## Chapter 188: The East India Company’s Trade Secrets (4K7)
A simple spread of snacks lay on the table in a coffee shop across from the University of London. Four young men, with nothing better to do on their day off, were gathered together, engaging in leisurely conversation.
“So, you two aren’t students at the University of London?” Eldred asked casually, resting his hand on the back of his chair, his gaze fixed on the two men sitting opposite him.
Both men shook their heads. Mill spoke up, “We’re friends. We met in the London Debating Society.”
“Debating Society?”
Arthur stirred some milk into his coffee and asked, “Why would the Debating Society choose to hold their debates in the University of London’s grounds? Our school is already noisy enough. You might not know, but having Protestants, Catholics, atheists, and a whole bunch of other oddballs crammed into the same campus is quite a situation.”
Roback joked, “Could it be worse than Oxford?”
Eldred instantly found common ground, his tone becoming more intimate, “You dislike Oxford too?”
Mill scoffed, “How many utilitarians have a good opinion of Oxford? Even Mr. Bentham, a graduate of Oxford, frowns upon it whenever it’s mentioned. We heard him talk about it while we were working at the Westminster Review.
He said that when he was studying at Oxford, his tutor’s greatest pleasure was to prevent his students from having any pleasure. As soon as they entered, he made Bentham read Cicero’s *Orations*. Even after memorizing it, they had to continue reading it every day.
And during class, it was just rote learning. So-called geography class involved placing a map on the blackboard and telling you where each place was. You had to learn everything on your own in those classes.
The Oxford tutors never cared about their students, and it was difficult for the students to build any rapport with each other. To quote Mr. Bentham, ‘The tutors spent their mornings on boring daily routines, and their evenings playing cards. The seniors were either debauched and extravagant or depressed and eccentric, most of them were lifeless.’ ”
Eldred couldn’t help but comment, “No wonder I heard Mr. Bentham denounce Oxford at a lecture. He said, ‘I believe that lies and hypocrisy are the inevitable and only inevitable result of British university education. That’s why we need to establish the University of London. We can’t let Britain’s outstanding young people be ruined by Oxford and Cambridge.'”
Mill chuckled and asked, “So, where do you two work?”
Eldred puffed out his chest with pride, “I’m employed by the Royal Navy. As for my friend here, Arthur Hastings, he’s a remarkable fellow. He’s only been out of school for a year or so, and he’s already become an Inspector at Scotland Yard.”
Roback was stunned at first, then exclaimed, “You became an Inspector after just a year out of school?”
Upon hearing the name Hastings, Roback seemed to recall something. He nudged Mill, “Don’t you remember? It’s that Hastings, the one Mr. Bentham specifically wrote two articles about in the Westminster Review, about the case of him and the little boy’s theft.”
Mill, reminded by his companion, finally remembered. He laughed, “So, you’re the Inspector Hastings? You deserve a lot of credit for the Bloody Code revision.”
Faced with such compliments, Arthur modestly replied, “Actually, Sir Peel had been wanting to push for the Bloody Code revision for a long time. My case was just a catalyst.”
But Roback shook his head, “That’s not quite right, Mr. Hastings. You should understand that many things in Britain lack a catalyst. Even if the preparations are thorough, without that catalyst, nothing can happen.
Take the parliamentary reform for example. Although the issue of reform has been raised for decades, nothing has ever been as close to success as it is today.
And it’s all because the Duke of Wellington approved the progressive Catholic Emancipation, leading to the split of the Tories. Now, even the hardcore Tories who used to oppose reform are demanding it. Isn’t that ironic?”
Mill, envious, chimed in, “To be honest, Mr. Hastings, I envy you. The work you do is more meaningful than mine, and it helps society much more. You might not know this, but I stopped writing for the Westminster Review a couple of years ago because I was lost.
I felt like everything I was doing was meaningless. I felt like I was simply wasting time and life.
Just like Coleridge’s poem: Work without hope is like pouring wine into a sieve; Hope without an object cannot exist.
At that time, I felt like I couldn’t exist anymore.”
Arthur looked at this early 19th-century human patient with depression with sympathy, “Your symptoms are quite similar to another friend of mine.”
“Really?” Mill asked, “What’s your friend’s name? Maybe I know him. I’ve met a few people with the same symptoms as me.”
