SGB Chapter 336

## Chapter 336: Gunfire

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Irving. Perhaps I shouldn’t say that, as I’ve already been acquainted with the name Washington Irving before meeting you. Your ‘Sketch Book’ is truly delightful.”

Arthur greeted Irving with a smile.

While this wasn’t the first American he’d met, Washington Irving was undoubtedly more famous in Britain than Samuel Colt.

Both ‘Blackwood’s Magazine,’ which Disraeli loathed, and ‘The Gentleman’s Magazine,’ representing London’s taste, had featured articles on this representative figure of American literature.

Sir Walter Scott, the leader of British historical literature, and Coleridge, the representative of the Lake School, had both praised Washington Irving’s works.

Even Oxford University had jumped on the bandwagon, awarding him an honorary doctorate in law, a symbol of Oxford’s highest honor.

Of course, Irving’s popularity stemmed from his excellent writing, but also from his strong “nostalgia” inclination that resonated with those folks.

Both Scott and Coleridge were renowned conservative writers.

And Oxford University, where Irving received his degree, was the stronghold of British conservatism.

Although Mr. Irving didn’t explicitly express his views, his writings were filled with the conviction that American democracy wasn’t a true advancement of civilization but a human downfall.

In his eyes, every step towards democracy in America was also a step towards the abyss of destruction.

In the era of democracy promised by politicians to voters, there was no paradise filled with milk and honey. Guarding the gates of paradise were only a group of persuasive agitators, speculators, and nouveau riche.

Irving was astonished to discover that since America broke away from Britain and embraced a democratic republic, the taxes paid by the American people to the government not only didn’t decrease but actually increased compared to when they were under the King’s rule.

To satirize this, he wrote in the ‘Sketch Book,’ through the mouth of a fictional character: “It is as if I and the world around me were under a spell, absurd and nonsensical. I never imagined living in a world turned upside down, a ridiculous and ludicrous chaos. This so-called revolution under the banner of equality and freedom is, after all, nothing more than a new stage for nauseatingly ambitious individuals.”

The ignorant and blind masses would ultimately become tools for politicians to pursue their interests. They were like donkeys with apples dangling in front of their eyes, the food seeming so close, as if they could get what they wanted by taking two more steps. Sadly, besides the whip, the donkeys never got to eat anything else.

Besides finding fault with America’s governmental system, Irving also scoffed at the rhetoric of “God Bless America” and “God has given Americans the natural and legal right to own American land.”

He called the political party struggles in America “the most hilarious farce in history, even better than what’s performed in New York theaters,” and in ‘A History of New York,’ he alluded to the New York mayor and US President Thomas Jefferson, citing the historical fact of the Dutch colonists’ massacre of Native Americans, implying that the westward expansion initiated by Jefferson wasn’t as progressive as he claimed. What Americans brought to the West wasn’t civilization, but war, exploitation, disease, and slaughter.

Not only that, he often sarcastically commented on the founding stock of America, those Puritans exiled to North America by the British.

In Irving’s writing, the Puritans living in New England were all cynical and persecutors. In the early days, these Puritans were dedicated to killing heretics and burning witches, and their descendants not only preserved this destructive tradition well, but also, with their numerical advantage, intensified the implementation of religious persecution policies in the area under the guise of religious freedom.

It can be said that Irving touched upon the three most sensitive issues since the founding of America: the Revolution for Independence, the Puritans, and the Native Americans.

If Irving had merely satirized these, he wouldn’t have reached his current position.

After all, although Britain was unhappy with the rebels in the North American colonies, it was more satisfying to insult the French than those uncultivated country bumpkins.

In 1815, Irving, who had to engage in endless verbal battles with his opponents in newspapers and magazines for repeatedly touching on American sensitivities, finally became tired of this political life. With the mentality of “if they don’t want me here, I’ll find somewhere else,” he decisively left for Britain to relax.

And after arriving in Britain, his mood visibly calmed down.

In his own words, unlike most people, his taste was “fond of the old and averse to the new.” In London, he could finally escape America, a country lacking historical heritage, avoid the crude and polluted air of New York, and immerse himself in the study of ancient European art.

Compared to the hypocritical American writers Colt hated most, Irving’s greatest advantage was his consistency in words and deeds.

Since moving to Europe fifteen years ago, Irving had entered a period of prolific output. He was passionate about depicting the ancient customs of rural folk, trying to glimpse the past through these traditional cultures.

And the praise of idyllic pastoral life and the mourning of the rural landscapes that disappeared in the age of industrialization naturally resonated with the mainstream of the British poetry circle and the clergy, who held the same thoughts.

With these people as his backing, Irving’s fame in Britain and even the entire Europe skyrocketed like the stocks in Arthur’s hand.

What’s even more amusing is that when those Americans who had once cursed Irving discovered that he had gained such a high reputation in old Europe, they immediately adapted to the situation and became his staunch supporters.

Irving’s identity naturally transformed from a traitor who maliciously defamed the American Revolution, a British spy who distorted facts with ill intentions, and a corrupt official who took bribes from Native Americans, into the pride of the American people, the European spokesperson for the new American image, half of the American literary world, the one who issued a deafening declaration of independence for American literature, the Herodotus of New York.

