shadow of britain

Chapter 565: The Fox in Göttingen
At the University of Göttingen, there is a quaint little stone house, which is one of the activity venues approved by the school for student associations.

However, compared with other student clubs' residences, this house has a rare feature.

Although the furniture in the room was simple, the floor was not carpeted or sanded, but instead a layer of black paper was laid directly on the white ground.

If someone doesn't know the inside story here, they would probably think that this is some strange hobby of the owner of the house.

However, all members of the Pomeranian Sabre Club at the University of Göttingen know that the black paper on the ground plays an important mystical role, and all new members must use it to complete a necessary ritual before joining the club.

As part of the initiation ritual, all applicants lay on black paper on the floor while senior members of the club drew their outlines. Each outline was about four to five square feet in area and was framed in a narrow black wooden frame and hung on the wall.

Judging from the outlines on the wall, the members of the "Pomeranian Sabre Club" are not few, at least more than 100.

Regular curves gradually narrow to a common bottom. These contours are stacked like a pyramid. The vast majority of the middle and lower contours are framed with white fir wood, while the sparse middle and upper contours are made of walnut, mahogany and oak according to the levels. The difference in color and wood well distinguishes the levels of club members - Grand Master, Master, Division Commander and Sergeant.

Anyone who knows a little about medieval history can tell from these names that these ridiculous guys are imitating the organizational structure of the Teutonic Knights.

Although they had never been as wealthy as the Teutonic Knights, nor had they ever owned a territory larger than this small house, they still decorated the third wall of the room with a pair of shining swords.

The pair of swords are crossed and fixed against the wall, as if telling all visitors: We, the guys in the Pomeranian Sabre Club, are not vegetarians!

There was a creaking sound, and someone pushed open the door. The sunlight shone into the room through the crack in the door, and the light reflected from the sword was enough to make people dizzy.

The person who came in was a tall and slender young man. Although he was not fully grown, his weight was enough to meet adult standards.

His dress style was out of tune with the current fashion in Gogen. He wore a wrinkled coat with no collar or buttons, which looked faded. He wore a pair of oversized trousers and a pair of iron-heeled boots with prominent spurs. His shirt and bow tie were not tied up, but just hung on his shoulders.

His hair covered his ears and neck, and there were signs of a beard on his face, but the color of the beard was not clear. It looked more like fluff than a beard. This was a major feature of his face.

In addition, he had a large sword on his left waist, a holster on his right waist, and a huge seal ring on his ring finger for decoration.

He walked into the house, untied his belt, took off the pistol and sword hanging on the belt, threw them on the ground, and couldn't stop muttering to a friend who was following him.

"Only here can I put aside my antics for a while and become more rational. Although this is a boring thing, it is to earn a reputation. When I was a fox who had just arrived in Göttingen for three months, I didn't know anyone, but I was eager to stand out here and introduce myself to the members of the Pomeranian Sabre Club, but I found that I had no chance of success. John, if this happened to you at that time, what would you do?"

John Motley looked at his friend who was so proud of being elected as the chairman of the Gestapo, shrugged and said, "I guess you will make friends with the Grand Master, curry favor with the senior members of the club, and let them give you a chance to show yourself."

"That's the way you Americans think, but this is Germany, and your approach won't work."

Bismarck snorted: "I insulted them in public in the worst way. I broke the nose of a regiment commander, cut off the upper lip and beard of a master, and didn't show much kindness to others. After I did this, everyone in the club admired my bravery. They were eager to have such a brave fighter and cheered to vote for me to join.

I want to lead my fellows here, and I want to be their leader for the rest of my life. You can see how sane I am now. You can hardly recognize me as the man you met on the street half an hour ago, when you met a mad man who was intimidating.

But I saw this as a way to be superior to others. When I arrived at university, I decided that since my competitors were those indulgent, cruel, and weird people, and I wanted to conquer these people, then my indulgence, cruelty, and weirdness had to be 10 times theirs! "

Motley couldn't help laughing when he heard Bismarck mention what had happened half an hour ago.

