Under the rural police system such a state of affairs was impossible.

Constables were paid a regular salary, and had no interest in crime

except to prevent it by every means in their power: prevalence of crime

in any district meant extra work and less chance of promotion for every

policeman concerned.

Of the many excellent arrangements introduced by Captain M'Hardy,

with a view to reducing the expense of the Essex constabulary, none

was so successful as the plan of employing constables as assistant

relieving officers for casuals. The resulting advantage was twofold.

The prospect of having to interview a policeman acted as a moral check

upon vagrancy, and the constable acquired in this way an extensive and

first-hand acquaintance with the members of a fraternity professionally

interesting to him. The success of this experiment, with which was

associated the supervision of low lodging-houses, astonished even

its strongest adherents; a comparison of the vagrancy returns for

1848 and 1849 (the year of the initiation of this policy) shewing a

decrease amounting to ninety per cent. in the number of indoor, and to

seventy-seven per cent. in the number of outdoor vagrants, the gross

figures being 24,882 for 1848, and 2977 for the following year--this

result was achieved, moreover, without relief being refused, as far as

could be discovered, to a single pauper who was really destitute.[214]

The Essex constabulary was also the first to undertake the supervision

of Weights and Measures, thus saving the salaries previously paid to

the old inspectors who were inefficient, and saving the pockets of

labouring men who were the chief sufferers by short weight. The extent

to which false measures used to be employed can only be conjectured;

but it is a fact that, when in 1845 the rural police of Wiltshire

took charge of this department, in no less than 14,942 instances

were defective weights and measures discovered. Further savings were

effected in Essex under the headings of, conveyance of prisoners,

prevention of fire, excise duties, etc., etc., whilst private

associations for the apprehension of felons died a natural death

wherever the maintenance of the peace was entrusted to the new police.

The effect of the admirable force established in Essex was to compel

the adjoining counties of Suffolk, Hertfordshire and Cambridgeshire

reluctantly to follow suit, and in other parts of England and Wales

rural police were gradually appointed. By May 1853, twenty-two counties

had adopted the Permissive Act, seven counties had partly adopted it,

and twenty-two counties (including two Ridings of Yorkshire) continued

the parochial system, with or without Superintending Constables.

A return dated 1853 shews the progress that had been made--

_For the whole County_--Bedford, Cambridge, Durham,

Essex, Gloster, Hertford, Lancaster, Leicester,

Norfolk, Northampton, Nottingham, Salop, Southampton,

Stafford, Suffolk, Surrey, Wilts, Worcester,

Cardigan, Carmarthen, Denbigh, Montgomery.

_In parts only_--Cumberland, Dorset, Rutland,

Sussex, Warwick, Westmoreland, York.

_Counties not adopting the provisions of the Permissive

Act_--Berks, Bucks, Chester, Cornwall, Derby,

Devon, Hereford, Huntingdon, Kent, Lincoln, Monmouth,

Northumberland, Oxford, Somerset, Anglesey,

Brecon, Carnarvon, Glamorgan, Merioneth, Radnor,

Flint, Pembroke.

Three years later the distribution was still much the same, only two

counties having remodelled their police in the interval. Unfortunately

there was little uniformity of system throughout the twenty-four police

forces now established: some counties framed their regulations on

those of the Royal Irish Constabulary; others adopted an independent

attitude; Lancashire was unlucky; Cheshire was unique; and only

Hampshire and Cambridgeshire were humble enough to take full advantage

of the excellent model designed by Captain M'Hardy.

The confusion resulting from this patchwork arrangement was put an end

to by the second great Rural Police Act, passed in 1856, "to render

more effectual the police in Counties and Boroughs in England and

Wales." This measure, commonly called the "Obligatory Act," enacted

that where a Constabulary had not already been appointed for the whole

of a County, the magistrates were forthwith to cause such a force to

be appointed for the whole or residue of that County, as the case might

be; and further, that the police forces of all Boroughs containing

five thousand inhabitants or less were to be consolidated with the

police of the County wherein such Boroughs might be situated. An annual

statement respecting crime in Counties was required to be transmitted

by the magistrates (a similar statement for Boroughs to be rendered

by the Watch Committees), to the Secretary of State for the Home

Department, in order that an abstract of the same might be presented to

Parliament. Provision was also made for the appointment of Inspectors

of Constabulary, with authority to visit and enquire into the state and

general efficiency of the police in the several Counties and Boroughs,

and to report thereon to the Secretary of State. On a certificate from

the Home Secretary that the police force of any County or Borough was

efficient, a sum not exceeding one-fourth part of the total cost of pay

and clothing for such police force was to be paid by the Treasury.[215]

The effect of this Statute was, for the first time, to provide every

part of England and Wales with stipendiary police, thus completing the

process which had been initiated at Bow Street more than a hundred

years before. The Metropolitan Police Act, the Municipal Corporations

Act, and the Permissive Act, valuable and indeed indispensable as

they undoubtedly were, had been effective only in certain districts:

delinquents, whom the activity of the metropolitan police had driven

out of London, found a home in other large towns; a second migration

followed when the Boroughs got their police; and yet a third took

place, as we have seen, after the partial introduction of rural

constabularies. If it is true that the degree of impunity looked for

has more to do with the amount of delinquency prevailing than the want

of life's necessaries, or any other factor, it is not a matter for

surprise that a large army of vagrant thieves continued to ply their

trade as long as there remained twenty counties and scores of small

towns where no interference with their illegal pursuits was to be

anticipated, and to which they might return after a successful raid to

safely dispose of their plunder.

The Obligatory Act tended to reduce crime in many ways, for not only

did a criminal career become much less attractive after the last

Alsatia had been closed, but the efficiency of all existing police

bodies was enormously increased by the uniformity and co-operation

between different units which naturally followed upon the compulsory

adoption of one general system through the whole country. Local

control was not interfered with by this Act, but a certain standard

of excellence was set up and maintained by means of the government

grant--the withholding of which as a punishment for inefficiency,

took the place to some extent of the amercements once levied against

districts whose police had been found wanting. And finally, the

vexatious restrictions which prevented constables from acting outside

the narrow limits of their constablewicks, were removed by the clause

which gave County constables the same powers in Boroughs as Borough

Constables enjoyed in Counties, thus restoring (in a form improved by

modern aids, such as the postal service and the electric telegraph) a

power similar to that which our English police long ago possessed, of

carrying the Hue and Cry from township to township, and from shire to

shire "untill the offender be apprehended, or at the least untill he be

thus pursued to the seaside."

CHAPTER XVI

CO-OPERATIVE POLICE AND THE SUPPRESSION OF RIOTS

When the new police was first introduced, the promoters of the

scheme did not look beyond the creation of a local force, sufficient

to protect life and property in the metropolis and its immediate

neighbourhood. No doubt Peel intended that his police should serve as

a model to other forces which he hoped to see established throughout

the kingdom; but it was no part of his plan that the Metropolitan

Police should be extended until the whole of England was policed by a

homogeneous organization administered from a central bureau in London.

Such a result, however, was at one time imminent, and would have become

inevitable if the process had not been arrested by the timely reforms

in County and Borough, described in the last chapter; reforms which,

besides helping towards the general reduction of crime, prevented also

the threatened centralization, by securing to provincial districts the

control of their own police.

As the Metropolitan Police increased in numbers and efficiency, it

began to lose its strictly local character, and to become a national

police. Up to a certain point this was to the public advantage, but

it would have been calamitous if the tendency had been allowed to

continue beyond that point. It is obvious, however, that after the

failure of the Permissive Act in 1839, the retention of local control,

so desirable on many grounds, was only rendered possible by making the

abolition of the parochial system universally compulsory.

As a matter of fact, the powers of making additions to the Metropolitan

District, acquired in 1839,[216] were only taken advantage of to a

very small extent, and the growth of the Metropolitan Police was

almost entirely confined within the limits originally assigned to

it. In 1840 the Houses of Parliament and the London Docks were taken

over; next came the Woolwich and Deptford Yards; Woolwich Arsenal,

and Greenwich were incorporated in 1843; then the Tower of London,

and finally the Royal Dockyards (Portsmouth, Devonport, Chatham, and

Pembroke Dock) were policed by the Metropolitan force in 1860. The

entire establishment, which in June 1830 was 3314 of all ranks, had

risen to 5625 in 1852, and ten years afterwards a new division (X) was

created to deal with the crowds which were expected to visit the second

International Exhibition. In 1864 the total strength was 7113. Colonel

Rowan resigned in 1850, and in 1856 the two Commissioners were replaced

by one Commissioner (Sir R. Mayne) and two Assistant Commissioners.

At first no steps were taken to fill the gap caused by the

disappearance of the Bow Street Runner, and the Popay incident

discouraged the Commissioners from venturing on what was felt to be

dangerous ground. The lack of a detective service was a great source

of weakness, and so in 1842 a new department, especially devoted to

this very necessary branch of police work, was instituted by Sir James

Graham, and attached to Scotland Yard.

A small staff was selected out of the uniform branch to form a nucleus.

At first the department only consisted of three inspectors and nine

sergeants; soon afterwards six constables were added, and gradually the

numbers were increased until in 1878 the whole detective service was

reorganized, and the Criminal Investigation Department created.

At the time when the Metropolitan force was the only efficient police

in the kingdom, individual officers, it may be remembered, were often

sent to the provinces, on loan or permanently, to assist in the

formation of similar organizations in other parts of England; this of

course was right and proper, and was attended by the best results.

Subsequently, the practice arose of temporarily drafting large bodies

of London policemen to keep the peace in distant districts wherever

disturbances were feared, a course of action sound enough in theory

perhaps, but seldom found effectual when put to the test of experience.

An English mob quickly resents high-handed interference, and will not

tolerate at the hands of strangers the same degree of repression it

would quietly submit to from local peace officers.

Several examples might be given of the ill-success which has almost

invariably attended the employment of London police in the provinces;

but the following is selected as a particularly well-defined instance.

In the summer of 1839 a force of Metropolitan policemen, about ninety

strong, were dispatched to Birmingham, to over-awe the turbulent crowds

which, it was feared, might proceed to extremities if their demands

were not complied with. When the police arrived in the town, a noisy

public meeting was in progress at the Bull Ring, but no overt act

of violence had as yet been committed. The Superintendent in charge

of the constables peremptorily ordered the crowd to disperse; his

summons was as positively disregarded, and within five minutes blows

were exchanged. In the melée which followed, the police were worsted,

and the situation was barely saved by the opportune appearance of

the military. On the ensuing Monday evening, a second conflict took

place, in which the policemen were victorious, though at the expense

of an increase of bitterness on both sides. A spurious semblance of

peace having thus been restored, fifty constables returned to London,

and only forty were left to deal with any recrudescence of disorder;

for this they had not long to wait, as an attempt to break up a

public meeting, a few days later, was followed by the most serious

consequences. After destroying some iron palisading which surrounded

the Nelson Monument, the crowd, now animated by a worse temper than

before, made weapons of part of the débris, and drove the small force

of constables to take refuge in the police-yard. For the next hour

and a half the town was at the mercy of the rioters, who, having

begun by smashing lamps and windows, ended by pillaging shops and

warehouses.[217] Eventually the police charged the mob with drawn

cutlasses, and, assisted by dragoons, got the upper hand; shortly

afterwards the police were withdrawn, and the task of keeping order

was entrusted to a strong levy of special constables locally enrolled,

who succeeded in maintaining the peace where their more professional

_confrères_ had failed. There is little doubt but that these riots

might have been avoided, or at least mitigated, had no strangers been

introduced to quell them.[218]

An isolated fact seldom proves anything; but it will be allowed,

without the production of additional evidence, that the Birmingham

fiasco affords sufficient proof that the Metropolitan Police had not

yet learnt the art of managing an angry crowd. There are, no doubt,

many occasions on which it is desirable to transfer bodies of police

from one place to another in order to concentrate the forces of law and

order at some threatened or strategic point, but in so doing the danger

to be apprehended from the resulting increase of local animus, ought to

be taken into account, and adequately provided for.

The valuable, if not indispensable, nature of the services which may be

rendered by Special Constables when directed towards the suppression

of riots, already indicated at Birmingham in 1839, was more fully

exemplified in 1848, when the Chartists assembled at Kennington Common,

threatened to descend upon London. The fear that the Metropolis might

be subjected to an access of anarchy similar to that which bestowed

an evil notoriety on the Gordon Riots, gave rise to preparations for

defence on an unprecedented scale. At this crisis not less than two

hundred thousand citizens enrolled themselves as Special Constables;

the Metropolitan Police were told off to guard the bridges; and

all available troops were held in reserve, mostly in houses on the

Middlesex side of the river. The Duke of Wellington took command of

this huge police army, and so perfect were his arrangements that,

without the display of a single redcoat, the rioters outside dared not

advance to the attack, and their sympathisers within dared not make any

diversion in their favour.

