shadow of britain

Chapter 863 You see, what about my friend Mr. Carter's matter as a second secretary?
Arthur pushed open the wooden door that had recently been painted black and completely renovated, and walked into his office wearing a cloak.

The officer on night duty had obviously changed the firewood before he arrived, and the bottom of the teapot was sizzling and roasting over the campfire in the fireplace.

He took off his gloves and leaned his ever-present cane against the back of the chair.

Arthur had just pulled out the armchair and hadn't even settled in when a series of unhurried footsteps sounded outside the door.

Boom boom boom!
There was a knock on the door.

“Sir.” A young police officer’s voice rang out from outside the door: “Mr. Samuel March Phillips from the Department of Internal Affairs has arrived. Would you like to meet him?”

Arthur's eyebrows twitched, but he didn't get up immediately.

If it were anyone else, Arthur might not have bothered to see him, but this Mr. Samuel March Phillips was not someone Arthur could simply avoid.

Londoners might not recognize the name March Phillips, but if you're from Leicestershire, you'll likely immediately recognize it as a prominent family that has been in Leicester for over two centuries.

Samuel March Phillips' elder brother, Charles, has long been active in Leicester politics and is a highly influential Whig Party member in the area. He has been elected three times as the Member of Parliament for Loughborough over the past two decades.

When he was most recently elected to Congress, he spent lavishly on a banquet, consuming 4,000 pounds of roast beef, 3,000 pounds of raisin pudding, and 2,500 gallons of beer to entertain 3,000 reformist voters who supported him. This gives a glimpse into the wealth of the March Phillips family.

While Mr. Samuel March Phillips did not engage in partisan politics like his elder brother, he took a different path and entered a different arena.

After graduating from Charterhouse School, Samuel first went to Sidney Sussex College, Cambridge, where he earned a Bachelor of Arts and a Master of Arts degree. He then went on to study at the Inner Temple, where he spent a year qualifying as a lawyer.

Although he never formally joined the ranks of practicing lawyers, he was a prolific scholar. His works, "On the Law of Evidence" and "The National Trial Record, or the Collection of the Most Notable Trial Cases Before the Revolution of 1688," are now standard textbooks of the Inner Temple Law School.

As the saying goes, "Those who excel in their studies will become officials." Although this is an old Chinese saying, it applies equally to Samuel in Britain, at least.

In 1827, Samuel March Phillips, then 47 years old, succeeded Henry Hobhouse as Permanent Under-Secretary of the Interior.

By now, this marks his tenth year as the head of the Ministry of the Interior.

In the eyes of many young officials, this Permanent Under-Secretary of the Interior was nothing more than a reclusive old man, a typical scholar-bureaucrat. Apart from occasionally popping up in the Whitehall reading room or in the footnotes of parliamentary newspapers, he was almost never seen.

However, Sir Arthur Hastings, a seasoned veteran of the Home Office system, understood perfectly well that the advice and signature of the Permanent Under-Secretary of State for the Home Office carried considerable weight. Whether it was Sir Robert Peel, Viscount Melbourne, or the current Home Secretary, Lord John Russell, all had highly praised Samuel's abilities.

But thinking about it, it's obvious that someone who can hold the position of permanent vice minister for ten years can't be a pushover.
If you think this old man is a senile old fool who's easily fooled just because he often adds phrases like "that's how it is in law" or "that's how it is in the system" to the end of every sentence, well... good luck to you.

Arthur straightened his collar and cuffs: "Please let him in."

"Understood, Sir."

Not long after, the door was pushed open.

The person who appeared at the door was a middle-aged gentleman wearing a dark gray woolen overcoat, whose hair was carefully combed but still looked thin.

He took off his hat very neatly, and his gloves were also put away in perfect order.

The Permanent Vice Minister of the Interior entered the room with the smoothness of someone stuffing a document into a filing cabinet—neither superfluous nor stiff, but devoid of any emotion beyond politeness.

“Sir Arthur.” Samuel nodded slightly. “I apologize for the intrusion.”

Arthur smiled and rose to return the greeting, saying, "Mr. Phillips, it must be quite an eventful day to see you this morning."

Phillips neither smiled nor refuted the speculation. He simply pulled a brand-new report from his briefcase and said, "I won't take up too much of your time. I'm here today just to have an informal discussion with you about a rather sensitive issue."

Arthur glanced at the document and immediately recognized it as a death sentence memorandum from the Central Criminal Court.

After all, he saw similar things almost every month when he was working on the front lines at Scotland Yard.

However, death sentences have become less common in recent years.

After all, after his famous court speech, Sir David Peel vigorously promoted the movement to abolish the "Bloody Code" and abolished more than 80% of death penalty offenses within a year. After the Whig Party came to power, the movement did not stop but instead intensified.

Seven years later, British law now only recognizes five crimes punishable by death: murder, rape, robbery, arson, and treason.

Even with only these five charges remaining, the number of death sentences handed down annually by the Central Criminal Court remained high. Therefore, during William IV's reign, he frequently had to personally intervene during the monarchical review stage to amend death sentences. This became almost a customary practice, leading to a situation where, after each death sentence was handed down, the judge would report the verdict to William IV, who would then make the final decision.

