In a quiet house in the Chelsea borough of London, the residential studio is bathed in the soft, changing light of the afternoon.

The large windows face north and south, and those who are familiar with the owner of the studio know that he arranged the windows in such a way that the characteristic cloudiness of the London sky would be a source of inspiration for his canvases.

The furnishings are austere and functional, with an unfinished work taking center stage on the easel, on which a delicate interplay of light and shadow and hazy mist have begun to emerge, a layout that is his signature and strong personal style.

The floor is littered with various paint tubes, some of which are particularly popular with the owner's bright colors, especially those gold, orange and purple that capture the magnificent glow of sunrise and sunset.

Stacks of manuscripts and sketchbooks soaked in oil paint are stacked by the window, recording his impressions of the moment he returned from collecting wind from all over the world. The air is filled with the smell of turpentine and fresh pigments, and the surrounding walls are covered with finished works and sketches of an experimental nature.

As for the painter himself, he is dressed in work clothes stained with the traces of time, holding a paintbrush, and staring at the picture with full attention, sometimes swaying rapidly, sometimes meticulously and evenly, as if he is capturing the invisible power of nature and the beauty of fleeting moments in life.

Perhaps he was too tired from work, so he would walk to the window from time to time, look into the distance, observe the flow of clouds and the change of light, and then quickly return to the easel, translating the impression he had just made into vivid brushstrokes on the canvas.

At this moment, the studio is like a small theater, where he is both a director and an actor, staging a wonderful play in dialogue with nature, and his brush is the key that opens the door to mystery, through which he not only records the real world, but also creates a visual universe full of poetry and emotion in his dreams.

Knock knock.

The servant knocked at the door of the studio and bowed humbly to him: "Mr. Turner, the poet you admire, Mr. Alfred Tennyson, has arrived. ”

"Mr. Tennyson is here?"

William Turner put down his paintbrush in surprise, picked up the latest issue of "The British" on his desk, and said to the servant, "Invite him in." ”

Moments later, a tall man appeared outside the door, with thick curly hair, a loose robe and woollen cardigan, and the gentle, deep smile that often hung from the corners of his mouth was gone.

Instead, there were melancholy eyes and a Bible pressed to his chest.

Perhaps because of the impactful rainy night the day before yesterday, or perhaps because of the sleepless night after two consecutive days of inspiration, the twenty-three poems published in the "British" and named "In Mourning" are the best illustration of his mental trance today.

With a smile on his face, Turner stood up to greet Tennyson, but before he could get in front of him, the young painter had already noticed that something was wrong with Tennyson's mood.

"You don't look good and maybe need some rest? Well...... Mr. Tennyson, while I would indeed like to talk to you about your new work, ...... Another day, in fact, you can do it again. ”

Tennyson shook his head: "Thank you for your concern, I do need to rest, but I can't close my eyes." Whenever I think about lying in bed for a while, I am reminded of the horrific scene of that rainy night at the Tower of London. The shouts of the crowd, the glow of the guns, the smell of gunsmoke, and the ...... all over the ground Blood. Mr. Turner, I can't sleep, and I don't dare close my eyes. ”

"I knew it." Turner took a deep breath and said, "You must have been at the Tower of London that night." ”

"Also?"

Tennyson was stunned for a long time, and his reaction had become a little sluggish: "You mean, you were also there at the scene?" ”

Turner summoned his servant and thoughtfully ordered a refreshing cup of Earl Grey tea for Tennyson, and then pulled him into his seat.

"To be precise, I wasn't at the Tower of London, I was at Tower Bridge over the River Thames. I was waiting there for the sunrise, ready to paint a busy picture of the Thames at dawn. But you should know that from the moment of twilight, the situation in London suddenly became very tense.

There were police, military, and demonstrators everywhere, and my assistants feared that they might get into unnecessary trouble by wandering around at this time, but I found a better subject to painting, and a surging emotion filled my chest like never before, and I intended to paint with my brush the riots that swept the whole city. ”

Tennyson seemed to remember something, he held the hot teacup, and smiled reluctantly: "Is your creation going well?" ”

Like Tennyson, Turner had not yet fully recovered from the stormy night, and his emotions seemed a little agitated, and his eyebrows were raised inadvertently as he spoke.

"To be honest, it's not easy to embody this subject well. By that time, the sun had already set, and all hues had turned gray. I typed several sketches in a row, but I couldn't convey the strange feelings in my chest at that time.

It wasn't until later that the rioters began to storm the Tower of London, and a bloody battle broke out with the Tower of London Guards, and then the police from Scotland Yard arrived. The leader was a police officer on a black horse, and with a wave of his white glove, the gunfire lit up, and in an instant, the colors between heaven and earth lit up.

