MODERN POLICE: LONDON.
The "New Police" introduced by Peel--The System supported by the
Duke of Wellington--Opposition from the Vestries--Brief Account of
the Metropolitan Police, its Uses and Services--The River
Police--The City Police--Extra-police Services--The Provincial
Police.
The necessity for a better police organisation in London much exercised
the public mind during the early decades of the nineteenth century. At
length, in 1830, Sir Robert Peel introduced a new scheme, the germ of
the present admirable forces. In doing so he briefly recapitulated the
shortcomings and defects of the system, or want of system, that then
prevailed; he pointed out how many glaring evils had survived the
repeated inquiries and consequent proposals for reform. Parliamentary
Committees had reported year after year from 1770 to 1828, all of them
unanimously of opinion that in the public interest, to combat the steady
increase of crime a better method of prevention and protection was
peremptorily demanded. Yet nothing had been done. The agitation had
always subsided as soon as the immediate alarm was forgotten. So this
opulent city, with its teeming population and abounding wealth, was
still mainly dependent upon the parochial watch: the safe-keeping of
both was entrusted to a handful of feeble old men, an obsolete body
without system or authority. That crime had increased by "leaps and
bounds" was shown by the figures. It was out of all proportion to the
growth of the people. In 1828 as compared with 1821 there had been an
increase of 41 per cent in committals, as against 15-1/2 per cent in
population, and the ratio was one criminal to every 822 of the
population. This was in London alone. In the provinces the increase was
as 26 per cent of crime against 11-1/2 per cent of population.
Unquestionably the cause of all this was the inefficiency of the
police. The necessary conditions, unity of action of the whole and
direct responsibility of the parts, could never be assured under such
arrangements. Each London parish worked independently, and while some
made a fairly good fight, others by their apathy were subjected to
continual depredation. The wealthy and populous district of Kensington,
for instance, some fifteen square miles in extent, depended for its
protection upon three constables and three headboroughs--none of the
latter very remarkable for steadiness and sobriety. It was fairly urged
that three drunken beadles could effect nothing against widespread
burglary and thieving. In the parish of Tottenham, equally unprotected,
there had been nineteen attempts at burglary in six weeks, and sixteen
had been entirely successful. In Spitalfields, at a time not long
antecedent to 1829, gangs of thieves stood at the street corners and
openly rifled all who dared to pass them. In some parishes, suburban and
of recent growth, there was no police whatever, no protection but the
voluntary exertions of individuals and the "honesty of the thieves."
Such were Fulham--with 15,000 inhabitants--Chiswick, Ealing, Acton,
Edgware, Barnet, Putney, and Wandsworth. In Deptford, with 20,000,
constantly reinforced by evil-doers driven out of Westminster through
stricter supervision, there was no watch at all. Then the number of
outrages perpetrated so increased that a subscription was raised to keep
two watchmen, who were yet paid barely enough to support existence, much
less ensure vigilance. Watchmen, indeed, were often chosen because they
were on the parish rates. The pay of many of them was no more than
twopence per hour.
[Illustration: Sir Robert Peel.
(_After the Painting by J. Wood._)]
The Duke of Wellington, who was the head of the Administration when Peel
brought forward his measure in 1829, supported it to the full, and
showed from his own experience how largely crime might be prevented by
better police regulations. He mentioned the well-known horse-patrol,[13]
which had done so much to clear the neighbourhood of London of
highwaymen and footpads. His recollection reached back into the early
years of the century, and he could speak from his own experience of a
time when scarcely a carriage could pass without being robbed, when
travellers had to do battle for their property with the robbers who
attacked them. Yet all this had been stopped summarily by the mounted
patrols which guarded all the approaches to London, and highway robbery
had ceased to exist. The same good results might be expected from the
general introduction of a better preventive system.
It is a curious fact that the Duke incurred much odium by the
establishment of this new police, which came into force about the time
that the struggle for Parliamentary reform had for the moment eclipsed
his popularity. The scheme of an improved police was denounced as a
determination to enslave, an insidious attempt to dragoon and tyrannise
over the people. Police spies armed with extraordinary authority were to
harass and dog the steps of peaceable citizens, to enter their houses,
making domiciliary visitations, exercising the right of search on any
small pretence or trumped-up story. There were idiots who actually
accused the Duke of a dark design to seize supreme power and usurp the
throne; it was with this base desire that he had raised this new
"standing army" of drilled and uniformed policemen, under Government,
and independent of local ratepayers' control. The appointment of a
military officer, Colonel Rowan, of the Irish Constabulary, betrayed the
intention of creating a "veritable gendarmerie." The popular aversion to
the whole scheme, fanned into flame by these silly protests, burst out
in abusive epithets applied to the new tyrants. Such names as "raw
lobsters" from their blue coats, "bobbies" from Sir Robert Peel, and
"peelers" with the same derivation, "crushers" from their heavy-footed
interference with the liberty of the subject, "coppers" because they
"copped" or captured his Majesty's lieges, survive to show how they were
regarded in those days.
