The Shadow of Great Britain-Chapter 61 - 22 Mr

61: Chapter 22 Mr.

Hastings, Do You Know God?

61: Chapter 22 Mr.

Hastings, Do You Know God?

The group reached the second floor when Adam suddenly stopped in his tracks.

He squatted down in front of a raised floorboard and reached into the hollow space created by the damaged floor.

After fumbling around for a while, he quickly pulled out a hand-sized wooden box and an old book that was so bent it was almost impossible to straighten out.

Adam forced the book to straighten and wiped the dust off with his sleeve.

Arthur just glanced at the cover and recognized that it was an issue of the “Havoc” magazine.

It wasn’t that Arthur was particularly learned; it was because he often visited old bookstores during his off-time from work.

“Havoc,” as a magazine primarily featuring satirical cartoons, was popular among the vast population of London.

And in those bookstores, the issues of “Havoc” from the years 1811 to 1814 were especially sought after.

The reason was simple: the lead cartoonist for “Havoc” during those three years was the renowned George Cruikshank.

Tom asked doubtfully, “What book is this?”

Before Adam could answer, Arthur had already started explaining for him.

“This is a fine piece, the June 1812 issue of ‘Havoc.’ I’ve visited many old bookstores and couldn’t find it.

I had no idea Adam had a copy here.”

Tony leaned in, “Was there any important information in this issue?

Why are you so eager to get it?”

With an expressionless puff of smoke, Arthur said, “I don’t know if there’s any important information, but in the month before the June issue was released, the then Prime Minister Spencer Percival was shot several times and killed at the entrance to the House of Commons.

So I guess the content of this issue must be very exciting.

The fact that I couldn’t find this book in any old bookstore is proof of that.”

Dickens asked, “Are you referring to the Prime Minister Percival who issued the ‘Embargo Act,’ which messed up the economies of both the United States and Britain, and then ordered the suppression of the ‘Luddite Movement,’ hanging many rebellious workers?”

Tom exclaimed, “My God!

Is this book full of attacks on politicians?

That it wasn’t banned at the time is nothing short of a miracle.”

Arthur said, “It’s not all attacks on politicians.

Attacks on politicians usually happen when there is some special situation, like the ‘Luddite Movement’ or something…”

Tom breathed a sigh of relief, “I see…”

“In normal times, the lead cartoonist George Cruikshank mainly attacks the royal family, such as condemning George III for abandoning his wife for the throne, and for insisting on using violence, which led to the independence of the North American colonies and so on.

Oh, and by the way, Mr.

Cruikshank was very prescient in attacking the now reigning King George IV, whom he sharply criticized as ‘not looking like a sovereign’ back when he was still the Prince.”

No sooner had Arthur finished speaking, Tom’s newly settled heart leapt to his throat again.

Tom felt goosebumps all over as he trembled, “How did this gentleman not end up in jail?

How on earth did he make it through that period unscathed?

I’ve heard from the old folks that back then, things were different from now; the King still had quite a bit of power.

And George III was an awful King, small-minded and ill-tempered to boot.

Many who opposed him were thrown into prison, and those who didn’t end up inside were mostly exiled.

How did George Cruikshank survive unharmed through that time?”

A faint smile of indescribable nuance danced on Arthur’s lips: “There are quite complicated reasons for that.

Firstly, by that time, George III had gone mad due to old age, and the powers of the King had been transferred to Prince Regent George IV.

And because of the old King’s misjudgments in North America, Parliament had been steadily reining in his authority.

Of course, the most important thing is that Mr.

Cruikshank was a clever man.

Both the Whig Party and the Tory Party saw the hidden potential in the hugely circulated ‘Havoc’ magazine.

So, Mr.

Cruikshank took money from the Whigs to attack the Tories, and from the Tories to attack the Whigs.

In the end, he took money from both parties to attack the mentally unclear, bedridden old King.

As a result, not only did he speak his mind, but he also made a tidy profit out of it.”

Dickens said puzzled, “Even so, didn’t Mr.

Cruikshank attract labels such as ‘seditionist’ and ‘traitor’ by attacking the royal family and politicians every day?

They were at war at the time, and the ‘Sedition Act’ and the ‘Treason Act’ hadn’t been revoked, had they?”

“No, no, no.” Arthur waved his hand, “Cruikshank didn’t always attack the royal family and politicians, he only devoted half of each issue to that.”

Dickens, still puzzled, asked, “And the other half?”

“The other half?” Arthur said calmly, “Denigrating the French and insulting Napoleon.”

On hearing this, everyone burst into laughter, unable to stand straight.

“No wonder ‘Havoc’ could be published normally.”

“Just for that reason alone, they couldn’t actually convict Mr.

Cruikshank of treason.”

Dickens, trying to stifle his chuckles, replied, “It seems I will have to frequent old bookshops more often.

I never anticipated finding so many interesting things hiding inside them.”

As everyone was in fits of laughter, the door of the adjacent room suddenly cracked open a sliver.

Adam looked towards the gap in the door and shouted with joy, “Robin!”

The door was slowly pushed open, revealing a little girl who stood a head shorter than Adam, leaning against the doorframe.

She was dressed in a white dress with holes, her pale blue lips thin and pale, her black and slightly yellow hair disheveled, and her sickly eyes seemed to have lost their sparkle.

