SGB Chapter 288

## Chapter 288: The Hot-Tempered German Poet (5K4)

The morning in London was, as usual, cloaked in a fine, silken rain.

On Dotty Street in Southwark, south London, sturdy boots splashed through puddles in the brickwork, sending up a spray of water.

The boots were of tough oxhide, reaching high up the calf. Tight riding breeches of deerskin hugged the legs, topped by a perfectly fitting, hourglass-shaped, navy-blue frock coat. A silver-buckled belt cinched the waist, a pale yellow waistcoat layered over a deep black linen shirt with frilled edges and a bow tie.

A smooth white glove rose slightly, lifting a black umbrella just enough to reveal the red-tinged black eyes and high-crowned top hat lurking beneath.

Arthur held a pipe in his mouth, the tip occasionally releasing wisps of white smoke, making it impossible to tell if the main component was water vapor or nicotine.

His companion was his French police secretary. Perhaps because he had only recently joined Scotland Yard, his love for police uniforms had not yet waned. Even though Arthur had requested plainclothes for the day, Louis Bonaparte still wore an outfit similar to his usual duty uniform.

The only difference between his attire today and usual was that he had swapped the deep blue tailcoat of Scotland Yard for a deep black one.

The two walked side by side, chatting casually.

Louis smiled. “Sir, you…”

Before he could finish, Arthur waved him off. “Even though it’s work time, we’re not at Scotland Yard, and this is a plainclothes operation. So you don’t need to call me sir, just Arthur. You know I love making friends, even though I already have a French fatty as a friend, I wouldn’t mind making a thin one too. You know, maintaining biodiversity is important not just for the Earth, but for friends too.”

“Alright, then, Arthur.” Louis smirked. “But isn’t it a bit excessive to use the term biodiversity to describe making friends? Although I don’t mind joking with friends, some people can’t handle it. Unless… you also make friends with monkeys?”

Arthur, with his pipe in his mouth, nodded impassively. “Louis, it seems you’ve become a qualified detective. Maybe soon I can consider giving you some criminal investigation cases from the Criminal Investigation Department. I have to say, you have quite a talent for being a cop.”

Louis laughed and asked, “Arthur, you haven’t answered me yet, do you really make friends with monkeys? Did you meet them at the London Zoo?”

Arthur stopped abruptly at the question. He took a deep breath. “Louis…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t call my alma mater by nicknames!”

Louis was surprised. “Ah? I know the University of London has a very broad educational philosophy, but do they actually admit monkeys? How did it get in?”

“I don’t know either, maybe the cage in the lower house wasn’t locked properly. But what’s so big about a monkey going to university? Monkeys are a hardworking species, they even learn Polish on their own sometimes.”

To support his argument, Arthur pulled out the book Martin had given him, “The Wonderful Journey of Bernie Harrison.”

He stuffed the book into Louis’ hands and said, “See, monkeys can write books too.”

Louis Bonaparte didn’t react at first, but when he saw the name Bernie Harrison, he burst into laughter. He asked, “If that’s the case, why don’t you recruit a monkey to publish novels in The Brit? You’ve been complaining about a lack of authors, haven’t you, Arthur?”

Arthur just sucked on his pipe. “We did have one before, but he went back to his old home in South America a while ago.”

“South America?”

Hearing Louis’ question, Arthur knew he couldn’t continue the topic.

“The Brit” was trying its best to establish Eld’s glorious image in Britain. This carefully constructed “benevolent” lie couldn’t be shattered by his words.

Arthur glanced at Louis’ clothes and changed the subject. “What’s that? Are you tired of the Scotland Yard uniform? Even though you said plain clothes, you just chose one that’s similar in style but different in color. Do you have a particular fondness for uniforms?”

Louis shook his head and laughed. “It’s not that I have a particular fondness for them. But I think uniforms are generally of good quality, the color combinations and styles look very aesthetically pleasing. You know why so many soldiers were willing to serve Napoleon? Besides admiration for him, having a decent, handsome uniform to wear was also an important consideration.

During Napoleon’s time, the full uniform of even the most ordinary French infantryman was worth 250 francs. If you became a cavalryman, it was even more impressive, that outfit would cost you 500 francs. If you became a heavy cuirassier or a member of the Imperial Guard, the cost of that outfit could be as high as 2000 francs.

Take the Old Guard and the Imperial Guard, the most elite and trusted by my uncle, the French Empire. Guess how many uniforms they have?”

Arthur thought for a moment and casually threw out a number. “Five?”

“Five? You got half of it right, the Old Guard does have five. But the Imperial Guard has ten.”

Louis said proudly, “Combat uniform, marching uniform, field uniform, formal uniform, duty uniform, stable uniform, social uniform, casual uniform, parade uniform, grand parade uniform, these are all separate. And each regiment has its own distinctive clothing, just like yours in Britain. The 5th Regiment has white jackets with lemon yellow woven patterns and sky blue breeches, while the 7th Regiment wears green jackets with narcissus yellow woven patterns and scarlet breeches.