The whole subject of the policing of riotous and riotously disposed

crowds is of the highest importance; but being a science in itself,

its many aspects cannot be discussed in a book which only professes

to tell briefly the story of police development in this country. At

the same time, if we are to appreciate correctly the bearing of one

fact upon another, if we hope to draw intelligent conclusions, it is

impossible to avoid altogether what may be called the semi-scientific

side of the question. In order to estimate the efficiency of any police

force, to decide, for example, whether its failures are due to faulty

organization or to bad generalship,--it is not sufficient to have an

acquaintance with a mass of facts, dates and figures, but a key is

required to read the cipher, some guide is necessary to assist in

arranging the known factors in the order of their relative importance.

An indifferently directed force may be capable of dealing in detail

with isolated offenders; but the problem of pacifying a combination of

peace breakers may induce a strain which will find out the faulty link

in all but the most highly tempered organizations. Just as a concerted

breach of the peace by a number of persons is disproportionately more

serious than an independent breach by any individual, so also do

police duties take a higher range as soon as it becomes necessary to

concentrate the energies of a number of constables for the attainment

of a common object. If he is to employ his constables to the best

advantage, a superior officer of police must have some knowledge of the

general laws that sway men when they are assembled together in great

numbers, those "volcanic forces" which, in the words of an American

writer, "lie smouldering in all ignorant masses."

Men have a gregarious instinct which, under the influence of

excitement, induces them to herd together without any definite object

and often at great inconvenience to themselves; the progress of the

resulting congestion is normal until a certain point is reached, the

point at which entirely new forces begin to act. When this moment

arrives, all self-control is repudiated, decent and orderly men become

desperadoes, cowards are inspired by a senseless bravado, the calm

reason of common-sense gives place to the insanity of licence, and

unless the demoralising tendency is checked, a crowd rapidly reaches

the level of its most degraded constituent. The explanation of these

phenomena is probably to be found in an excessive spirit of emulation

aroused under conditions of excitement, which makes a man feel that the

responsibility for his actions is no longer to be borne by himself, but

will be shared by the multitude in which he has merged his identity.

It is the business of the police to exhaust every art in a sustained

effort to prevent the ferment from reaching the critical stage, and

to watch the crowd so narrowly that the first symptom of violence

may instantly be suppressed. This can best be accomplished by local

constables who are acquainted with the persons and names of individual

members of the crowd, while it is of even greater moment that the

constabulary should not be the first to give offence, or contribute to

a breach of the peace by the use of exasperating language or aggressive

action.

The problem before the policeman operating against a riotously disposed

crowd is somewhat similar to that which confronts the soldier in the

face of the enemy, and it was on this account that the Metropolitan

force was given a semi-military organization. In some respects,

however, the policeman's task is the more difficult of the two,

chiefly because he has to strive for peace whilst actually engaged in

conflict; the soldier at least enjoys the advantage of knowing his

own comrades, whereas the constable is often unable to distinguish

friends from foes, and continually runs the risk of converting the

former into the latter. Whilst the greatest possible latitude must

be allowed to individual constables, the secret of success lies in

mutual, not in independent action, and for mutual action to exist,

there must be discipline and intelligent direction. When the use of

force can no longer be delayed, the plan adopted by the officer in

command should be easy of accomplishment, simple of comprehension, and

its success should leave the law-breakers at a strategical disadvantage

sufficiently obvious to convince them of the futility of further

resistance. Nothing is so fatal as vacillation: partial success leads

on a mob to the commission of fresh excesses, partial repression only

aggravates it. It is far better to leave a crowd altogether alone,

than to sustain even an apparent defeat. Force is no remedy unless it

is unswervingly and unhesitatingly applied; and as it is comparatively

immaterial in what direction repression is exercised so long as it is

consistent and irresistible, it is usually good policy to divert the

energies of the mob towards the line of least resistance. It is more

efficacious, for example, to keep a crowd moving in some definite

direction, than to dissipate the strength of the police in attempts

to arrest ring-leaders, to seize banners or the like, which may

degenerate into a series of disconnected single combats not uniformly

favourable to authority. Any apparently uncalled-for attack may convey

the impression of wanton outrage, and so tend to defeat the object in

view, by increasing that state of irritation and excitement which it

is the principal duty of the police to allay. Many branches of police

science which to-day are in the common knowledge were unheard of and

unsuspected during the first half of the nineteenth century. This is

particularly the case with regard to that part of the constable's duty

which has to do with the management of crowds: before 1830 there were

only two methods of dealing with a riotous mob, the first was to leave

it severely alone, and the second was to allow a regiment of cavalry

to trample it into submission. No government worthy of the name is

justified in adopting a policy of non-interference at a time when the

lives and property of law-abiding citizens are in preventible jeopardy,

and the disastrous consequences that may follow upon the employment of

the second method were sufficiently advertised (to cite two instances

only) by the Bristol Riots and the so-called Peterloo Massacre.

London police and London crowds are now renowned all over the world,

the former for the general excellence of their arrangements, and the

latter for their almost invariable good humour. Perhaps the credit

is not always fairly apportioned, for it is not too much to say that

the good humour of the crowd is more often due to the admirable tact

of the police than to any inherent virtue that exclusively resides

in Londoners. At first the police were hardly more successful in

suppressing riots than the soldiers had been: in Birmingham as at

Coldbath Fields, events shewed that the unpopularity of the new

constabulary went far to neutralize the undoubted superiority naturally

possessed by a civil, over a military, force for the purposes of

peace maintenance. As time went on, and as police and public came to

understand each other, riots became less frequent, and conflicts less

bitter, until the harmony which now so happily exists was arrived

at. If it is allowable to talk of a turning-point in a process which

is gradual, this point was reached soon after the disturbances which

commonly go by the name of the Sunday-Trading-Bill Riots. Though not

accompanied by any loss of life, nor followed by those unsparing

attacks on the conduct of the police that had embittered the Coldbath

Fields controversy, the collision which took place in July 1855,

between the Metropolitan Police and a mixed London crowd, were serious

enough to stir up much of the old animosity, and to prove that,

if the policeman was no longer an object of active dislike to his

fellow-citizens, neither could he as yet lay claim to any great measure

of popularity.

The disturbances in question arose out of the following circumstances.

Lord Robert Grosvenor had introduced a bill, the object of which

was to prevent all buying and selling within the City of London and

metropolitan police district on Sundays. Popular feeling, which ran

high against the measure, found expression in a variety of ways, some

serious and some serio-comic. The point of view of the masses was not

badly summed up in these lines:

"Sublime decree, by which our souls to save

No Sunday tankards foam, no barbers shave,

And chins unmown, and throats unslaked display,

His Lordship's reverence for the Sabbath day."

Unfortunately the opponents of the obnoxious bill did not confine

themselves to versification, but caused handbills to be circulated,

announcing that on the 24th of June, an open-air meeting would be

held in Hyde Park "to see how religiously the aristocracy observe the

Sabbath, and how careful they are not to work their servants or their

cattle on that day." The result of this manifesto was that, at the time

mentioned, a mob assembled near the Serpentine, but the demonstration

did not assume serious proportions, the crowd contenting themselves

with hooting and jeering at those who were taking their afternoon ride

or drive in the Park.

Throughout the following week, certain persons continued the agitation,

and, by means of placards, summoned their sympathisers to meet them on

the next Sunday in Hyde Park, where it was announced that "the open air

concert and monster fête, under the patronage of the Leave-us-alone

Club will be repeated." Another appeal was of a more personal nature

and ran as follows, "Let us go to Church with Lord Robert Grosvenor

next Sunday morning. We can attend his lordship in Park Lane at half

past ten, go to Church with him, then go home to dinner, and be back in

time to see our friends in Hyde Park. Come in your best clothes, as

his lordship is very particular."

These handbills and placards having been brought to his notice,

Sir Richard Mayne replied by publishing a proclamation requesting

well-disposed persons not to attend the proposed meeting, at the same

time warning all concerned that steps would be taken by the police to

prevent the meeting being held, and that, if necessary, force would be

employed to maintain the peace.

Undeterred by this notice, thousands of people entered the Park on the

afternoon of Sunday the 1st of July, drawn thither, some by curiosity,

some for purposes of recreation, some with the fixed determination of

resisting the police. Certain precautionary arrangements were made by

the Chief Commissioner, and orders were issued to the effect that any

persons shouting or frightening horses, or attempting to address the

crowd, were to be cautioned as to the consequences of their action

and required to desist, the police being instructed to remove, and if

necessary take into custody, any who persistently refused to obey their

orders.

As on the previous Sunday, the disturbances commenced with hooting and

shouting, but the police who, in obedience to orders, were lying down

on the grass, did not interfere; at about half past three, the crowd

began to assume a more threatening attitude, and things began to look

serious. A dense mob was gathered along the railings and across the

carriage way, stones were thrown at carriages, some wooden hurdles

were broken up, and the fragments used as missiles, whilst the crowd

continued to hoot, whistle and make discordant noises, with the object

of frightening the horses.

The Superintendent in charge, thinking that the time for vigorous

action had arrived, ordered the police to draw their truncheons

and clear the roadway. Whilst this order was being carried out, a

considerable number of people who did not give way with sufficient

promptitude were struck and some knocked down. The mob now turned upon

the police, making insulting remarks, throwing stones, and repeatedly

attempting to break the line of constables, who retaliated by making

short rushes and taking into custody all who offered resistance.

Victory eventually rested with the police, but desultory fighting

continued throughout the afternoon, and it was not until six o'clock

in the evening that the commotion in the neighbourhood of the Drive

subsided.

Whilst the main crowd was being dispersed, a mob some 400 strong, with

cries of "Now to Lord Robert Grosvenor's," left the park, and proceeded

to Park Street, and at the same moment another body made their way to

the Magazine Barracks, where they amused themselves by throwing stones

at a small party of Grenadiers stationed there. The sergeant in command

sent to the police for assistance which was promptly rendered, and

quiet was soon restored.

Meanwhile the constables in Park Street were endeavouring to persuade

the crowd, who had gathered in force in front of Lord Robert's house,

to disperse quietly, but when their efforts proved of no avail, and

when cries of "Chuck him out" and threats of violence were raised, the

reserves previously stationed at Stanhope Gate were moved up, and the

street cleared by force. In this encounter truncheons were again used,

and numerous minor injuries inflicted, but only one arrest was made.

By nine o'clock the police were withdrawn, all disturbance being at

an end. In the course of the day forty-nine policemen were reported

hurt, and on the other side seventy-two persons were taken into custody

and removed to Vine Street Police Station, ten of them being charged

with felony, and the remaining sixty-two with riotous conduct or with

assaults on the police. Unfortunately the accommodation at Vine Street

was altogether insufficient for such a large number of prisoners, the

cells ordinarily in use were soon filled, and then recourse was had

to an underground room, formerly the place of confinement attached

to the old parish watch-house. Into this prison, which was dark and

badly ventilated, were crowded forty-three persons, ten of whom were

subsequently removed, but the remaining thirty-three had to spend the

night (which happened to be unusually sultry), standing up, or lying

on the damp floor as best they could. Many of the prisoners were

respectable people, unused to dirt and discomfort, and their sufferings

must have been considerable.

The Inspector in charge of the Vine Street Station, somewhat tardily

communicating with Sir Richard Mayne, informed him of the overcrowded

state of the cells, with the result that thirty-one prisoners out of

the original seventy-two were removed to neighbouring stations by order

of the Chief Commissioner. In the course of the next two days, all

the accused were brought before the magistrates, when twenty-nine, or

nearly half the number, were discharged, the remainder being fined or

sentenced to short terms of imprisonment.

The conduct of the police in Hyde Park, and the treatment of the

prisoners at Vine Street, having given rise to serious allegations and

to much adverse comment in the public press, the Government decided to

hold an inquiry into the matter. Three Commissioners were appointed,

and given full powers to investigate and report upon the occurrences of

the 1st of July and the following days. In the course of the inquiry,

several attempts were made to discredit Sir Richard Mayne; some accused

him of slackness for not personally directing the police in the park,

whilst others held that he was over-officious in not leaving the crowd

alone altogether. The responsibility for the overcrowding at Vine

Street was laid to his charge, and it was suggested that he failed in

his duty, in that he did not go to the police station, and, by virtue

of the powers vested in him as a Justice of the Peace, admit to bail

those prisoners who were not charged with felony, and who might be able

to find sufficient guarantee for their future appearance.

Of these charges, which were made by people who seemed to think that

any stone was good enough to throw at the chief officer of police, the

two first, when taken together, were mutually destructive, besides

being silly when considered separately; whilst the suggestion that Sir

Richard Mayne ought to have admitted certain of the accused to bail,

was not to the point, because it had been clearly laid down by Statute

when the office was first created, that any exercise of the powers of a

Justice by the Chief Commissioner of Police was to be strictly confined

to his duties connected with the preservation of the peace.

