## Chapter 202: When Did the University of London Become the Top University in Britain?
Two British gentlemen in formal attire, each with a cane in hand, stood outside the conference room door.
The thinner, more athletic gentleman with a salt-and-pepper beard was in his forties. Arthur instantly recognized his former professor, John Austin, the Dean of the Law School at the University of London, Professor of Jurisprudence, and founder of the Analytical School of Law, one of the three major schools of modern legal thought.
The gentleman standing beside him appeared slightly older than Arthur, but still seemed to be only around thirty. Perhaps he was a new professor at the University of London, given his proximity to Professor Austin?
Arthur clutched his white gloves. He glanced at Chief Inspector Rowan, whose face was ashen, then turned back to Professor Austin, apologetically stating, “Mr. Austin, as you can see, although law is closely related to my work, I’ve been so bogged down with things since leaving school that I’ve neglected my legal studies for quite some time.”
Austin seemed oblivious to the tension in the air. He chuckled and joked with Arthur, “In that case, do you need me to give you some refresher courses? It’s the same old rule: you help me with lunch, and you’re not allowed to get angry when I criticize Kant. That’s all. To be honest, I’ve really missed you since you left school. Without you, there’s one less student willing to listen to my lectures.”
Arthur merely pursed his lips in response, “If you were willing to lower the difficulty of your courses slightly, there would probably be more students. Your academic standards are simply too perfectionistic. I’m always grateful that your course was an elective in the history department. If it were a required course, I doubt I would have graduated by now.”
Rowan, hearing the casual banter between Arthur and Austin, felt his face burn with indignation. He suppressed his anger and questioned, “May I ask what brings the two of you to the Greater London Police Headquarters? We’re currently holding a high-level police meeting. If your visit is unrelated to police matters, please leave immediately.”
The young man standing beside Austin spoke up, “Are you Chief Inspector Charles Rowan of the Greater London Police Headquarters?”
Rowan nodded slightly, his face shifting between shades of anger and uncertainty. “And you are?”
The young man stepped forward and extended his hand, “Edwin Chadwick, a practicing lawyer who graduated from the Inner Temple, Jeremy Bentham’s personal secretary, and, at the same time, the newly appointed Permanent Private Secretary to the Lord Chancellor’s Office by the Lord Chancellor of Great Britain, Lord Brougham.”
“I am here, on behalf of the Lord Chancellor of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, a member of the Privy Council, legal advisor to the Kingdom’s Privy Council, Lord Speaker of the House of Lords, loyal to His Majesty the King, Chairman of the Privy Council and House of Lords Judicial Committee, the Kingdom’s highest judicial officer and Chief Executive of the Lord Chancellor’s Office, Keeper of the Great Seal of England, Scotland, Wales and Ireland, the highest legal authority in Great Britain, established based on the three principles of equality, fairness, and justice – the Lord Chancellor, President of the Court of Chancery, President of the English Bar, appointed by His Majesty the King as an Inspector of all Church Universities in England, including Oxford and Cambridge, and the distributor of stipends for clergy in 442 English dioceses and 12 cathedrals, the highest supervisor of public healthcare in Great Britain, the Inspector of dozens of English hospitals, including St. Mary’s Hospital, Queen Charlotte’s Hospital, and Manchester Royal Infirmary, founder and Chairman of the Board of Directors of the Whig Party’s official newspaper, the Edinburgh Review, and the University of London, and by the appointment of Sir Henry Peter Brougham, Lord Chancellor, and King’s Counsel,”
“I am here, on behalf of the Home Office and the Lord Chancellor’s Office of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, to invite Mr. Arthur Hastings, the most outstanding police officer in Great Britain, the Kingdom’s expert on police crimes, Chief Inspector of the Greater London Police, and a distinguished alumnus of the University of London, to attend a multi-departmental joint research meeting scheduled for next month on the establishment of the London Regional Prosecutor’s Office.”
The sky outside was covered in dark clouds, and a bolt of lightning flashed, illuminating the faces of every police inspector in the room.
Inspector Mosley, sitting next to Arthur, couldn’t help but whistle. He raised an eyebrow and chuckled, “It seems someone is in for a bad time.”
Chief Inspector Rowan felt his legs go weak. With a loud thud, he leaned back and landed on the windowsill, his sturdy back bumping open the window. A gust of wind whipped through, carrying the curtains and shrouding him in white gauze.
Arthur glanced at Rowan, who was completely obscured by the curtains, and calmly said, “Chief Inspector, I really can’t find you now. You’re hiding well.”