No one present could forget that this guy, younger than many freshmen, would lead his big wolfhound named Ariel on stage to give a public campaign speech. And not only his words, but even his behavior was so full of gunpowder.

When his four rivals openly mocked him on stage, he immediately retaliated with a duel.

The opponent who originally had a greater chance of being elected than Bismarck was beaten so badly that he fled away in panic, and in the end he even had to jump over the "dog beating stick" in Bismarck's hand like a puppy.

Moreover, as Bismarck said, such behavior was unexpectedly cheered by his classmates. Everyone thought he was a real man. As for his opponent, the beaten Mr. Drowned Dog lost almost all of his votes of support.

Even though he is only 18 years old this year, Bismarck is already eager to use the power of his personality to command and dominate others, and based on the current situation, Motley is surprised to find that this little friend actually possesses such amazing leadership.

Motley found a chair and sat down. He looked at Bismarck and just wanted to find some fun in him. "I remember that at the end of last semester, you said you were not going back to Göttingen. But not only did you come back this semester, you even ran for the chairmanship."

Bismarck boiled a pot of tea on the fireplace. "I didn't plan to come back before because the school court sentenced me to one month in prison. I wrote a letter to the principal before returning to school. You don't know, that old man deliberately postponed the date of imprisonment in order to punish me, and the execution did not begin until I returned from vacation on Mackay Island. I pretended to be sick in the letter. I told him that my illness had relapsed and I couldn't predict when I would recover, so I had to stay in Berlin. Because long-distance travel would further worsen my already weak physical condition. In view of this, I asked the school to go with the flow as much as possible and allow me to serve my sentence in Berlin instead of returning to Göttingen."

"Did the principal promise you?"

"No. The old man said in the letter that he was about to retire, and how my imprisonment should be carried out would need to be decided by the new proctor, Sir Arthur Hastings."

Bismarck muttered, "I thought the new director was not familiar with the school. He probably didn't know that my prison sentence had not yet been completed, so I decided to go back to school to see how things were. Also, my relationship with my father was not good. He refused to help me pay off my debts without any leeway. And the reason for all this was because I was not making good progress in my studies."

Motley was surprised and asked, "So how are you going to live this semester?"

Bismarck crossed his legs and swayed in the chair. "John, this requires wisdom. Although he refused to help me pay off my debts, I starved myself for a week before going home for the holiday, so that I would look pale, thin, weak and sickly. In this way, he would naturally think that I was suffering from lack of food and clothing. After that, I created an occasion for the father and son to be alone and plead with him. I told him that I would rather convert to Islam than starve. My father's heart is much softer than my mother's, so the problem is solved."

Motley laughed when he heard this. "Otto, that's a good idea. But it's a pity that I can't use it. After all, I can't take the time to go back to Boston just to get some living expenses. That will only make me poorer."

Bismarck joked, "But if you don't go home and persuade your father in person, how can he agree to let you transfer to another school? You came here to learn knowledge, but from all aspects, Goenting is not worth staying here for a long time, because most of the professors who decorated the reputation of this university have either passed away or have fallen. And this town itself is too dull and boring. You should have gone to Paris or Vienna."

Motley said helplessly: "What can we do? My father only knows so much about European universities. Cambridge, Oxford, Glasgow, Edinburgh, these British universities do not accept international students. And among the remaining universities in Europe, he only knows Göttingen, and this is only because the school was founded by the British royal family."

"Isn't it?" Bismarck complained, "The British royal family was founded, and now there's a British bastard as the school supervisor."

"Bastard? Do you mean Sir Arthur Hastings?"

"Sir? He's just a York farmer!" Bismarck rolled his eyes while lying on his chair. "God knows how such a man got the title of knight. Maybe the King of England is blind."

