Nine men, it will be observed, were apportioned to only eight beats; the sixteen odd men, i.e., one from each party, constituted a Divisional Reserve. Every Constable and Sergeant was distinguished by an embroidered number and the letter of his Division, in order that he might readily be identified; the earlier numbers (from 1 to 16) denoted Sergeants, the higher numbers Constables. Each Constable was provided with a Beat-Card, giving the names of the Streets, etc., in his Beat.

At first the twenty-four hours were divided into two day reliefs and two night reliefs, half of the entire force being on duty by day and half by night. This arrangement was not a success, and was subsequently altered, when the day duty was performed in two reliefs and the night duty in one relief: under this system two-thirds of the force were employed by night, one-third by day, individual men doing eight months' night work and four months' day work during the year. By this means a greater degree of security was attained when it was chiefly required, and the health of the men suffered less than under the former plan.

Such in outline was the organization of the Metropolitan Police; absolute and arbitrary uniformity, however, was not insisted upon, but when necessary the system was modified to suit local requirements; thus, there were not exactly 144 Constables in each Company, but the number varied from 262 in the Stepney (K) Division down to 96 in the Whitehall (A) Division. The first mentioned of these two Divisions was densely populated, whilst the other contained but few people, and the Whitehall Company, therefore, which was mainly composed of picked men, was generally available should any sudden emergency arise in other quarters of the town.

Prominent amongst the earlier constitutional functions conferred upon the English constabulary for the prevention of crime were those of Presentment and Inquiry. We have seen how, with the decay of the police system which once effectually maintained the peace, these primary duties had fallen into disuse, and how in consequence, the principle of "quick and fresh pursuit" had been neglected—partly by reason of the defective information possessed by the executive, and partly on account of the inefficiency of the inferior officers. Under the new régime, however, these most essential constituents of successful police action were reintroduced, a conspicuous feature of the new police being the excellence of the arrangements arrived at for the supply of information as to the persons and habits of delinquents. To this end, a report or "presentment," containing the results of all inquiries made during the last twenty-four hours was daily rendered to the Commissioners, who were thus enabled to take steps for the prevention of any threatened breach of the peace. When a serious crime had been committed, not only were the known facts of the case immediately circulated amongst all the members of the London force, but necessary particulars were periodically notified to a wider circle through the columns of the "Police Gazette," a new official organ which superseded the old Bow Street publication known as "The Hue and Cry."

The police constable who made his appearance in 1829 was a very different kind of man from any of his predecessors in the same office. The new force was recruited from the best procurable material, and those who sought admission to its ranks were expected to possess good physique, intelligence above the average, and an irreproachable character. Hitherto a variety of officers had been employed in their separate capacities of constable, watchman, street-keeper, and thief-taker: now, all these duties had to be performed by the same individual. The new policeman, also, was required to have sufficient acquaintance with ordinary legal procedure to enable him to collect and arrange the available evidence in such a manner that, when his case came into court, the magistrate could dispose of the matter without vexatious delays induced, either by blunders committed, or by necessary formalities omitted. The difficulty of securing a sufficient number of men with the necessary qualifications at the rate of remuneration offered was immense; and although great care was exercised in the choice of candidates, but a small proportion of those selected were retained for any length of time. The extent to which this weeding-out process was carried may be estimated from the fact that between 1830 and 1838 there were nearly five thousand dismissals, and more than six thousand resignations, most of the latter not being altogether voluntary. This was in marked contrast to the happy-go-lucky method of the old parochial bodies, who readily accepted infirm old men, ex-thieves, and sometimes thieves without the "ex," provided only that they were cheap.

For the guidance of all ranks, a set of rules and regulations were drawn up embodying principles and maxims upon which our modern police codes rest. "At the commencement of the new establishment," say the Commissioners, "it is the more necessary to take particular care that the constables of the police do not form false notions of their duties and powers. The powers of a constable, as will appear hereafter, are, when properly understood and duly executed, amply sufficient for their purpose. He is regarded as the legitimate peace officer of his district; and both by the Common Law and by many acts of parliament, he is invested with considerable powers, and has imposed upon him the execution of many important duties.... It should be understood at the outset that the principal object to be attained is the prevention of crime. To this great end every effort of the police is to be directed. The security of person and property, the preservation of the public tranquillity, and all other objects of a police establishment will thus be better effected than by the detection and punishment of the offender after he has succeeded in committing the crime. This should constantly be kept in mind by every member of the police force, as a guide for his own conduct. Officers and police-constables should endeavour to distinguish themselves by such vigilance and activity as may render it extremely difficult for anyone to commit a crime within that portion of the town under their charge.

When in any division, offences are frequently committed, there must be reason to expect that the police in that division is not properly conducted.

The absence of crime will be considered the best proof of the complete efficiency of the police. In divisions where this security and good order have been effected, the officers and men belonging to it may feel assured that such good conduct will be noticed by rewards and promotions."