Sir Maine, the Deputy Chief Inspector, hurriedly stepped in to smooth things over.
He placed both hands on the table, rose, and smiled, “For something like this, just sending a document would suffice. Mr. Chadwick, why did you need to make a personal trip as Lord Brougham’s Permanent Private Secretary?”
Chadwick cast a cold glance at Rowan, who was hidden behind the curtains and whose expression was impossible to discern. He then turned to Sir Maine and said, “Before I came, I also thought this little matter didn’t warrant a special trip. But now it seems I made the right call. Lord Brougham is indeed a man of foresight. He was worried that something like this would happen.”
Sir Maine saw the firmness in Chadwick’s tone and instantly realized the gravity of the situation.
Although Scotland Yard was directly under the Home Office, they often had to deal with the Justices of the Peace due to their work.
If they offended the Lord Chancellor’s Office, which managed the Justices of the Peace, they would be in deep trouble.
Moreover, even if they gritted their teeth and stubbornly opposed the Lord Chancellor’s Office, their superior, Viscount Melbourne, would not allow it.
Although Cabinet members were ostensibly equal, there was a hierarchy in practice.
In the traditional ranking of important state officials inherited from the Middle Ages, the Lord Chancellor was the second most important state official, second only to the Lord Keeper of the King’s Privy Seal.
However, the Lord Keeper was not a permanent position and was often vacant. This meant that the Lord Chancellor was the de facto most important state official.
The third most important position, after the Lord Chancellor, was the First Lord of the Treasury, or the British Prime Minister.
According to British political tradition, if an emergency occurred in the country, such as a temporary vacancy in the King’s position or the King and the Heir Apparent being unable to exercise power due to health reasons, the Lord Chancellor would be the first in line to act as regent.
According to the Treason Act 1351, assassinating the Lord Chancellor and assassinating the King were essentially the same, both constituting serious treason.
Because of the Lord Chancellor’s unique position in the British political and legal system, although he was less powerful than the Prime Minister, his social standing was still higher.
In the entire Great Britain, there were only two people who held a higher social position than the Lord Chancellor: King William IV of Great Britain and the religious leader, the Archbishop of Canterbury.
It could be said that Arthur’s backer had switched from his direct superior, Home Secretary Sir Robert Peel, to the Lord Chancellor, Lord Henry Brougham. His position hadn’t softened, but instead, it had become even stronger.
Rowan couldn’t help but slap himself in the face when he thought about this.
Only now did he finally remember the goodness of the Duke of Wellington and Sir Peel. If the Tories were still in power, Arthur would just be a commoner from York, a lone wolf from the University of London, with no background or connections.
But now the Whigs were in power, and the University of London’s upstarts were no longer limited to Arthur Hastings.
Lord Brougham had taken the position of Lord Chancellor, so the University of London’s Royal Charter was almost guaranteed.
The Lord Chancellor was now a person from the University of London. How could Oxford, Cambridge, and the clergy possibly oppose it?
Of course, if they were willing to sacrifice some of their economic interests to block the University of London, that was also a possibility.
The Lord Chancellor was merely the holder of the Inspector of Universities and the Distributor of Diocesan Stipends. What was so great about that?
The clergy and professors at Oxford and Cambridge could be tough, and at worst, they would just have their educational funding cut and their stipends withheld. They could just work for free.
But this wasn’t Rowan’s biggest concern, because Oxford, Cambridge, and the clergy would definitely be more anxious than him about the University of London’s Royal Charter.
Rowan’s main concern was that if this trend continued, it wouldn’t be long before the judicial system would be flooded with graduates from the University of London.
If Lord Brougham insisted on cultivating Arthur, he could use extreme measures.
From now on, only cases prosecuted by Arthur would be expedited by the Magistrate’s Court. Within a few months, his performance would surely skyrocket.
When the end of the year came and they reviewed everyone’s performance, Arthur would stand out from the crowd.
Rowan leaned against the windowsill, looking at Arthur, who was chatting and laughing with Austin and Chadwick. His heart sank.
He had thought this was just an ordinary young man from York, with no background or connections. How could he suddenly have such an unfathomable background?
Rowan took a deep breath. He turned his head and looked at the fierce wind and rain outside. The cold raindrops hit his face, finally clearing his dizzy mind.
Rowan looked up at the lightning in the sky, feeling like he had a thousand words to say.
However, at this moment, all he wanted to do was point at the sky and question the old fellow who had been out of touch since the 19th century, “Is there a god or not? Damn it! The University of London! The University of London!!! That godless institution on Gower Street, why does it have such power?!”
(End of Chapter)