Виктор Королев - The Life and Surprizing Adventures of Archibald Kerr, British Diplomat

Night was falling. The children were put to bed, but neither Archie nor his siblings could sleep for a long time. And the next morning in the bushes near the old Fig tree, the action began. The older ones whittled spears, the younger ones made new clothes out of burdocks and smeared their faces with soot and clay. An hour later, a band of bedraggled savages were whooping around the house. Archibald's brother Robin, as the eldest, pounded his chest with his fist:

‘I'm Maklay!’

No one argued with him. And each had to give his Indian name. Archie became Mikl-Ukho… And in the evening all, already washed, again, holding their breath, listened to the letters of Uncle Nicholas. They were so afraid that the savages would eat him, as they had done to cook, the traveler, a hundred years ago. Aunt Margaret was most afraid of it. But Nicholas reassured her in his letters:

‘They love me here; they call me the man from the moon. Nobody's going to eat me, don't worry. I was bitten by huge fish, bees and wasps, orangutans and monkeys, stung by poisonous plants and insects. But all is well, I am well, and I really missed you and the children.’

He and Aunt Margaret had two sons. But they were still small and could not play with all. And all made caches and secrets, hid in them matches, glass, beads, needles, knives- everything that could be useful in future battles.

‘No wars!’ the sisters, Margaret-Emma and Kat Louise, said sternly.

And they began to tell how once the Papuans gathered with spears, axes and bows to fight with a neighboring tribe. They did it every year – and there was no other reason. When Uncle Nicholas heard this, he silently filled a bowl with water, added a little kerosene, and set it on fire. He said: ‘I will set fire to the sea if you start a war.’ They threw down their spears and buried their axes in the sand. So-never any wars, children…

And the children obediently laid down their spears and sat around the table on the veranda.

‘Read on, Aunt Margaret, read on!’

‘When I looked back, I saw a man who seemed to have grown out of the ground, who looked in my direction for a second and ran into the bushes,’ Aunt Margaret continued to read. ‘I followed him almost at a run down the path, waving the red ribbon I had in my pocket. When he saw that I was alone, without any weapons, he stopped. I slowly approached the savage, silently handed him a red cloth, he took it with pleasure and tied it on his head…’

In the morning all the young tribe ran with red ribbons on their heads.

Who to thank for a happy childhood? Why childhood ends quickly, but in the memory of a person remains until the last day? Why in old age it is impossible to remember the name of a neighbor, and children's nicknames are remembered forever? Everything in this life is strange. It was strange that Nicholas Miklukho-Maklay had died so young, and Aunt Margaret was a widow again. It is strange that at school it's not as interesting as in the house of my grandfather. It was there that Archie found the answer to the question “Who to be?” He wants to visit different countries.

The dream of becoming a traveler was not supported by Archie's mother. She considered herself a matron, worthy of a high position in London society. They can't live in Australia with drunken cattlemen. It's a shame to baptize a child in the street, under an old Fig tree!

Sir John Robertson was not so fierce and terrible, he had grown old. Shortly before his death, Archibald's mother and father announced their decision to return to England. He could no longer curse or order.

In Britain his parents bought a house. Archie followed his brother Robin to the local College.

The years went by. Before graduation, his mother asked if he would like to become a diplomat, because they also travel a lot around the world. He willingly and with complete seriousness said:

‘There are very difficult exams, but I think I'll be able to prepare. It won't take a year, but you and dad won't be ashamed of me. I promise to work hard to get my statue in Trafalgar Square!’

It’s decided: he will be a diplomat! It is clear that one College is not enough – it is necessary to study, study and study again. Those wishing to serve the United Kingdom in the field of foreign policy must pass difficult entrance exams. Some foreign languages need to know at least four, plus other subjects.

It would take Kerr a long six years to get that knowledge. He spent a year in France, another year at a private College in London, where his family moved to support him in his chosen profession, and then years of study in Germany, Italy, Spain and again in France.

To support a son is to pay for his studies. Tutors and then cost a lot of money. And even if he had successfully passed the entrance examination, his parents would have had to pay another four hundred pounds-a guarantee that the choice of the young man and his parents is as firm as their purse.

And if will accept, then the first time salaries him at all not in sight. A diplomat is entitled to two hundred pounds a year from the position of third Secretary alone. It's only two hundred a year, half a pound a day. Such rules, for a long time and they were invented not by us…

Even during the summer holidays Kerr did not forget about cramming, surprising seriousness of all relatives. The ancestral home in Inverchapel, the low Scottish mountains, lakes, forests

are great places for fun games, fishing and hunting. And he never leaves his books.

“Today I’m German.” And all that the young man saw before him, he described aloud in German, the whole world was stacked in heavy frame structures. Repeating the complex rules past time, he thought only of his bright future. He thought, of course, also in German.

The next day he is French. He wandered among the rocks and listened to the echoes answering him with a rolling Burr. On the third day he took a boat and in the middle of the lake he sang Neapolitan songs at the top of his lungs – to the indignant cries of seagulls. And so he did every day, in a circle. He was only twenty, but he had no doubt of the path he had chosen. Not then, not for the next forty years.

Finally, Archie decided that he was ready to fight for a place in the diplomatic service. In early 1905, he participated in the entrance examinations, the winners of which will be offered a job in the Foreign Office. He didn't… Or rather, did not get points. Not even in the top five. It was a shame to tears.

‘Nothing, Archie!’ his mother said. ‘You're doing the right thing, and you're going to win.’

The next year there were four seats. Kerr was in the top three. In March, just before his birthday, the postman brought to their house the long-awaited envelope from the Ministry of foreign Affairs. The postman didn't have to knock twice.

‘Wow!’ That was the first word Archibald whispered as he entered the main Foreign Office building on King Charles Street. It was something to gasp. The ceiling of the vestibule is a masterpiece of architecture, remarkably like the work of the great Michelangelo in the Vatican – these frescoes, stuc

co, columns, chandeliers… No, it is a great honor to be in the service of His Majesty king Edward VII, to represent Britain in foreign missions.

However, until overseas missions was still far. At least six months is a mandatory period before the first foreign trip.

The duties of junior clerks were surprisingly easy. They worked from eleven to one o'clock, then from five to seven. Most of the time was spent on minor matters: registering and sorting telegrams, sending letters to the Cabinet office in Whitehall, copying documents, typing texts and other “bring-give”.