In short, in modern Britain, even if you are sentenced to death, unless you are truly heinous and beyond redemption, there is still a greater than 90% chance that your sentence will be commuted to exile or years of hard labor.

In just seven short years, society has undergone such tremendous changes that even Sir Arthur Hastings, who vehemently opposed the "Bloody Code" back then, had to marvel at how quickly society had progressed.

However, there was one thing Arthur didn't understand: what was the Central Criminal Court's plan to do with the death sentence memorandum they had brought to him?

According to the Central Criminal Court Act of 1834, which was passed by Lord Brougham, the central criminal court, which integrated the criminal trial functions of the jury courts and magistrates' courts of Greater London and southern England, was directly under the leadership and supervision of the Lord Chancellor and the Home Secretary.

In short, this is a department that is not subordinate to the Police Commissioner's Committee, and neither side gives the other any authority. In terms of importance and social status, the Central Criminal Court is actually above the Police Commissioner's Committee.

After all, the judges there included not only mayors from various cities, judges of the Court of Appeal, and high judges from the southern counties, but also representatives of judges from the cabinet.

What did Samuel mean by throwing this thing at him for no reason?
Arthur Hastings had no intention of challenging the Central Criminal Court, especially since Lord Brougham was no longer the Chief Justice, which made him even less interested in such a topic.

“Mr. Phillips,” Arthur put down his teacup, his tone neither cold nor warm, “These kinds of things should, in principle, be sent directly to the Minister of the Interior’s office.”

Samuel didn't reply. Instead, he bent down and placed the memo neatly on the upper right corner of Arthur's desk, tapping the edge of the cover lightly with his knuckles, as if reminding Arthur: "Please look at the title first."

Arthur looked down and sure enough, his eyebrows rose.

This is not a regular death sentence confirmation memorandum, but a dissent registration form marked with a red label. In short, it is a controversial death sentence.

The superior explained in a short sentence why the document was on his desk: The case has attracted great attention from the public and the media. Whether Her Majesty the Queen will personally decide on a pardon is still undecided. The opinion of the Commissioner of Police needs to be obtained first so that the Ministry can make a prudent decision.

Damn it, shifting the blame!

This was Arthur's subconscious reaction.

However, it's not surprising that Arthur would react this way. As a seasoned Whitehall bureaucrat, he had dealt with similar situations far too often.

Putting aside everything else, the shooting at the Tower of London and the Caucasus incident alone were enough to teach him a very painful lesson.

Arthur pushed the memo back an inch and moved his teacup further away from it. "Mr. Phillips," he said, "I certainly understand the Interior Ministry's cautious approach in the current political climate. The unclear public opinion, the upcoming election, and the articles hastily compiled in the newspapers are indeed a headache. But..."

Phillips remained seated, his gaze steadily fixed on Arthur's face, as if waiting for a crucial keyword to emerge.

“As far as the authority is concerned,” Arthur continued, “we can certainly order Scotland Yard to provide the Central Criminal Court with on-site investigation materials, background records of the accused, and operational security assessments. But whether or not to grant a pardon is at the discretion of the Cabinet, the Home Secretary, or Her Majesty the Queen.”

Arthur paused, picked up his teacup but didn't drink, looking as if he were ready to slam it down on Samuel's head at any moment: "If Scotland Yard were to express its opinion on public opinion outside of procedure, it might mislead some people into thinking that the police also have the ability to pre-determine. In that case, Fleet Street would probably only become more excited, which would do nothing to calm things down."

"So what you mean is?" Phillips's gaze shifted slightly, and he said slowly, "You refuse to provide any form of explanation?"

“I didn’t say I refused.” Arthur put down his teacup and tapped his fingers lightly on the table. “I just want to know whether the Ministry of the Interior wants a factual report or policy recommendations? You need to make that clear, and if I may be so bold, keeping a written record is also a necessary part of it.”

In the context of Whitehall bureaucracy, Arthur's words were quite clear.

His subtext was nothing more than: whatever you want, we can make it up for you, but if something goes wrong, don't expect to get away with it like you did with the Cold Baths incident. The Police Commissioner's Committee and Scotland Yard won't step in to take the blame.

Samuel seemed to have anticipated Arthur's reaction. He took out a neatly folded blue note from his pocket: "As things stand, the ministers favor the latter."

Arthur, suppressing his anger, said, "Shouldn't this letter of recommendation also include a note: This recommendation has no legal effect and may not be invoked for consideration by the Privy Council or by any decree of Her Majesty the Queen?"

Phillips remained noncommittal, simply pushing the note slowly onto the table with meticulous precision: "You have the right to write it this way."

He calmly stated, "It's permitted by the system."

Arthur glanced down at the note, considered for a long time, and then said, “I will draft a professional opinion for you. It will only state the facts and discuss the risks, without any conclusions. But I must solemnly remind you that pushing the police to the forefront of moral judgment will not only confuse the public about the boundaries between the police and juries, but may also force us to assess the pitifulness of criminals before every future arrest. This is not the duty of the police, nor is it the institutional framework envisioned when the Central Criminal Court was established.”

