The Shadow of Great Britain

33: Chapter 30 Dickens’s Social Investigation 33: Chapter 30 Dickens’s Social Investigation In a dark corner at the end of the street, a young man holding a light green canvas briefcase was struggling on the ground with a knife-wielding vagrant.

“Let go, if you don’t let go, I’m going to really hurt you!

Don’t say I didn’t warn you, I just sharpened this knife this morning!”

“I can give you some money, but don’t even think about taking my bag!”

The vagrant, seeing that the young man would not compromise no matter what, suddenly became furious with anger welling up from his heart to his gall.

He held the knife handle high, ready to fiercely stab the young man in the stomach twice.

However, before he could act, a hand as strong as a vise clamp seized his wrist.

Arthur simply exerted force, and suddenly the vagrant felt his arm ache unbearably, and the knife in his hand also fell to the ground.

Arthur stepped on the knife, leaned in close to the vagrant’s ear, and said, “You should be glad I’m not at work today, otherwise a beating would have been the least of your worries.

Get lost, while I still haven’t changed my mind, hurry up and get out!”

As he released his grip, the vagrant covered his painful wrist, glared at him fiercely, and then hunched his back and left.

Arthur reached out his hand to the dust-covered young man and pulled him up from the ground.

“As soon as night falls, the time for crows and vultures to search for food begins.

It’s very easy to bump into them in places without lights.”

The young man dusted himself off; he looked up to respond but hesitated upon seeing Arthur’s facial contours.

He took a closer look, then exclaimed with surprise, “Officer Arthur, I didn’t expect to run into you here!”

Arthur also recognized the other person: “Charles?”

The other person was Arthur’s new friend, the court clerk Charles Dickens.

Arthur shook his head as he touched his neck, “If something had happened to you here, it would have been a huge loss for British literature and even world literature.

You really have to cherish your life and stay as far away as possible from dangerous places.”

Dickens laughed and said, “Officer Arthur, there you go again.

I’m just a court clerk and a newspaper reporter, not some great writer like you claim.”

“Even if you’re an ordinary person, you shouldn’t be here in Saint Giles at this time!

You should know what this place is, right?

It’s the highest crime area in West London, not much different from some of the famous slums in the East District.

Luckily, you ran into me today; otherwise, you might have really lost your life here.”

Dickens felt a bit scared too, “If he had just wanted money, I would have given him all the coins and notes on me.

But he insisted on snatching the bag from my hands; I would rather die than give it to him, otherwise my entire day’s effort would have been in vain.”

Arthur asked, “Is there something important in the bag?”

Dickens nodded, his face bright with excitement as he pulled out an interview manuscript from the bag and handed it to Arthur.

He said, “Thanks to you, I’ve gained some fame from that article I wrote about you, so lately quite a few newspapers have been approaching me to write articles.

Even a committee from the House of Commons secretly commissioned me to conduct investigative interviews for them, and I came to Saint Giles specifically to gather information for that purpose.

I took up this commission eagerly at first, but it was only when I got here that I realized I had underestimated the task.

Because I’ve never been here before, my impression of Saint Giles was still stuck on the 1814 London Beer Flood, the one where the Mueck Brewery’s beer vats blew up, destroying nearby two houses and a tavern.

I thought I would be able to complete the investigation quickly during the day, but later I realized I had been too naive.

Most people living here are low-ranking laborers, working heavy manual labor jobs in nearby markets, factories, business districts, or government departments, and they simply don’t have time for my interviews.

Even homeless vagrants and pickpockets know there’s not much to gain locally, so they leave during the day to look for targets in other areas.

Therefore, I could only wait here until they returned home to sleep in the evening before I had the chance to interview one or two energetic ones.

Look, this piece I’m handing you is the one I just finished.

I’ve been watching all day for this article, and no one’s going to take it from my hands.”

Arthur glanced at the manuscript, the content was brief, but every word written on it was incredibly heavy, like a thousand-pound stone pressing on his palm.

Interviewer: Elizabeth Bentley

Reporter: Charles Dickens

Dickens: What is your occupation?

Elizabeth: I am a textile worker, working in a nearby factory.

Dickens: When did you start this job?

Elizabeth: Around 1815, when I was six years old.

Dickens: What work do you do in the factory?

Elizabeth: I am responsible for dropping the yarn.

Dickens: Can you briefly describe your work?

Elizabeth: When the thread on the spinning key is full, I stop the machine, remove the spinning key and all the bobbins, take them to the winding bobbin, replace them with empty bobbins, and start the machine again.

Dickens: How long do you work in the factory each day?

Elizabeth: From 5 in the morning until 9 at night.

Dickens: Has it been this way since you were six?

Elizabeth: Yes, but I’ve gotten used to it.

Dickens: Such heavy work, you must be busy from morning to night.

Is it okay if you work a bit slower or arrive a little late?

Elizabeth: No, they would whip me with a belt.

Dickens: Have you experienced any deformities due to long hours of labour?

Elizabeth: Yes, it started when I was thirteen.

My chest is a bit sunken, I can’t straighten my back, and I often feel like I can’t breathe.

Sir, can we end the interview now?

I’ve just finished work, and I just want to sleep well.

I am really tired.

I can’t lift my hands, and my legs can barely move.

I don’t want to talk anymore.

Dickens: I am sorry, ma’am.

Please take this shilling as compensation for the interview.

Elizabeth: You are a generous gentleman.

This is already equivalent to a day’s salary for me.

Thank you for your kindness.

May God bless you.

Arthur, having read this far, looked at Dickens without saying a word, but his expression said it all.

He felt a tightness in his chest and needed to shout into the sky to release the pent-up frustration.

After a moment of silence, he said, “Charles, you were right.

Nobody can take this away from you.”

Dickens just smiled, took a box of tobacco from his pocket, opened the lid and asked Arthur.

“Would you like some more?

Frankly, I need a bit of this right now too.”

Under the dim moonlight, one glowing red dot became two.

Arthur exhaled a smoke ring and asked, “Which committee from the House of Commons commissioned your investigation?”

Dickens replied, “To be precise, it’s not exactly from the House of Commons, but rather a committee initiated by members of the Whig Party who want to investigate the poverty situation of the locals in Saint Giles and then impeach the current Tory government.

And that’s not all; they’ve also entrusted other investigators to visit rural areas.

You should know, the past couple of years, several agricultural counties have been suffering from rural famines due to grain taxes and high rents, along with poor harvests, leading many farmworkers to farm land but still go hungry.

I’ve heard in severe areas, the income levels of farmworkers have already dropped to two to three shillings a week.

Even if rural living costs are not as high as in London, maintaining a family with two or three shillings a week is very difficult.”

Hearing this, Arthur held back for a long time but finally couldn’t help cursing.

“The Whig Party investigating the Tory Party, it sounds ridiculous.

The Whig Party is backed by big factory owners, big bankers, big lawyers, etc.

They should ask themselves why Saint Giles Parish has come to this.

As for the Tory Party, they are backed by the nobility, priests, military officers, and those landlords who profited from the enclosure movements, it’s clear whose problem it is that grain taxes are kept high to protect domestic agricultural prices and that rents are high and won’t come down.

These bastards still have the nerve to investigate each other?

I admit there might be some good people in both parties, but on average, they’re much of a muchness!”