Chapter 2253 - 264: The Most Brilliant New Royal Society Member of 1838? No, the Answer Isn’t Darwin_3

At this point, Eld turned to Disraeli and said, "Diz, you’d better work hard. If you ask me, you may not be Prime Minister yet, but at the very least you already have the social circle required to become one."

Disraeli gave him a sideways look. "I’m a free Conservative, not a conservative Whig. Kindly recognize the political gulf between me and the Prime Minister."

Arthur let out a quiet chuckle and didn’t join in, only lazily tamped some tobacco into his pipe.

Darwin, however, seized the pause and forcibly dragged the topic back.

"Let’s talk business." He looked at Arthur, his tone clearly more serious. "Your recommenders—do you really have no leads at all? If you need, I can write a few letters for you. Over at Cambridge... at least academically, they won’t make things hard for you because of the New Poor Law affair. Whether at Trinity or St John’s College, there must be people who’ve both seen your experimental reports and read your papers."

But before Arthur could speak, Eld already couldn’t help slapping the table and rising. "Ask Cambridge for help? Wouldn’t that be begging? Arthur, if you’re really going to do that, you’d better first resign your post as president of the University of London alumni association—I’m not about to lose face like that!"

Arthur finally took the pipe from his mouth and turned his head to glance at Darwin. "I understand your good intentions, Charles. And I won’t deny that the Cambridge network is indeed useful. But if it really came to that, letting you go and rally Cambridge alumni to sign for me... then, just as Eld said, even if I did end up with that FRS, I’d always feel a bit uncomfortable about it."

Darwin frowned. "What’s there to feel uncomfortable about? You’d be elected a Fellow of the Royal Society on your true merits; it isn’t some charity from them."

"The issue isn’t the title, it’s the stance." Arthur shook his head. "I’ve only just broken with Lord Brougham over the New Poor Law, and then I’d turn right around and rely on Cambridge alumni to get into the Royal Society. That way I really would be a traitor."

Dickens was stunned for a moment, then laughed and swore lightly. "You’re a piece of work. Something people beg for and never get, and in your hands it turns into a burden."

Seeing he couldn’t sway Arthur, Darwin had to sigh. "At least let me know whom you intend to ask for signatures. If there are any surprises before the vote, I’ll know whether I ought to intervene."

"Don’t worry." Arthur clinked glasses with Darwin, smiling. "If it really comes to needing you to step in, I won’t be shy about it."

"Good." Darwin was a little reassured. "So? How many people have promised to write recommendation letters for you so far?"

Arthur set his glass back on the table, his fingertip tapping lightly on the rim. "Strictly speaking, three have already agreed."

As soon as he said this, the reactions around the table were varied.

"Only four?" Eld was the first to frown. "Doesn’t the rule say at least six? This isn’t just being laid‑back, you’re practically walking a tightrope."

"Don’t rush." Arthur added unhurriedly, "Those three who’ve agreed are all people who will take the recommendation seriously. They’re not the sort to just scribble a signature and call it done."

Dickens immediately followed up. "Who are these three?"

"The first is Mr. Michael Faraday," Arthur said. "You all know he’s a very kind man. I merely brought it up, and he agreed on the spot without a flicker of hesitation."

Darwin, who’d had plenty of dealings with Faraday at the Royal Society after returning home, nodded. "That does fit Mr. Faraday’s character. And if I recall correctly, he wanted you in the Society quite early on, didn’t he?"

"As for the second..." Arthur grinned. "Naturally, it’s our old friend, the earliest advertiser of British—the esteemed Mr. Charles Wheatstone."

At this, everyone pulled the sort of face you’d make at seeing a ghost. "He’s agreed to write for you?"

"Not yet; I haven’t asked him."

"Then how do you know he’ll say yes?"

"I don’t. But you all know Mr. Whistone is a man of deep feeling."

They looked at one another, and then, by silent agreement, chose to let that point slide.

"Fine, then aside from Mr. Whistone?"

"The other is the foreign member Mr. George Ohm." Arthur took a pull on his pipe. "He’ll be arriving in London this weekend. We’re old friends; getting a recommendation from him is just a matter of asking."

Darwin counted the names off on his fingers, thought for a long moment, and finally couldn’t help speaking. "Arthur, to be frank, these three recommenders are all quite heavyweight. But rules are rules—you still need to find at least three more people. Haven’t you approached Mr. Babbage and Mr. Sturgeon?"

Arthur lightly tapped his pipe against the ashtray. "If the other three gentlemen I’ve written to refuse to recommend me, then yes, I’ll probably have to pay those two a visit. But there’s no need to rush right now; I’m still waiting for replies from the remaining three. Unless it’s absolutely necessary, I’d rather not drag those two into this yet."

Seeing Arthur sitting there as steady as a mountain, Darwin couldn’t help secretly worrying for him. "Even if the remaining three agree, gathering a few more signatures can only help! Are you really planning to scrape through the review with just six signatures?"

Disraeli was just as puzzled by Arthur’s conduct. "The Royal Society meets in mid‑February. Won’t replies from those three be cutting it a bit close? Or are they expressing themselves by silence—silence as a polite refusal?"

Eld pressed him as well. "When did you send those letters?"

"At the end of last month."

"The end of last month?" Dickens thought it over. "If you sent them then, it ought to be time enough for a round trip even to Ireland. Did the Royal Post misplace your letters?"

Arthur neither confirmed nor denied. "I didn’t use the Royal Post this time. I used the Rothschild family couriers."

"Rothschild couriers?" Disraeli stood, frowning. "Then I’ll have to ask Lionel. As far as I know, their domestic deliveries take at most three to five days..."

Arthur raised a hand to stop him. "Domestic does take three to five days. The problem is, I sent mine abroad."

"Abroad?" Eld was dumbstruck. "You approached three foreign members? Will the Royal Society lot even take foreign members’ opinions seriously?"

Arthur shrugged with a smile. "Who knows? Maybe they will, maybe they won’t. That’s up to them."

Of everyone present, only Darwin sensed something off. "Um... Arthur, may I ask where exactly those three letters were sent?"

Arthur didn’t bother to conceal anything; he answered calmly, "One went to Paris, one to Gottingen, and the third to Berlin."