The Shadow of Great Britain

In the chilly morning, the sky was still shrouded in a layer of mist as the carriage carrying George Ohm slowly passed through the gates of Gottingen.

He leaned against the window of the carriage, gazing at the outline of the university town gradually taking shape in the dawn. The cobblestoned streets, slick from last night's light rain, let out a low creak as the wheels rolled over them.

The distant church spires appeared faintly, and the silhouette of the bell tower became clearer in the morning light.

The buildings in Gottingen were mostly constructed of simple stone and brick, and everything here exuded an air of academic solemnity and tranquility, as if every inch of this town was steeped in the essence of knowledge. This made Ohm, who also grew up in Bavaria's university town Erlangen, feel a sense of kinship.

The carriage navigated through narrow alleys, and by the roadside, some early-rising students could be seen hurrying to their lectures.

They wore simple robes and carried heavy bookbags on their shoulders. Judging by their expressions, most of them evidently weren't fully awake.

Ohm's gaze passed over them, as if seeing a reflection of his younger self.

He couldn't help but smile and mutter, "Surely, many among them drank too late last night, that's why they're so out of it."

Finally, the carriage stopped in front of a modest stone building.

It was a small inn, whose exterior was rustic yet elegant.

A rusty copper sign hung at the entrance, bearing the inn's name, though the lettering had become somewhat blurred with age.

Ohm pushed open the carriage door and stepped out gingerly, the fatigue of the long journey suddenly washing over him and making him feel weary.

He stood before the inn, looking up at the sky as the dawn was gradually replaced by clear sunlight, officially starting the day in Gottingen.

He took a deep breath, as if wanting to inhale this town's unique atmosphere into his chest.

Everything here seemed both strange and familiar to him, as if he were destined by heaven to embark on a new academic journey here.

Despite his travel fatigue, Ohm dared not slack off even a bit. He entered the inn, completed his check-in at the front desk, and hastily tossed his luggage onto the inn's bed before rushing out the door, heading straight for the German prestigious school that haunted his dreams — University of Gottingen.

In external promotions, Munich University, Heidelberg University, and Jena University often advertised themselves as one of the top five German schools. However, Berlin University and University of Gottingen, also among the top five, never used that slogan but instead claimed to be Germany's best universities.

To the Germans, is Berlin University better, or is University of Gottingen superior?

This is indeed a conundrum.

But if you break it down by fields, University of Gottingen, with Gauss and others at the helm, clearly surpasses in mathematics and other natural sciences, while Berlin University, proud of Hegel and others, takes the lead in philosophy and other humanities and social sciences.

Of course, this isn't to say University of Gottingen is poor in humanities or to disparage Berlin University in natural sciences. They are also the second-best in the Germanic region for humanities and natural sciences, respectively. Their status in Germany is akin to Oxford and Cambridge in Britain.

Indeed, this kind of talk must never reach a Royal Navy cartographer or the Göttingen University Supervisor's ears.

For in their words, University of Gottingen's status in Germany is akin to University of London's in Britain — absolutely unrivaled. The great Gottingen would never accept comparisons with second-rate schools like Berlin University.

This isn't an exaggeration of those two fellows' arrogance, for they were already this arrogant before they even received their degree certificates. On the day University of London was granted a teaching license, they argued that church institutions like Oxford and Cambridge should have long since been relegated to the pages of history.

Only one university can bear the responsibility of spreading the seeds of civilization for the British people.

Yes, only one.

For they don't even recognize King's College, which also employs modern educational methods, and furthermore, they believe the name "King's College" is quite inappropriate. It should be renamed as 'Oxford University Remedial School for Failed Students' or 'Cambridge University Class for Underperforming Students' or something similar.

In their view, everyone studying at King's College is a life failure. They're not there because they like King's College, but simply because they couldn't get into Oxford or Cambridge.

But reflecting on University of London, the students here are different.

The students here are loyal to the school, and they come here because they believe in University of London's ideals.

As such, attending University of London allows one to have a happy and fulfilled life, and graduating from here successfully means one has already achieved half of life's success.

Though that's what they say, it's clear that these two fellows in saying this have forgotten: as two outstanding representatives of University of London graduates, one was banished to the Kingdom of Hanover in the capacity of a convict assigned to the army. As for the other one, it was even more unfortunate; he was exiled five thousand miles by the Navy Department, ending up directly on the high seas of South America.

But anyway, as long as they consider their lives to be fulfilling, that's good enough.

After all, they can still stubbornly argue that it's not London's environment that's bad, nor are London's lasses unattractive, but rather that Hanover's sunshine and South America's dolphins offer them an even broader world.