Chapter 370
At the Royal Shipyard in Trieste, Ernst personally inspected the "Archduke Ferdinand," a ship that, for its time, was truly a behemoth. Ernst himself didn't know much about ships, but he wasn't worried about the Austrians trying to fool him—technicians from the Hechingen Trieste Shipyard had also been involved in the oversight. Since this vessel was to become Ferdinand's command ship—and Ferdinand being the emperor's brother—no one would dare cut corners. Seeing the rapid progress of the Archduke Ferdinand, Ernst was satisfied. "Let's go!"
This time, Ernst was bringing quite a lot with him to East Africa, including many of his collections from Hohenzollern Castle, mostly antiques and cultural relics.
In Europe, Ernst had scooped up many valuable items at a bargain. Most of them were cultural relics acquired from French and British soldiers returning home from war—particularly paintings and calligraphy, items foreigners typically didn't appreciate and which were hard to forge. Western countries at the time lacked the technical skills to replicate such works.
Among Ernst's collection was the painting Admonitions of the Instructress to the Court Ladies, which he acquired for less than two shillings—a "high" price for the time.
The British and French foot soldiers had no idea of the real value of what they were selling. They treated the items as mere war trophies. Ernst bought most of them wholesale, and now had over 400 paintings alone.
Books were even more plentiful. One of the highlights was his collection of over 500 volumes of the Yongle Encyclopedia, all purchased by weight.
Although Ernst didn't have much cultural appreciation himself, he understood that anything looted from the Old Summer Palace or the Forbidden City had to be valuable.
Most of the French artifacts ended up in Ernst's hands, thanks to the "internationalist spirit" of the French public.
Compared to the British army, which specialized in looting, the French soldiers—also returning "triumphantly" from the East—received quite a different reception at home.
On one hand, French newspapers widely reported the looting of the Old Summer Palace, providing extensive details. The media coverage made the secrets of this imperial invasion a constant topic of conversation.
On the other hand, many French citizens felt ashamed and angry about the looting by their troops and publicly condemned the act. The most famous criticism came from the renowned French author Victor Hugo, who described the Old Summer Palace as "China's Versailles + the Louvre + the French National Library" and condemned General Montauban's actions as a disgrace to humanity and a shame upon France.
As a result, French public opinion became sharply divided. On one side, newspapers continued to investigate and publish in-depth reports, leaving behind a trove of valuable historical records. On the other hand, many returning officers and soldiers promptly auctioned off their looted goods, unwilling to keep such controversial "souvenirs." Numerous auctions and catalogs soon followed.
Ernst took the opportunity to buy a number of these items, although most were Qing imperial court objects that didn't suit his personal taste.
Especially enamelware—highly prized by the Qing court and foreigners alike—but Ernst found it inferior to his Ru kilns. Worse still, enamelware sold for more than Ru kilns at auction. Ernst noticed that the flashier and more ornate an object was, the higher its price.
The simpler, more elegant artifacts—those aligned with traditional Eastern aesthetics—were often overlooked by British and French looters.
This was simply because they didn't recognize the value. The only ones who did were the opportunistic Japanese, although in this timeline, the Japanese didn't manage to buy much. Most of the treasures ended up with Hechingen Bank.
Historically, from 1931 to 1945, Japan looted 1,879 boxes of cultural relics from the Far East. After the war, Japan admitted that it had taken 3.6 million cultural items from the Far East, not including the "spoils" inherited by the descendants of Japanese war criminals.
The Tokyo National Museum still houses an enormous number of Chinese paintings and calligraphy, including Li Bai Roaming, Snowy Landscape, Sixth Patriarch Cutting Bamboo, and Wang Xizhi's original Seventeen Letters. Japan even brazenly listed these treasures in its 150th-anniversary exhibition. That shameless nation, like a mangy dog, is truly beyond redemption.
…
"Be careful with these scrolls. Handle them gently. On the ship, patrol them regularly. Don't let rats nibble on these masterpieces."
A subordinate chuckled awkwardly. "Yes, Your Highness, but I don't think rats are going to gnaw through iron crates just for fun."
"You may be right, but we should still be cautious. Many of these pieces are destined for museums—any damage would mar their appearance."
Aside from antique artifacts, the bulk of Ernst's cargo was books. A total of 30,000 volumes—to fill the empty halls of the National Library. Not located in the First Town, the National Library was to be built in the newly planned city of Soga.
When it came to culture, East Africa seemed rather indifferent. Due to ingrained habits, even those who had received compulsory education—like the German settlers—didn't particularly enjoy reading.
After all, compulsory education was a duty, not a right. It had been introduced primarily to cultivate obedient soldiers and loyal, patriotic citizens.
Ernst himself didn't care too much either. Adults were already set in their ways—and frankly, Ernst preferred to keep their thinking that way. Besides, the intended audience of the Soga National Library wasn't the general public anyway.
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