The firelight, the dark red blood, everything changed in an instant, and my creative desire was completely released at this time. At first, I was a little afraid of stray bullets flying past my ears, but then I didn't care about anything anymore, and all I wanted was to finish the painting. ”

When Tennyson heard this, his expression became more and more trance-like, and he opened his mouth to stop: "No, Mr. Turner, I have great respect for you, but it is not right that you cannot publish such a work. ”

Turner's eyes widened in surprise and said, "How do you know that my work is wrong?" My God, it seems that our inspirations did intertwine that night, and there was something incredible about it. I was contented to finish my manuscript and was about to put it down, but then I heard the roar of horses' hooves, which were the newly entered cavalry, and then I saw a figure leaping up......"

When Tennyson heard this, he couldn't help but cover his head in pain, and leaned over and pleaded, "Enough, Mr. Turner, I don't want to continue recalling." ”

Turner saw Tennyson's reaction, and instantly understood where his sudden burst of poetry came from.

He held Tennyson's back and asked cautiously, "So, is that officer the one you mourn?" The Superintendent Arthur Hastings, who is currently under attack on Fleet Street? The reason you don't want me to publish that previous work is also because you are worried that my work may further bring him a negative reputation? ”

Tennyson nodded slightly: "Mr. Turner, there are many hidden secrets in this that you don't know. ”

"Hmmm......"

Turner didn't say much, but simply stood up and tore open the curtain that shrouded the huge painting beside him.

It was the misty River Thames and the Firelit Tower of London on the banks of the River Thames, rioters raising torches and approaching cavalry and policemen with civilized staffs behind them. Torrential raindrops crashed on the faintly lit stone pavement, making a splash.

In the very center of the picture, a dark horse is left. The tall officer leapt down, and a beautiful and desolate blood flower bloomed on his chest.

Tennyson stared at the painting for a long time, unable to speak for a long time, and at the end of the day, he woke up like a dream and asked, "What is the name of this painting?" ”

Turner took a sip from his teacup: "Rain, the Police and the Tower of London – Arthur Hastings' 1832." ”

With that, Turner turned to Tennyson and asked, "If you may, Mr. Tennyson, can you take me to meet Hastings?" Even if...... Even if it was just a glance, it was so dark that night that I couldn't see his face. Well...... It may be rude to say that, but I want to paint a portrait of him as a final memorial for those of you who mourn him. ”

……

Home Office, United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, Westminster, Whitehall Street, London.

After the passage of the Parliamentary Reform Bill, the Earl of Grey accepted the King's appointment on the same day, re-elected as Prime Minister, and assumed the responsibility of forming a Cabinet.

Forming a cabinet may seem to the Duke of Wellington to be a rather difficult task, but for the Earl of Grey, the process of forming a cabinet is extremely easy.

He didn't even need to call a special meeting of the Whigs, he just had to resubmit the list of members of the previous Gray cabinet to St. James's Palace.

And this also means that the Viscount of Melbourne will return to the position of Home Secretary.

At this moment, the languid gentleman sat in his office, which had been temporarily absent for a month, while across from him stood Charles Rowan, the head of the Metropolitan Police Department of Greater London.

The Viscount of Melbourne looked up at the expressionless Luo Wan, pursed his lips and sighed: "Luo Wan, can you explain to me what this letter is about?" ”

He pushed the letter in front of his desk forward, which was a summary of Rowan's work on the riots in London that he had just handed over yesterday.

……

In summary, most of the officers at Scotland Yard showed remarkable courage and extraordinary ability in the riots that broke out on 5 June. Among them, Officer Arthur Hastings should be the first to be the most loyal to the police profession, the bravest and the most committed to quelling riots, followed by those under his command.

According to the post-mortem investigation, Officer Hastings and his subordinate police force handled the emergency situation on the London Stock Exchange and the Tower of London perfectly. It is a great honour for me to present this report to His Excellency the Chancellor, as it is a true record of how fearless and courageous the Scotland Yard general showed in the face of danger at a critical juncture.

Officer Hastings has now become a role model for the entire Metropolitan Police Force in London, and he has made great achievements in defending public order and the dignity of the law, and what is even more commendable is that Officer Hastings does not take credit for himself. From the very beginning to the end, he never asked His Majesty the King and the government for any reward.

But I, Charles Rowan, as the supreme leader of the Metropolitan Police Department in Greater London, will bring shame on the entire police force if I fail to show up to my subordinates and allow his honor to be tarnished. I therefore have the audacity to ask the Secretary of State to decide whether this small request of mine is granted by His Majesty the King, if His Majesty really feels that he is worthy of praise.

Rowan stood straight, and he didn't even glance at the letter: "Your Excellency, I don't have anything to explain. Everything I want to say is already written in this letter, and I am not in the mood to change my opinion. I am a soldier, and although I am now discharged from the army, the veterans are also foaming at the same time. If the officers can talk and not talk, then how can I get the lads to listen to me in the future? ”

The Viscount of Melbourne didn't expect Rowan to be so tough, and the retired army colonel not only didn't intend to back down, but didn't even want to say a soft word.