She coughed lightly twice, her chest heaving repeatedly before she extended her thin, almost transparent hand, which was illuminated by the sunlight, and asked in a voice so faint it was almost inaudible.

“Is that you, Adam?”

Adam cradled the book and wooden box as he went up and took her small hand, vigorously rubbing the back of Robin’s hand, trying to warm her icy palm.

“It’s me, I was released from prison.

I was nearly hanged, but I met many kind gentlemen who saved me, and I have brought them to see you.”

“Look, these gentlemen behind me.

The one with the kind face is my new dad, Officer Tom, the one I told you about who invited me to his house for dinner.”

“The one with a mole on his face is Officer Tony, and the one carrying a bag is Mr.

Dickens, a newspaper writer, and the tallest and biggest one is Mr.

Hastings.”

“Do you remember what I told you?

Two months ago, Mr.

Hastings gave me a shilling, and I bought some sugar with that money.

We sat together in the yard and ate it, remember?”

Robin listened quietly with a gentle smile.

Then she traced her hand along Adam’s arm all the way up until she touched his hair, and only then did she pat his head reassuringly. ƒrēenovelkiss.com

“Adam, you are a good person.

I’ve heard that good people are rewarded with good things; your meeting with these gentlemen is your reward.”

Adam looked at Robin blankly.

Even though he was only nine, he could sense that something was amiss.

He slowly waved his hand in front of Robin’s eyes.

Noticing the sudden silence, Robin asked with a smile, “Adam, why aren’t you speaking?”

“You…you can’t see?”

Adam’s hand, which was holding the book and wooden box, loosened, and with a thud, the contents fell to the ground.

Inside the box were only some plainly wrapped sugar cubes and a few remaining pennies from the sugar purchase.

Adam hung his head, not wanting anyone to see his face, but his shaking shoulders and body betrayed him.

“Adam…” Officer Tom took a deep breath, advancing to embrace his son.

But Arthur held out a hand to stop him.

He took a puff of his cigarette and said softly, “Don’t.

A man doesn’t want to see his father when he’s crying.”

Robin gently touched Adam’s face, her small hand wet with the warmth of tears, as she smiled faintly.

“Adam, don’t cry.

It’s not that I can’t see, God’s just playing a joke on me, maybe I’ll be fine after a good sleep.”

“But perhaps He’s taking this joke a bit too far.

I haven’t been able to work at the factory for a long time, and I can hear my parents sighing every night.”

“When you have a chance to pray in church, please speak to God for me, I need to get better soon!

“There are so many bills at home, and if we don’t get any money soon, we’ll be driven out of here.”

Upon hearing this, Dickens couldn’t help but cover his eyes, as Robin’s words reminded him of his own past struggles.

With his lips pursed and eyes reddening, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a banknote, about to step forward when suddenly three hands holding banknotes stretched out behind him and pressed the money into his palm.

He turned and saw Arthur, Tom, and Tony simultaneously looking up at the ceiling, as if the three seasoned officers, hardened by witnessing countless sufferings, could only hold back their tears by looking upward.

Dickens felt a warmth in his heart and glanced meaningfully at the three men, then bent down to pick up the wooden box and slipped the money inside, secretly passing it to little Adam.

Adam turned and glanced at him, about to speak when Dickens put a finger to his lips to signal him to stay quiet.

Adam bit his lip, holding back tears as he nodded.

He swallowed hard, trying his best to sound cheerful as he said, “Robin!

Look what I found, lots of notes, with this money your family won’t have to worry about being driven out for a while!”

To his surprise, Robin’s smile faded as she counted the notes in the wooden box with careful fingers.

“Adam, this money, you stole it, right?

Didn’t you promise me you wouldn’t do those things anymore?”

Adam shook his head vigorously, denying, “This money isn’t stolen!

Although I often did that, it was all in the past.

“Besides, even if I continued, what would it change?

The gentlemen and ladies have taken all the good things in the world for themselves, why can’t they share a little with us?

“They can spend dozens of British Pounds on one meal, while all I took from them might be just a cherry from the cake on their plate.

“With this cherry, your family won’t have to be driven out of this place.

What’s so bad about that?

“Robin, look at yourself, you… you’ve been blinded by them…”

At these words, Adam reached out and hugged Robin, the nine-year-old boy kneeling on the ground, burying his face in another child’s shoulder, crying inconsolably.

Even when facing death in the Magistrates’ Court, he had never cried as deeply as he did today.

Suddenly, a large hand rested on his head, and through tearful eyes, Adam looked up to see Arthur, his hat pulled down low.

With a sob, Adam asked, “Mr.

Hastings, do you know God?

Maybe only He can cure Robin now, right?”

Arthur slightly lifted the brim of his hat, squatting down in the shadow.

Beneath it were a pair of eyes glinting dimly with a reddish gleam.

“I’m sorry, Adam, under normal circumstances, I’m far from God, yet very close to the Devil.”

Upon hearing this, Adam felt as though he were plunged into a pit of ice.

He turned his head and sniffed silently, tears falling wordlessly.

Then, Arthur’s gentle voice rose again.

“However, if it’s for Robin’s sake, I can try very hard to get to know God.”