shadow of britain

Chapter 835 Police Tsar
The morning sunlight slanted through the narrow windows of Whitehall Street, falling on the oak desk that still smelled of ink.

On the table lay an open copy of the *London Gazette*, its paper gleaming slightly yellowish-white in the light, while a barely noticeable news item was printed in neat handwriting in the corner:

Whitehall, April 10, 1837.

By order of His Majesty the King’s Government, it is hereby proclaimed that, effective immediately, a Board of Police Commissioners is established to oversee and report on the security situation and discipline of the police force within the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland.

By the benevolent permission of His Majesty the King, the following appointment is hereby made:

Your Excellency Henry Hobhouse, PC (Presidential Advisor)

Sir Arthur Hastings, Kt. (Knight of the Order of St. Anne), OSA (2nd Cl.) (Knight of the Order of St. Anne, Second Class, of the Russian Empire)
Sir Charles Shaw, Kt. (Knight of the Order of the Tower and Sword, Kingdom of Portugal), OSF (Knight of the Order of San Fernando, Kingdom of Spain)
These three individuals were members of the Police Commission, with Sir Arthur Hastings serving as its Secretary-General.

By order of His Majesty the King,
Lord John Russell
Home Secretary of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland
The morning light and shadows slowly shifted on the wall, illuminating an old-fashioned floor mirror.

Those were some of the few personal items Arthur left behind at Scotland Yard. The walnut wood frame had been worn dark by time, but the mirror surface remained clear.

After many years, the familiar figure was finally reflected in this full-length mirror again.

The person in the mirror was tall and slender, his black wool swallowtail coat gleaming calmly in the morning light, and the stiff white scarf on his chest contrasting with the dark red silk vest, like a cold blade in a scabbard.

Arthur slightly raised his hand, his fingertips gently tracing the fabric of his clothes, smoothing out the wrinkles one by one. The silver buttons on his cuffs gleamed coldly in the light and shadow, outlining the sharp and uncompromising angles of his chin.

After a moment, he took a deep breath, and with a deft tug, adjusted the watch chain to the perfect position.

Then, he slightly raised his chin, and the figure in the mirror immediately took on an indescribable air of authority, as if silently telling the world: the former Tsar of the London police force has returned with unstoppable force.

Just as he was still reveling in the illusion in the mirror, a chill crept silently into the room.

The shadow writhed at the corner of the mirror, transforming into a tall figure. The uninvited guest's face was blurry and eerie, with only his eyes flashing with a cunning and cold light.

Agares leaned slightly forward in the mirror, as if congratulating Arthur, yet his voice carried an undisguised contempt and mockery: "Ha... Sir Arthur Hastings, my dear Arthur, you've finally got what you wanted. Look at you, your slicked-back hair, tailcoat, white gloves, even the angles of your chin look like they've been stamped. You're back, everything's back."

Arthur glanced at the mirror indifferently, as if Agares was merely a figment of his imagination after a sleepless night. He lowered his gaze again, his fingertips tracing the last wrinkles on his coat's collar, while his other hand gently brushed away the dust from his cuffs.

“Agares.” He spoke calmly, with an almost impatient coolness: “If you came here specifically to mock me, you’re being rather leisurely. Unfortunately, I don’t have that kind of free time.”

He took his coat and put it on: "If you have something to say, just say it directly, no need to beat around the bush. If you don't have anything to say, please get out of the way. This morning is the first meeting of the committee, and I have more important things to deal with than chatting with you."

Upon hearing this, Agares exaggeratedly raised his hands, shrugged his shoulders, and adopted the posture of a humiliated young woman, letting out two choked sobs in the mirror: "Oh, Arthur, my dear Arthur, what has turned you into this? Once upon a time, you were such a fine young man, I remember back then, you still had... a conscience..."

Unfortunately, his acting was terrible. His voice was so fake, like that of a third-rate actor in a theater—dragging, hollow, and with a hint of deliberate attempt to leave early.

But in an instant, his sobbing vanished, replaced by a ferocious expression, his gaping mouth practically screaming that he wanted to swallow Arthur whole: "Did you think I'd beg you like a little girl? Beg you to look at me, beg you to stay and talk to me for even a second? Don't be delusional!"