Arthur didn’t hide anything, “Benjamin Disraeli, the 4th candidate for the Westminster constituency. God bless him, hopefully he’ll be elected this year, otherwise, I guess I’ll have to listen to him pour out his woes for another afternoon.”
Eldred, ever the familiar one, asked, “By the way, John, what do you do? How can it be meaningless?”
Mill forced a smile, “I’m a clerk for the East India Company.”
Arthur, who had been sipping coffee, almost choked on his drink upon hearing this.
He wiped his mouth with a napkin and said, “I now understand why you’re depressed. The East India Company’s London office, it’s a place where even students from Oxford and Cambridge would kill to get in.”
Eldred wailed, “Damn! How did you get in? Why didn’t I have such luck? Are you still hiring? If you are, I’ll quit my job in the Royal Navy right away.”
Roback also nodded with his coffee cup, “John, I told you, you’re already doing pretty well. Don’t dwell on these things. Relax. If you were lugging sacks at the docks, you wouldn’t have time to be empty.”
Mill, seemingly used to their reactions, sighed helplessly, “Getting into the East India Company isn’t as hard as you think. As long as you can graduate from the East India College in Haileybury, which the company set up in London, you can get a job in the company.”
Eldred excitedly pounded the table, “John, you don’t understand! It’s already good luck to be a clerk for the East India Company, let alone in the London office. My God! Do you know what that means? It means you don’t have to travel across the ocean, and you still get a high salary. And you have time to be empty, which means the work in the London office must be very leisurely, right?”
Mill, pressed too hard, had to reveal some information, “It’s a bit busier during the shipping season.”
“What about the off-season?”
Mill nervously picked up his coffee cup, “Trade secrets.”
Seeing that Eldred’s emotions were about to burst, Mill quickly changed the subject, “But that’s not the point. The reason I’m empty is that I’m thinking, ‘If all the goals in life are achieved, if all the changes in the systems and concepts you hope for are immediately and fully realized, would that be your great happiness and joy?'”
Arthur, who had been silent, suddenly said, “Of course not. Not only that, but if all your goals are achieved, you’ll be miserable. Because from then on, you’ll simply be living for the sake of living. Even if you set yourself a very mundane goal, like earning a hundred million, it’s better than setting a goal that’s easily achievable.”
Mill’s eyes lit up upon hearing this, “Mr. Hastings, you really think so. At that time, I was in a state of losing my goals.
Because I realized that the entire foundation on which I built my life’s passion had collapsed. All my happiness was originally in the relentless pursuit of this goal. Now, the original goal no longer holds any attraction. How can I continue to be interested in the means to achieve it?
At that time, I felt like what was described in *Despair* – sorrow without pain, emptiness, gloom, desolation, tired, suffocating, passionless sorrow, not naturally explicable by words, sighs, or tears.
I felt like I couldn’t muster the energy to do anything. I went through every day in a daze. I can hardly remember what I did in those years, as if I didn’t live in those years.
I tried to find relief in my favorite books, but it didn’t work. Those works that I once thought were great were of no help to me. They had lost their former charm.
I also thought about seeking help from my father, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. All signs indicated that he didn’t understand the mental anguish I was suffering. Even if I could make him understand, he wouldn’t be the doctor to cure me.
As for my friends, you’ve seen them. Roback and your friend can’t understand me.”
Arthur asked, “How did you get through it then?”
Mill chuckled and sighed. The temperature in the bright coffee shop wasn’t too low, but beads of sweat were forming on his forehead.
“I was reading Marmontel’s *Memoirs* at the time. Coincidentally, I read a part about his family’s grief when his father died. Marmontel, who was just a little boy at the time, suddenly had an epiphany. He felt, and made his family feel, that he could be everything to his family – to replace everything they had lost.
This scene deeply shocked me. It’s embarrassing to say this, but I was actually moved to tears. From that day on, the burden on my shoulders became lighter.
Gradually, I found that the ordinary little things in life could still bring me joy. I could still find happiness in the sunshine, the sky, books, conversations, and public affairs. Although not intense, it was enough to make me happy.
And I once again had a belief for myself. I had that excitement to act for the public good. The dark clouds above my head slowly dissipated, and I once again enjoyed the pleasures of life.”
