The Shadow of Great Britain

Chapter 1267: Chapter 158: Iron and Blood (Part 3)

Of course, Arthur’s words shouldn’t be taken completely seriously. After all, as a washed-up old vaudeville actor, once London’s hottest comic, his complaints about the theater’s performance schedule are only natural.

Bismarck saw that everyone appreciated his words, and his courage slowly grew.

The young man’s natural love for the limelight led him to begin criticizing the German system.

“Of course, I’m not saying that the governments of the German states are any better. In my opinion, the confederal government is nothing but a protracted farce. Look at Prussia, holding a host of soldiers and cannons, yet pretending to be a peacemaker, as if their bayonets were meant for sticking flowers. Oh, don’t get me wrong, they are indeed skilled at sticking things—especially into the backs of their allies.

As for Austria, it’s even more ridiculous. The ministers in Vienna are terribly busy, dancing and drinking in the court every day, then putting all their effort into every meeting to prove they are still the ‘big brother of Germany,’ but in reality? They are like a lavish old ship, shiny on the outside but rotting underneath the water.

But the most amusing are the small states: Bavaria, Saxony, Hanover… They are like a bunch of boastful little roosters, desperately proclaiming their independence and dignity in their own territories, as if they really have the ability to secure a place among the great powers. Yet, the moment Prussia or Austria coughs lightly in their ear, they immediately tuck their tails and scurry into their little nests like mice seeing a cat.”

Bismarck’s joke instantly enlivened the atmosphere, and the senior alumnus Heine almost rose to applaud this younger fellow.

Bismarck contentedly took a puff of his cigarette, assuming a stern look, as if the spirit of Voltaire had possessed him, and commented, “In the end, all of Germany is like a haphazardly assembled block toy, with each state trying to keep its little piece from being taken away, yet no one has the guts to bond these blocks firmly together. Oh! They can hold meetings, for decades even, but every time a meeting ends, our great confederation is left with only more agreements and treaties, pieces of paper without any real power. Sometimes I really want to ask these so-called ‘leaders’: Are you governing a country or running a club that’s about to go bankrupt? Their efficiency is not even as good as our Gestapo.”

Heine nodded appreciatively: “It seems I’m not the only one who realized it; our confederal parliament is simply the pinnacle of comedy. Those old politicians sitting in the magnificently decorated conference hall, endlessly pontificating, weaving endless webs with obscure legal jargon, yet they never think about whether these webs can catch anything. As long as everyone can keep having meetings, drinking tea, and maintaining the apparent ‘order’, it’s sufficient.”

After speaking, his face once again showed that familiar, world-weary yet profoundly melancholic expression, an expression always quite captivating to ladies and young people.

Heine’s voice carried a hint of scornful sarcasm: “Germany, this land filled with poets and thinkers, always gives one the impression that its people are better at dreaming than acting. Each one can talk endlessly about philosophy in a bierkeller, discussing eternal truths, as if all the mysteries of the world are hidden in that glass of golden beer foam. But once it’s necessary to truly stand up and do something, they immediately fall into endless contemplation and hesitation, as if waiting for some sage to descend from heaven and show them the way.”

Arthur, hearing this, just smiled and asked, “Would you deny the Germans their right to dream, Heinrich?”

“No, quite the opposite, I want to encourage them.” Heine let out a light chuckle: “As everyone knows, the air here is most conducive to dreaming.”

Garibaldi, hearing such disheartening words, couldn’t help but want to cheer everyone up: “Being able to dream is always good. I’ve been dreaming too, dreaming of the unification of Italy.”

Arthur took a sip: “Giuseppe, it seems you and Otto would have a lot in common.”

He turned his gaze to Bismarck: “I heard you have quite an insight into the unification of Germany. Recently you even gave a speech at the student union, saying that Germany will have a unified state sooner or later, is that so?”

Arthur asked with a smile, as if casually raising a topic, but a trace of cunning in his eyes betrayed the insidious intent of the old hand.

He invited Bismarck to dine today to turn this verbal handle into an established fact.

How to make a young man who thinks he can use Young Italy as leverage to coerce the academic director comply?

The answer, of course, was to make him a part of it.

The gleeful Bismarck raised his eyebrows slightly and laughed boisterously, a bit tipsy: “That’s right, I did say that. Those bureaucrats in the confederation will eventually realize that without a strong central power, Germany can only ever be a fragmented puzzle. Although I don’t completely agree with the views of those small-minded citizens, I do support the unification of Germany.”

He shook his glass, showing a hint of impatience in his eyes, as if he could already see himself representing Prussia at a future German Confederation meeting.

Perhaps feeling the spirit of the Great Emperor Frederich, Bismarck slammed his fist on the table and called out passionately: “What Germany needs is iron and blood, not a paper agreement!”