The Shadow of Great Britain

34: Chapter 31 The Absolutely Neutral Agent of Chaos 34: Chapter 31 The Absolutely Neutral Agent of Chaos Dickens was startled by Arthur’s outburst of emotion.

But this was not a sudden whim of Arthur’s; he had been in this world for nearly fifteen years.

In those fifteen years, he had walked the country lanes of Yorkshire, studied at the godless academy on Gower Street in London, passed through the bustling Royal Opera House, and ventured into the darkest, lightless corners of the East End of London.

In York, he had seen the luxurious manors of the Nobility, and gazed at the majestic York Minster, which began construction in the year 627.

But he had also seen farmers in soggy wheat fields during the rainy season, wearing shoes with toes sticking out, braving the downpour to rush the harvest just to secure the last bit of their meager income.

In the family workshops, the spinning wheels operated with a constant creaking noise, yet the most skilled woman could produce only half a meter of cloth in a day.

And in the newly built spinning mills by the river, a mere moment’s work could easily diminish the women’s hard labor to nothing.

In London, he had seen the busy transportation periods of the docks in April and September.

There, dockworkers carried heavy loads, shouldering bags filled with hundreds of pounds of tea and spices, walking heavily down the gangplanks; from a distance, they looked like swarms of ants.

He had also witnessed the bleakness of the harbor in winter when thousands of laborers gathered around the few ships available, fighting and injuring each other, all for the sake of waiting for a job opportunity that paid two shillings a day.

He did not want to see these things, but as long as he lived in this world, some things were inescapable.

The Whig Party?

The Tory Party?

In Arthur’s eyes, those were just names used for the sake of it.

What was the difference between them?

Sorry.

He really couldn’t tell.

There were many internal regulations at Scotland Yard.

But there was one that Arthur truly followed earnestly.

The police of Scotland Yard should always remain politically neutral, neither leaning towards the Whigs nor the Tories.

On this point, he had no doubt.

He smoked silently, and the mood he had finally managed to sort out over the past couple of days fell into dead silence again.

Seeing him like this, Dickens couldn’t help but put his hand on his shoulder and said, “Arthur, would you be interested in hearing my story?”

Arthur glanced at him and knocked the ash from his pipe onto the ground.

“I’ve read many of your articles, but this would be the first time I’ve heard you tell a story.”

Dickens smiled and said, “You might not believe it, but I actually came from a fairly decent family background when I was young.

Although we weren’t rich, we were quite well-off.

My father worked for the Navy Department’s Supply Division, and my mother came from a middle-class family.

Later on, due to my father’s debts leading to bankruptcy, our family’s circumstances quickly declined.

But as the second of eight children, I was fortunate enough to have gone to school in my early years and received a certain level of education.

I remember it was around when I was twelve, my father, because he could not pay his debts, was put into debtor’s prison.

He wrote home from jail asking for money, but there was nothing left at home, so not long after, my mother and several of my siblings were also locked up in prison.

I was fortunate that at the time, I was working in a boot polish workshop as a child laborer, so the creditor allowed me to continue working there to pay off my family’s debts and did not have the judge lock me up.

After a few months, my father borrowed some money from relatives, and finally, my family was released from prison.

After that, I worked to pay off debts while attending secondary school.

At 14, because I had a good memory and neat handwriting, I got an opportunity; I joined The Times and was assigned to Parliament as a reporter.

I thought life would start improving, but before long, our family was evicted by our landlord for failing to pay rent, and I dropped out of school.

Afterward, I took on many jobs, selling papers, running errands for people, and doing odd jobs on the streets.

With unrelenting effort, I got the opportunity to apprentice at a solicitor’s office.

I learned some basic legal knowledge there and also learned stenography, with which I secured a job as a court stenographer and went back to my old trade, continuing to work part-time as a reporter for a small paper.

And then, I met you, Arthur.

I don’t know how there can be someone as handsome as you are in this world?

Your speech that day really moved me; you said many things I wanted to say, and you did many things I wanted to do.”

I have always silently endured this world, silently born my fate, thinking that perhaps this was the trial I was destined to suffer.

I thought it was only me who felt this way until I realized that many gentlemen and ladies of the jury felt the same.

Everyone is dissatisfied with this world, with those damn legal provisions, but only you dare to stand up in court and reveal it all in front of everyone.

When I say these things, it’s not because I want to flatter you, the new Police Superintendent, or because I’m looking to butter you up for some favor.

Arthur, you are a good man, you really are a good man.

You clearly, you clearly didn’t have to do those things, but you did them anyway.

I tell you all this just to let you know that your efforts weren’t in vain.

Arthur, there are many things that you and everyone else can’t stand, but that’s not your fault, that’s just the way the world is.

Maybe you haven’t changed much, but at least you tried.

So, don’t feel bad, don’t blame yourself.

At the very least, you changed the fates of some people, including little Adam, and me as well.

Honestly, I still believe to this day that you were sent by God to look after me, you got my articles published in The Times, you let me…

you let me make a lot of money…

You…

you helped me pay off my family’s debts, and there was even some left over for my younger brothers and sisters to go to school.

I am very grateful to you, I really am very grateful to you.”

As Dickens spoke, his voice began to choke up, and the tears in the corner of his eyes were like a stream flowing down his cheeks.

He lifted his hand to wipe away the tears, and with a smile, said, “Sorry, here I meant to comfort you, but ended up making myself cry.

I just wanted to try doing what you’ve done, so I came to this place, but if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t even have been able to protect my own interview manuscript.

Arthur, I’m such a useless journalist; I might never be as good as you.”

Arthur looked at Dickens with his tearful smile, and slightly shook his head.

After all, the person standing before him was still just an eighteen-year-old young man.

He didn’t yet possess the profound thoughts he’d have decades later nor the sharp insight to see through everything.

All he had was a heart burning with fervor.

But…

For a person, that’s probably already enough.

After all, the one criticizing Dickens here was also just a twenty-year-old youth.

He took off his own bowler hat and placed it on Dickens’s head, covering his weeping eyes.

“Eld may be an odd fellow, but he didn’t get one thing wrong — you’re still a long way off from being a literary giant.”

Dickens’s eyes were covered, so his expression was unclear, but through the corner of his mouth, one could see his tender smile.

“Arthur, someone like me might never become a literary giant in this life.”

“No,” Arthur denied, “it’s exactly someone like you who is most likely to become a literary giant.

As we part, I’ll leave you with a sentence.”

“What sentence?”

Arthur gently patted his shoulder, “No matter what others say or do, I myself must be a good person.

Like a piece of jade, or gold, or a purple robe, it’s not because of their inherent nobility, but because I want to maintain my natural luster.”

With that, Arthur rose and strode away from the scene with a composed pace.

Dickens quickly stood up, calling after him with a raised voice, “Is that sentence yours?”

Arthur, without turning back or stopping, one hand in his pocket and the other raised high, waved.

“I can’t come up with words that profound.

Read more of Marco Aurelius’ Meditations, kid!”

Dickens thoughtfully considered this for a while before finally remembering the hat Arthur had placed on his head.

“Arthur, your hat!”

Arthur finally stopped in his tracks, struggled for a moment, then gritted his teeth and replied.

“Forget it, a hat worth two shillings; I’m giving it to you!”

Seeing this, Agares, the Red Devil, chuckled mischievously, “Just to show off, isn’t that tiring?”

Arthur glanced at him, “It’s not about showing off.

I’m dedicating it to the new century.”