Generally speaking, monarchs are very concerned about the clothing and appearance of their soldiers. Frederick III of Prussia was like that, Alexander I of Russia was like that, George IV of Britain was like that, and my uncle was the best of them all. But relatively speaking, French military uniforms are designed more rationally than those of other countries. British uniforms emphasize aesthetics a bit too much, to the point where the jackets are designed too tight, some soldiers can’t even wear them, let alone operate muskets.

But I can’t criticize Britain too much on the matter of uniforms, after all, although George IV was obsessed with beautiful uniforms, Duke Wellington later corrected him in time. He protested to the king, saying, ‘Soldiers can’t even breathe in such clothes, how can they fight?’ And in the anti-French coalition, Britain wasn’t the one who emphasized aesthetics most and ignored practicality.

My uncle told me that during the Battle of Austerlitz, Konstantin, Grand Duke of Russia, commander of the Imperial Guard Cavalry Regiment, ordered the entire regiment to dismount and rest two miles from the battlefield. They first cleaned their uniforms, then powdered their hair and changed into new saddles just shipped from Saint Petersburg. Although such behavior seems a bit redundant, it has to be admitted that such actions may have also inspired their fighting spirit.

In the snowstorm of Austerlitz, the defeat of the anti-French coalition was inevitable, but this Tsarist Imperial Guard Cavalry displayed admirable fighting will. They fought to the last moment, until they were almost completely wiped out.”

Arthur nodded slightly after listening to the story. “Very interesting story. But Louis… it would be better if you could tell this story later. The gentleman we are about to meet should like these stories.”

Louis Bonaparte frowned. “You… Arthur, the gentleman you’re talking about, is he also a Bonaparte supporter like Bertrand? Is he French?”

Arthur exhaled a puff of smoke. “If he were French, things wouldn’t be so complicated. Louis, I have to say, the name Napoleon, besides being unpopular in Britain, is still respected in other parts of Europe. There are many supporters of him among the Poles, Italians, and Belgians. But the gentleman we’re going to meet today is not from any of these three regions.”

Louis Bonaparte almost immediately guessed the answer. “Then I think the gentleman is probably German?”

Arthur nodded. “To be precise, he’s a German Jew, and like Benjamin, he’s a converted Jew. The troublemaker from Dusseldorf we’re going to visit today is Heinrich Heine.”

“Heine?” Louis Bonaparte pondered. “I think I’ve heard this name somewhere.”

Arthur said, “His “Book of Poems” is selling well all over Europe, you probably read a few lines in the newspapers. My heart is like the waves of the sea, deep longing for home pulls at my heart. Ah! I miss you, your beautiful figure!”

Louis’ eyes lit up. “Is this his writing? I have to say, this poem does have a bit of a Byron feel.”

Arthur agreed. “I think so too. Heine is like Lord Byron’s spiritual heir, but unfortunately, he only inherited half of it, just like our new King’s coronation.”

“What does that mean?”

Arthur replied, “We’ve all read Lord Byron’s poetry, and we all know about his chaotic private life that could be turned into a hundred-act opera. Lord Byron was a man of anger, belligerence, and explosive fire on the one hand, and on the other, he was sentimental and sometimes whiny.”

Louis laughed and asked, “But that’s not a flaw, after all, he’s a poet, aren’t all poets like that? I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”

Arthur replied, “Louis, you’re misunderstanding me, I’m not trying to say anything bad about Lord Byron. I just think that although Mr. Heine is similar to Lord Byron in some ways, he only inherited half of Byron, he doesn’t like to whine, he’s simply angry and belligerent, like a powder keg that explodes at the slightest touch.”

“Oh…” Louis raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like he’s quite a handful. But since he’s so hard to deal with, why are we going to bother him? Did he do something wrong?”

Arthur didn’t reveal the conversation he had with Lionel Rothschild at the golf course that day, but instead, he replied vaguely, “As I just said, Mr. Heine is a dangerous element. Although I don’t know why he’s in London, but to prevent him from doing anything outrageous in Britain, I think it’s better to get to know him first. That’s the responsibility of the Intelligence Bureau, isn’t it?”

Louis curiously asked, “So what outrageous things did he do?”

Arthur didn’t speak, he just pulled out a clipping from his pocket and handed it over.

Louis took the clipping, it was from a Parisian newspaper. The familiar and friendly French language carried words that made him chuckle.

——I hear everyone is shouting about their love for freedom, I’ve heard this claim in every city I’ve passed through, every country I’ve stayed in. I was initially excited by this phenomenon, I felt like people all over the world were standing with me. But the longer I stayed in these countries, the more I realized that although everyone says they love freedom, the way they love freedom is different. The British love freedom like they love their legal wife, they don’t pay attention to her, but if anyone dares to touch her, they’ll fight to the death. The French love freedom like a mistress, when they think of her, they’re passionate, they want to be with her all the time, when they lose interest, they don’t pay attention, as if they never knew the woman. As for the Germans, everyone knows, Germans value tradition, Germans love freedom like they love our deceased grandmother, they don’t think of her at ordinary times, but when they do, they cry their hearts out!

——Prussia says: pay taxes according to our tax laws, and you will have a unified German fatherland in material terms. But I’m a bit strange, I want the German states to be unified in spirit too. At this time, I hear Metternich, the Austrian Chancellor, shouting beside me: You don’t have to worry about that, the spiritual unification will be taken care of by us, because Austria will be responsible for censorship!