[Illustration: WILLIAM ANTHONY, "THE LAST OF THE CHARLIES."]
Yet the admirable regulations framed by Sir Richard Mayne, who was soon
associated with Colonel Rowan, did much to reassure the public. They
first enunciated the judicious principle that has ever governed police
action in this country: the principle that prevention of crime was the
first object of the constable, not the punishment of offenders after the
fact. The protection of person and property and the maintenance of peace
and good order were the great aims of a police force. A firm but
pleasant and conciliatory demeanour was earnestly enjoined upon all
officers, and this has been in truth, with but few exceptions, the
watchword of the police from first to last. "Perfect command of temper,"
as laid down by Sir Richard Mayne, was an indispensable qualification;
the police officer should "never suffer himself to be moved in the
slightest degree by language or threats." He is to do his duty in a
"quiet and determined manner," counting on the support of bystanders if
he requires it, but being careful always to take no serious step without
sufficient force at his back. He was entrusted with certain powers,
though not of the arbitrary character alleged: he was entitled to arrest
persons charged with or suspected of offences: he might enter a house in
pursuit of an offender, to interfere in an affray, to search for stolen
goods.
[Illustration: POLICEMAN, OLD STYLE.
(_From a Drawing by Leech._)]
They went their way quietly and efficiently, these new policemen, and,
in spite of a few mistakes from over-zeal, soon conquered public esteem.
The opposition died hard; dislike was fostered by satirical verse and
the exaggerated exposure of small errors, and in 1833 the police came
into collision with a mob at Coldbath Fields, when there was a serious
and lamentable affray. But already the London vestries were won over.
They had been most hostile to the new system, "as opposed to the free
institutions of this country, which gave parish authorities the sole
control in keeping and securing the peace." They had denounced the new
police as importing espionage totally repugnant to the habits and
feelings of the British people, and subjecting them to "a disguised
military force." These protests formed part of a resolution arrived at
by a conference of parishes, which also insisted that those who paid the
cost should have the control. Yet a couple of years later these same
vestries agreed that "the unfavourable impression and jealousy formerly
existing against the new police is rapidly diminishing ... and that it
has fully answered the purpose for which it was formed...." This
conclusion was supported by some striking statistics. Crime appreciably
diminished. The annual losses inflicted on the public by larcenies,
burglaries, and highway robberies, which had been estimated at about a
million of money, fell to £20,000, and at the same time a larger number
of convictions was secured.
[Illustration: FIGHT BETWEEN POLICE AND MOB AT COLDBATH FIELDS IN 1833
(p. 250).]
It is beyond the limits of this work to give a detailed account of the
growth and gradual perfecting of the Metropolitan Police
[Illustration: THE POLICE FORCE ON BONNER'S FIELDS DURING THE CHARTIST
DISTURBANCES IN 1848.
(_From an Engraving in "The Illustrated London News."_)]
into the splendid force that watches over the great city to-day. The
total strength now, according to the last official returns, is nearly
16,000 of all ranks, and it has about quintupled since its first
creation in 1829. The population of London at that date was just one
million and a half; the area controlled by the new police not half the
present size. Now not far short of 6,000,000 souls are included within
the area supervised by our present Metropolitan force, measuring 688
square miles of territory, or some thirty miles across from any point of
the circumference of a circle whose centre is at Charing Cross.
Throughout the whole of this vast region, which constitutes the greatest
human ant-heap the world has ever known, ever growing, too; the
blue-coated guardian of the peace is incessantly on patrol, the total
length of his beats reaching to about 850 miles. He is unceasingly
engaged in duties both various and comprehensive in behalf of his
fellow-citizens. By his active and intelligent watchfulness he checks
and prevents the commission of crime, and if his vigilance
[Illustration: METROPOLITAN RIVER POLICE TO THE RESCUE.]
[Illustration: A NIGHT CHARGE.]
is unhappily sometimes eluded it is not because he is not eager to
pursue and capture offenders. He is exposed to peculiar dangers in
protecting the public, but accepts them unhesitatingly, risking his life
gladly, and facing brutal and often murderous violence as bravely as any
soldier in the breach. In the Whitechapel division, where roughs abound,
a fifth of the police contingent in that quarter are injured annually on
duty; 9 per cent. of the whole force goes on the sick list during the
year from the result of savage assaults. A recent return of officers
injured shows a total of 3,112 cases, and these include 2,717 assaults
when making arrests, 89 injuries in stopping runaway, horses, 158 bites
from dogs, and many injuries sustained in disorderly crowds or when
assisting to extinguish fires. The regulation of street traffic is,
everybody knows, admirably performed by the police, and they ably
control all public carriages. The Lost Property Office is a police
institution that renders much efficient service, and in a recent year
over 38,000 articles which had been dropped, forgotten, or mislaid were
received, and in most cases returned to their owners. They made up a
very heterogeneous collection, and included all kinds of birds and live
stock--parrots, canaries, larks, rabbits, dogs, and cats; there were
books, bicycles, weapons, perambulators, mail carts, golf clubs, sewing
machines, and musical instruments. In minor matters the police constable
is a universal champion and knight errant. He escorts the softer sex
across the crowded thoroughfare as gallantly as any squire of dames; it
is a touching sight to watch the lost child walking trustfully hand in
hand with the six-foot giant to some haven of safety. If in the West End
the man in blue is sometimes on friendly terms with the cook, he is
always alert in the silent watches of the night, trying locks and giving
necessary warning; in poorer neighbourhoods he is the friend of the
family, the referee in disputes, the kindly alarum clock that rouses out
the early labourer. It may truly be said that London owes a deep debt of
gratitude to its police.
