## Chapter 177: Utopia (4K4)
“Alan Pinkerton?”
Arthur stared at the stubborn young lad in front of him, a playful smirk playing on his lips. “Not a bad name, but I thought someone with the name Pinkerton would prefer catching criminals, not becoming one.”
Pinkerton, seemingly startled by the remark, widened his eyes. Perhaps chilled by the night air, his lips were pale. “Do you know my father?”
“Your father?” Arthur pondered the question. “Is he a policeman, or perhaps a thief-catcher?”
Pinkerton nodded. “He’s a Glasgow policeman.”
Arthur let out a sigh of relief. “That’s good. I was wondering how I was going to handle you. After all, you’re a homeless outsider. According to the rules, even if I didn’t send you to the Magistrate’s Court, I would have had to transfer you to the workhouse.
But even the workhouse, in this state, would likely have sent you back to Scotland. After all, every workhouse in London is currently operating at full capacity. Local residents are unwilling to pay even a farthing more in poor rates.
Now that we know your father is a working policeman, things are much easier. Glasgow Pinkerton, right? I’ll find someone to contact him.”
Pinkerton, hearing that Arthur was going to send him back, was about to argue.
But before he could speak, the tavern door was pushed open again.
A familiar jingle of the bell announced the arrival of two familiar faces.
It was Dickens, the journalist who had applied to Scotland Yard for a half-day investigation in Tower Hamlets, and Tom, the officer assigned to escort and protect him.
Arthur, seeing them, raised his hand in greeting. “Charles, Tom, how was your day?”
Tom, upon seeing Arthur, asked in surprise, “Arthur, what are you doing here so late?”
Arthur leaned against the counter and gestured towards Pinkerton with a tilt of his head. “For a little lad who managed to sneak all the way from Scotland to London on his own. Meet him, the son of Glasgow Pinkerton, the one who just swiped Eld’s wallet right under my nose.”
Tom, hearing this, sighed wearily. “So, you’re going to throw him in jail?”
Arthur took a sip of coffee. “You know, I’m a graduate of London University. From a utilitarian law enforcement perspective, we throw people in jail not out of personal preference, but to ensure they don’t repeat their mistakes.
This lad’s situation is unique. I think the best way to keep him from continuing his life in London is to send him back to his father. Tom, you’re going to have a business trip tomorrow, and you haven’t had a vacation in a long time. Take your wife and Adam along, and bring this lad to Glasgow and personally hand him over to Pinkerton. When you get back, remember to file for reimbursement of your travel expenses.”
Tom, hearing this, couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. He smiled and replied, “Okay, I’ll take him back first. I’ll leave for Glasgow early tomorrow morning.”
Arthur nodded. “I knew you were the right man for the job.”
With that, Tom walked over and spoke to Pinkerton. At first, Pinkerton was reluctant to leave, but under Tom’s persistent persuasion, he eventually, albeit grudgingly, left the tavern with Tom.
Dickens watched them leave and then found a seat next to Arthur.
He hung his head, clutching his cup, and hesitated for a long time before finally mustering the courage to speak. “Arthur, I… I actually have some questions I wanted to ask you. Of course, if you’re not comfortable, you can choose not to answer.”
Arthur, seeing his expression, simply smiled. “You’re probably asking about Hyde Park, right?”
Dickens, hearing the name, couldn’t help but turn to him. “You… how did you know?”
Arthur just stroked his chin. “Because the only thing that could make you so hesitant to speak to me is what happened there.”
Dickens chuckled wryly. “I thought you’d be very wary of this.”
“It’s true, I am quite wary. But it’s done. It’s worse to pretend it didn’t happen. After all, at least the former leaves room for explanation, while the latter, I can’t think of any reason other than guilt. But it’s just you, Charles. You’re willing to listen to my explanation because we’re familiar. Normally, other people are too lazy to listen to my explanation, so I’m too lazy to explain.”
Dickens, hearing this, felt the heavy air lighten considerably.
