The Shadow of Great Britain

138: Chapter 96 The Art of Language 138: Chapter 96 The Art of Language The morning sunlight streamed through the window into 36 Lancaster Gate.

Arthur, holding a cup of tea, reclined leisurely in his armchair, comfortably reading the newspaper in his hand.

Sunday, a time for rest, was also one of the perks of being promoted to inspector.

Usually at this time, he would either be patrolling the streets of Greenwich District or snoozing in his office at the police station.

But today, he finally had some time to attend to personal matters.

His eyes scanned the headlines of The Times.

“Whig Party Once Again Proposes Parliamentary Reform in the House of Commons, Attempting to Drag the Nation into the Abyss of Division”

“Sir Peel offers a strong defense for the Tory Party: Reform is shaking the political foundations of Britain, we must not repeat the mistakes of the French Great Revolution”

Soon, he flipped to the “Poor Man’s Political Monthly” tucked behind, where the same event was covered but this time the headline read—”Robert Peel arrogantly defends his conservative stance: Severely condemns the Whig Party’s tactic of raising the costs of bribery, undermining the rules of the game”

Seeing this, Arthur couldn’t help shaking his head.

The voice of the Red Devil quietly arose.

“Arthur, have you noticed?

The art of ruling, much like the lawyer’s rhetoric, mainly revolves around knowing how to phrase words.

Just choose the right words to express an idea, embellished with exaggerated rhetoric, repeated continually, stated with an assertive attitude, and hold an approach that never concedes to reasoning—then you can easily persuade the public.

The power of words is too strong; with the right choice, even the most despicable things can be favorably named and accepted by everyone.”

Arthur took a sip from his teacup and said lightly, “I have to admit, you might be right about that.

Often, the public’s hostility towards us is simply because we are called ‘police.’

They don’t know us, nor have they interacted with us, yet as soon as they see our uniforms, they are eager to start provoking, and this is most frequent in the East End of London.

I don’t know if I’ve told you before, but the Irish poor living there even consider attacking police a way to prove their courage, God knows what they think in their heads.”

The Red Devil smirked and shrugged, “Maybe they’ve just had too many potatoes.”

Arthur put down the newspaper, sighed, and said, “But no matter what, the Duke of Wellington’s cabinet is now on shaky ground.

Mr.

Hesketh was killed by a train, and the Tory alliance with the Hesketh faction has been thus derailed.

Wellington’s cabinet has already lost its absolute majority in the House of Commons, so now they can hardly propose any bills, though they still hold a solid position in the House of Lords, but the House of Lords only has the power to veto or pass bills from the House of Commons.

So, now the entire parliamentary system of Great Britain is virtually paralyzed.

Neither the Whig Party nor the Tory Party can get the better of the other, and apart from hurling insults in Parliament, there’s nothing much they can do about legislative issues.”

Agares flipped through the newspaper in front of Arthur, and the Red Devil spoke, “The elections are to be held in late October this year, and given the current situation, the Tory Party is undoubtedly headed for defeat.

Moreover, it’s not just any defeat; they will suffer a loss as great as Waterloo.

Wellington and Robert Peel are expected to be out of office for quite some time.

Arthur, perhaps you should consider creating a back-up plan for yourself.

Why don’t we spend some time reaching out to the Duke of Sussex?

After all, Minister Rowan and some of your colleagues at Scotland Yard harbor quite a bit of hostility towards your rapid promotion!”

Arthur rubbed his temples and pointed to a headline on the newspaper.

“I can’t say you are wrong, but it’s not the right time just yet.

Look at this: the Belgians in Brussels have started an uprising.

Priests, merchants, workers, and peasants are all dissatisfied with the Dutch Protestants’ rule over Belgium—ripples from the French Revolution.

Thankfully, the Catholic Emancipation Act was previously passed, or else the Irish would absolutely have emulated them, delivering a fatal blow to Britain.

However, it seems now, even if the Irish won’t imitate, but the July Revolution in France has already stirred a restless air across Europa.

During this time, unstable elements in society may start to surface, after all, they have been waiting a long time to see this spark.

Perhaps I really must consider your earlier suggestion, and ask Sir Peel to allow us policemen to change our titles; carrying this title to monitor the agitated elements is far too dangerous.

On one hand, we must be careful not to provoke their sentiments.

On the other hand, I also have to be responsible for my subordinates’ safety.

Everyone comes to work at Scotland Yard to make a living, not to deliver their lives.”

The Red Devil narrowed his eyes and asked, “Are you thinking about renaming Scotland Yard?”

Arthur shook his head and said, “If everyone at Scotland Yard changes their names, it would defeat the purpose of changing names.

Moreover, you just mentioned a very important point.

There are quite a few mid to high-ranking individuals at Scotland Yard who are hostile towards me; I do not want them to feel that I am meddling in their jurisdictions.

Therefore, it suffices to start the change within my own jurisdiction.

If Sir Peel agrees, it would be best to establish an independent department this time, although the funding for this department would still need to come from local security budgets.

However, I hope this department can report directly to the Home Office.”

“Agares, what you said was right, yet incomplete.

Whether the Whigs or the Tories are in power, it doesn’t really affect me much.

Both parties don’t harbor such significant resentment against me.

If I can’t make it, the reason will likely originate from within Scotland Yard itself.”

“Oh!

My dear Arthur.

Do you know what I like most about you?”

The Red Devil rubbed his hands together, chuckling, “You always learn things quickly; I just gave you a slight reminder about the use of rhetoric, and you’ve immediately extrapolated so much from it.

To talk about better monitoring potential anarchists would suffice when you discuss this with Sir Peel.

For me, directly saying setting up a new department under the Home Office because you, the little rascal, are looking for a way out would suffice.

Your suggestion is reasonable and, given your relationship with Peel, once this new department that is not under the jurisdiction of Scotland Yard is established, who will head it is clear.”

Upon hearing this, Arthur stretched lazily towards the sunlight streaming through the window, his hands clasped behind his back, watching Great Dumas happily planting garlic in the garden below.

In his mind, he was already rehearsing how to be as low-key and modest as possible in front of Sir Peel in a few days.

On this matter, he might need a bit of the Eastern wisdom from his homeland.

Arthur mulled over and savored his choice of words while murmuring to himself.

“I am not being humble at all—how did a police superintendent from Scotland Yard end up in a new department in the Home Office…”