The net result of the labours of Her Majesty's Commissioners was to

establish, beyond a doubt, that certain constables had been guilty of

unnecessary violence; that the Superintendent in charge, losing his

head, or his temper, or both, had authorized stronger measures than

the circumstances of the case warranted; and that blame attached to

the authorities at Vine Street for the mismanagement which caused

the detention of a far larger number of prisoners than there was

accommodation for at that station. On the other hand, it was proved

that the large majority of the police had acted with moderation

and good temper throughout a long and trying day in spite of the

continued attempts of the crowd to harass and annoy them; and that the

measures adopted for the preservation of the peace had on the whole

been successful, in so far that a mob many thousands strong, bent on

mischief, had been effectually controlled and prevented from doing any

material damage worth mentioning.

From the evidence as a whole, it is clear that the accusing witnesses

(and they were very numerous,), must have been guilty of much

exaggeration when describing the violence with which they said the

police had acted; since in a conflict lasting several hours, in which

it was alleged the constabulary used their truncheons unmercifully,

sparing neither age nor sex, no life was lost, no limb was broken, nor

was any permanent injury inflicted. On the other hand, many witnesses

voluntarily came forward to testify to the good behaviour of the

police, not only on this particular occasion, but generally in all

their dealings with the public.

The promptitude with which the inquiry was granted, and the thorough

and impartial manner in which it was carried out, was attended by

the happiest results, and did much to foster friendly relations in

the future between police and public; the latter were reassured that

Government would not tolerate, much less countenance, any excesses

committed by the police, upon whom again it was impressed that even a

disorderly mob must be treated with a certain amount of consideration,

and that high-handed interference would lead to the punishment of the

offending constables.

A minor improvement which originated from this inquiry may, in passing,

be noticed. Hitherto a constable's number had been surrounded by a

scroll of embroidery that made it difficult to decipher except at very

close quarters, so that identification was often rendered impossible:

to rectify this, the plain metal figures now worn by constables on

collar and helmet were introduced.

The Sunday-Trading Bill riots were quite unimportant as riots, and

yet their influence upon the future of the police was very great,

because the inquiry which followed illuminated a question that had

been obscured by ignorance and prejudice, causing misconceptions

to be removed on both sides, and a better understanding and mutual

appreciation to be substituted, with the result that the metropolitan

force soon began to be popular in quarters where it had previously been

hated. The best proof of its efficiency, so far as the management of

crowds is concerned, may be found in the fact that, during the first

forty years of its existence, the peace was so well maintained, that

the damage done to property by rioters was quite insignificant, and

this without the intervention of the military; whilst in witness of

the moderation of the methods employed by the police in the attainment

of this result, it need only be stated, that in every conflict which

occurred during the same period, the personal injuries sustained by

the aggressors were invariably less severe than those suffered by

the constables, though the latter were all men of exceptionally fine

physique, and were armed with truncheons. In the course of the Reform

riot which took place in Hyde Park in the year 1868, two hundred and

sixty-five policemen were wounded out of a total of 1613 actually on

duty, "and one Superintendent, two Inspectors, nine sergeants, and

thirty-three constables were so severely injured as to be rendered

unfit for duty, many for life," yet "the police behaved with the most

admirable moderation and not a single case of unnecessary violence was

proved against them."[219]

There is a saying that the strength of the Man in Blue lies in

the fact that he has the Man in Red behind him. This of course is

superficially true, in so far that in the event of a riot or other

disturbance, with which the local police is for any reason unable to

cope, a sufficient number of troops will be called out to assist the

civil arm. But the saying is not true if any suggestion of an offensive

alliance between constabulary and soldiery is intended; nor is it true

if it is meant to give the impression that there is a potentiality of

physical force behind the policeman, which, under any circumstances

whatever, could be exerted to coerce the nation at large.

The members of the English police are public servants in the fullest

sense of the term; not servants of any individual, of any particular

class or sect, but servants of the whole community--excepting only that

part of it which in setting the law at defiance, has thereby become a

public enemy. The strength of the Man in Blue, properly understood,

lies in the fact that he has behind him the whole weight of public

opinion; for he only wages war against the law-breaker, and in this

contest can claim the goodwill of every loyal citizen. If a police

constable is in need of assistance, he can call upon any bystander, and

in the King's name demand his active co-operation; should the bystander

refuse without being able to prove physical impossibility or lawful

excuse, he can no longer be considered as a loyal citizen, but is

guilty of an indictable offence and becomes liable to punishment.

The basis upon which our theory of police ultimately rests, is the

assumption that every lawful act performed by a police officer in

the execution of his duty, has the sanction and approval of the great

majority of his fellow-citizens; and under our constitution it would be

impossible for any constabulary force to continue in existence, if its

actions persistently ran counter to the expressed wishes of the people.

The actual continuance of the English police is therefore dependent

upon the consent of the people; but this mere acquiescence is not

enough. If the police are to be efficient, they must earn for

themselves the respect and sympathy of all classes, they must be

popular. It is only on the rarest occasions that a policeman is

actually the eye-witness of a crime, nor in the nature of things

is he likely to be in the confidence of the criminal. As a rule he

must rely on information, and generally speaking the public is the

only source from which the necessary knowledge can be obtained. If

the public are hostile, the one source of information is closed, and

the police are rendered powerless. This difficulty has often been

experienced in Ireland, where, on several occasions, it has proved a

practical impossibility to discover the authors of agrarian crime,

even when all the facts were well known to dozens of people, simply

because the whole neighbourhood had entered into a conspiracy of

silence. Such a manoeuvre instantly paralyzes the civil executive.

In the olden days, when an offence had been committed and there was no

culprit forthcoming, a fine was levied against the hundred or hundreds

implicated, and justice was satisfied; in mediæval times, the "peine

forte et dure" was employed to elicit information; but since the

abolition of torture no effectual method has been invented by means

of which an unwilling witness can be forced to tell what he knows; in

Ireland, especially, the inducements held out by Government, to tempt a

man to speak, are of little avail against the terrorism that the other

side can invoke by the mere whisper of the word "informer."

But there are other reasons, besides this important question of

obtaining information, why a measure of popularity is of such extreme

value to every police force. There are a thousand ways in which the

members of an unpopular service can be embarrassed and thwarted. No

matter how capable and painstaking a man may be, he cannot do himself

justice, nor can the best results attend his labours, if his every

act is questioned, and if at every turn he has to surmount some

obstacle set up to annoy and discourage him. The constabulary has been

described as "The great army of order that is always in the field";

the protracted campaign in which this army is engaged is under all

circumstances extremely arduous, but it becomes doubly so when its

operations have to be conducted in an enemy's country.

We demand intelligence, good personal character and great physical

strength from those to whom we entrust the duties of peace maintenance;

and if we are to obtain men of the right stamp, men, that is, who

possess these qualifications, it is essential that the police service

should be held in popular esteem, and that the position of a constable

should be sufficiently well thought of, and sought after, to create a

keen competition for the vacancies as they occur. It would never do to

have to beat up recruits for the constabulary forces, and to fall back

on the expedients that the military authorities have to resort to to

fill the ranks, nor to enlist immature lads in the hope that some day

they will grow into well-developed men.

From every point of view, then, popularity is of the utmost value

to the police; and yet, from the very nature of their duties it is

extremely difficult for them to win it. A policeman who will lend

himself to the screening of crime, or who is conveniently blind on

occasions, may quickly become the object of a worthless and fleeting

popularity; but it is not the friendship of the publican nor the

applause of the rabble that is desirable; what is wanted is the respect

and approval of all good citizens.

Year by year, in spite of occasional set-backs, the English police have

risen in the estimation of their fellow-countrymen until they have won

for themselves a position in the minds of the people which for respect

and regard combined is without a parallel in Europe. "Weak in numbers

as the force is," wrote Mr Munro, the late Commissioner of Police for

the Metropolis, "it would be found in practice altogether inadequate

were it not strengthened, to an extent unknown, I believe, elsewhere,

by the relations that exist between the police and public, and by the

thorough recognition on the part of the citizens at large of the police

as their friends and protectors. The police touch all classes of the

public at many points beyond the performance of their sterner duties as

representatives of the law, and they touch them in a friendly way....

The police in short, are not the representatives of an arbitrary and

despotic power, directed against the rights or obtrusively interfering

with the pleasures of law-abiding citizens: they are simply a

disciplined body of men, specially engaged in protecting 'masses' as

well as 'classes,' from any infringement of their rights on the part of

those who are not law-abiding."

The wisdom of fostering cordial relations between the people and the

civil defenders of their lives and properties seems so obvious, that

it is a source of wonder that so little attention has been given to

the study of how best to promote this desirable _entente cordiale_.

Before the new police was instituted constables were merely despised;

after the re-organization was completed they were generally feared and

often hated; the fact that they won their way to popularity is to be

attributed almost entirely to their own merits. At the beginning of the

century Colquhoun, who was a long way in advance of his contemporaries

in his conceptions of what a police force should be, wrote: "Everything

that can heighten in any degree the respectability of the office of

constable, adds to the security of the State, and to the safety of the

life and property of every individual," but at the time only a very

few people heeded what he said; and parish authorities persisted in

the idea that it did not matter who or what a constable was so long as

he was cheap, whilst in more recent years, politicians of a certain

stamp, who ought to be alive to the fatal consequences of their action,

have not scrupled to try and stir up bad blood between the constabulary

and the uneducated section of the public, whenever it has suited their

purposes to do so, though happily without much success.

If the co-operation of which we have been speaking is to be complete,

it should rest on a more substantial basis than goodwill: it is not

sufficient that private citizens should be well-disposed towards

their allies, it is necessary also that they should be acquainted

with the conditions that govern the mutual relationship. The sphere

of police utility is seriously limited by reason of the ignorance

which commonly prevails, both as to the executive powers that private

persons can assume as citizens, and with respect to the functions that

officials may exercise by virtue of their office. In his "History of

the Criminal Law," Sir James Stephen thus explains the position. "The

police in their different grades are no doubt officers appointed by

law for the purpose of arresting criminals, but they possess for this

purpose no powers that are not also possessed by private persons....

A policeman has no other right as to asking questions or compelling

the attendance of witnesses than a private person has; in a word, with

a few exceptions, he may be described as a person paid to perform

as a matter of duty acts, which if he so minded, he might have done

voluntarily."[220] The law on the subject is further defined by

another authority in these words. "If a constable be assaulted in the

execution of his office, he need not go back to the wall, as private

persons ought to do; and if, in the striving together, the constable

kill the assailant, it is no felony; but if the constable be killed

it shall be construed premeditated murder."[221] For all practical

purposes, however, the only real difference that exists between the

powers that are actively made use of by the police, and the latent

powers that are vested in every British citizen, is this:--A police

officer may arrest (without warrant) if he has a reasonable suspicion

that a felony has taken place; a private person cannot arrest unless he

has certain knowledge that a felony has actually been committed.

Within these limits, and according to our opportunities, the duty of

each one of us is clear and inalienable, remaining the same to-day as

it was in the time of Queen Elizabeth, when it was written "So that

every English man is a sergeant to take the thiefe, and who sheweth

negligence therein do not only incurre Evil opinion therefore, but

hardly shall escape punishment."[222]

CHAPTER XVII

POLICE STATISTICS AND PENOLOGY

Attention has already been directed to the excessive zeal of the

opponents of the "New Police"; but no mention has been made of those

enthusiasts who looked for an instant millennium to follow upon the

adoption of the measures they advocated. Yet there were many such who

formed extravagant hopes too high for realization. It is seldom easy

for the observer to arrive at a just estimate of the value of a new

institution until his standpoint is far enough removed from the stress

of the moment to secure him from the current partisanship which every

novelty arouses. We, however, who have crossed the threshold of the

twentieth century, can disregard the extreme views of both parties, and

heedless of the outpourings of admirers and detractors alike, can gauge

the issue by the light of ascertained results, supported by facts and

figures. Judged by this standard, and viewed from the standpoint of

to-day, the police reforms inaugurated between 1829 and 1856 will be

found to justify all reasonably conceived expectations, disappointing

as they no doubt appeared to over-sanguine extremists at the time.

Since the ideal standard of excellence aimed at by every properly

constituted police force is the complete prevention of crime, and

as there can be no record of offences prevented, it is obviously

impossible to arrive at an entirely satisfactory conclusion as to the

efficiency of police by means of any arithmetical process. At the same

time it will be allowed that if, whilst population increases, recorded

offences are a stationary, or better still if they are a diminishing

quantity, there is at least strong presumptive evidence that the

result is largely due to the efficiency of the established police.

Unfortunately there is no infallible method of discovering the amount

of criminality existing in the country at any given time; but, of all

available statistics, the best for our purpose are certainly those,

which give the annual total of commitments for indictable offences

from 1834 until the present day. Before 1834 the records are not

altogether trustworthy; but the Parliamentary Committee which sat in

1828, stated that in the ten years between 1811 and 1821, during which

the average increase of population was about nineteen per cent., the

average increase of commitments for the same period was no less than

forty-eight per cent. There can therefore be no doubt that prior to the

establishment of the new police the increase of crime was outstripping

the increase of population; but taking only those figures which are

generally acknowledged to be correct, we get the following interesting

table.

