The Police.
THE LONDON POLICE.--JOURNEY FROM PARIS TO LONDON.--THE POLITICS OF
THE FORCE.--ITS MODE OF ACTION ILLUSTRATED.--DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE
POLICE IN ENGLAND AND ON THE
CONTINENT.--DETECTIVES.--ROOKERIES.--THE POLICEMAN AS A CITIZEN.
In a town such as London is at the present day, where thousands of
honest men follow their daily avocations at the side and mixed up with
thousands of dishonest men, the Government has but one alternative with
respect to the police regulations. It must either resign the idea of
organising a _surveillance_ by means of the police, or that
_surveillance_ must be carried on according to a highly practical
principle.
With the police and other political institutions, it is exactly the same
as with our clothes. They would seem to grow with us; but the fact is,
as we grow in height and breadth we take care that our coats have
greater length and width.
In the same manner, is the police allowed to grow in proportion to the
growth of a town; and none but thieves or fools in politics can object
to the process, provided always that the police is for the protection
and not for the torment of the peaceful citizen.
Scarcely a hundred years ago, no one could dare to walk from Kensington
to the city after nightfall. At Hyde Park corner, not far from the place
where the Crystal Palace stood, there was a bell which was rung at seven
and at nine o'clock; those who had to go to the city assembled at the
call and proceeded in a body, by which means they were comparatively
safe from the attacks of highwaymen.
Small bodies of men were frequently stopped by the robbers; it happened
now and then that the passengers were attacked and sorely molested by a
roistering band of wild young fellows, who were fresh from the
public-house.
But all this romance came to an end when George II. was stopped and
plundered one fine night on his return from hunting. The very next
morning a troop of armed horsemen was established to watch over the
security of the public streets, and though these were not the rudiments
of the London Police (there were already some watchmen and
river-guards), yet we consider them as a fraction of the police-embryo
which has since grown up to such respectable dimensions.
The Guild of the London police (on the continent they are but too
frequently confounded with the older constables) was founded and trained
by Sir Robert Peel; they are consequently a product of our own times;
and that this product is not a luxury, and that it is more useful than
many other creations of our own times is clearly shewn by the great
London journals, which daily acknowledge the institution in their police
reports. But this institution is very little understood in Germany, and
even strangers, who pass a short time in England, are not likely to
understand it.
Let us watch the steps of a German, for instance, on his journey across
the channel. He leaves Cologne with an express train, and reaches Calais
at midnight. Bewildered with sleep, he leaves the carriage; the first
object which strikes his view is a large hand painted on the wall. He
follows the outstretched index of that hand and finds his way, not to
the refreshment rooms whither he wants to go, but to the "Bureau de
Police," where he never thought of going. He is cruelly disappointed;
but he is an honest man, and not even a political refugee, and he has,
therefore, no reason to avoid communication with the French police. They
ask for his passport, and if the traveller can produce some document of
the kind they are content. The passport may, indeed, be a forgery: its
possessor may have stolen it. Napoleon the Great found his way back from
Elba without a passport; and Louis Philippe, also without a passport,
found his way out of France; but no matter! the French require the
production of passports, doubtlessly for some hidden good, for the
_alcun' bene_ of Dante.
On his arrival in Folkestone or Dover, many an honest German has, from
mere force of habit, put his hand in his pocket and produced his
passport ready for inspection. Of course the methodical foreigner was
laughed at for his pains. The Emperor of France and his satellites may
possibly have an interest in knowing all particulars about those who
turn their backs upon them; but constitutional England is not in the
habit of asking her guests whence they come, why they come, and whither
they go. After a short interview with the Custom-house officers--and
these, too, though functionaries, are dressed like all other honest
men--the stranger is free of the country; and if his trade be an honest
one, he is not interfered with; indeed, he is almost _neglected_ by the
public authorities. On his arrival in London, he takes apartments in an
hotel, or in a boarding-house, or he takes furnished lodgings, or a
house, or a street; no matter, the police do not interfere with him; and
to all appearance they pay no attention whatever to his proceedings.
This _apparently_ unguarded liberty is the secret of the real grandeur
of the Preventive Service. But that this is possible, is partly owing to
the good-will of a liberal government, and partly to the peculiarities
of English life and manners. This is a point which we shall, on a future
occasion, treat at greater length.