And whenever other American writers attempted to remind the American people that this so-called father of American literature had only four works in his collection that depicted America, they would immediately be drowned in the angry saliva of the American people and questioned whether they were jealous of Irving’s achievements and couldn’t bear to see American literature being recognized in Europe.

And after seeing Irving’s remarkable achievements, the American government also eagerly sought to curry favor with this anti-government figure.

They first placed Irving in the American embassy in Spain, and within a few years, they quickly promoted him to the position of secretary of the embassy in Britain.

Irving’s actual work at the embassy was also quite simple. He could continue writing his books and didn’t need to punch in and out of work from nine to five. The only requirement the American ambassador had for him was that Irving agree to attend dinners and other important events with him.

After all, for the ambassador, there wasn’t much America could boast to outsiders, and Irving happened to be one.

Even if Irving liked to criticize America, standing in the banquet hall, he was considered to be doing America a favor, wasn’t he?

If one day Irving fell ill, the ambassador would feel empty. No matter where he went in London, he would feel shorter than others.

Arthur looked at the face of the American people before him. At first glance, he thought he was a fair-skinned, middle-aged handsome man.

Although his political stance was annoying, since he already had three anti-government figures from Germany and France around him, the secret police chief didn’t mind expanding his jurisdiction to the other side of the Atlantic.

Irving was also sizing Arthur up, but to Arthur’s surprise, the way he addressed him was peculiar: “Arthur Hastings, and also Arthur Sigma, the author of the ‘Hastings Detective Series.'”

Arthur raised an eyebrow and asked with a smile, “How did you know about that?”

Irving took off his hat and placed it on the table: “‘The Englishman’ is quite popular in London recently, so I’m thinking about giving you the British publishing rights for my new book ‘The Alhambra.’ For this reason, I went to your editing department on Fleet Street a few days ago and had a brief chat with your editor, Mr. Tennyson.

He told me that ‘The Englishman’ would definitely be willing to publish this work, but he couldn’t make the decision alone. He had to wait for several shareholders to return from abroad before officially confirming it. So, I asked him about your whereabouts and true identity. To be honest, I wasn’t surprised at all that Sigma was Hastings.

Who else could write detective novels so realistically without having personally investigated cases? To be honest, I received a letter from a young boy a while ago. He must have found a second-hand copy of ‘The Englishman’ somewhere, so he started imitating you poorly. But I must say, his writing is awful.”

The newly awakened Red Devil yawned contentedly, wearing a sleeping cap: “Arthur, not bad! Which idiot actually started imitating our writing style?”

Arthur just laughed and asked, “Really? I thought bringing me a work today would be surprising enough. It seems there are other rewards. Do you still have that young boy’s letter?”

Irving shook his head slightly: “I kept it, but it’s in London. And you probably wouldn’t want to see it. It’s just a casual whim of an ordinary American boy. Although he lived in London for a few years as a child and attended school for a few years, he later moved back to Virginia. When he was in London, Scotland Yard hadn’t even been established yet. He learned what police officers wear from your works, let alone writing about detectives investigating cases.”

Hearing this, Arthur couldn’t help but ask, “It sounds like you’re quite familiar with him? Have you known him for a long time?”

Irving was feeling thirsty and was about to take a sip of something to moisten his throat, but when he looked down, he saw coffee on the table. He frowned and pushed the coffee aside, took an empty cup from the tea tray, and poured himself some tea.

“You could say that. I’ve known him for a few years. He arrived in Scotland in 1815, and I arrived in Liverpool in 1815. Later, I met that kid in London. The kid used to like writing poetry. After reading a few lines of Byron’s love poems, he wanted to imitate his style. I told him he didn’t have the talent, but he wouldn’t believe me. His temper was as stubborn as a donkey.

Later, perhaps because he hit a wall with poetry, he finally sobered up a bit. But when he wrote me a letter, he still refused to admit defeat, saying things like: ‘I no longer consider Byron my model. Detective novels are all the rage now. For the sake of our long-standing friendship, please help me deliver this manuscript of ‘The Bond Street Murder’ to the editor of ‘The Englishman’ and tell Arthur Sigma that this work was created by his fan, Edgar Allan Poe.'”

Arthur tapped his fingers on the table: “Really? Edgar Allan Poe? Quite famous! Now I have to take a look at his manuscript.”

Irving shook his head repeatedly, sipping his tea: “Mr. Hastings, although I also think that kid is a bit arrogant, you’re being too sarcastic.”

Arthur shook his head solemnly: “No, Mr. Irving, I’m not joking. I’m telling you the truth. I’m really interested in my fan’s work. ‘The Englishman’ is not like ‘Blackwood’s Magazine,’ we’ve always strived to discover young authors. As the father of American literature, you can’t stifle the hope of American literature in its cradle, can you?”

