The Shadow of Great Britain

700: Chapter 338 Jewish Dispute _3 700: Chapter 338 Jewish Dispute _3 In this superficial era of servility, I must do something worthwhile.

Writing this book is my way of fulfilling my duty.

I am ashamed of my hard-hearted friends in Germany who once aspired to great deeds but now have all fallen silent.

If they rallied together in neat ranks, even the most timid recruit would be emboldened; however, it is always the lone fighter who displays true courage at the crucial moment.”

Great Dumas was somewhat moved by Heine’s gallant spirit upon hearing this, “Heinrich, I really wasn’t mistaken about you; you truly are a respectable warrior.”

To his surprise, Disraeli slapped the back of Great Dumas’s head.

“Alexander, don’t be fooled by this lad!

Recently, Mr.

Koda, the major German publisher who had managed the publication of Goethe and Schiller’s works, spoke to me in London about distributing the ‘British’ collection of writings in Germany.

At the time, I happened to mention Heine to him.

Mr.

Koda then told me that a few years ago, in order to obtain a respectable public position in Bavaria, Heine had him present his works to King Ludwig I of Bavaria.

Moreover, in his letter to Mr.

Koda, he wrote: ‘If you are willing to hint to him that this writer’s attitude is much milder and kinder than what is presented in his previous works, maybe now he has completely changed, this might greatly benefit me.

I think the king has enough wisdom to judge the value of a sword by its sharpness and not by whether it has been used for good or evil.”

“This…”

Great Dumas’s mouth twitched twice upon hearing this; he could hardly believe that Heine would do such a thing: “Benjamin, are you sure you’re not making up this story?”

Disraeli simply snorted, “Whether it’s true or not, why not ask Mr.

Heine yourself?”

Great Dumas turned to Heine, only to see a face as pale as could be.

The confident smile was gone, the usual sarcastic tone missing, leaving only trembling shoulders and continuous deep breaths.

Seeing this, Great Dumas looked as if he had something to say but held back.

He already knew the answer; at such a time, there was no need to bring it up again and inflict a second wound on the person involved.

Heine hung his proud head, the sharpness of old days gone from his persona as if he was no longer the Jewish lad Heinrich that everyone knew.

He laughed, though it was unclear whether he was laughing at himself or Disraeli.

Suddenly, he raised his hand to brush the hair from his forehead and, facing the gloomy rain outside the window, raised his head to say.

“Alexander, it doesn’t matter, laugh at me if you want; I indeed did that.

And not just that, during my time in Bavaria, I also maintained contact with that notorious political adventurer Vite von Dorin.

You all should know that Vite is a scoundrel, and if I had the power, I would surely hang him.

Yet, he is also genuinely amiable in personal relations, which often made me forget his despicable character.

In short, being in his company was always great fun for me.

Maybe it’s because he was opposed by the whole world that sometimes I actually defended him, upsetting many people.

But in Germany, most people still cannot understand that a person who strives to promote noble causes with their words and deeds can still commit small faults, whether for a joke or for personal gain, as long as these inherently ignoble acts do not detract from the great thoughts for which they live.

They cannot comprehend that if these small faults serve our noble ideals better, they are even praiseworthy.

And in the time of Machiavelli, as in today’s Paris, people have the deepest understanding of this truth.

This is my defense for those trifling faults; perhaps, I still have the interest to continue committing such faults in this lifetime.”

Arthur finally breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing this.

He lifted his teacup to his lips and took a gentle sip; with the warm, slightly sweet tea sliding down his throat, Arthur simply exclaimed in satisfaction, “Good tea!”

Then, he put down his teacup and said, “Since you and Benjamin agree that it’s acceptable for people to commit such trivial mistakes, what are you arguing about?”

Heine merely leaned against the windowsill and clicked his tongue in disdain.

“I had no intention of accusing Mr.

Disraeli in the first place, but he suddenly started elaborating on the glorious traditions of the Jewish Nationality and Judaism.

However, this is my own fault.

I knew from my first visit to London years ago that I should never discuss religion with a British person.”

Tennyson, puzzled, asked, “Why?”

Heine commented, “Because, even when discussing politics with the stupidest British person, they will still make some sense.

But once the topic turns to religion, even the smartest among them only speak foolishness.

What’s even more regrettable is that Germans are almost the exact opposite.”

Arthur coughed softly, stepping on Heine’s foot and whispering, “Heinrich, do you want to escalate things further?

I forgot to remind you, Alfred is a devout believer.”