Motley touched his face and frowned, "Not really? I read the article "Bismarck Sending Stendhal" in the journal. He was indeed born into a peasant family, but ordinary peasants can't write articles like that!"

"Oh... indeed, he is the most despicable of the peasants." Bismarck said indignantly, "Intimidation, bribery, verbal attacks, and physical threats, ordinary peasants are not so hypocritical, let alone using these methods. John, you have to be careful of him."

"Is... is that so?" Although Motley and Bismarck had always been on good terms, he still didn't dare to believe the other party's conclusion, because Bismarck's statement was almost the opposite of what he heard from another friend: "In fact, long before he became the school director, I heard some things about him from other people." "Who did you hear it from? Is he famous in the United States?"

"It's not because he is famous in the United States, but because a friend of mine happens to know him. You should know that studying in Europe is a fashionable trend in the United States, so there are many alumni associations of European universities in Boston. I met a pastor who had studied theology here at the Göttingen Alumni Association in Boston. His brother had a good relationship with Mr. Washington Irving. I once visited their home and ran into them.

At that time, the pastor's brother was planning to travel to the UK, so he asked Mr. Irving for some common sense about living in the UK. As you know, Mr. Irving is a great American writer, and his works are very recognized in the UK, so the pastor's brother also hoped that he could help introduce some British celebrities to help him broaden his horizons.

Mr. Irving was a very generous person. He readily agreed to the other party's request and offered to help write a letter of recommendation. After that, he also talked about the friends he made in England. William Wordsworth, Coleridge and other great poets of the Lake School were all his good friends. Moreover, Mr. Irving also mentioned that the reason why he was able to return to the United States on schedule this time was all thanks to the help of a man named Arthur Hastings. "

Bismarck disagreed and said, "Perhaps he is not talking about the same person. After all, there should be many guys named Arthur Hastings in the UK."

Motley said confidently, "It's impossible. They are definitely the same person. Because the Arthur Hastings that Mr. Owen mentioned is a senior police officer in Scotland Yard, and he is also the author of the detective novel "The Hastings Cases". Maybe there are indeed many people with this name in the UK, but I don't think it is possible that there are two senior police officers named Arthur Hastings in Scotland Yard. Not to mention that Mr. Owen also said that the senior police officer was shot in Liverpool and had eight stitches in the corner of his eye. I have specially observed the proctor Hastings before, and he does have a scar in the corner of his eye. All these evidences match up."

Bismarck couldn't help scratching his head when he heard this and asked, "Is there really such a coincidence in the world? Well, what does Mr. Owen think of the villain Hastings?"

Motley said, "At least Mr. Irving didn't say anything bad about him. You haven't read Irving's works, and you don't know his temper, so you probably can't understand how rare it is for Mr. Irving not to say anything bad about him, and even to praise him a little."

Bismarck exclaimed, "Damn it! He must have been caught by that bastard!"

Motley denied it flatly, "Impossible. Washington Irving is not someone who would shut up if he was caught. He would scold even the mayor and the president of New York. There is no braver person in America. Otto, you don't think you have a prejudice because he beat you up. I always thought you were a very easygoing person."

"So what?" Bismarck insisted, "I am also a brave man. As long as the right method is found, he can also be coerced. John, you don't understand how vicious that guy is. Even the Gestapo, who you think symbolizes freedom, is actually..."

Boom boom boom!
Before Bismarck could finish his words, he heard knocking on the window glass.

He turned his head suddenly and saw a very familiar face standing outside the window, with a wound at the corner of his eye where stitches were found, and a vicious smile on his face.

Behind him, there were a few followers pretending to be gentlemen. One was the disgusting Rhineland petty bourgeois liberal Heinrich Heine, one was a British Jew who was looking at Heine with disdain, and the other was a stupid French black idiot.

Bismarck was frightened and quickly swallowed the harsh words on his lips. He smoothed his coat which was wrinkled from the fight, took off his hat and saluted like a good student, saying: "Good afternoon, dear sir."