+---------------+-------------+--------------+-------------------+

| Census Years. | Population. | Number of | Proportion. |

| | | Commitments. | |

|---------------+-------------+--------------+-------------------|

| 1841 | 15,914,148 | 27,760 | 174·6 per 100,000 |

| 1851 | 17,927,609 | 27,960 | 156·2 " " |

| 1861 | 20,066,224 | 18,326 | 91·3 " " |

| 1871 | 22,712,266 | 16,269 | 71·6 " " |

| 1881 | 25,974,239 | 14,704 | 56·6 " " |

| 1891 | 29,002,525 | 11,605 | 40·0 " " |

+---------------+-------------+--------------+-------------------+

Such is the remarkable result obtained by taking the whole number of

indictable offences sent for trial at Assizes and Quarter Sessions in

each Census-year since 1834, nor is there any reason to suppose that

the process of amelioration has slackened to any appreciable extent

during the last decade. When the Census returns for 1901 are published

it will probably be found that the population of England and Wales now

totals to about thirty-two millions; and assuming that the amount of

crime committed during the current year is not abnormal, the number

of commitments will work out at a little more than thirty for every

hundred thousand inhabitants. That is to say, during the last sixty

years, serious offences have decreased nearly sixty per cent. in

actual volume, and some eighty per cent. if considered relatively to

population--or in other words, between two-thirds and five-sixths of

the type of crime, which sixty years ago brought men to trial, is now

prevented. These figures, of course, deal with detected crime only: if

it were possible to include all grave offences, irrespective of whether

their authors were discovered or not, the results would be even more

striking, because owing to the increased activity on the part of the

police, and to the greater readiness to prosecute on the part of the

public, comparatively few serious crimes now remain mysteries for any

length of time. Calculations based on the number of offences disposed

of by Courts of Summary Jurisdiction are valueless if the object in

view is to estimate the prevalence of crime, because not only are new

minor offences continually being created (thus rendering such returns

too intricate for purposes of ready comparison) but the inclusion of

trivial breaches of the Licensing Acts, Education Acts, Vaccination

Acts &c. reduces the plane of the enquiry from one which deals only

with crimes to one which is mainly concerned with misdemeanours.

If we confine our attention, therefore, to the Commitment Returns, the

most noteworthy feature which strikes us, is the drop between 1851 and

1861--the decade in which the Obligatory Act gave the _coup-de-grâce_

to the parochial system, and for the first time covered the whole of

England and Wales with a network of stipendiary police. At first sight

it would appear that here was cause and effect, that is, that the

signal improvement indicated by these statistics was primarily due to

the Act of 1856; it is more likely, however, that the result must, in

the main, be placed to the credit of the police reforms of the previous

decade, for reasons which will presently appear.

In view of these eminently satisfactory figures, it may well be

asked how it came about that those persons, who most firmly believed

that security was only to be attained through police instrumentality,

were so grievously disappointed at the imaginary failure of their

pet scheme. In order to find the answer to this question it will be

necessary to probe a little deeper into the statistics, and to do so

by the light of contemporary events. In the first place it is to be

remarked that a closer inspection of the Commitment Returns reveals the

fact that a reaction took place between 1860 and 1863, the figures for

those years reading as follows:

1860 15,999

1861 18,326

1862 20,001

1863 20,818

This result was due, no doubt, to the combined effects of two distinct

causes, one of which produced an actual growth of crime, whilst the

other accounted for what was but an apparent increase of delinquency.

If it is true that crime was more common than before, it is no less

true that offences were more commonly detected, the apparent increase

being the necessary result of the efficient action of the newly

organized Constabularies, which, naturally enough, did not take full

effect until the whole machine was in proper working order. Before

preventive police can develop its maximum deterrent energy, it has

to prove its title to respect by its success in the detection of

crime; criminals do not search the Statutes at Large, nor judge of

the efficiency of a policeman from government statistics.[223] They

take him as they find him, and learn to fear him only after they have

acquired a practical familiarity with his activity, either by personal

contact, or vicariously, through the misfortunes of acquaintances. The

significance of the heavy Calendars in the early sixties, therefore,

is largely discounted by the fact, that the accumulations of former

years had to be dispersed, before entire responsibility for the amount

of crime prevailing could be laid at the door of the new régime. With

regard to the second reason for the despondency above referred to, it

must be remembered that offences against property so outnumber other

offences, that they entirely dominate all criminal statistics; whilst

the public alarm occasioned by a single case of robbery involving

personal injury to an individual, is infinitely greater than that

caused by a whole series of depredations on property if unaccompanied

by violence. In the quinquennial period (1857-1861), the number of

persons for trial at Assizes and Quarter Sessions, charged with murder,

attempted murder, manslaughter, felonious wounding, malicious wounding

and assault, amounted to 1451; whilst in the next quinquennial period

(1862-1867), the number of commitments for these offences had risen

to 1712; and herein lay the _raison d'etre_ for the widespread alarm

which, in 1862 and 1863 especially, may be said to have amounted to

panic. Not only were such crimes more frequent than had formerly been

the case, but they began to be marked by a degree of violence[224]

which argued that a peculiarly desperate class of criminal was abroad;

and such indeed was the actual state of affairs, occasioned by the

temporary breakdown of the penal system and consequent upon the

discontinuance of the practice of shipping the most dangerous criminals

across the seas.

Before the abolition of transportation, the career of the criminal was

generally brief unless he confined his attention to petty depredations,

or unless he was particularly skilful in avoiding capture; a felon

once caught was given little chance of repeating his offence. If he

escaped the gallows he was as a rule removed from the scene of his

temptations, never to return; and the labours of the police were

far less arduous as long as distant colonies were content to absorb

the dregs of our population, and as long as the press-gang claimed

a large proportion of our vagabonds and neer-do-weels. Impressment,

however, practically ceased in 1835; and Australasia soon grew weary

of the refuse which we were yearly depositing on her shores. Between

1840 and 1845 as many as seventeen thousand convicts were sent to Van

Diemen's Land alone, and in one year more than four thousand felons

were transported to Australia: the result was that the supply exceeded

the demand, and the colonists, though not blind to the advantages of

a moderate supply of free labour, began to protest warmly against the

wholesale importation of such eminently undesirable neighbours. A large

public meeting was held at Sydney in 1850, at which it was unanimously

decided to petition Her Majesty to procure the immediate discontinuance

of transportation; the British Government at once consented, and after

1852 no more convicts were sent to New South Wales, Tasmania, or South

Australia.[225] Morally bound, as it was, to comply with the request

of the Colonists, the government found itself impaled on the horns

of a dilemma: about nine thousand persons actually under sentence of

transportation lay awaiting disposal in the Hulks, and the number

was steadily increasing. It was impossible to set them at liberty;

there was no room in the English prisons; and there was nowhere to

send them to except Western Australia, which, though still willing to

annually receive a certain proportion, was unable to digest such an

accumulation. The demoralization which infected the ordinary gaols was

as nothing compared to that which pervaded the Hulks,--filthy derelict

vessels crowded with unclean and abandoned mortals who were allowed

absolutely free intercourse with each other, and who were subjected

to no supervision beyond that exercised by a sentry or two with loaded

muskets.

In this emergency extra prison accommodation was hurriedly provided.

Portsmouth prison was opened in 1852; Dartmoor (originally designed

for the detention of French prisoners-of-war, but long disused) was

converted into a convict establishment in 1855, and a new prison at

Chatham was made ready in the year following. In this way the immediate

necessity was partially relieved; but for the complete solution of

the difficulty, a radical reform of the whole penal system had to

be devised. Convicts who had been sentenced to transportation could

not in common fairness be detained in English prisons for the whole

period of their sentences, and there was no law which authorized any

remission. Prisoners felt that they had a grievance, and mutinous

outbreaks occurred at Dartmoor, Portland and Chatham.[226] Under these

circumstances a "Penal Servitude Act"[227] was introduced, which

provided that henceforward penal servitude was to be substituted for

transportation as the punishment for all offences too serious to be met

by simple imprisonment, yet not of sufficient enormity to deserve a

sentence of fourteen years; at the same time it was notified that those

persons, then in confinement, who had been condemned to transportation

were to be released with a free pardon after the expiration of from

half to two-thirds of their original sentence. In 1857 another act was

passed, authorizing the Secretary of State conditionally to discharge

convicts undergoing penal servitude in England, before they had served

their full term. This system, popularly known as the Ticket-of-leave

system, was sound in theory, and whenever properly administered has

proved both beneficial to prisoners and harmless to society. But when

first inaugurated it produced the most disastrous consequences. Under

present conditions a convict can only earn remission by good behaviour

and constant industry, generally leaving the prison a better man than

when he entered it, even if he is not entirely reformed; whilst under

the old conditions, incarceration corrupted the novice in crime, and

still further hardened the habitual offender. The last hulk was closed

in 1857, and a few years afterwards the effect of the unavoidable

policy of turning loose unreformed gaol-birds was fully experienced,

and the sequel made apparent in the criminal statistics of the period.

According to the intention of its authors, adequate police supervision

over those who had been conditionally liberated on license was an

essential feature of the Ticket-of leave system, but this was not

the interpretation adopted by the Home Office, for on behalf of that

Department, evidence was given before the Select Committee of 1856

to the effect that "it was thought far better to give no directions

whatever to the police on the subject, but to leave them (_i.e._ the

license-holders) precisely in the situation of men who had served out

the whole period of their sentence." On every ticket-of-leave issued,

the following conditions were endorsed:--"Notice--(1)--The power of

revoking or altering the license of a convict will most certainly be

exercised in case of his misconduct. (2)--If, therefore, he wishes

to retain the privilege, which by his good behaviour under penal

discipline he has obtained, he must prove by his subsequent conduct

that he is really worthy of Her Majesty's clemency. (3)--To produce

a forfeiture of the license, it is by no means necessary that the

holder should be convicted of any new offence. If he associates with

notoriously bad characters, leads an idle or dissolute life, or has

no visible means of obtaining an honest livelihood, &c.--it will be

assumed that he is about to relapse into crime, and he will be at once

apprehended, and recommitted to prison under his original sentence."

These conditions, admirable in themselves, were not enforced and

so were practically useless. Ticket-of-leave men almost invariably

destroyed their licenses (which they were not compelled to keep), and

if apprehended for a fresh offence, or on suspicion, stoutly denied

that they had previously been convicted; nor was it easy for the

authorities to prove the contrary in the absence of any proper system

for the registration of convicts. The helplessness of the police in

the matter may be measured by the fact that constables were instructed

on no account to interfere with ticket-of-leave men, "nor when seen

in public houses are they to be pointed out to the landlord, and

required to leave, as in other cases of convicted thieves and suspected

characters." It was of course only just that convicts released on

license should not have their comings and goings continually dogged

by constables; but to elevate them into a privileged class, and to

place them on a higher plane than "suspected characters" who had never

been convicted, was, in the words of Sir Richard Mayne, "to give them

opportunities to commit crime which they might not otherwise have."

The police were not to blame for this state of things, for they only

carried out the instructions of the Home Office, which, again, did

not feel justified in interfering with liberated convicts unless

authorized to do so by Act of Parliament. To shew how entirely the

police authorities dissociated themselves from any responsibility for

the supervision of licensees, it may be mentioned that, in his evidence

before the Select Committee of 1856, the Chief Commissioner of Police

for the Metropolis made the following confession. "It may appear

strange for me to say so, but until a few months ago I never saw a

ticket-of-leave, and did not know what was endorsed upon it:--it was no

business of mine."[228]

Fortunately this state of affairs was not allowed to continue

indefinitely. Various reforms, extending over a series of years, were

successively taken in hand with the object of making penal servitude

reformatory as well as retributive, of ensuring that convicts released

on ticket-of-leave should remain under police supervision until the

expiration of their sentences, of arresting the criminal career

of juvenile law-breakers by means of reformatories and industrial

schools; and of protecting society, as far as possible, from the

repeated ravages of incorrigible offenders, by instituting a system for

the thorough identification and registration of criminals. The history

of these reforms must be briefly sketched.

Of all the abuses which used to disgrace our penal establishments,

the most disastrous in its results, was the promiscuous herding

together of male with female, adult with juvenile, habitual with casual

offenders, under conditions calculated to lower the tone of the whole

prison community to the level of the most degraded inmate. The evils

inseparable from unchecked association of felons in confinement were

recognised even in the eighteenth century; and Bentham, Howard, and

other reformers persistently urged the adoption of the "separate"

system for all English prisons. Ultimately the Government was induced

to make the experiment, and in 1821 Millbank Penitentiary was opened

for the reception of prisoners. A long delay followed, and not until

1840 was the first stone of the next model prison laid at Pentonville.

Both Millbank and Pentonville were constructed on the "radiating"

principle which admits of the constant exercise of perfect supervision

over all the prisoners, who are, however, confined in separate

compartments. The expense of the new establishments, as well as a

popular prejudice against solitary confinement due to its too rigorous

enforcement in Pennsylvania, retarded progress, and although a few

gaols of a modern type were here and there constructed, the large

majority of those convicts who were not transported, were allowed to

corrupt each other in the old-fashioned local prisons. This policy of

inaction continued until 1865, when the "Prison Act" was passed, which

requires that every male prisoner shall be accommodated with a separate

cell, and which insists on uniformity of treatment for all persons

(except first-class misdemeanants and debtors) undergoing a sentence of

two years' imprisonment or less.

