The Shadow of Great Britain

74: Chapter 35 Utilitarianism 74: Chapter 35 Utilitarianism The public carriage swayed to and fro, with Arthur sitting inside looking through the window, while the young policeman, Field, sat uneasily beside him.

Although the two were not far apart in age, Field was even slightly older.

Yet, for some reason, perhaps due to personal presence, or perhaps because of Arthur’s perpetually serene and unchanged expression, Field always felt an invisible pressure.

He remained silent for a long while before he finally couldn’t resist asking, “Sir, how exactly did you solve those cases?

You might not be aware, but these past few days, our precinct has been abuzz.

At a glance, you saw through the truth of the hotel murder case, which is simply unbelievable.”

“Unbelievable?”

Arthur leaned against the window, “If you pay attention, you can do it, too, in time.

For every murder, there are only a few patterns, either it’s because of personal relationships or because of profit.

Although there indeed are people who are utterly heartless and inhumane, they are very rare.

You might work on cases for ten years without encountering such individuals, and their manner of killing rarely follows any discernible pattern, often being impulsive.

For such people, in most cases, we rely on technical methods to track and trace them.

However, they are the minority.

For most cases, you just need to follow logic for your investigations.

After all, as long as a person lives in society, they inevitably exhibit some societal characteristics.

Of course, society changes, so the societal characteristics of people change too, which is indeed worth noting.”

Field asked curiously, “How is the societal nature of the present different from the past?”

Arthur pursed his lips and said, “Haven’t you heard the priests proclaiming in the streets?

They say that since entering the 19th century, everyone has become fixated on money, and that old, beautiful England is gone forever.

As a result, fewer kill for love, no one kills for honor; it’s all about money and desire now.

Though the priests don’t say this entirely out of righteousness—after all, it’s well-known that they despise the group of factory owners—

sometimes, upon reflection, what the priests say doesn’t seem entirely wrong.

Because if you’re clueless about a case, starting with the suspect’s financial statements often leads to unexpected discoveries.

And swarms of robbers, pickpockets, and thieves line the streets of London.

From day to night, you can see prostitutes soliciting clients everywhere.

These politicians claim that such suffering can forge their spirits, making them better people.

But they fail to mention that the suffering has led to a juvenile delinquency rate as high as thirty percent in the East End of London.

They also say poverty stems from laziness, but they don’t mention that the average working hours for factory workers in London exceed fifteen hours.

You might not know, but I studied history at the University of London.

Thus, I know that even in the Middle Ages, which people often regard as grim and lightless, the poor didn’t live like this.

Back then, they could have a small stone house in the countryside and pick up firewood in the fields at will.

But now?

If you pick up firewood in the fields of the countryside, you might be breaking the law, because that land isn’t yours, and farmers no longer own their land.

And to talk of workers, in Whitechapel, I know of two to three thousand families, over ten thousand people, squeezed into fourteen hundred shabby houses.

And this is not an isolated case, because places like Bethnal Green or St Giles are even worse.

Many workers in London start factory work at the age of six, and if unlucky, end up with lifelong illnesses in their teens.

Then, there was no place willing to take them anymore.

They could only wander the streets, men selling violence and women selling their bodies.

And we police had to put them in prison and fine them.

The first time they were imprisoned, they might still receive some sympathy.

The second time, perhaps some understanding as well.

But what about the third or fourth time?

By then, the jury and magistrates would no longer show any mercy.

So, in fact, once a poor person committed their first crime, their fate was already sealed.

It was either the gallows or transportation to Australia, without exception.

They had already lived like this, but after they died, some even stole their bodies, and them…”

Arthur paused here, suddenly feeling a tightness in his chest, as he remembered the scene he had witnessed that day at St Thomas’s Hospital.

He took out his pipe and was about to light it but then hesitated and put it back in his pocket.

Seeing this, Field quickly waved his hand, “Smoke if you like, it doesn’t bother me at all.”

Arthur smiled and shook his head in response, “But it bothers me.”

Field looked at Arthur curiously and asked, “Is that why you think about hanging those who steal bodies, kill for bodies, and even the doctors themselves?”

Arthur did not shy away, “Morally speaking, yes.

But legally, a body is just a body.

We can only hang those who actually commit the murder, not those who pay for it to be done.”

Field thought for a moment, then asked, “Is that the right thing to do?”

Arthur looked out the window where the rain continued to fall, “I don’t know if it’s right.

I’m just a policeman, instructed to uphold justice and righteousness, but I’m not sure what truly constitutes justice and righteousness.

At least, our current laws don’t seem to, as I know many people disagree with them.”

The Red Devil’s figure flickered behind him, dressed differently today after disappearing for a night.

He not only discarded the pitchfork he usually carried but also wore a dark black robe and even a pair of glasses.

Perched on his shoulder was a summoned black raven with blood-red eyes, holding a scroll of incomprehensible script.

Agares chuckled, rubbing his hands together as he spoke, “Arthur, why think so much?

Your justice is justice, your righteousness is righteousness.

If you decide now, I can provide you with the criminal’s location.

The price is very fair and quite affordable.

Let’s wrap up this case quickly, then we can move towards a greater future.”

Arthur ignored him, instead focusing his gaze outside the window, where the road ahead seemed crowded with people, even slowing the carriage down.

Arthur opened the carriage window and leaned out to look, recognizing the streets very well.

This was Gower Street in Bloomsbury, London, where he had spent four years.

No sooner had he stuck his head out the window than he felt a firm slap on the back of his head.

Arthur turned his head to see Eld’s annoying smiling face.

“Arthur!

My good brother!

I knew you’d come today, after all, visiting our school to lecture today is none other than our spiritual guide at the University of London, Jeremy Bentham!”

“Jeremy Bentham?” Arthur fell silent for a moment, seemingly recalling something, “Utilitarianism?”