Motley almost couldn't help laughing when he saw his attitude change 180 degrees, but he quickly stood up and said, "Hello, sir. I am John Motley, a sophomore in law school."

Arthur leaned on the window and stared at Motley for a while, then said with a smile: "I just heard you talking about Mr. Washington Irving?"

Bismarck felt his eyes go dark when he heard this. He felt that he had no hope of getting the scholarship this year. This damn British cop should have arrived a long time ago, but he didn't say anything and insisted on catching him in the act.

Motliguri glanced at Bismarck, who was in a state of panic, and then politely replied in English, "Yes, Mr. Owen also brought back a few copies of The Englishman from England, and I saw your novel in them."

Disraeli originally disliked the young man because of his American accent, but when he heard that he was a reader of The Limey, he couldn't help but be surprised and asked, "Our magazine has been spread to America?"

Motley was puzzled when he heard this: "Who are you?"

"Ahem..." Disraeli adjusted his bow tie and introduced himself proudly, "The author of The Young Duke. Of course, the author of The Count of Monte Cristo is also here. As for the guy over there, I don't think I need to introduce him. He's been showing up everywhere on campus these days. As a student in Göttingen, it would be hard for you not to know him."

"Yes!" Heine retorted, "Unlike some people who become famous by shamelessly introducing themselves."

Seeing that the two were about to start fighting again, Dumas hurriedly stopped them and said, "That's enough. Even if you two want to fight, at least you should wait until the matter is resolved first. Giuseppe and the others still haven't found a place to live."

"Residence?" Motley asked in confusion, "What residence?"

Arthur coughed and said, "It's like this. Isn't the school going to hold the European Electromagnetic Conference soon? But we found that the hotels in Göttingen don't seem to be enough for these scholars and their assistants. These days, I have been racking my brains to find a room for them. Finally, I finally found all the rooms for them.

However, although the scholars had enough room, some of my friends who came to visit me had no place to stay. Although these friends of mine did not mind squeezing in with the scholars, I was worried that they would disturb their research work. If I let them live in my rented house, there would not be enough space. So, I remembered that Otto had a small house under the old city wall, right?

"You mean that house?" Motley laughed dumbly. "But that house is pretty shabby. The school made him live there just to punish him. Is it really okay for you to let your friends live there?"

"It's okay. My friends are used to living outdoors and don't care much about their living environment. And considering that Otto is an excellent student, it's not appropriate for him to live in that kind of place all the time. So, Otto, you will move back to your original residence starting tomorrow. I am honored to announce that the school's punishment measures against you are over."

Arthur thought Bismarck would definitely agree to this, but unexpectedly, the boy objected, "Sir, how can this be possible? I was just elected as the chairman. As a student leader, I took the lead in violating the school rules but was not punished. How can I convince others?"

Arthur saw through his little thoughts at a glance.

This kid probably behaved so well because he was caught saying bad things behind someone's back. In order to keep his scholarship and save some points in his impression, he even took the initiative to apply for punishment.

But Arthur didn't need him to admit his mistake now. After all, arranging accommodation for Garibaldi and others was far more important than punishing Bismarck.

He asked Bismarck to move back to his original residence in order to provide the group of young Italian party members with an inconspicuous place to live.

If Bismarck insisted on living there, let alone whether this kid would find out, just letting Bismarck and Garibaldi live under the same roof would be very funny. There is no way these two people would pee in the same pot.

Arthur said seriously: "Otto!"

"To!"

Bismarck stood at attention, his posture straight as a newly enlisted Prussian private.

He thought that his attitude was so good that even if he couldn't make Arthur calm down, at least he could leave a good impression.

Unexpectedly, his posture amused everyone present.

Arthur looked at the boy's two-faced appearance and could only laugh and took out his pocket watch: "If you haven't packed up and left before four o'clock this afternoon, you will move directly to the detention room."

(End of this chapter)