Samuel silently put his gloves back on, one hand still resting on his briefcase, as if he was about to get up.

But he didn't stand up.

Instead, he looked up at Arthur and said, “Sir Arthur, I understand your feelings, but there’s nothing we can do about it. If the current king were still His Majesty William, things wouldn’t be like this. For an older king, whether the sentence is commuted or the death penalty is upheld, the public would accept it, and it wouldn’t attract as much attention. But as you know, our current monarch is an eighteen-year-old queen. For a young woman, if the death penalty is upheld, she might be criticized for being ruthless; if the sentence is commuted, she might be accused of being soft-hearted. After all, the public currently has too many unrealistic fantasies about her, so no matter how she sentences her, many people will have their fantasies shattered. That’s why the Ministry of the Interior, in a responsible position, hopes to collect as much material as possible to minimize any adverse effects.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow but remained silent, for he already knew what Samuel was about to say.

Sure enough, Samuel said, "But if we can solve it institutionally, there's no need to go through all that administrative procedures."

He gently moved his briefcase to the other side, as if making room for what he was about to say: "You know what I mean. Our minister, Lord Russell, thinks so too, and the Whigs have already drafted the bill. The only thing we lack now is someone who can successfully persuade Her Majesty the Queen to calmly accept and endorse this low-risk plan. And everyone thinks that you are the only one who can do that."

Upon hearing this, Arthur couldn't help but sigh, then shook his head, feigning difficulty, and said, "You mean... you're going to revoke Her Majesty the Queen's power to approve death sentences? And instead transfer that power to the Ministry of the Interior?"

“It’s not cancellation,” Phillips corrected smoothly. “It’s an adjustment of the division of responsibilities, authorizing the Home Office to handle some less important and riskier tasks. Simply put, it allows Her Majesty to retain her dignity in form, but to be freed from this duty that damages the image of the monarchy in practice.”

Samuelton paused, then continued, "Although since the eighteenth century, the final step in the process of most death sentences has been for the monarch to review them and decide whether to grant a pardon. Past kings did indeed handle these documents, even writing annotations. But..."

He repeated apologetically, "As you know, we are now facing a queen who has just turned eighteen."

Arthur tapped the blue-edged note lightly with his fingertip, as if weighing his options or delaying the issue.

After a moment, he slowly spoke: “I understand your position, Mr. Phillips. In fact, I am not against this institutional adjustment. You are right, society is changing, the media is changing, and even the monarchy itself has to conform to a certain logic of compromise.”

At this point, Arthur changed the subject: "But there's one thing I must clarify: even if I'm willing to try, it doesn't mean I can persuade Her Majesty the Queen. Her Majesty is strong-willed and has her own opinions; she's not the kind of person you imagine who can be easily swayed by the opinions of outsiders."

Samuel glanced at him, his face still expressionless, not even his eyelashes twitching.

“Her Majesty certainly has a certain degree of trust in me…” Arthur added, “But as you know, Her Majesty’s trust is based on other things, not on legislation or the transfer of power. Besides, if an eighteen-year-old queen is told in her first year on the throne that she has ‘no right to hold the power of life and death,’ that doesn’t sound like a glorious start.”

Samuel didn't rush to reply, but calmly opened his briefcase and pulled out another file: "Sir Arthur, I completely understand your hesitation. So in the Home Office, our principle is never to force anyone to take on a task they don't want to take on."

He paused for a moment, then finally adopted a more human tone: "However, if this matter succeeds... the ministers will naturally not let you take the risk for nothing."

Arthur wasn't particularly pleased by this, but he still smiled and said, "Mr. Phillips, I may not have been in Whitehall as long as you, but this isn't the first time I've heard something like this. Let's get down to business. I happen to have a friend who's currently waiting for his mid-year performance review at the Admiralty. He was doing quite well at the Chart and Survey Bureau, but for the past two years he's been stuck at the position of Third Secretary."

Arthur didn't say a name, but Samuel clearly knew who he was talking about. After all, these Whitehall bureaucrats saw each other all the time, and everyone knew that Sir Arthur Hastings of the Police Commissioner's Committee and Elder Carter, the son of the Carter family, were the closest of friends.

Arthur, without batting an eye, said, “This matter is of course not directly related to you. I know you don’t get involved in naval affairs, but Lord Russell has some connections… If you can transfer this civil service promotion recommendation from the Home Office to the Admiralty’s ‘Mid-Year Coordination Recommendation Form’ at the right time and try to mention it to him, then I will try to mention it to Her Majesty the Queen as well.”

Samuel remained silent for a moment.

He neither nodded nor answered, but slowly put away the spare document.

“I understand,” he said. “I will take your advice back with me. But whether the ministers are willing to listen is up to fate.”

Arthur smiled, raised his teacup, and offered a toast to Samuel from afar: "That's right, nothing in this world is guaranteed to succeed. Whether Her Majesty the Queen is willing to listen or not, I can only leave it to fate."

(End of this chapter)