Melbourne glanced at the freshly scabbed wound on Rowan's chin, got up and poured him a glass of wine: "Does it still hurt?" ”

Luo Wan took a sip of the glass of wine and replied, "A little injury, this is what I did." ”

Melbourne said helplessly: "Charles, I know you have emotions, I also like Officer Hastings, everyone knows that he is a good young man, but ......"

Luo Wan opened his mouth and interrupted: "Your Excellency, it is nothing that I have emotions, but this is not my emotions alone. If you don't believe me, you can take a trip to Scotland Yard now. Telling them in front of the lads that it was all in vain that they had been beaten so much and hurt so much that day.

The next time there was a riot, they shouldn't have intervened. If they don't believe it, Arthur Hastings is their role model. The end of dutiful duty is to be put on the news pages of the major London newspapers, and to be drunk like a pig. ”

Seeing this, the Viscount of Melbourne hurriedly reassured: "Charles, I assure you that those accusations against Officer Hastings are definitely not instigated by the government. The reason why there are so many different views is simply because Britain is a country with a free press. ”

Luo Wan took off his hat when he heard this, and took a deep breath, his eyes seemed to be on fire.

"You're right, if it weren't for the freedom of the press under law, I would have sent someone to Fleet Street to smash their newspaper office. But I can also understand that there are always all kinds of people and all kinds of opinions in this world, and some opinions are not a big deal. Therefore, I did not recommend in my work report that the news media on Fleet Street be shut down.

But, Your Excellency, I am not talking about the attitude of the newspapers, but the attitude of the government. At this juncture, posthumously knighting Officer Arthur Hastings, as originally planned, is the most straightforward support of the government. I have to remind you that inside Scotland Yard, the morale of the officers is unusually low.

What we need is not an inconsequential verbal commendation, but a genuine recognition of all officers who have done their duty. If you feel that Scotland Yard is an irrelevant institution and that the work we are doing is meaningless, then please apply to the Council for the abolition of all police agencies. That way my boys can find some good paying jobs, and my old guys and I can go back to the army, which also recognizes us old guys. ”

When the Viscount of Melbourne heard that Rowan had already said this, he instantly understood the seriousness of the situation.

Because of the passage of the parliamentary reform bill, the British army itself was already holding back the fire in its belly at this time. In the event of another riot or other emergency in London, it is almost impossible to mobilize troops to help the Whig government at this critical juncture. They will just stand on the sidelines and watch the excitement.

In this case, if Scotland Yard is not appeased, then at least in the acre of London and a third of the land, he, the Home Secretary, has basically become a complete ornament in terms of law and order.

Of course, he can also ask His Majesty the King to change a few big leaders in Scotland Yard.

In general, kings do not usually meddle in such minutiae. But the bad thing is the bad thing, and it's not the usual situation right now.

Although William IV agreed to support the Whigs' parliamentary reform bill, this did not mean that he liked the proposal. From the king's point of view, it was not a good idea to weaken the power of the nobles who supported him. Not to mention the turmoil in London in the process of parliamentary reform.

Against this background, it is quite possible that William IV vetoed the proposal to adjust the administrative structure of Scotland Yard. This is not nonsense, because, according to what the Viscount of Melbourne knows, there are already signs of this.

At the Royal Council yesterday morning, William IV, in the presence of all members of the Privy Council, praised Scotland Yard and the Army for the important role played in the riots in London, and demanded that the new Whig Cabinet should focus on restoring order to the country.

Although the Viscount of Melbourne was worried about the influence of public opinion from Fleet Street, the King's attitude and the support of Scotland Yard were more important than those vicious reporters and newspaper editors.

And after the riots in London, the Prime Minister, Earl Grey, seemed to be much more conservative in his political stance. The Whig leader, who had been a radical in parliament for more than three decades, had a long conversation with his cabinet members after his re-election.

He talked a lot, but the one that impressed the Viscount of Melbourne the most was: "We can start a war at any time if we want." But we must also take into account that if a war, once it is launched, it will not stop because we do not want to fight. All in all, we need to learn the lessons of France, which has been in turmoil for twenty or thirty years, but in the end, all that remains is chicken feathers. ”

Thinking of this, the Viscount of Melbourne suddenly thought of Arthur's energetic face again. It was a difficult decision, but fortunately, he was able to convince himself, even if it cost him some of his political reputation.

"For your sake, for Mr. Faraday's sake, for my sister Cooper's sake, and even more for the sake of the overall picture. Well, Rowan, you convinced me. I will go and talk to the Prime Minister and His Majesty the King. ”

The Viscount of Melbourne picked up the bottle and gave Rowan another refill, clinking glasses with him, "Although this is not the season for honours, I think that a brave and fearless young man like Arthur Hastings deserves an exception. ”

(End of chapter)