And for Arthur, who had just experienced the Liverpool incident, he did have doubts about whether the work could successfully pass the publication review of the library's publishing department.

Fortunately, even if "The Sacrifice of the Ancestors" could not be published separately, it could at least be serialized in "The British" thanks to the fact that newspapers and magazines were not subject to separate censorship.

It's okay to hold a view that is contrary to the government's position once in a while, but if you do it regularly, it will be a big problem that they will be able to renew the British's publishing license when it is about to be renewed.

But Arthur clearly didn't want to think about it at the moment.

He asked for a shot, so he wanted to shoot them backhand.

Although this shot is not as good as the one Bellingham gave to Prime Minister Percival, it can still help him express his dissatisfaction.

Moreover, emotionally speaking, he does sympathize with the displaced Poles, and this "Sacrifice of the Ancestors" is very revealing.

Mickiewicz could not have written such a moving work, if he had not experienced real painful experiences, or had he witnessed the execution of the Tsar.

From a practical point of view, the Tsar's suppression of the Warsaw Uprising brought many Polish refugees to London, and the refugees represented the instability of the law and order situation. He didn't really like this kind of unauthorized increase in his workload, especially since the person who assigned him the work was not his superior.

Tennyson wiped away his tears and said with a smile.

"Arthur, am I right? It's a great work indeed. Although I was a little jealous, I had to admit that only a man like Mr. Mickiewicz could be called a poet, and I could not even describe him as a poet, he was a soul singer from Poland.

I could feel the power of grief and indignation between the lines of his words, and I knew what was going on with the people of Poland, who was such a great patriot. Every time I reread this work, I feel more and more the insurmountable gap between me and him.

The great poet is a person like him who can record an era with his poems. I...... I really don't know what it takes to catch up with one ten-thousandth of his talent. ”

When Arthur heard this, he just lit the fire and took a puff of his cigarette: "Alfred, I agree with you. But from a friend's point of view, I pray to God that you'd better never become a great poet like him. ”

Tennyson was stunned when he heard this: "Why? ”

Arthur put the manuscript back in his mouth with his pipe in his mouth: "Because, it will be painful." The verses of heaven had already been written by the clergy, so the poet had to see hell with his own eyes if he wanted to achieve greatness. In this regard, Dante, Wordsworth, Byron, Mickiewicz...... Oh, except for Homer. ”

Tennyson wondered, "Why is Homer exceptional?" ”

Arthur let out a leisurely puff of smoke: "Because that guy is blind." ”

Tennyson was so amused that he almost squirted out the tea that had fallen into his mouth, and his extreme sadness disappeared without a trace.

"Arthur, can you prepare me a little before you joke next time?"

Arthur shrugged: "Alfred, my kind of writer of detectives is not the same as your kind of writing poetry. The detective pays attention to a surprise attack, rather than laying out emotions like writing poetry. ”

Tennyson took out his handkerchief and wiped his mouth: "Well, it seems that I am less talented in detectives than in poetry. ”

Arthur said kindly: "Alfred, a man of low talent cannot create a masterpiece like Timbuktu. It's not that you're without talent, but you lack some of the necessary experiences to become a great poet. But as I said earlier, you are my friend, so I hope you can bury your talent and live this life happily, even if it is an ordinary person in the end. ”

"Thank you, Arthur." Tennyson smiled and said, "Although I know that you are complimenting me, I still have to thank you, at least I feel much more comfortable now." ”

"You don't need to thank me." Arthur asked, "Then again, how are you doing academically at the University of London?" ”

"Thanks to you, it's going well." Tennyson replied with a smile: "The professor said that with my learning speed, I may be able to finish the course a year earlier and graduate. ”

"Thank God."

Arthur faked a cross on his chest: "I don't know why he favored the University of London, a school that educated a bunch of atheists, but at least our Department of Classics can finally educate a serious poet." ”

Tennyson said embarrassedly, "You are unfair to Mr. Carter when you say that, right?" ”

When Arthur heard this, he couldn't help but apologize and said, "Oh, Alfred, it wasn't for you to remind me, I did almost forget my best friend, he is really hell." ”

When Dumas heard this, he blew open the manuscript that was covering him and said, "Not only that, but he also went to hell with Sir Scott, who spoke highly of him. ”

Arthur turned his head to look at Alexandre Dumas: "Alexander, if you don't speak, I thought you would follow." ”

When the French fat man heard this, he just pointed out his middle finger at Arthur, and then stood up with the manuscript and said, "Come on, look at this, Victor sent me the work from Paris." ”

"Victor?" Arthur raised an eyebrow and asked, "You mean Mr. Hugo?" ”

"Oh, I almost forgot, you're an admirer of him."

Alexandre Dumas rubbed his numb buttocks, "In that case, things will be easy." Victor found a new author in Paris, but his book was banned by the authorities shortly after it was published in Paris, so he wrote to me to ask if the Englishman could help with the book's distribution in London. ”

When Arthur heard this, his brows couldn't help but lock.

In such a sensitive period, the British's ability to resist pressure to release "The Sacrifice of the Ancestors" is already quite out of the ordinary, and if another print is published that dissatisfies the authorities, it will inevitably attract the attention of some people.

It would be dangerous if "British" was to be completely exposed to its equity composition and ideological tendencies.

However, although Arthur did not immediately agree, he still wanted to see what kind of book made Hugo so aggressive.

And when the manuscript reached Arthur's eyes, the first thing he saw was a line of proverbs on it.

I understood that the book would be banned in the 1830s, but I also firmly believed that I would be understood in 1880, reprinted in 1900, read in 1935, and that after 150 years I would be remembered by the world.

—Stendhal.

(End of chapter)