We have already seen how the gradual discontinuance of transportation

(1838-1867) and the abolition of the hulks (1857) caused "Public Works

Prisons" to be established at Dartmoor, Chatham, etc. At these places,

(where prisoners undergoing penal servitude are incarcerated) the plan

of silent associated labour by day, with separate confinement by night,

was adopted; and although no relaxation of discipline was allowed,

the reform of the criminal, rather than his punishment, was aimed at.

Under the modern system the convict spends the first nine months of

his penal servitude at Pentonville, or in some other local prison,

and during this period is kept to solitary hard labour of an irksome

and unproductive description; he is then moved to one or other of the

"Public Works Prisons," where his life at once becomes less monotonous.

As long as his conduct merits advancement, he is passed through various

stages, each more tolerable than the last; most of his work is now done

in the open air and in the company of his fellows; and hope lightens

his labour, for by constant industry and by an exact observance of

the prison rules, he is allowed to earn a partial remission of his

sentence, amounting to about a quarter[229] of the whole term. Our

penal system may not yet be perfect; but during the late reign prison

life underwent a marvellous metamorphosis. Pest-houses have been

transformed into sanatoriums where the patients have to submit to a

healthy discipline beneficial to the mind as well as to the body;

formerly gaol-fever, dirt, and bad food ruined the constitution, whilst

evil communications corrupted the mind; now convicts leave their prison

physically robust and often morally convalescent. This amelioration of

the conditions to which prisoners are subjected has been accompanied,

_pari passu_, by a steady decrease in the number of convicts in

confinement. When Queen Victoria came to the throne, 43,000[230] of

her subjects were convicts, at the present time they number less than

6000,[231] and this in spite of the fact that during the interval the

population of these islands has just about doubled itself.

Whilst the reform of the adult and hardened convict is of very high

import, the welfare of society is even more profoundly influenced by

the result of its efforts directed towards the prevention of crime

in the first instance; and the value of prevention (which by common

consent is at all times higher than that of the best possible cure)

may be said to bear an inverse ratio to the age of the individuals

who are saved from committing themselves to a career of crime. The

surest method of permanently reducing the number of criminals lies

in the comprehensive employment of agencies especially devoted to

the prevention of juvenile delinquency. Anti-social habits formed

in childhood are in after years only eradicated with the greatest

difficulty, the criminal child too often being the father of the

criminal man. During the latter half of the eighteenth, and early in

the nineteenth century, the manufacture of juvenile criminals went on

apace. Bow Street Runners on the look-out for blood-money were careful

not to interfere with a promising youngster until he had actually

committed a felony; parish constables would not trouble to pursue a

culprit upon whose conviction only half expenses were allowed; and

the reluctance of the general public to prosecute was especially

pronounced when the offender was of tender years. Meanwhile scoundrels

of the Fagin type, trading on the impunity enjoyed by child-thieves,

grew rich on the plunder collected by their pupils, who, sooner or

later, received the finishing touches to their criminal education in

the public gaols at the public expense. The extent of the evils which

resulted are incalculable; but competent experts were of opinion that

nearly sixty per cent. of habitual offenders had been initiated into

their dishonest career before they were fifteen years of age.[232]

Private philanthropy interested itself on behalf of the children long

before the Government made any move in the matter. In the eighteenth

century a Marine Society for sending lads to sea, and an agricultural

school for teaching farming, had been formed at Portsmouth and Redhill

respectively, with the object of befriending boys who otherwise were in

danger of lapsing into crime; but for many years these were the only

agencies of the sort. The Ragged School movement, so warmly espoused

by Lord Shaftesbury, took practical shape soon after the Queen's

accession, in schools in Westminster, at Old Pye Street, and at Field

Lane. The first industrial feeding-school was opened at Aberdeen in

1841; and it proved so successful that the idea was taken up throughout

Scotland. Before long Manchester and other English towns followed the

example set by the granite city. Excellent as were many of the schools

established by private benevolence, they all laboured under two very

formidable disadvantages:--they could not compel unwilling parents to

send their children to be reformed, or to contribute anything towards

their maintenance, and they could not legally detain their pupils any

longer than they cared to stay.

The first public institution for the detention of juvenile criminals

was opened at Parkhurst in 1838. Though called a reformatory, it

was in effect a gaol, and hardly differed at all from other prisons

except with regard to the age of its inmates. The exertions of Lord

Shaftesbury and of Mr Adderley (Lord Norton) who strove to convince

the nation of the fatal consequences of its apathy, were soon to be

rewarded. A Select Committee of the House of Lords which sat in 1847,

was followed by the Juvenile Offenders Act of the same year; in 1851

and following years conferences, largely attended by people interested

in the reformatory question, were held at Birmingham, with the object

of discovering some better method of dealing with youthful criminals

than that in vogue, and the whole subject was investigated at some

length by Parliamentary Committees appointed in 1853 and 1854. The

result of these deliberations took shape in the latter year when the

"Reformatory School Act"[233] was passed, giving magistrates the option

of committing offenders under sixteen years of age to reformatories,

for a term not exceeding five years, in lieu of sentencing them to

imprisonment, penal servitude, or transportation. The expense of

the new reformatories was met, partly by Treasury contributions,

partly by grants from the local authorities, and partly by compulsory

subscriptions of not more than five shillings a week exacted from

the parents or guardians of the offending children. The Act of 1854

was amended and improved by subsequent Acts passed in 1855 and 1856,

but these early enactments[234] were open to the objection that they

only applied to juveniles who had already been convicted of a serious

offence, and left untouched a large class of children which, for one

cause or another, always stands on the brink of criminality;--for no

juvenile was eligible for admission into a reformatory unless he had

previously been committed to prison for fourteen days.

This omission was repaired by the "Certified Industrial School Act"

passed in 1857,[235] and amended in 1861,[236] which provided that

certain young persons, who had not been in gaol, might be sent to

industrial schools under a magistrate's warrant, to be detained therein

until they should attain the age of sixteen. The class of children to

whom this Act applied were described as follows:--"Any child apparently

under the age of fourteen years, found begging or receiving alms ...

any child ... found wandering, and not having any home or settled place

of abode, or any visible means of subsistence ... or being an orphan,

or whose only surviving parent is in prison ... or who frequents the

company of reputed thieves ... or whose mother has twice been convicted

of crime ... or whose parents represent that they are unable to control

him, ... or any child apparently under the age of twelve years who,

having committed an offence punishable by imprisonment or some less

punishment, ought nevertheless, in the opinion of the Justices, regard

being had to his age, and to the circumstances of the case, to be sent

to an Industrial School, &c."

In 1854 only twenty-nine children were sent to reformatories. Since

that date, the numbers so committed gradually increased until 1881,

in which year the maximum (6738) was reached. The decrease which

has recently taken place may be chiefly attributed to the fact that

magistrates now generally prefer the industrial to the reformatory

school whenever possible, a method of dealing with youthful offenders

the wisdom of which has been vindicated by an accompanying diminution

in the tale of juvenile crime.

The essential differences between Reformatories and Industrial Schools

are, that no stigma attaches to any boy on account of his having been

educated at the latter, and that whilst the discipline enforced at the

former institutions is sufficiently severe for them to be considered

as places of punishment, Industrial Schools are intended only to take

the place of that parental control and training which the child cannot

obtain at home. The principle of giving another chance to unfortunates

who are rather sinned against than sinning lies at the root of the

Industrial School movement; and there is no development of preventive

police more in sympathy with the wisdom of the age than this. In recent

years the same principle has, with excellent effect, been extended to

embrace adult as well as juvenile offenders. The Summary Jurisdiction

Act of 1879[237] (_i.e._ so much of it as permits the infliction of

a fine instead of imprisonment) and the Probation of First Offenders

Act of 1887,[238] are both, it may be noted, conceived in the same

wise and merciful spirit. The latter measure especially, which was

introduced by Sir Howard Vincent, has been instrumental in reclaiming

to an honest life hundreds of prisoners "guilty of a first offence not

the product of a criminal mind."[239] The latest Home Office returns

go to prove that, in the large majority of instances in which this

humane policy has been applied, confidence has not been misplaced; for

of the whole number of first offenders conditionally released upon

recognizances,[240] to come up for judgment when called upon, only

about ten per cent. have shown themselves unworthy of the leniency

extended to them by relapsing into crime.

The tendency of recent penal legislation has been to discriminate as

closely as possible between the casual and the habitual offender,

reducing to the lowest limit, consistent with safety, the penalties

exacted against the former, whilst placing every legitimate obstruction

in the path of the latter, by making his punishments cumulative as long

as he continues to offend, and by maintaining a vigilant supervision

over his conduct whilst he is at large. This is one of the most

important duties that modern police have to perform, and it is one

which demands great tact combined with persistence from individual

peace officers, as well as complete co-operation between all the allied

police organizations throughout the country. Under the parochial

system both these necessary qualifications were conspicuously absent,

and if transportation had suddenly come to an end before the police

reforms described in previous chapters had been taken in hand, the

unchecked excesses of habitual criminals might have endangered the very

foundations of English society.

It will be remembered that when the ticket-of-leave system was first

introduced, considerable alarm was occasioned on account of the

increase of crime; which, not altogether without reason, was generally

attributed to the license-holders, who, unreformed by penal discipline,

and consequently unfitted for unqualified liberty, were suddenly

released in large numbers, without any adequate precautions being taken

to control them. We have seen how the reorganization of the entire

prison system gradually eliminated the causes which tended to make the

ex-prisoner even more dangerous to society on the day of his discharge

than he had been before conviction, and we have seen how by the

introduction of an improved plan of giving marks for industry (which,

however, were subject to forfeiture for ill-conduct), only those

convicts were released before the expiration of their full sentence who

had earned partial remission by virtue of consistent good behaviour. We

now come to a consideration of the measures subsequently adopted for

the proper supervision of these ticket-of-leave men.

The conditions endorsed on every license have already been given, but

as the police were expressly ordered to take no notice of liberated

convicts, unless they were actually engaged in criminal pursuits, but

little practical value attached to the wording of the ticket. In 1864

some important changes were introduced by the 4th Section of the Penal

Servitude Act of that year, which requires that:--

I.--The holder shall preserve his license, and

produce it when called upon to do so by a Magistrate

or police officer.

II.--He shall abstain from any violation of the

law.

III.--He shall not habitually associate with

notoriously bad characters, such as reputed thieves

and prostitutes.

IV.--He shall not lead an idle and dissolute life,

nor be without visible means of obtaining an honest

livelihood.[241]

The penalties for the non-observance of these requirements were as

follows--(_a_) Any ticket-of-leave man, convicted of an indictable

offence, _ipso-facto_ forfeited his license, and this in addition to

any punishment to which he might be sentenced upon indictment; (_b_)

Any ticket-of-leave man proved to have transgressed the conditions of

his license by an act not of itself punishable either upon indictment

or upon summary conviction, nevertheless rendered himself liable to be

summarily punished by imprisonment not exceeding three months. In 1871

the "Prevention of Crimes Act,"[242] amending "The Habitual Criminals

Act" of 1869, extended the principle of keeping notoriously bad

characters under observation, by enacting that persons twice convicted

of certain crimes may be subjected to police supervision for not more

than seven years after the expiration of the sentence imposed, provided

that a previous conviction for an offence in the same category is

proved at the time of the second conviction. Such persons are commonly

called 'supervisees,' and they come under the same conditions as

license-holders. These conditions have since been modified by Acts of

Parliament passed in 1869 and 1891, and they may now be summarized

as follows. Both ticket-of-leave men and supervisees are required to

report themselves within forty-eight hours after their arrival in

any police district to the Chief-Officer of Police in that district,

to report themselves once a month afterwards,[243] and to notify any

change of address to the same authority; they are also expected to

satisfy the police that they are earning their living by honest means.

A constable is justified in arresting without warrant any

license-holder or supervisee whom he reasonably suspects of having

committed an offence, or of having failed to comply with the

above-mentioned conditions; and if it be found, after investigation

by a competent magistrate, that such an offence has been committed

or default made, the license-holder thereupon becomes liable to the

forfeiture of his license, and the supervisee to imprisonment with or

without hard labour for a period not exceeding one year, unless he can

prove to the satisfaction of the proper authority "that being on a

journey he tarried no longer ... than was reasonably necessary, or that

he did his best to act in conformity with the law."[244]

In order that police supervision may be safe and effectual, it is

of course necessary that the identification of habitual criminals

should be certain and the registration of convicts complete. The

present system would have been fraught with the gravest dangers to

public liberty had it been attempted at the time when there was no

possibility of any more reliable record than that founded upon the

memories of policemen and prison-warders; but since the introduction

of photography, and especially since the recent adoption of the system

of anthropometry which is associated with the names of M. Alphonse

Bertillon and Mr Francis Galton, the chance of any miscarriage of

justice, due to mistakes in identification, has been reduced to a

minimum. Photography was first adapted to police purposes in 1854,

when the governor of Bristol Gaol began to make daguerreotype pictures

of the prisoners who passed through his hands; and gradually what was

at first but the experimental hobby of an amateur developed into the

officially recognised system. The "Prevention of Crimes" Act (1871) had

directed that registers of all persons convicted of crime in England

should be kept at Scotland Yard, but it was soon found by experience

that a less voluminous record would be of greater practical value.