Irving put down his teacup and commented: “As expected of Arthur Sigma, your words are just like your writing, full of sarcasm. Now I know why ‘Blackwood’s Magazine’ hates ‘The Englishman’ so much. Your literary criticism targeting ‘Blackwood’s Magazine’ every now and then has the same flavor. But you can say ‘Blackwood’s Magazine’ has low literary standards, why do you need to ridicule their editor, Mr. Wallace, as a three-haired man?”

Arthur said regretfully: “Mr. Irving, that’s your misunderstanding. Most of the literary criticism was done by Mr. Disraeli. Of course, Mr. Dumas sometimes writes a couple of pieces when he’s in the mood. These have nothing to do with me. After all, I haven’t been exposed by ‘Blackwood’s Magazine’ for any shady dealings, and Mr. Wallace hasn’t rejected any of my manuscripts.”

“Alright. Let’s leave the literary matters there for now.”

Irving said: “Actually, I came to see you today not only to discuss publishing matters, but mainly to ask if there are any merchant ships in Liverpool currently leaving for America. If there are, I’d like to book a ticket.”

Arthur asked: “Buy a ticket? You shouldn’t have to come all the way to Liverpool for this. There are so many routes in London, there should be plenty of ships going to America! I bought a ticket to Boston last year. It just didn’t work out because of various reasons.”

“To Boston? Last year?” Irving said: “Then your little fan is really unfortunate. He almost got to meet his idol. Last year, he had just been discharged from the port force in Boston. This year, he’s gone to West Point Military Academy.”

Arthur said with a smile, “Military academy? It seems he’ll have a good future. Although I don’t know the status of American military officers, in Britain, military officers are the mainstream choice for noble children to make a career. Politics is also not bad, but it’s too difficult to stand out from the crowd of talented individuals.”

Hearing this, Irving shrugged: “Sadly, in America, only the most despicable people are involved in politics. Decent people shouldn’t make a living by extortion, deception, and boasting. As for soldiers, they charge into battle for these ambitious people, so they’re obviously even dumber. But your little fan is lucky. At the beginning of this year, he was court-martialed for writing poetry satirizing his instructor and deliberately skipping class, and he was eventually discharged from the military.”

Arthur asked: “So you’re rushing back to America to comfort him?”

“Not really. Just…some work-related changes.”

Irving said: “They think I’m doing a good job at the embassy, so they’re planning to transfer me to the Foreign Office. In British terms, I’ve climbed up the ladder again. That’s right, I’ve been promoted. The US State Department wants me to return to the country for a report by February 1832, but due to the cholera epidemic, ships in London are currently under quarantine and strictly controlled. So, when I found out you were working in Liverpool, I thought I could try my luck here. If it doesn’t work out here, I’ll just have to rely on myself.”

“Then you’re in luck.” Arthur said: “As far as I know, there’s a ship from the Schweyer & Sons company that will be ready to leave quarantine soon. The only downside is that they specialize in the West Indies route, so you might have to make a stopover on an island in the Caribbean before returning to America.”

Irving pondered for a moment: “Sounds good. It’s better than nothing. But can I ask you a question, Mr. Hastings? Can you confirm when that ship is leaving exactly?”

“It should be soon.” Arthur took out his pocket watch and glanced at it: “At this time, the Port Authority should also be open. If you don’t mind, you can go to the Port Authority with me. They’ve been handling the quarantine all along.”

Irving stood up, put on his hat, and thanked him: “Thank you very much, Mr. Hastings.”

Speaking of which, he didn’t forget to take out a bunch of keys from his pocket and place them on the table.

Arthur looked down: “This is?”

“The key to the house I rented in London. I’ve already given the address to Mr. Tennyson. If time is tight, you can go directly there to pick up the manuscript. The second drawer on the right side after entering the door. I’ve also placed the young fan’s letter there. I’ve paid rent until April this year. You can take the things before that.”

Hearing this, Arthur also stood up and put on his hat. He smiled: “It’s obvious you’re in a hurry. Since that’s the case, let’s not waste any time. The carriage is downstairs. Let’s go now.”

Arthur accompanied Irving down the stairs, and as they stepped out of the hotel lobby, a carriage sent by the city hall was parked in front of the door.

Louis and the others, who were chatting near the carriage, saw him coming and quickly extinguished their pipes, shouting: “Break time is over, time to work!”

Arthur opened the carriage door and was about to get in, but he noticed a few carriages parked at the corner of the street.

He winked at Charles Field, the police chief, who was leaning against the carriage. The chief immediately understood and replied: “Those carriages are all watching us. It’s unclear who ordered them, but it’s probably those few places: the Liverpool Association, the City Council, the Customs Office, etc. If you don’t like it, I’ll go talk to them later.”

Arthur glanced at those carriages and shook his head: “Forget it. Let them follow if they want. I have nothing to hide from them.”

Arthur’s boots stepped on the carriage step, and as he reached for the door handle to get in, a gunshot rang out in his ear.

Immediately, it was as if something brushed past his ear. There was a loud bang, and a small hole was instantly drilled in the wooden lamppost beside him. Wood chips flew, sparks flew.

Following that was the sound of people screaming and running away, and the roar of people shouting.

“Someone’s shooting! Protect Mr. Hastings!”

(End of Chapter)