Touching the duties of the individual constables, Mr Mayne, who drew up the regulations, went on to say "He (i.e. the constable) must remember that there is no qualification more indispensable to a police officer than a perfect command of temper, never suffering himself to be moved in the slightest degree by any language or threats that may be used: if he do his duty in a quiet and determined manner, such conduct will probably induce well-disposed bystanders to assist him should he require it."

These regulations require no comment, they speak for themselves: but in view of the intense and unreasoning hostility direct against the police both by press and public, not only in 1830, but also on more recent occasions, it is fortunate that this evidence of the conciliatory spirit in which the reforms were introduced, should be on record. It is hardly necessary to add that the high standard set up by the first Justices of the Metropolitan Force has never been departed from by the successive Commissioners of Police, from that day until now.

The immediate result of the institution of an effective police force, whose main object was prevention, was precisely that which was to be expected: convictions for crimes of violence decreased, because evil-disposed persons knew that they could no longer commit them with impunity, and convictions for minor offences increased, because the vigilance of the new policemen brought to their proper punishment many a petty depredator who had easily hoodwinked his familiar friend, the old parish officer.

Under the date of November 3rd, 1829, or little more than four months after the passing of the Act, the Duke of Wellington was able to write to Peel—"I congratulate you on the entire success of the Police in London, it is impossible to see anything more respectable than they are"—and Peel to answer "I am very glad indeed to hear that you think well of the Police. It has given me from first to last more trouble than anything I ever undertook. But the men are gaining a knowledge of their duties so rapidly, that I am very sanguine of the ultimate result. I want to teach people that liberty does not consist in having your house robbed by organised gangs of thieves, and in leaving the principal streets of London in the nightly possession of drunken women and vagabonds."[184]

Nothing has yet been said about the expense of the new establishment. At what cost to the ratepayers was this increased security obtained?

Such a question is not easy to answer with any degree of certainty. Before 1829 many parishes were practically without police of any kind, and if they spent little in Watch-rates they paid dearly in the heavy tolls exacted by "the organised gangs of thieves" referred to by Peel. Other parishes kept their accounts so carelessly that their records are useless for purposes of comparison, and it is therefore impossible to tell how much money they wasted. The 1834 Committee, which investigated this question of comparative expense, had all the available material before them, and they gave it as their opinion that strict economy pervaded the new system. In support of this opinion, they quoted the case of the parish of Hackney, which was moderately well policed as things went then. Prior to the introduction of the reformed police, the ratepayers of Hackney contributed £3,380 per annum, whereas at the maximum police rate that could be levied under the new system (viz. eightpence in the pound) the bill was only £3,164.

CHAPTER XIII
PUBLIC OPPOSITION TO THE "NEW POLICE"

The formation of the new police force in the metropolis aroused the fiercest opposition and remonstrance. Invective and ridicule were heaped upon the measure from all sides. The hopeless incompetence and the discredited character of the blackguardly Charlies were at once forgotten, nor were the prevalence of crime and the insecurity of life and property at all considered by those who made it their business to foment the popular antagonism.

Week by week certain newspapers continued to publish the most preposterous attacks: no story was too improbable to gain credence. A coup d'etat was contemplated—it was Sir Robert Peel's intention to place the Duke of Wellington on the throne—English liberty was to give place to military tyranny—under the pretence of providing protection for the people the government aimed at the creation of a secret political inquisition,—in fact anything that was at once inconsistent and absurd was listened to with avidity and partly believed.

At first sight it seems almost incredible that any part of the nation, except the criminal class, should have felt and exhibited such bitter hostility to legislation that we now see had been too long delayed; but the reluctance of the people to welcome the innovation was not so unreasonable as it now appears. It is easy for us to be wise after seventy years' experience of the admirable results that have followed upon the Act of 1829; but in that year the only example of modern militarily organized police before the eyes of the people, was that under which Paris had groaned since the time of La Reynie. Chateaubriand's philippics directed against the French system were eagerly read and quoted, and it was felt that London could not avoid the condition of interference with individual liberty that obtained across the Channel. People could not associate in their minds a proper police organization and the maintenance of justice, and remembered that "injustice is always most formidable when armed."

The events of the French Revolution were still in the public mind; and many Englishmen, who had looked on with horror at the spectacle of a neighbouring country writhing in the grip of anarchy, narrowly watched the course of events at home, in fearful anticipation lest any of the causes which had brought about the debâcle in France should be reproduced in this island. Nothing under the ancient régime had pressed the French people so hard nor bitten so deep as the police tyranny of the eighteenth century; and when the day of reckoning came, the one rallying cry which never failed to stir the Parisians to an extremity of fury, was that for the abolition of the "lettre de cachet"[185] and for the overthrow of the lieutenant of police and his gang. And no wonder! Liberty was impossible under a system which arrogated to itself the right "de tout voir, de tout connaître, et de tout juger;" when no man could call his conscience his own, and when no fireside was secure against the paid informer. "If three men meet together, I can rely on it that at least two of them are on my side" boasted Sartines, a famous Chief of police. What plan could be more demoralizing than the one which sets the servant to spy on the master, the son to watch his father? What system so base as that under which the same hand that presses yours in friendship is the first to arrest you, what instrument so fatal to liberty or justice as the "lettre de cachet" which proclaims the innocence of the man who was legally convicted yesterday, and sends to the Bastille to-morrow the man who was honourably acquitted to-day?