Accordingly it was decided in 1877 that, in future, the registers (the

compilation of which was at this time transferred from Scotland Yard

to the Home Office) should contain only the descriptions of habitual

criminals, officially so called. In 1880 a new department was opened

at the Head-Quarters of the Metropolitan Police, called the Convict

Supervision Office, which was largely occupied with the classification

of offenders by means of books containing the photographs of habituals.

These albums, together with a register of distinctive marks, including

a record of tattooed symbols and initials so universal amongst

criminals, formed a regular rogues' gallery, and were instrumental in

proving the identity of many inveterate delinquents who might otherwise

have improperly participated in the leniency intended only for first

offenders.

Some of the more energetic police forces in the provinces, also,

prepared local registers; and something like a general scheme for

tracing the antecedents of criminals was evolved by means of circular

"Route Forms" (as descriptions of offenders whose identity was

uncertain were technically called) which were forwarded in rotation

from one police district to another, wherever the required information

was likely to be forthcoming. The results obtained, however, hardly

justified the expenditure of time and energy incurred in the process;

accordingly in 1893 a Parliamentary Committee was appointed "to enquire

into the best means available for identifying habitual criminals," and

it was on the recommendation of this expert committee that the perfect

anthropometric system of identification now employed was based.

Very briefly stated, the system is as follows. All persons convicted of

crime against whom a previous criminal conviction has been proved, or

who are subject to police supervision, are carefully measured before

they are liberated, and the results tabulated on what are called

card-registers. The parts of the body selected for measurement are

those which in an adult are the least liable to alteration; the length

and breadth of the head, and the length of the foot, for instance,

being reliable indicia by means of which thousands of individuals may

readily be classified.

Whilst M. Bertillon's system of anthropometry is especially well

adapted for purposes of classification, Mr Galton's finger-print method

is preferable for purposes of identification. The minute lines which

may be noticed on the skin covering the under side of the top joint of

the human finger or thumb invariably display a well defined series of

curved ridges, which, though never quite alike in different subjects,

always approximate to one of four types, that is to say, they assume

the form of an arch, a whorl, a right loop, or a left loop. The sum

of the combinations which can be formed of these types and their

modifications on the ten digits being a practically inexhaustible

quantity, every human being carries on his finger-tips an infallible

record of his personal identity. Accordingly the criminal is required

to make signature by pressing with his thumb, fore, and middle fingers

of both hands (previously smeared with printer's ink) on the reverse

side of the card-register; whilst to make assurance trebly sure, the

exact location and measurement of any distinctive marks that may be

found are noted, and his photograph, both full-face and in profile,

is added. When completed, the card-registers are filed in cabinets on

an ingenious plan which enables the searcher to lay his hand on any

particular "dossier" in the space of a very few minutes.[245]

The immense importance of having a comprehensive and accessible

record of this nature can hardly be over-rated, for without its help

it would be impossible to combat (with any chance of success) what

is unquestionably the most dangerous development of contemporary

criminality. It has recently been pointed out by Dr Anderson, of the

Criminal Investigation Department, that despite the marked decrease

of crime which we congratulate ourselves has been one of the most

noteworthy features of the Victorian era, "the professional criminal

is developing and becoming a serious public danger."[246] Since the

abolition of transportation the company of criminals who are criminal

by deliberate choice has been steadily increasing, and every mitigation

of the penal code, every alleviation of prison existence, has helped to

bring recruits to the profession. Frequent sentences of imprisonment

will never deter the delinquent who is well acquainted with the inside

of a gaol, as long as he can count on brief spells of exciting and

luxurious liberty between whiles; moreover the tax on the police is

excessive, for the habitual criminal may be trapped again and again,

only to be released time after time to devise new and more elaborate

attacks on a long-suffering society.[247]

A way will have to be discovered to eliminate this unexpected product

of our penal system, and to this end various suggestions have been

made. Some advocate life sentences for persistent offenders; others

would make the restitution of the plunder, or at any rate a confession

implicating the receiver of the stolen property, the only condition of

release in cases of theft; but although authorities differ as to the

exact course which ought to be pursued, all agree that the character

of the criminal rather than the enormity of his offence should chiefly

determine the question of the punishment administered. Whatever may

be the nature of the plan of campaign eventually decided upon for the

suppression of professional delinquency, the preliminary stage of the

operations is necessarily the same, and consists in the preparation of

a record containing an accurate and concise account of the antecedents

and previous convictions of all habitual criminals.

There was a time when "abjuration of the realm" was considered a

complete expiation for crime however heinous; but as the outer world

became more civilised, and foreign parts more accessible, voluntary

expatriation ceased to be the recognised alternative to punishment.

The first result of the introduction of railways in this country (as

far as the relation of crime to police is concerned) was to benefit

the fraternity of thieves whose trade is essentially one that thrives

best under nomadic conditions; subsequently, with the development

of modern conveniences for travel, the police were again placed at

a disadvantage, this time by the facility with which criminals, who

are generally able to obtain at least a few hours' start, could find

a safe refuge from their pursuers in some haven oversea--the modern

equivalent for the mediæval sanctuary. There has ever been, and always

will be, a ding-dong contest between the lawbreaker and the policeman,

wherein the fortunes of the day favour first one side and then the

other; for if the advantage that attaches to the opening gambit

belongs to the criminal, his adversary is soon ready with an answer.

The telegraph[248] beats the steamship, and the international system

of police which now mutually provides for the surrender of fugitive

offenders has restored the balance. The first extradition treaty in

which Great Britain was interested was concluded with the United

States of America in 1842, and the Extradition Acts of 1870 and 1873

now regulate the conduct of the English Government in its dealings

with foreign powers in all that concerns this important department of

police.[249]

In 1879, a reform long agitated for was inaugurated by the tardy

appointment of a Public Prosecutor, who became responsible that

the cause of justice is not injured through the non-prosecution of

persons guilty of serious offences. The intervention of the Director

of Public Prosecutions is seldom deemed necessary, but circumstances

occasionally arise in which lack of funds, local sympathy with the

criminal, or an attempt to compound a felony, may demand his active

interference.[250] The "Prosecution of Offences Act"[251] directs

that Chief Officers of Police shall notify to the Director, that is

to say to the Solicitor for the Treasury, such particulars of certain

specified crimes committed within their districts as are described in

the regulations[252] issued for the guidance of all concerned.

CHAPTER XVIII

DETECTIVE POLICE AND THE RIGHT OF PUBLIC MEETING

It is popularly believed that the least efficient department of English

police is that which is concerned with the detection of crime, and

our detective service is often compared with corresponding agencies

abroad in order to point the moral that we should do well to imitate

the methods of our neighbours. It is certainly true that our detectives

are proportionally less numerous than their continental confrères, true

also, that extraordinary facilities for successful police action such

as are granted in foreign countries are here denied; but the familiar

accusation that we maintain a clumsy gang of amateurs who are deficient

in the finesse necessary to cope with the skilful forger or the

accomplished cracksman, is either spitefully or ignorantly advanced.

The self-constituted censors who are so ready to lament the alleged

incompetence of our detectives would be the foremost to complain should

a measure of State protection, equal to that enjoyed by foreign police

functionaries, be conferred on any such agent at home. The traditional

love of liberty which, in this country, has always opposed espionage

with so much resolution, is altogether admirable; but like everything

else that is precious, it has to be purchased at a price, and in this

case the price is the dangerous latitude conceded to "the powers that

prey."

Before attempting to estimate the efficiency of the detective service,

two considerations in particular ought to be weighed. One is that any

institution which perforce must shun recognition and advertisement is

little likely to be appraised at its true worth by the public. The

other is that whilst the wealth of London attracts the best criminal

talent of both hemispheres, its expanse renders the detection and

pursuit of crime more than ordinarily difficult. In spite of this, and

in spite also of the limitations imposed by national sentiment, the

success achieved by the sleuth-hounds of the English police need not

fear comparison, if fairly made, with that attained by any who are

engaged in the same work elsewhere: it may be that tenacity of purpose

and honesty of motive go a long way to compensate for any genius for

artifice or power of disguise that the English detective lacks.

It must be confessed, however, that honesty has not invariably

distinguished our thief-takers. The Bow Street Runners were often

arrant humbugs besides being self-seeking knaves, nor were their

successors always free from reproach. The small detective force

established in 1842 was at first exclusively recruited from the uniform

branch of the police, and generally speaking the custom then introduced

has since been adhered to; for although theoretically any suitable

person is eligible for employment as a detective, the few outsiders who

have been given a trial have almost without exception proved failures.

It cannot be held that the ordinary point and beat duty is the best

possible training for a career which demands an exceptional astuteness

of intellect, nor that the routine discipline of a constabulary force

is calculated to develop the reasoning faculties to any great extent.

But although the system which finds favour to-day is in all probability

far from being the best that could be devised, it has nevertheless

much to commend it; the responsibilities that belong to the detective,

and the temptations which surround him, are so exceptional that it

would be extremely dangerous to entrust an unknown man with the former

or to expose an untried man to the latter. A second reason why the

existing method of selection is desirable is because anything that

tends to promote a good understanding and complete co-operation between

the uniform and the plain-clothes branches of the police makes for

efficiency.

The perils to which society is exposed when clever criminals and

dishonest police officers conspire together had been forcibly

exemplified when the celebrated bank-frauds came to light early in the

nineteenth century. But the point of elaboration to which so obvious

a criminal manoeuvre could be carried was not fully realised until

1877, when the details of what is commonly called the De Goncourt case

were published to the world. Harry Benson and his confederate Kurr were

a brace of criminals with a real genius for high-class swindling, such

as, fortunately for gullible human nature, is rarely met with. After

netting immense sums of money by means of bogus betting agencies and

other nefarious schemes, Benson conceived the idea of insuring his

ill-gotten gains by approaching the very police-officers (Meiklejohn

and Druscovitch) who were charged with the duty of tracking him down,

and of corrupting them with subsidies until they became his creatures

and confederates. Once the proffered premium had been accepted, there

was no limit to the audacity of the subsequent proceedings. Telegrams

from Paris addressed to Scotland Yard were intercepted and handed to

Benson, who was forewarned by his pursuers of every move intended

against him. When the partners were eventually arrested in Holland, a

forged telegram, purporting to come from the English headquarters of

police, was addressed to the Dutch authorities ordering the release

of the prisoners; but the artifice failed and the culprits were

escorted home, in the custody, strangely enough, of Druscovitch, whose

dishonesty was still unsuspected. Convicted and committed to Millbank,

Benson at once proceeded to "give away" the policemen he had suborned,

with the result that four inspectors were arraigned on charges of

conspiring to defeat the ends of justice, and of complicity with the

frauds of their late employer: three out of the four were found guilty

and sentenced to various terms of imprisonment, but the matter was

not allowed to end there. In order to guard against any recurrence

of such a scandalous breach of trust, the organization of the whole

detective department was overhauled, and its administration placed in

other hands. The task of reorganization was entrusted to Mr Howard

Vincent,[253] who devoted his energies towards raising the tone of the

then discredited detective service. In 1878 what was practically a new

department was formed at Scotland Yard under the title of "The Criminal

Investigation Department," consisting of a chief superintendent and

about thirty superior officers at headquarters, besides a local

inspector assisted by from six to fifteen detectives in each of the

town divisions--the whole under the control of the Director of Criminal

Investigations,[254] who takes charge of all the criminal business of

the Metropolis, and whose assistance, sometimes indispensable, is often

solicited by the chiefs of rural and urban constabularies throughout

the country.

The numerical strength of the detective force has been considerably

augmented since its reorganization in 1878 (in 1895 it consisted of

472 officers), and its rôle increasingly tends to grow in importance.

In 1880 the newly established Convict Supervision Office was brought

into close association with the Criminal Investigation Department,

and the constant vigilance that has to be maintained over foreign

anarchists domiciled in England, as well as the necessity for frequent

correspondence with the American and Continental police, preliminary to

the extraditing of fugitive offenders, causes the department to wear

the aspect of an international bureau for the unravelment of crime. The

detective branch of the City of London police, on the other hand, makes

a speciality of the investigation of commercial frauds, a vast field of

possible enterprise, not the less extensive for the fact that the area

policed by the City force is but a single square mile.

