The Shadow of Great Britain

Capítulo 1431: Chapter 218: Moscow University (Part 2)

Blackwell commented: “Hearing you say that, it seems like Moscow University is nothing but chimneys and barrels.”

“Then you must be misunderstanding,” Herzen replied: “At least the students aren’t allowed to smoke or drink excessively. If the Academic Director catches us smoking, we’re sure to be put in confinement.”

“They don’t let you smoke, so you don’t smoke?”

Herzen recalled the absurd antics of the past, a smile playing at the corner of his eyes: “How could that be possible? If we’re not allowed, we sneak a smoke. When not attending class, we find a secluded spot, with one of us on lookout, then take a fine cigar and blissfully pass it around. If unlucky enough to be discovered, the German professors mostly pretend not to see, passing by without a glance. But if a Russian professor catches you, it’s miserable; you’re sure to end up in the school’s court.”

Herzen, accompanied by his valet, led Arthur and Blackwell on their way, the four of them strolling without a carriage, chatting all the way down Tver Street towards Moscow University.

Before reaching Moscow University, Herzen pointed to a building in the distant campus and said: “See that building? After the Marlov incident, the chubby ones and I were confined to the basement of that building. Six of us from the math and physics department were punished due to the Marlov incident. The basement was cold and dirty, and every meal consisted only of some water and bread approved by the Principal and Academic Director. But as you know, we are people of principle; we refused to eat those.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow: “Did you go on a hunger strike?”

Herzen proudly replied: “Of course, for a week, we didn’t eat any of the school’s provided food.”

Blackwell exclaimed: “How did you survive then?”

Herzen chuckled at the old memories: “Because every night after dark, classmates would secretly bring us supplies—cheese, game, cigars, wine and sweet alcohol—we ate even better than outside. Despite being in confinement, we ended up gaining quite a bit of weight during that time.”

Blackwell asked in confusion: “Wasn’t there a guard at the door of your confinement room?”

“Of course, there was a sentry. Every time classmates came delivering meals, he’d grumble a few words, but getting some silver made him happy. Every midnight, he’d shout: ‘I’m dead tired, I need a nap,’ then deliberately walked away to let some classmates in to see us. The six of us spent the week this way—feasting at night, sleeping in the daytime.”

Herzen couldn’t help adding with pride: “In fact, according to school orders, I and another were to be released on Saturday. But I found it insulting, so I insisted on staying with others until Monday, which got me a severe scolding from my family, but I don’t regret it. After the Marlov incident, I earned more admiration from the class than blame from home. I was known as a good student, but after this incident, I was almost revered as a saint.”

Speaking, Herzen approached the gatekeeper’s room at Moscow University, took out a few pieces of silver from his pocket, and slipped them through the iron window.

Arthur saw him exchange a few words with the red-nosed, white-haired gatekeeper through the glass, overhearing a few words like ‘a favor’ in Russian.

The old gatekeeper grumbled a few words before Herzen smiled and gestured for them: “Come on.”

The four of them passed through the gates of Moscow University without any hindrance.

Herzen’s steps were relaxed, seemingly intimately familiar with every brick and iron fence there.

Leading Arthur and Blackwell across the spacious campus, it was quiet all around, with hardly any students visible.

“It’s especially quiet here during Shrovetide,” Arthur whispered: “It seems the professors really value this period for rest.”

Blackwell quietly echoed: “The secretaries are the same.”

Herzen chuckled: “If professors and students weren’t on vacation, the gatekeeper wouldn’t dare let us in so easily.”

They arrived at an aging building, where Herzen gently pushed open a window, signaling the two to enter.

The air inside felt stale, and a few dim lights filtered through heavy curtains.

Just as they planned to climb through the window, two elderly professors appeared in the hallway, carrying books.

Seeing those faces, Herzen couldn’t help but curse: “Damn! It’s those two oddballs, Chumaikov and Miakhkov!”

Arthur and Blackwell hid in the corner, asking: “What’s wrong? Are they strict professors?”

Herzen ducked his head, rolling his eyes: “In a way, yes. Chumaikov loves to apply Puansuo’s ‘principles of statics’ formulas rigidly, with the typical landlord style, arbitrarily adding and subtracting letters, treating square as root, X as known numbers. As for Miakhkov, he teaches the world’s toughest subject—military tactics. Often dealing with heroic figures, he himself wears a soldier’s attire; look at him—the buttons fastened to the throat and the tie without a crease. If you attend his class, you’d know he speaks as if giving commands.”

Herzen mimicked his tone: “‘Attention, artillery unit!’ If you’re asleep then, you’d surely be startled awake, thinking Napoleon is attacking Moscow again. Of course, I’m not saying he’s commanding an artillery unit, but rather that there’s such a title in his notes. It’s a pity! If the Emperor had inspected Moscow University, he’d surely promote Miakhkov to Academic District Director upon seeing him.”

Herzen’s little joke had everyone laughing.

The two professors passing through the hallway heard the commotion, furrowing their brows and casting their gaze outside the window.

This moment, Arthur’s high hat, showcasing British gentlemanly elegance, caused trouble.

Chumaikov and Miakhkov saw a black hat wobbly beside the window, exchanged glances, tiptoed into the classroom, and suddenly pushed open the window, grabbing their collars and pulling them up.

“Which department are you from, staying at school during the holidays?”

Seasoned Herzen didn’t panic, turned his head, and respectfully greeted the professors: “Hello, Professor…”

“Herzen? Haven’t you graduated?”

Among Moscow University’s professors, Herzen’s notoriety was well-known. Though his reputation wasn’t as notorious as Bismarck’s at the University of Gottingen, at least they all remembered his appearance.

Herzen explained: “I have graduated, now working at the Land Bureau. Just with nothing to do today, I thought of coming to visit my alma mater with friends. My friend here is from out of town and has long wanted to see what our top university in Russia looks like.”

Chumaikov and Miakhkov showed disdain, mistaking Herzen’s friend as a country bumpkin.

“What’s there to see? Moscow University isn’t a place for just anyone to visit, you better leave quickly. If you don’t, I’ll call the guards.”

As Herzen heard them say they’d call the guards, he hurriedly intervened: “You can’t, Sir Arthur is…”

“Sir?” Chumaikov raised his brows, looking towards Blackwell and Arthur: “Are you two Sirs?”