[Illustration: A POLICE LAUNCH AT THE FLOATING RIVER STATION, WATERLOO
BRIDGE.]
No account, however brief and meagre, of the Metropolitan force would be
complete which did not include some reference
[Illustration: A CITY POLICEMAN REGULATING TRAFFIC AT THE MANSION HOUSE.
_Photo: Cassell & Co., Ltd._]
to the river and dockyard police. I have already described on earlier
pages[14] the systematic depredations that went on amid the Thames
shipping in earlier days. This called imperatively for reform, and a
marine police was established to watch over our ships and cargoes and
guard the wharves and quays. Regular boat patrols were always on the
move about the river, and the police, who carried arms, had considerable
powers. This Thames branch was not immediately taken over by Peel's new
police, but it is now part and parcel of the Metropolitan force, and a
very perfect system obtains. The river police has its headquarters in
the well-known floating station at Waterloo Bridge, formerly a steamboat
pier, with a cutter at Erith, and it also has the services of several
small steam launches for rapid transit up and down the river. There is
very little crime upon the great waterway, thanks to the vigilance of
the Thames police, who also do good work in preventing suicides, while
they have many opportunities of calling attention to possible foul play
by their recovery of bodies floating on the stream.
What is true of the Metropolitan force applies equally to the City
Police. The City forms an _imperium in imperio_, one square mile of
absolutely independent territory interpolated in the very heart and
centre of London. The City Police was formed at the same time as the
Metropolitan, but the great municipality claimed the right to manage its
own police affairs, declining Government subsidies as resolutely as it
resisted Government control. The House of Commons in 1839 frankly
acknowledged that the City was justified in its pretensions, and that it
was certain to maintain a good and efficient police force. That
anticipation has been fully borne out, and the City Police is admitted
on all hands to be a first-class force, well organised and most
effective, filled with fine men who reach a high standard both of
intelligence and of physique. It has lighter duties by night, when the
City empties like a church after service, but during the day it has vast
cares and responsibilities, the duty of regulating the congested street
traffic in the narrow City thoroughfares being perhaps the most onerous.
Like their comrades beyond the boundary, the City police are largely
employed by private individuals; banks, exchanges, public offices, and
so forth, gladly put themselves under official protection. It should
have been mentioned, when dealing with the Metropolitan Police, that
some 1,800 officers of all ranks, from superintendents to private
constables, are regularly engaged in a variety of posts outside ordinary
police duty. Every great department of State is guarded by them; the
Sovereign's sacred person, the princes of the blood, the royal palaces,
all public buildings, museums and collections, many of the parks and
public gardens, the powder factories, are among the institutions
confided to their care. Going farther afield, it is interesting to note
that great tradesmen, great jewellers, great pickle-makers, great
drapers, great card-makers, the co-operative stores, great fruit-growing
estates, the public markets--all these share police services with
Coutts' and Drummond's Banks, Holland House, Roehampton House, and so
on. The whole of our dockyards are under police surveillance; so are the
Albert Hall, Brompton Cemetery, and many other institutions.
It is impossible to leave this subject without adverting to the
excellent provincial police now invariably established in the great
cities and wide country districts, who, especially as regards the
former, have an organisation and duties almost identical with those
already detailed. The police forces of Liverpool, Manchester,
Birmingham, Edinburgh, Glasgow, and the rest yield nothing in demeanour,
devotion, and daring to their colleagues of the Metropolis. In the
counties, where large areas often have to be covered, great
responsibility must be devolved upon officers of inferior rank, and it
is not abused. These sergeants or inspectors, with their half-dozen men,
are so many links in a long-drawn chain. Much depends upon them, their
energy and endurance. They, too, have to prevent crime by their constant
vigilance on the high roads, and by keeping close watch on all
suspicious persons. For the same reason special qualities are needed in
the county chief constable and his deputy; the task of superintending
their posts at wide distances apart, and controlling the movements of
tramps and bad characters through their district, calls for the exercise
of peculiar qualities, the power of command, of rapid transfer from
place to place, of keen insight into character, of promptitude and
decision--qualities that are most often found in military officers, who
are, in fact, generally preferred for these appointments.