It would have been worse than useless to have increased the detective

staff unless at the same time care had been taken to safeguard the

public from the risk of a repetition of abuses similar to those

revealed in the course of the de Goncourt case, and this made the

problem of reform a difficult one. It is impossible to devise a method

of selection by means of which every black sheep who may seek admission

is infallibly recognised and excluded, nor is it easy adequately to

supervise confidential agents without interfering with their work; but

it may safely be said that since the reorganization of the department,

a high standard of honesty has been found to be not incompatible with

professional zeal and proficiency. No policeman who is thorough in his

work can please all parties, and some thirteen or fourteen years ago

a series of ill-natured attacks were directed against both branches

of the Metropolitan Police. Constables and detectives were accused

of exceeding their authority and of levying black-mail, but the

allegations, which were somewhat recklessly supported by prominent

illwishers and busybodies, could not be substantiated when the charges

came to be investigated by the proper authority.[255]

The intense hostility with which Peel's reforms were at first greeted,

besides being the cause of much inconvenience at the time, was also the

parent of many posthumous difficulties, that continued to embarrass

the police authorities long after the original quarrel was dead and

buried. It will be remembered that the two main contentions, often

repeated by the hostile party in 1829 and after, were to the effect

that the liberty of the subject was in grave danger at the hands of

an unconstitutional "gendarmerie," armed with mysterious powers of

domiciliary espionage, and that the expense to the ratepayers of

maintaining these tyrants would be ruinous. Rather than give a handle

to his adversaries, who were sure to acclaim every plain-clothes

policeman as a Government spy intriguing against innocent citizens,

the author of modern police was forced to dispense with the invaluable

assistance of a detective staff; and in order to disprove the forecasts

of opponents who prophesied financial disaster, he was compelled to

fix the constable's wage at a very low figure. Enough has been said as

to the manner in which the original lack of a detective department has

gradually been remedied, and although space does not admit of anything

like a full account being given of the various phases through which the

financial problem has passed, a subject so vital to the well-being of

police cannot be altogether ignored.

Police expenditure is of two kinds: there is the weekly wage-bill, and

there are the working (including administrative) expenses. Under the

old system, although little was spent in actual pay, large sums were

scandalously muddled away in rewards, fees and allowances; when the

new constabularies superseded the old parochial bodies, much public

money had to be sunk in the acquisition of sites, and in the erection

of suitable station-houses, cells and offices; and the upkeep of these

establishments, as well as the incidental working expenses connected

with them, were on a generous scale. As, therefore, only a very limited

income was available for the whole service, and as interest had to

be paid on the original outlay, the balance that remained was only

sufficient to permit of a low rate of remuneration for the rank and

file. Watchmen had been so miserably underpaid in the past that the

increased wage offered to the first policemen appeared, when compared

with the old tariff, to be considerable, if hardly dazzling. As a

matter of fact, regard being had to the type of man required and to the

responsibilities thrust upon him, the salary was far too small, and

furthermore there was so little margin in hand after distribution that

it was financially impossible to set aside any portion of the general

income to form a pension fund for long and meritorious service. All

available cash had to be devoted to the provision of a weekly wage to

attract a sufficiency of recruits.

The risks that a constable has to face, the long night work and

the constant exposure to all weathers that are his lot, and which

eventually impair even the strongest constitutions, make it especially

incumbent on his employers to provide adequately for him when he is

worn out. Quite apart, however, from this moral obligation (which

cannot honourably be evaded) the existence of a well-conceived and

well-administered superannuation scheme has a most important bearing

on the stability of any police force--deferred salary contingently due

to his employées being a most valuable hostage, for the satisfactory

completion of the contract undertaken by them, in the hands of the

paymaster. Moreover if a man has in prospect a respectable pension

on retirement, he is not tempted improperly to devote himself to the

acquisition of a sum of money for his future maintenance, nor, of

course, has he any inducement to stay on in the service, blocking the

promotion of those below him, after he is past his work.

At first the percentage of resignations amongst young constables was

extremely high: men of some few years' service, wearying of a life of

discipline, or finding the duties they had to perform more irksome than

they had anticipated, resigned without hesitation a position which

they had no particular inducement to retain. This constant leakage

was considerably reduced by the creation of a superannuation fund

by Act of Parliament[256] in 1839, and since that year, policemen,

whatever their grade, have contributed some two and a half per cent.

of their salaries[257] towards their retiring pensions. The money

raised for this purpose was so lavishly spent that by 1849 the fund was

insolvent, and seven years later it was bankrupt. This necessitated

further legislation, and by a Statute passed in 1856[258] authority was

obtained to make good the deficiency out of the rates. Thenceforward

the administration of the fund was the reverse of generous; and in 1862

it was promulgated that pensions on the higher scale, for service of

more than fifteen and less than twenty years, were not to be granted

under any circumstances whatever, and that in order to qualify for the

maximum pension policemen had to serve a full term of twenty-eight

years, notwithstanding the fact that expert opinion had unanimously

declared that twenty-five years spent in outdoor police work

incapacitates the ordinary man. Irritation at the financial legerdemain

which obscured the true position of the superannuation fund, and

dissatisfaction with the current rates of pay, caused widespread

discontent that culminated in 1872 in an outbreak of insubordination

amongst the Metropolitan police, many of whom refused to go on duty

until their grievances were redressed. The ringleaders of what was very

nearly a mutiny were prosecuted, and others less guilty were dismissed

the force; but investigation shewed that the hardships complained of

were none the less real because certain ill-advised malcontents had

adopted a suicidal policy in order to gain an immediate hearing. After

the excitement caused by this unfortunate occurrence had subsided,

a compromise was arrived at, removing some of the more pressing

grievances; but it was only a compromise, and beneath the surface an

undercurrent of justifiable discontent still remained. In 1881 the Home

Secretary (Sir W. Harcourt), addressing a representative gathering

of the Metropolitan police, said he hoped that at an early period it

would be his grateful office to add to their comfort and content "by

supplying a defect which has long been felt, in placing on a fixed and

satisfactory footing, not only in London, but throughout the country,

the superannuation and pension of those who have spent the best days of

their lives in the service of their countrymen."[259]

The hopes of the Home Secretary, like those of the constabulary,

were however not yet to be realised; and it was not until 1890 that

anything like a satisfactory solution of the vexed question of police

superannuation was arrived at. By the "Police Act,"[260] passed on the

14th of August of that year, policemen who have completed twenty-five

years approved (_i.e._ diligent and faithful) service become entitled,

without a medical certificate, to retire and receive a pension for

life, whilst fair provision is made for those who at any time are

certified as incapacitated for further service. The Act also defines

the conditions under which pensions or gratuities may be granted to the

widows and children of deceased officers, deals with the forfeiture

and suspension of pensions, directs how the fund is to be invested,

and, in short, fully propounds the law which governs the whole field of

police superannuation.

Although the police forces of England are now in possession of a

charter which has enormously improved their prospects, and in spite of

the further concessions recently granted, it cannot yet be said that

they are well-content with their financial position; nor is their point

of view unreasonable. They only ask that their work should be estimated

on a present-day valuation, and paid for accordingly; they naturally

object to be underpaid because their predecessors were half-starved.

Moreover, enforced residence in respectable quarters in some particular

locality where rents may be high, regulations which debar policemen

from earning extra money in their spare time, and other conditions

peculiar to their calling, unite to form a strong case in favour of a

more generous scale of remuneration being granted in the future than

that considered necessary in the past.

This is not the place to discuss the precise rate of wages that a

constable should receive, nor to suggest any scheme by which funds

might be raised to meet increased expenditure under this heading. But

it may be remarked without impropriety, that the more the public take

their share of the police duties which as good citizens they ought not

to shirk, and the stronger the support, be it moral or physical, that

they extend to their deputies, the less need will there be for the

maintenance of an ever increasing army of constables, until the time

arrives when, with a falling police rate, it becomes possible to forget

precedent, and to remunerate our peace officers in accordance with

their deserts.

In 1889 one thousand men were added to the metropolitan force. There

is little doubt that the expense entailed by this increase might have

been saved if, after the West-End Riots, the public had been politic

enough to back its own side instead of playing into the hands of its

enemies by adding to the difficulties that the police had to contend

with already. The difficulties referred to arose out of the following

circumstances.

Early in 1886 London was the scene of a sudden riotous outbreak as

serious as it was unexpected. Remarkable from many points of view, it

is especially to be remembered on account of the utter failure of the

police authorities to cope with it, and especially to be regretted

because it was the first of a series of incidents which for many months

disturbed the cordial good-will and co-operation between police and

public that had been so carefully built up and encouraged through many

a year.

A meeting having been advertised to take place in Trafalgar Square on

the 8th of February under the auspices of the London United Workmen's

Committee, the organizers (who were a respectable body of men desirous

only of ventilating their grievances in a legitimate and orderly

manner), having reason to fear that certain of the Social Democrats

were bent on creating a disturbance, approached the Chief Commissioner

with a request that the police might assist them in their efforts to

prevent a breach of the peace. Under these circumstances Sir Edmund

Henderson decided to have a much larger force in reserve than was

usual, and gave orders that whilst only sixty-six constables were to be

detailed for duty in Trafalgar Square itself, a force of five hundred

and sixty-three police of all ranks was to be held in reserve in the

immediate neighbourhood. As soon as the crowd began to assemble it

was remarked by some of the most experienced police officers present

that a rougher element than usual predominated, but, on the whole,

the proceedings in the Square were not of an alarming character, and

nothing worse than inflammatory speeches, accompanied by the usual

horse-play, took place. Shortly before four o'clock the meeting began

to break up, and on this occasion, contrary to all police experience,

which was to the effect that crowds invariably return by the same

routes that they come by, a compact body some three thousand strong

poured out of the Square, and started off in a westerly direction.

Rapidly traversing Pall Mall, where several windows were broken,

the mob proceeded up St James' Street and down Piccadilly, doing

considerable damage by the way. On arriving at Hyde Park, the bulk

of the crowd called a halt and speeches were made, but the smaller

and more lawless section, finding that no police force offered any

resistance to their disorderly career, continued along S. Audley Street

into Oxford Street, smashing windows, looting shops, and insulting

all whom they met. Eventually, at about five o'clock, a small body

of police (only sixteen in number) confronted the mob at the end of

Marlborough Lane, and after several vigorous charges, succeeded in

dispersing the rioters.

It may well be asked how it came about that for the space of an

hour a gang of roughs, which in the end was so easily disposed of,

was permitted to riot with impunity through some of the richest

thoroughfares of London, in defiance of the considerable force of

constables on duty, and in spite of the fact that two regiments of

cavalry were within ten minutes ride of the scene. The only possible

explanation is to be found in the lamentable want of foresight

exhibited on this occasion by the authorities responsible for the

police arrangements, combined with the singular lack of initiative

and resource shewn by the subordinate officers throughout the day. A

cursory glance at the conditions prevailing in Trafalgar Square reveals

in a moment the reasons for the defeat of the police; it is at once

apparent that their failure must not be attributed to any physical

cause whatever. The police force on duty was quite large enough, and

the units of which it was composed were sufficiently well endowed

with muscle, nerve and morale, to have kept in order a crowd twice as

violent and many times more numerous than the one actually opposed to

it; the collapse of authority was due to defects of organization, to

bad strategy, and to tactical blundering. If a small body of mounted

police had been present--if scouts had been instructed to watch the

outskirts of the crowd to ascertain and report upon the routes of

dispersal--if the officer in command had taken up a prominent position

known beforehand to his subordinates--if a system of circulating

information rapidly and with accuracy had been adopted--if a single one

of these obvious precautions had been taken, the West End Riots would

not have occurred, and the crop of difficulties which blocked the path

of the Metropolitan Police during the next two years would have been

avoided.

On the 9th February another assemblage of roughs took place in

Trafalgar Square, and fears that further riots would ensue took

possession of the West End; but the police were equal to the emergency,

and the meeting was dispersed without difficulty. Wednesday the 10th,

however, was a day of serious apprehension; London was wrapped in a

dense black fog, and the rumour gained credence that 50,000 desperate

men from the riverside suburbs were concentrating prior to an organized

attempt to loot the capital. The Bank of England retained its military

guard; the Bond Street jewellers and other shopkeepers suspended

business and barricaded their windows. Half London waited in hourly

expectancy of hearing the shouts of the attacking columns through the

fog.

It was clearly the business of the police authorities to satisfy

themselves as to the truth or falsity of these rumours, and in the

latter case to do all in their power to restore confidence. The course

they actually pursued was to send out notices broadcast advising

householders to take all precautions necessary for their own safety.

This action of the authorities only served to heighten the general

alarm, people naturally assuming that it amounted to an official

confirmation of the sensational stories that were everywhere current.

The state of uncertainty and alarm continued through the night, but

when, on the following morning, it became known that the whole story

had had no foundation in fact, all the various emotions of the past

three days gave place to a unanimous feeling of indignation against the

police.

