The Shadow of Great Britain-Chapter 813 - 379 Black Black Heart (6K2)

I hate purity, I hate goodness, I don’t want any virtue anywhere, I want everyone to be thoroughly corrupt.

—George Orwell "1984"

What constitutes a riot?

Having nothing, yet having everything.

Electricity released bit by bit, flames suddenly ignited, wandering forces, flowing winds. These winds encounter thoughtful minds, illusory thoughts, painful souls, intense emotions, and clamorous suffering, and carry them all away.

Where to?

Aimlessly.

Through government, through law, through others’ luxury and extravagance.

The greatest and the lowliest, outside of everything, idly spying and seeking an opportunity for a vent, vagabonds, the homeless, the rabble at crossroads, those who sleep in desolate places at night with the cold clouds of the sky as their roof, those who never labor and solely rely on begging to survive, the poor and helpless, those empty-handed scoundrels, the shirtless and muddy peasants, all attached to the riot.

Anyone harboring secret enmity in their souls towards any aspect such as status, life, or fate, has already walked to the edge of riot, and once it happens, they start to tremble, feeling themselves sucked into the whirlpool.

Every riot causes shops to close, stocks to fall, finances to shrink, markets to slump, businesses to halt, bankruptcies to follow, cash shortages, private property to lose security, public trust to waver, government and company management to become chaotic, market funds to return, ultimately leading to labor devaluation and soaring unemployment, with restlessness everywhere.

It’s like a tornado active in the social atmosphere, suddenly forming under certain suitable conditions in temperature, and surging in its rotational movement, sweeping up tall and small figures, strong and weak people, trees and straw, flattening, crushing, destroying, uprooting, and eventually carrying everything away.

For some reason, these old passages suddenly surged in Arthur’s mind.

Why he thought of these, he was unsure. Perhaps reading those words before, he merely felt these ancient phrases were just plain historical records.

However, when all of this happened before his eyes, he felt these words so real, so frenzied and painful.

What surprised him even more was that he was in the eye of the tornado now.

Plunkett noticed the young officer seemed lost in thought, and this veteran who had been active on the battlefield since the Peninsular War couldn’t help but speak up.

"Sir, now is not the time for you to be distracted. No one likes knives and guns, even on the battlefield, let alone suppressing a riot today. But, precisely because no one likes doing such things, on the battlefield, the commander often needs to be firmer than the soldiers. Your performance today is excellent, at least better than Prince of Orange commanding our right wing at the Battle of Waterloo. So, I believe today will soon pass."

Arthur took a deep breath, the smell in his nose a mix of gunpowder smoke and the metallic scent of blood.

"You’re right, Plunkett. When a fire starts, a spoonful of water can put it out. After a while, it needs a bucket of water. Later, it takes a hose. Eventually, the house burns down. At this moment, I must give the order."

Arthur spoke: "As Lafayette said, in certain circumstances, if an uprising can be the most sacred duty, then a riot can also be an irreversible crime."

Plunkett nodded slightly, smirking: "Sir, if you didn’t say, I wouldn’t know that the self-proclaimed ’world republican’ Lafayette also did such things."

"Last warning! Put down your weapons!"

Nearly a hundred officers aimed their Brown Bess muskets at the riotous crowd armed with a variety of makeshift weapons behind the barricades.

"I’ll say it again, put down your weapons! Go home now, and we can pretend we didn’t see a thing!"

Officer Tom looked a bit nervous, though his furious roar appeared imposing, as if he might shoot the mob dead at any moment.

But only he knew, if possible, he would rather kneel to these people seen in streets and alleys every day, to exchange for them putting down their weapons and returning peacefully to their shabby and broken homes.

Because, as Arthur’s long-time friend and subordinate, he knew well that this operation was the first time in years Arthur loaded live ammunition before action, which meant Arthur intended to go all out.

However, the riotous crowd was unlikely to retreat due to his few words.

They had the upper hand in number, and had just delivered a heavy blow to the Tower of London guards. Though they didn’t have guns like the Scotland Yard police, no one doubted they would achieve final victory.

Responding to Tom’s shout was the thunder of musket fire from the riotous crowd.

Dozens of bullets accompanied by flames erupted, perhaps hindered by the heavy rain or the hundred yards Arthur deliberately kept between the police and the mob, this volley did not cause significant damage to the police line, with many bullets hitting the puddles in front, stirring up waves of ripples.