The Shadow of Great Britain

398: Chapter 231: The Editorial Department’s Story (6K)_4 398: Chapter 231: The Editorial Department’s Story (6K)_4 “You…” Tennyson was also startled, “You mean your alma mater.”

Great Dumas sneered upon hearing this, “Come on, Arthur, what good can come from the Department of Classics at the University of London?”

Arthur didn’t argue, he simply replied, “Maybe it was primarily an animal research institution before, but hasn’t it changed since Alfred arrived?

Besides, Cambridge and Oxford charge one to two hundred pounds a year, and the tuition fees at the four major London Inns of Court can even reach three hundred pounds per year, whereas the University of London only charges thirteen pounds and six shillings annually.

Where else can you find such a cost-effectiveness?”

“But…” Tennyson said with some difficulty, “But I heard that the University of London doesn’t have a Royal Charter, does it?”

Arthur, taking a sip of tea, assured, “Don’t worry, it will have one soon.”

Tennyson, puzzled, asked, “How do you know?”

Arthur put down his teacup, leaned forward earnestly, and asked, “Alfred, do you know who is responsible for issuing the Royal Charter?”

Tennyson thought for a moment, “It…

It should be the High Chancellor, right?”

Arthur nodded, “Exactly, but the High Chancellor is now our chairman of the board of trustees.

So, you see, it’s not us who should worry about the Royal Charter, but Oxford and Cambridge.

If they continue to incite the education committee to vote against issuing a Royal Charter to the University of London, then when their own charters expire, they had better pray that Lord Brougham has been ousted by then, otherwise, we’ll see.”

Upon hearing this, Tennyson burst into laughter, “Then…

In that case, maybe I really should consider enrolling at the University of London…”

Seeing him interested, Arthur immediately took out a piece of paper from the drawer, wrote a note, and handed it to him, “Alfred, hand this to Principal Horner when you go to enroll.

He will certainly consider your previous time spent at Cambridge and make arrangements for you to skip a grade accordingly.”

“Arthur, I…” Tennyson, rid of his earlier gloom, exclaimed, “I really don’t know how to thank you.”

Great Dumas couldn’t resist whistling, “I told you, Alfred, the obstacles have now been cleared.”

While the three were laughing and chatting, the editorial office’s door was shoved open again.

Disraeli, staggering in, clutching his head and complained, “Damn, I shouldn’t have drunk so much yesterday.

I woke up this morning feeling like the whole world was spinning, and it hasn’t stopped even now.”

Seeing his state, Great Dumas couldn’t resist teasing, “Looks like our future Prime Minister has already had a taste of politics.

Benjamin, how does it taste?”

“How does it taste?” Disraeli glared and replied, “Spicy, sweet at first, but afterward, it just burns in the throat.”

Great Dumas laughed loudly, “Then I think this politics might be twenty-eight proof.”

“About right.” Disraeli recalled the scene with some after shock, “God!

You didn’t see the scene last night, the feeling of being eyed by several ladies was too nerve-wracking.

Trying to please one without offending another, no one dared to neglect them, for they could pin me down on the table with just a coquettish glance.

By the way, Arthur, what specifically did you call me here today for?”

Arthur, hearing this, simply took out the file folder set aside and tossed it over, “What else?

Of course, to pave your grand road to becoming the Prime Minister.”