The value of the property destroyed and stolen by the mob, whilst the

machinery for keeping the peace was thus temporarily out of gear, was

comparatively trivial, and probably fell short of the £7000 paid as

compensation; a far more serious factor was the loss of prestige that

befell the police. The importance of the Trafalgar Square riots of

'86 depends, not so much upon the damage done to Club-house windows

and tradesmen's shop-fronts, as upon the fact that this was the first

occasion since the institution of the modern police that the mob

had succeeded in getting the upper hand of any considerable body of

constables. Regrettable incidents had occurred in many of the tussles

that had taken place since the first conflict at Coldbath Fields in

'33; but on every occasion victory had in the end decisively rested

with the peace officers, so that it came to be generally believed

that it was useless to resist them. This was the very lesson that

the chiefs of the police had been at such pains to impress upon the

disorderly section of the public ever since the commencement of the new

establishment; and the success they had achieved in this direction

had proved greatly to the advantage of the rate-payers, who had to

support, in consequence, a much smaller force than would otherwise have

been necessary. The policeman managing a hostile crowd, or keeping

order in a slum peopled by thieves, is in much the same position as a

solitary European holding his own amongst a swarm of Asiatics. Take

away his prestige, and that same moment he ceases to be an object of

respect, and becomes an object of contempt. The rough and the criminal

do not fear the prowess of the individual policeman, they fear the

organization behind him--take that away, and the constable becomes

merely a big man armed with nothing more formidable than a wooden

truncheon.

The result of this temporary and partial breakdown of the organization

was that the whole force suffered a double loss; the general public, no

longer feeling the old confidence in the power of the police to protect

them, withheld to some extent their moral support; whilst the criminal

public, assuring themselves that their old belief in the invincibility

of the police was groundless, began to threaten where they used to

cringe.

It was providential that the enemies of order and good government

failed to take full advantage of a moment so auspicious for their

designs. The weak places of the defence were exposed for an instant,

but the breaches were rapidly repaired and strengthened: in allowing

this opportunity to pass, the anarchists and revolutionists, who as a

rule are not slow to advertise their existence, missed a chance that

is not likely to be offered a second time.

A good deal of inflammatory language was indulged in, but the attacks

were ill-timed and unimportant. A large meeting of Socialists, followed

by riotous proceedings, took place at Birmingham; but any serious

consequences that might have resulted, were averted by a timely display

of strength. London was allowed time to recover itself, and it was not

until the 21st of February that a mass meeting held in Hyde Park, and

attended by some 50,000 people, gave cause for alarm. Fortunately the

dangerous classes were not conspicuously represented, and the violently

disposed minority was effectually controlled by the police, who,

smarting perhaps, under their recent reverse, handled the crowd with

some roughness. A week later, rioting of a more serious character broke

out in Manchester, to be repeated on a larger scale on March 18th; the

local police, however, supported by soldiers, were successful in their

efforts to restore order on both occasions.

At the time of the West End riots Parliament was not sitting, and the

public indignation found expression in the columns of the newspapers,

where a vigorous campaign was commenced, directed partly against the

Home Office, and partly against the police authorities. This chorus

of irresponsible criticism was to some extent silenced by the prompt

action of the Home Secretary (Mr Childers), who immediately appointed

a committee, on which he himself sat as chairman, to investigate the

conduct of the police. The report, which was issued on the 22nd of

Feb. '86, impartially reviewed all the circumstances of the case, and

pointed out the mistakes that had been made in the police arrangements.

The committee found, amongst other defects, that the chain of

responsibility in the force was very imperfect, and called attention to

the remarkable fact that, although Standing Police Orders to regulate

the conduct of constables at peaceable public meetings had long been

issued, no regulations for the management of unruly mobs had ever been

published. The report, (upon the authority of which the foregoing

remarks on the Trafalgar Square arrangements are based) concluded with

a strong expression of opinion as to the desirability of investigating

without delay the administration and organization of the Metropolitan

Police Force, and the Home Secretary promised to give immediate effect

to the recommendations of the Committee by instituting an exhaustive

inquiry into the question, with a view to making the necessary changes.

The resignation of Sir Edmund Henderson, which took place on the 20th

of February, was perhaps inevitable under the circumstances; but much

regret was felt and expressed throughout the force when it became known

that the Chief, who for seventeen years had watched over the security

of London, and under whose rule the police had earned a high reputation

for efficiency, was about to leave Scotland Yard.

During his tenure of office the peace had been so well maintained, and

the police mechanism had worked so smoothly, that his experience had

taught him to under-estimate the dangers that lurk below the surface

in all large crowds, and to over-estimate the preparedness of the men

under his command to deal with any possible outbreak. As he knew them,

London crowds were well behaved, and London police were equal to any

emergency.

The place vacated by the resignation of Sir Edmund Henderson was

offered to Sir Charles Warren, a well-known officer of Engineers,

whose talent for administration had been proved in Bechuanaland and

elsewhere, and who now relinquished the Governorship of the Red Sea

Littoral to take up the Chief Commissionership of the Metropolitan

Police. The task entrusted to the new chief was definite if not easy.

Before all things he had to restore the prestige which had suffered so

severely on the day when the mob gained the upper hand, and he had to

demonstrate, cost what it might, that the police could not again be

defied with impunity.

After the occurrences of February 1886, there was a truce lasting some

eighteen months during which the peace was successfully maintained

in spite of the persistent hostility evinced by a large section of

the public. But in the autumn of 1887, disorderly assemblages of

the unemployed, led by demagogues, encouraged by foolish agitators,

and reinforced with the scum of London, became so frequent and

intolerable,[261] that Sir Charles Warren had to make a bold move in

the interests of order, by altogether forbidding the use of Trafalgar

Square as a place of public meeting. His action was endorsed by the

Secretary of State, but only in such a half-hearted fashion that

the forces of disorder, confident that they were the masters of the

situation, determined to fight it out. Accordingly both parties

prepared for battle. On the one side some six or seven thousand

special constables were sworn in, and a large military force was held

in reserve; on the other, defiance was openly preached, and adherents

were canvassed. When on Sunday the 13th of November the mob began to

assemble, they found that the Square and its approaches were already

held; but, undeterred by the force opposed to them, and in no mood

to return quietly to their homes, the ring-leaders, after a short

parley, tried to break through the police cordon. In the course of the

protracted struggle which ensued, several minor casualties occurred

on either side, and although the crowd resolutely returned to the

attack time after time, in the end the police were successful all along

the line; the square was cleared without loss of life or injury to

property, and the ability of the police to carry out the orders of the

Government was satisfactorily demonstrated. Subsequently other attempts

were made to reopen the question; but the result was the same. The

next phase was the repetition of the familiar and easily disproved

charges as to the alleged violence of the constables, many persons, who

had attacked the police for their failure in 1886, now joining in the

chorus anathematising their successes of the following year.

The entire responsibility for the instructions upon which the police

had acted, belonged, of course, to the Government; and on the

reopening of Parliament the focus of the agitation was transferred

to Westminster, where the whole question as to the legal power of

constabulary forces to prevent open-air meetings was debated at some

length. In demanding an enquiry into the right of public meeting,

Sir Charles Russell insisted that such a right existed by virtue of

long-sanctioned custom, and contended that the Executive was not

justified in vetoing any assembly that was not of itself illegal.

The Home Secretary replied regretting the events of "Bloody Sunday,"

which he described as lamentable and distressing, but he denied that

any right of public meeting, as such, was recognised by English law,

and concluded by saying that "this series of meetings had exhausted

the police, terrified the public, and made the veto necessary." Sir

Henry James held that, whilst the purely legal side of the question

was comparatively immaterial, the maintenance of the peace and

considerations of the public safety were all-important; and urged that

it was the duty of Government to employ such police measures as might

be found necessary to prevent the undoubted liberties of the many

from being interfered with by the intolerable whims of the few, even

if the latter happened to be legally within their rights.[262] The

common-sense point of view enunciated by Sir Henry James found general

acceptance, both in the House of Commons and throughout the country;

Sir Charles Russell's motion was rejected, and the public began to

rally to the support of the police.

CHAPTER XIX

CONCLUSION

From the time when Rural Constabulary forces were instituted in 1839,

until the date of the creation of County Councils fifty years later,

the police authority throughout rural England had been the County

Justices of the Peace in Quarter Sessions, to which body alone, in the

several counties, was each Chief-Constable answerable, provided that

he conformed to the general regulations laid down by the Secretary

of State. During this period various changes, in addition to those

of a more important nature already mentioned, were brought about,

having for their object the better management of the police, or the

more convenient administration of justice. In 1846 County Courts for

the hearing of civil suits involving minor issues were established

in the different shires; and, by the gradual enlargement of the

jurisdiction exercised by these tribunals, the higher courts have, to

a corresponding extent, been relieved of much petty business to the

advantage of larger interests. In 1869 the office of High-Constable

was formally abolished, any powers that he had anciently exercised

having long since dwindled almost to the vanishing point. At first the

Treasury contribution towards the expenses of the rural police had been

strictly limited and quite inadequate in amount; but in 1875 the old

limitation was suspended, first for one year, then for another, and

finally indefinitely, until it became the rule for the public Treasury

to provide half the cost for pay and clothing of all provincial police

forces that, at the end of each year, are returned as efficient by

the Home Office on the recommendation of the Government Inspector of

Constabulary.

Following upon the Municipal Corporations Act of 1835,[263] some fifty

Acts of Parliament, relating wholly or in part to municipal government,

received the royal assent, and this at the rate of more than one a

year; in August 1882 the mass of legislative amendments that resulted

was consolidated and reduced to one Statute.[264] Amongst other police

enactments, the formation of a separate constabulary, distinct from

the county force, in any borough containing less than twenty thousand

inhabitants, was hereby prohibited; but the control of local police

forces already established was for the present confirmed to the

existing Watch Committees, whatever might be the population of the

borough concerned, and at the same time authority to enforce certain

sanitary laws (_e.g._ The Public Health Acts of 1873 and 1875) was

conferred on the Town Councils.

Six years later more important changes, affecting the police of

counties as well as that of boroughs, were introduced by the Local

Government Act of 1888,[265] which transferred the control of the

rural police from the Justices of the Peace in Quarter Sessions to

an annually appointed committee (called the Standing Joint Committee)

composed of a certain number of County Councillors, selected by and

from the members of the new councils, and of an equal number of

Justices chosen by Quarter Sessions. The effect of this Statute was

not simply to substitute one consultative body for another, for to the

Standing Joint Committee was also conveyed all that authority over

the county police which had hitherto been enjoyed by Justices out of

Session, the important proviso being added, however, that "nothing

in this Act shall affect the powers, duties, and liabilities of

Justices as Conservators of the Peace, or the obligation of the Chief

Constable or other Constables to obey their lawful orders given in that

behalf."[266]

Although local government in township, hundred and shire is as old as

the Constitution itself, the birthday of the modern county councils

in 1888 is from the historian's point of view an event of the first

importance, for it deprived the county magistracy of a prerogative

which for more than five hundred years had been steadily growing in

completeness, by suddenly transferring the destinies of the rural

police to a body that owed the half of its authority to the popular

vote of the shire. From the standpoint of the practical politician,

on the other hand, the change has so far proved but an incident; and,

for all the effect it has produced on the actual efficiency and on the

daily routine of the police forces concerned, it has passed almost

unnoticed. Standing Joint Committees have accepted and carried on the

traditions which they inherited; and the administration of the county

police remains much the same to-day as it was when the entire control

was vested in the county magistrates, who, no longer overweighted by

a mass of general--as distinguished from judicial--business, are now

free to devote themselves to their proper duties as conservators of the

peace.

By the first Municipal Corporations Act, any borough so disposed was

allowed a separate police force on the understanding that, in the case

of towns containing less than five thousand inhabitants, all expense

connected with the maintenance of such forces should be borne by the

borough availing itself of the privilege. In 1888, this power of choice

was restricted, and all boroughs, which at the last census failed to

show a population of 10,000, were amalgamated for police purposes with

the county to which they belonged; if, however, any borough entitled to

have its own police prefers amalgamation, it is permitted to contract

with the Standing Joint Committee of the county in which it is situated

for the establishment of a consolidated constabulary under the general

disposition and government of the Chief Constable of that county, the

powers of the Watch Committee remaining in abeyance as long as the

contract lasts. A larger measure of autonomy was secured by the Local

Government Act to certain boroughs, called County-Boroughs, being those

which were either counties in themselves before the passing of the Act,

or had an estimated population of at least 50,000 on the 1st of June

1888. As, however, the police of a County-Borough is for all practical

purposes on the same basis as one maintained by any other town, that

controls a separate constabulary, it is unnecessary further to enlarge

upon this part of the subject. It is sufficient to state that in 1899

one hundred and twenty-four English and Welsh boroughs possessed

independent police forces, and that out of this number sixty-one were

county-boroughs.

At the present time there are only two portions of the United Kingdom

that do not manage their own police. Ireland is one and London is the

other. Ireland is not allowed the privilege for reasons with which

we are not here concerned, but which have been succinctly put by a

politician who is not ill-disposed towards that country, "If Kerry

was treated as Northumberland," said he, "Kerry must control her

police, and if Kerry controlled her police, there was an end of law

and order."[267] The case of London is altogether different: when the

Local Government Act readjusted the command exercised by the various

local authorities over their county and borough police forces, the

Metropolitan area was especially exempted from provisions that applied

elsewhere. A County of London, carved out of the counties of Middlesex,

Surrey and Kent, was called into being on the 1st of January 1889, but

its area did not coincide with the Metropolitan Police District, nor

was the London County Council given any voice in the management of

London's constabulary.