The circumstance that a stranger may walk to and fro between the Isle of
Wight and the Orkneys without being questioned, protocolled, and
stopped, has caused many a foreigner to doubt the safety of life in
England generally. A certain Berlin professor, I am told, got quite
angry on the subject. "A man," said he, "goes about in England exactly
as if he were disowned by society and removed from within the pale of
it. The very dogs of Berlin are more respected! At least they have their
numbers taken and are entered into the dog-book (_Hundebuch_), at the
police-office, while in England none but thieves can feel comfortable,
since thieves alone are in a manner noticed by the police."
In treating of the functions of the London Police, we ought at once to
say, that the police in England is essentially a force of _safety_,
whose functions are limited to the prevention of crime and the
apprehension of criminals. All its departments of river, street, and
railway police are instituted for the same purpose. There has not
hitherto been a _political_ department in Scotland-yard. The police, as
at present organised, deals only with the vulgar sins of larceny,
robbery, murder, and forgery; it superintends the cleaning of the
streets; it prevents the interruption of the street traffic, and it
takes care of drunkards and of children that have strayed from their
homes. But political opinions, however atrocious, if they have not
ripened into criminal action, are altogether without the sphere of the
English police.
The policemen, as the free citizens of a free country, are perfectly at
liberty to have political opinions of their own; they need not modify or
conceal their sentiments when they take the blue coat and the glazed
hat. They are required to catch thieves as cats do mice. Some of them
are ultra-royalists; others are ultra-radicals. Generally speaking, they
are not by any means conservatives. The majority of them belong to the
poorer and less educated classes; they take their political opinions
from the radical weekly papers. They club together as sailors, cabmen,
and labourers do, and take in their weekly paper, which they read and
discuss all the week through. They quote their paper whenever they talk
politics, and this they do frequently, for your London policeman is as
zealous a dabbler in politics as any ale-house keeper in Suabia.
Adam Smith founds his financial theories on the division of labour. The
division of labour is also the firm basis of the efficiency of the
English police. Since they have not to perform all the functions which
weigh on the shoulders of their helmeted and sabred brethren on the
continent; since they need not devote their attention to political
conversations and movements in the case of individuals or of
communities; since they need not keep watch over and give an account of
the movements and opinions of strangers and natives; and since they have
nothing whatever to do with the secrets of families, the leaders of the
daily papers, nor with the unsealing and sealing of post-office letters,
they are at liberty to devote all their energy and ingenuity to the
efficient discharge of those functions which are properly assigned to
them.
It is not a fable, nor a piece of English braggadocio, when it is said,
that the thieves are more thoroughly hunted down in this immense city of
London, than they are in the smaller German capitals. A foreigner who
studies the police-reports of the great London journals, will find there
ample matter for admiration and reflection. We quote but one example, to
show the manner in which the various parts of the police machine work
together. The anecdote may possibly contain some useful hints for the
guardians of constitutional towns.
A printer sends one of his men to the stationer to take in stock for the
printing-office. It was late on a Saturday afternoon, and the
manufacturer promised to have the paper in readiness early on Monday.
The man to whom the message was entrusted and who brought back the
answer, was, for some reason or other, dismissed in the course of that
very evening.
On the Monday, another messenger was sent for the paper. He came back
without it. The paper had been taken away a few hours before he arrived
at the stationer's. No paper, however, had come to the printing-office.
The greatest embarrassment prevailed. A couple of hours pass, and yet
the paper does not arrive. Suspicion is at length directed to the man
who had been discharged. Inquiries are made at the stationer's, and the
description of the person who came for the paper corresponds with the
appearance of the suspected person. Upon this, the printer proceeds to
the police-station to report the case. What with waiting and sending
about, the better part of the day was gone.
Mr. M--then makes his appearance in the inspector's office, and proceeds
to state his case. But scarcely has he given his name, when the
inspector puts a stop to all further explanations. "You've been robbed,
Mr. M--. We know all about it. The thief is in custody, and the goods
must by this time have been delivered at your office. One ream of No. 2
and two reams of No. 5 are wanting; but we know where to find them. They
shall be sent to you to-morrow. Good bye, sir."
Mr. M--, who, like every Englishman of the same stamp, is in no wise to
be surprised with any thing that may happen between heaven and earth, is
nevertheless inclined to think this a strange case--a very strange one
indeed. He pushes his hat back, strikes his umbrella on the floor, and
turning on his heel, he makes the best of his way home, where he finds
"all right," while all the "devils" are frantic with joy that the paper
has been recovered, and that Toby, who carried matters with such a high
hand, is, after all, nothing but a thief, and sure to be transported.