Arthur couldn’t help but smile, “I thought you needed to be comforted, but you managed to pull yourself out of it. Living for the public good is a sustainable goal, and you never have to worry about achieving it, because there will always be things you need to do.
Mr. Mill, maybe you should write a book. I believe it would help many people with the same symptoms as you. I especially hope to recommend this book to my friend Benjamin Disraeli. Maybe he can learn a lot from your book.”
Mill picked up his handkerchief and wiped his sweat, “Thank you, Arthur. Maybe I should consider that. But I think it’s too early for us to write memoirs at our age. But you could consider writing about your journey as a detective. If it’s published, I’ll definitely buy a copy.
This is the first time I’ve met someone who understands me. Most others, like Roback and your friend, just say I’m bored without asking any questions.”
Roback was dissatisfied, “I didn’t say that. I told you to read more of Byron’s poems, and you’d be fine.”
Mill glared, “Byron’s poems? Don’t you look at what he did in Britain. He didn’t leave a good impression on this country.”
Arthur joked, “John, you don’t need to praise me so much. I understand your situation, maybe because I’m also a bored person?”
Mill frowned, holding his coffee cup, “Bored person? How can an Inspector at Scotland Yard be bored?”
Eldred, in front of these two young men who had a close relationship with Bentham, casually said, “Even if you’re not now, you will be soon. Once the Whigs come to power, Arthur might be kicked out of Scotland Yard. Then, he’ll have time to be empty. But I can’t handle comforting people. John, you’ll have to help me with that then.”
Roback asked, “What’s going on?”
Arthur chuckled, “It’s nothing serious, just factional struggles. It happens in Parliament, of course it happens in Scotland Yard, and it definitely happens where you work. It’s like the *Edinburgh Review*, the *Westminster Review*, and the *Quarterly Review* constantly battling each other in a three-way擂台. Except, unlike newspapers, in other places, you’re out of the game as soon as you lose.”
Mill keenly grasped the meaning behind Arthur’s words, “You mean you’ll be replaced as soon as the Whigs come to power? That’s impossible! Aren’t you doing a great job at Scotland Yard?”
Roback waved his hand at Mill, “John, you’ve been idle for these years at the East India Company. You’ve made no progress in practical matters. Don’t you remember? Arthur is definitely labeled as a Peel man because of the Bloody Code revision.
It’s the same as the restructuring of your East India Company board. Every time there’s a restructuring, a bunch of senior company officials are replaced. Arthur’s position in Scotland Yard isn’t low. If a Home Secretary comes to power who doesn’t get along with Peel, it’s only natural to replace him.”
Mill, biting his finger, mumbled, “That won’t do. Replacing an outstanding officer like Arthur is not in the public interest. Factional struggle is a damn thing. Can’t they just focus on doing their jobs?”
Roback leaned back in his chair and pondered a solution, “John, why don’t you contact Mr. Southern, the editor of the *Westminster Review*? He should have the contact information of many Whig MP candidates.”
Mill cursed, “Roback, you don’t know, Southern is no longer the editor, it’s been replaced by Bowlin. That was the last time I wrote for the *Westminster Review*.
My father and I both completely fell out with the editorial department. You don’t know, that bastard Bowlin actually secretly sold the publishing rights of the newspaper behind our backs.
We all know that newspaper operations are difficult, so we hardly ever draw a fee from the newspaper. But he did this. I can never forgive him! This incident played a big part in my depression. He destroyed my ideals!”
Roback covered his forehead, “Then that’s difficult… The University of London… that school’s reputation isn’t good either…”
“The University of London, the University of London… right!” Mill suddenly lit up and slammed his hand on the table.
He put away his coat, which was draped over the chair, and said to Arthur, “Arthur, don’t worry. I’m going to York this afternoon. Wait for my good news.”
With that, Mill rushed out of the coffee shop.
Arthur watched his figure disappear quickly into the street and asked Roback, “What’s he going to do?”
Roback was also confused, “I don’t know!”
Only Eldred chuckled sinisterly, “You two don’t understand?”
“If you understand, why don’t you just say it?”
Eldred picked up his coffee cup and took a leisurely sip. He put down the cup and said calmly, “Sorry, trade secret.”
(End of Chapter)