Louis had already been holding back, but when his eyes moved to the bottom, the suppressed smile finally couldn’t be contained. He stood on the London street in the drizzle, clutching his stomach and laughing, even the black umbrella fell to the ground.

Finally, the last clipping also floated from his hand to the ground. It was a recent poem by Mr. Heine.

《悲歌》 (Elegy)

Author: Heinrich Heine

Because of this,

I stayed for a long time,

I wandered through foreign lands,

Waiting for my beloved girl,

Until I saw her in a wedding dress at the church.

Damn it, I wasn’t the groom!!

She’s a delicate violet,

Shining brightly in my memory.

This reckless girl! I never touched her!

Damn it, how could I be so stupid?!

Arthur stopped walking, looking at Louis Bonaparte who was laughing uncontrollably, and also stroked his chin, savoring the aftertaste of the poem.

He muttered to himself, “You know what, this “Elegy” makes me think that Eld isn’t that far from being a great poet after all.”

Just as he was muttering, he looked up and suddenly noticed a mocking argument coming from the inn in front of them.

It was a typical British thug with a bottle of liquor in his hand and a gray felt hat on his head, and a brown-haired young man dressed in black from head to toe, except for his white shirt.

The thug whistled, cocked his head and sneered, “Hey! You know what? I found an island when I went on an expedition to the Caribbean a while ago. There were no Jews or donkeys on that island! Isn’t that strange?”

The brown-haired young man looked indifferent. “I don’t think it’s strange, just a bit regrettable.”

“Huh?” The thug raised an eyebrow. “Why regrettable?”

The young man said, “An island without Jews and donkeys isn’t complete, so why don’t you and I go to this island and make up for this deficiency. I can leave this afternoon, but I don’t know if you’ll be able to spare the time.”

The thug’s eyes widened at this. “You… you Jew, you dare insult me?”

“I insulted you?” The young man arrogantly raised his head. “You’re the one who thinks too lowly of yourself. I almost forgot to ask you, why are you taking the role of a donkey?”

The thug raised the bottle to threaten him. “You… you bastard… don’t you think I dare to show you some color?”

The young man shrugged nonchalantly, pointing at the bottle in the other’s hand and then at his own head. “Yes, that’s right, with that bottle, hit me hard right here! I’ve been worried about how to make myself look like a genuine Brit, and you’ve given me an idea. You see, my hair is still quite thick, a bottle from you, and I’m sure I’ll be a genuine Brit.”

The young man’s provocation obviously enraged the thug. He picked up the bottle and was about to smash it down on the young man’s head, but before he could do so, his wrist was grabbed tightly.

The thug looked back and saw a strong gentleman, a head taller than him, standing behind him. There was even a sidekick behind his butt.

Arthur held the thug’s wrist with one hand and the other hand calmly reached into his pocket, pulling out the walking stick that was tucked into his belt. He waved the walking stick in front of the thug. “Recognize this?”

The thug froze for a moment, then swallowed heavily and nodded slowly.

Arthur asked again, “Then you should know what I do, right?”

Raindrops hit the thug’s face, mingling with sweat and dripping down his cheek, falling to the ground with a plop, plop, plop. “Of course, sir, you… you’ve got the lobster claws out, I… I can’t not know what you do, can I?”

Arthur nodded slightly. “Since you know what I do, then I want to ask you, what do you do?”

“I…” The thug squeezed a smile on his face. “You’re new here, aren’t you? Everyone in this area knows me, I’m Hansen, the one who picks up horse dung on Dotty Street, I’m doing a legitimate business. Today it’s just bad luck, it’s raining, right? There’s no horse dung on the road, so I thought I’d just chat with a gentleman, I’ll have to start work when the rain stops.”

Louis saw this and pulled a penny from his pocket and stuffed it into the thug’s hand. “Mr. Hansen, then why don’t you find a tavern on the side of the road and have a drink to warm yourself up? It’s windy and cold on the road, it’s easy to get sick if you stand on the street and chat.”

The thug, hearing this, immediately went along with it. “Oh! Thank goodness, how could I meet kind gentlemen like you two today. I’ll listen to you, I’ll leave here right away, I think I really need a drink to warm my pounding little heart at this time of day.”

Arthur let go of his hand, and the thug, clutching the penny, ran off like a released rabbit, without looking back.

Arthur watched his disappearing figure, just about to greet the brown-haired young man, but the other party preempted him.

The young man looked at the two of them, then looked up at the sky. He finally extended his hand in a friendly gesture. “Thank you both for your kindness. Now the donkey has gone to the trough to drink horse urine, in appreciation for you stopping him from braying, although it’s a bit early, if you’re not busy, why don’t I treat you both to a drink?”

Arthur asked, “Horse urine?”

The young man nodded. “Yes, the most authentic kind. The only thing I can guarantee is that we’ll be drinking something tastier than the donkey.”

Thanks to盟主Sunceol for the reward, the盟主 bonus chapter will be delivered in the next two days.

(End of Chapter)