He suddenly straightened up, his shadow expanding in the mirror, almost overlapping with Arthur's figure: "Look at yourself now, standing ramrod straight, the watch chain perfectly in place, as if the whole world has to kneel at your feet to satisfy you. Ha, what a petty person who has achieved success.

Arthur listened, calmly putting the pocket watch into his pocket: "Yes! I was a petty man who rose to power. Now that I think about it, when you were in power in Hell, you must have been very polite and courteous, never showing off in front of your colleagues, and never displaying the slightest arrogance. In front of Baal, you must have been meek and obedient, never daring to overstep your bounds. Agares, do you think I'm right?"

The shadow in the mirror suddenly froze.

Agares' eyes widened, looking as if he'd been stabbed in the chest: "Hey, you son of a bitch, Arthur, didn't we agree a couple of days ago that we wouldn't mention Baal again?"

Arthur deftly slipped on his gloves, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye: "A devil who actually believes others keep their promises? Agares, I think you should really do some self-reflection."

Agares was in the wrong for a moment, and the Red Devil stood with his mouth half open, unable to utter a word for a long time.

Perhaps wanting to regain his composure quickly, he changed the subject, saying, "You should worry about yourself first! Do you think you can have the final say just because you're in the Police Committee? Don't forget, your two partners are no pushovers! One is Henry Hobhouse, a seasoned veteran who retired from the position of Permanent Under-Secretary of the Interior and a Privy Council advisor. The other is Brigadier General Charles Shaw, who just distinguished himself in the Portuguese and Spanish Civil Wars. Do you really think you can manipulate them like that?"

Arthur buttoned up his gloves. When he heard Agares's words, he simply gave a faint "hmm," which sounded neither like agreement nor disagreement.

Agares roared in fury, "What do you mean by that?"

“Yes, that means I agree with your point of view,” Arthur said. “When Hobhouse retired from his position as Permanent Secretary of the Interior, I had only recently joined Scotland Yard. Naturally, I wouldn’t dare to be disrespectful to such an experienced old bureaucrat. As for General Charles Shaw, he was a war hero. His light infantry company was the first to break into Porto. He fought in Portugal for three years, rising from captain to colonel. And in the subsequent Spanish Civil War, he led the Irish Volunteer Brigade to break through the triple defenses set up by Carlos in Callisto. If the Spanish hadn’t given him so little support, causing him to decide to return home in anger, he might still be fighting in Spain right now.”

At this point, Arthur paused for a moment: "It is truly an honor to work with these two gentlemen. How could I possibly think of overthrowing them? Agares, don't think that just because I have a medal awarded by the Tsar, I am really the Tsar. Britain is a free country, and autocracy won't work in London."

Although Arthur's words were eloquent, Agares had no chance of believing them. Back when this guy was still a nobody at Scotland Yard, he could turn London upside down. Now that he's at the top of the police council, how could he not have ulterior motives?
In fact, Arthur did have some ideas about the organizational structure of the police commission.

However, based on what he knows so far, Arthur is still relatively optimistic.

In Arthur's view, although the Police Commission had three members in name, the most experienced of the three, Henry Hobhouse, was just a retired old man. Although he was a Privy Council advisor, it was well known that the Privy Council advisor was, in most cases, just an honorary title, a reward for the loyal service of "imperial servants" over the years.

As for Hobhouse, he was a rather academic and orthodox bureaucrat. His father was a lawyer, and his maternal grandfather was a clergyman, a typical middle-class British family. He attended Eton College for secondary school and Brazinous College, Oxford University for university.

As for what he studied...

That was classical literature, of course, and he even earned a first-class degree.

Of course, Hobhouse's highest degree today is not a Master of Arts from Oxford University, but an honorary Doctor of Law from Oxford, an honor he received from Oxford University a month before retiring from the Home Office.

This old civil servant was probably not interested in the messy affairs of the Police Commission, because if he were, he wouldn't have retired so early at the age of 51 from his position as Permanent Secretary of the Ministry of the Interior.

Of course, before meeting him, Arthur couldn't rule out the possibility that Hobhouse valued the £1000 retirement pension more than his job.