He let out a sigh, a smile returning to his face. “That’s true. It’s because we know each other, and I know your character, so I know there must be a reason. At least you’re not the one who initiated it, am I right?”
Arthur shook his head. “You guessed wrong about that. I was the one who brought it up to the higher-ups. I was worried that if things continued to escalate, we’d have to deploy the Life Guards again. I think it’s better to let them take a few blows, or even spend a few days in the clink, than to be sliced by their sabres.”
“That…” Dickens hesitated. “But what do you think about parliamentary reform? Don’t you support it?”
“Parliamentary reform?” Arthur raised an eyebrow. “You mean the parliamentary reform that gives the middle class the right to vote but sends workers to their deaths?”
“The middle class getting the right to vote?” Dickens was astonished. “No! The goal of parliamentary reform is universal suffrage, isn’t it?”
Arthur just smiled. “Do you think that’s possible? Universal suffrage? If it happened, neither the Tories nor the Whigs would be elected, and the Birmingham Political Union led by Thomas Attwood, or the London Metropolitan Political Union, would be the ones in power.
So, the Whigs are going to put so much effort into pushing for parliamentary reform, only to end up losing the election? Charles, do you think that’s possible? You’re a true-born Briton, and you’ve been doing parliamentary reporting for a while now, so you must know that compromise is a crucial part of British politics.
To pass Bill A, we usually propose a Bill B that is even more unacceptable to Parliament. But Bill B is never really considered, its purpose is simply to force the opposition to agree to A.”
Dickens furrowed his brow, seemingly not agreeing with Arthur’s view. “That…”
Arthur just held his coffee cup, feeling the warmth it radiated, and said, “Perhaps there are some people in the Whig party who genuinely want to achieve universal suffrage. But once you expand it to the whole Whig party, that small minority becomes negligible. You know why I think the Duke of Wellington and Sir Robert Peel are decent people?”
Dickens asked, “Why?”
Arthur took a sip of coffee. “Because they are the few politicians who dare to go against the mainstream opinion of their party. The Catholic Emancipation Act, I still can’t believe it, the Duke of Wellington, a man known as a die-hard Tory, could make such a bold decision.
From the moment he signed the Act, his political career was practically over, but he still chose to sign it. That’s not something just anyone would dare to do.
I admire him, and I have indeed benefited from the Act, so out of gratitude, I can’t just let others continue to smash his windows. That doesn’t benefit either the window smashers or the smashed.
Charles, you know, being ungrateful to one’s early benefactor, the architect of one’s good fortune, is a sure sign of bad karma. To me, both Sir Robert Peel and the Duke of Wellington are my benefactors of good fortune.”
Dickens, hearing this, couldn’t help but brighten up. “Being ungrateful to one’s early benefactor, the architect of one’s good fortune, is a sure sign of bad karma… that sounds quite good, is it another quote from Marcus Aurelius?”
Arthur just smiled. “No, it’s yours.”
“Mine?” Dickens was stunned. “You mean I can put it in my book?”
“Of course, anytime, anywhere.” Arthur raised his coffee cup and clinked it against his. “Charles, I wish you a bright future.”
Arthur asked, “Speaking of which, have you finished reading Marcus Aurelius’s Meditations?”
Dickens blushed sheepishly. “I’m halfway through, but I’ve been obsessed with another book lately.”
“Oh? What book?”
Dickens smiled and pulled out a crumpled book from his bag. “This one, Sir Thomas More’s Utopia. Have you read it? It’s a very interesting work.”
Arthur nodded. “It’s not just the book that’s interesting, Sir Thomas More himself is very interesting. Our King Henry VIII wanted a divorce, so he asked all the nobles in the country to write a letter to the Pope, but Sir Thomas More, the Lord Chancellor, refused to sign it.
Later, Henry VIII passed the Act of Supremacy, making himself the supreme head of the Church of England, and Sir Thomas More again refused to swear allegiance to the King.
As a result, the furious King threw him in the Tower of London and had a bunch of people give false testimony, convicting him of treason. To show mercy, Henry VIII hypocritically changed the execution method from dismemberment to beheading.