Compared to Henry Hobhouse, Charles Shaw posed a greater question to Arthur.

Despite being an army brigadier general, Shaw's promotion path was quite unconventional within the army.

Shaw actually joined the army quite early. As early as 1813, he entered the 2nd Battalion of the 52nd Regiment by purchasing an official position. At that time, the 1st Battalion of the regiment was fighting alongside the Duke of Wellington in the Peninsular War, while the 2nd Battalion was mainly responsible for training and replenishing the 1st Battalion.

Shaw trained for a year in the 2nd Battalion before finally getting his chance to go to war. He served as a warrant officer under Sir Thomas Graham on an expedition to the Netherlands and participated in the disastrous siege of Bergenopzom. After the battle, Shaw's 2nd Battalion of the 52nd Regiment was sent to Antwerp to garrison the fortress, where they remained until the end of the war.

After news of Napoleon's Hundred Days' Restoration arrived, Shaw thought he could finally make his mark, but he was assigned to escort luggage to Brussels. When he hurriedly completed the task and rushed back to Waterloo, requesting to be assigned to the 1st Battalion of the 52nd Regiment to participate in the battle, he was severely reprimanded by his superiors and ordered to return to Brussels with the 2nd Battalion to await orders.

As a result of this decision, he regrettably missed the classic battle that took place at Mont Saint-Jean, a battle that would go down in history.

Under the command of Major General John Colburn, the 1st Battalion of the 52nd Regiment, together with the 1st Battalion of the 71st Regiment and the 95th Regiment, withstood Napoleon's final attack. They defeated the proudest Imperial Guard of the French Empire from the front, creating the famous scene of "The Imperial Guard retreated!"

For a soldier, missing such an opportunity is fatal, whether from the perspective of career development or from the perspective of leaving a mark on history.

As expected, due to his lack of time, Xiao never had another chance to show his face until the end of the war, and his military rank remained at the level of warrant officer.

After the 2nd Battalion of the 52nd Regiment was disbanded in 1816, Shaw was placed on standby with half pay.

In the following years, Shaw, still determined, went to the Karolinska Institute in Brunswick to study military science for a few years, during which time he also visited Berlin to observe the Prussian army. After returning home, he went back to his Scottish hometown, completed his law studies at the University of Edinburgh, and then diligently engaged in the import and export business of wine.

Logically speaking, Xiao's life would probably just end like this.

However, the outbreak of the Portuguese Civil War gave Shaw a glimmer of hope to return to his military career. He decisively joined the British Volunteer Army, which supported the young Queen Maria of Portugal, and successfully made his mark in Portugal. The subsequent Spanish Civil War helped him realize his dream of becoming a general.

From an outsider's perspective, Xiao's inspirational story is indeed very encouraging.

But these things didn't sit well with Arthur no matter how he looked at them.

Because sending volunteers to both the Portuguese and Spanish Civil Wars required the covert support of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Shaw's rise to power was inseparable from the foreign policy pursued by Foreign Secretary Palmerston.

For this reason, Arthur naturally harbored some doubts about this colleague he had never met.

It is well known that police officers are very simple-minded and are born to serve their country. Soldiers are even more so.

While Arthur had no doubt about General Charles Shaw's loyalty to his homeland, Britain, and his upright conduct on matters of principle, he was quite skeptical of how much Palmerston influenced Charles Shaw on minor, trivial matters.

Especially in such an important department as the Police Commission, Arthur knew very well that even if the Whigs wanted to bribe him, they would never allow him to monopolize the power.

Hobhouse was a senior secretary at the Home Office, and his career had been spent during the Tory regime. Given his position as a Privy Council advisor, his appointment was most likely at the behest of St. James's Palace, that is, at the behest of William IV.

Arthur's appointment was due to two reasons: his status as a police expert, his close relationship with the future Queen and his teacher, and possibly also to appease Lord Brougham, the Earl of Dalamore, and other members of the University of London faction.

In this way, there is only one position left for the Whig Party to place their own people.

So, if this Whig Party insider wasn't General Charles Shaw, then who could it be?
(End of this chapter)