But Sir Thomas More’s first reaction to this was to joke, ‘May God protect my friends and relatives from this kind of mercy.’ And as he walked to the scaffold, he even had the time to joke with the executioner, saying, ‘Please help me get up, as for how to get down, I’ve already arranged that.'”
Dickens couldn’t help but laugh. “Sir Thomas More is indeed a very interesting man, but what does this have to do with the book Utopia?”
Arthur pointed to the title of the book. “Didn’t you realize that the title Utopia is also a joke by Sir Thomas More?”
“This… how so?”
Arthur said, “Charles, as a future literary giant, you should probably brush up on your Greek. Utopia is actually a compound word made up of two Greek words, ‘ou,’ which means ‘no,’ and ‘topos,’ which means ‘place.’ So, the actual meaning of Utopia is ‘no such place.’
This book is not like Plato’s Republic. If you read it with a serious and earnest attitude, you won’t just miss its essence, you’ll be tricked by Sir Thomas More. But it’s not a big deal, maybe Sir Thomas More wrote this book just to have fun with us readers.”
“Is… is that so?” Dickens frowned, stroking the cover of the book. “But… but I think the Utopia in this book is pretty good, isn’t that what everyone wants?”
Arthur, however, just raised an eyebrow. “I thought so at first too, but after experiencing all the things that have happened around me, and the people I’ve met, and after talking to my old friend, I’ve changed my mind a bit.”
Dickens couldn’t help but ask, “Isn’t that what people are striving for, Utopia?”
“Of course not.”
Arthur leaned back in his chair. “Well, how do I explain it to you? For most people, what they want is complicated. They want anarchist personal freedom, utopian social welfare, chauvinistic national policies, militaristic international relations, capitalist commodity economy, nihilistic work attitudes, feudalistic views on marriage. Oh, and most importantly, they want the sexual openness of primitive societies.”
As soon as Arthur finished speaking, the Red Devil sitting at the counter couldn’t help but slap his thigh and roar with laughter. His tongue nearly flew out of his mouth. “Arthur! You finally see it!”
Dickens, hearing this, suddenly looked strange. “Then what would it be like if all of this were achieved?”
“I don’t know.” Arthur shrugged. “But I think it’s something that even God wouldn’t be able to satisfy them with. But if they could become the King of Great Britain, and if they could promise Parliament that they would not interfere with domestic and foreign policies, then the Cabinet might reluctantly agree to their demands. But Charles, you know, Great Britain has twenty million people, and there’s only one King, so our biggest problem now is finding forty trillion subjects for our twenty million Kings.”
Dickens, listening, was puzzled. “Then if they can’t become Kings, will these things not change?”
“Change, of course they have to change.” Arthur said, “But if they don’t give up some of their demands, none of the above requests can be fulfilled. You know, Britain is a dungheap, and now there are people in the dungheap telling them that if they get the right to vote, they can have all their demands met, but in reality, they don’t intend to give them the right to vote.
The workers have been fooled, and they’re enjoying it. That’s not a good sign. I think they should be fighting for things like factory legislation, after all, in the eyes of the Whigs, they’re at their most valuable right now. If they don’t ask for some things now, they’ll be gone forever.”
Dickens, hearing this, lowered his head and remained silent for a moment, then sighed.
He pulled out a notebook from his canvas bag and said, “Forget it, let’s not talk about these depressing things. Arthur, you know I’ve been doing parliamentary reporting lately. I have some information about the Whig party’s cabinet list, some things I heard from the MPs, are you interested in it?”
Arthur, hearing this, blinked. “If you don’t mind telling me, I’d love to hear it.”
Dickens opened the notebook, rubbed his temples, and began to read. “If nothing unexpected happens, and the Tories step down and the Whigs take power. Then, the Home Secretary, one of the three most important positions in the cabinet, is likely to be chosen from among Viscount Palmerston, Viscount Melbourne, the Duke of Bedford, and his brother, Lord John Russell…”
(End of Chapter)