People in England who knew these things, not unnaturally asked themselves the question, Why, with our eyes open, should we forge against ourselves a weapon similar to that, whose sharp point has goaded our neighbours till they were driven to set alight the torch of revolution and to destroy the whole fabric of government?

The fear that the continental system[186] of police might be introduced into England was not the only ground upon which this strenuous opposition rested. Another factor was the deeply rooted antipathy that the English have always displayed to any armed force that they feared might deprive them of their liberty. The inherent national suspicion of standing armies is well known: James II. tried to govern by the aid of one, but his attempt ended in failure owing to the opposition of the people; William III. wished to maintain a large permanent force, but so hateful was the mere name of a standing army in English ears, that Lord Somers, the king's minister, was constrained to talk of it as a temporary measure, to allay the popular irritation. Even to the present day, our comparatively small army, half of which is permanently on foreign service, only exists at the will of Parliament, and from year to year; whilst the fact that only two regiments, the lineal descendants of the trained-bands, are allowed to march through the streets of London with fixed bayonets, is an interesting survival, as shewing the distaste that the display of armed force in their midst has always produced amongst our countrymen. If this was the feeling with regard to the army, which was to a certain extent indispensable and which was only maintained, ostensibly at all events, for use against foreign enemies, it was not to be wondered at, if the hostility to a strange body of men uniformed and drilled like soldiers, who were admittedly employed to keep their fellow-countrymen in order, was more pronounced.

The mildest form of police supervision was believed by many to necessitate the use of domiciliary visits, universal espionage, and official interference with the concerns of daily life. Men could not foresee the possibility of an armed constabulary keeping their hands off law-abiding citizens, and directing their energies solely against law-breakers. It has been said, that had the original police constables been first seen in their present head-dress, the result would have been dubious, but the glazed hat was just homely enough to save the situation.

In their fears, the opponents of the police bill underrated the efficacy of the two safeguards that have proved amply sufficient to defend society against the employment of any objectionable or tyrannical methods by the members of the force. The first safeguard was, that the new police was placed under the immediate control of the Home Secretary, who was directly responsible to the Cabinet, and through the Cabinet to the country, for the actions of the metropolitan force. The second safeguard lay in the power of the public press. The routine duties of a constable were, and are necessarily, performed in the eye of the public, and every bystander is free, through the columns of the newspapers, to tell the rest of London what he has seen. This facility he is seldom slow to avail himself of, and so any act of oppression, any dereliction of duty, on the part of the police is discussed by thousands of people by the following morning.

The Turks have a proverb "The dog barks, but the caravan passes on"; and in this case the necessity for ending the existing state of affairs was so overwhelming, that the appeals, threats, and forebodings of the opponents of reform were powerless to prevent, or even retard, its progress. From its first commencement the new force learnt how to combine authority with moderation, and the storms of clamour that attended its birth were disguised blessings that conduced to its subsequent efficiency.

The opposition of the less reputable part of the press, and the very lukewarm support that was all it received from the remainder, were not without their effect on the force, though the result produced was far from being that hoped for by the agitators. The Commissioners, instead of being discouraged, were stimulated. With rare wisdom, assuming that the complaints which were continually being published against the constables were made in good faith, they carefully investigated each fresh indictment, with the result that, not only was the constabulary purged of its unworthy members, but the better sense of the country, appreciating the devotion to its interests practised by the Commissioners, was the sooner convinced of the advantages that follow from the establishment of a permanent and properly organized "standing army against crime." Some of the malcontents, however, who, from the first, had been so bitter in their opposition to Sir Robert Peel's design, by no means relaxed their hostility after a reformed police was an accomplished fact, but on the occasion of a projected Royal Procession through London in 1830 again attempted to inflame the ignorant, and to provoke them to violence against the new guardians of the peace, by the distribution of anonymous placards. One of these placards read as follows:—"Liberty or Death! Englishmen! Britons!! and Honest Men!!! The time has at length arrived. All London meets on Tuesday. Come Armed. We assure you from ocular demonstration that 6000 cutlasses have been removed from the Tower, for the use of Peel's Bloody Gang. Remember the cursed Speech from the Throne!! These damned Police are now to be armed. Englishmen, will you put up with this?"[187] The authors of this precious appeal must have had a pathetic belief in the efficacy of strong language, if they thought that the prospect of a collision with six thousand policemen armed with cutlasses would be a sufficient inducement to bring together an armed mob to oppose them; but popular feeling ran so high that it was decided to abandon the Royal Procession, and elaborate precautions were taken to prevent a riot. The day passed, however, without serious consequences.

At the time of the accession of William IV., the whole country was restless and ripe for mischief. The irritation caused by the rejection of the Reform Bill by the House of Lords stirred up a feeling of violent opposition amongst the masses of the people, directed, not only against the Upper House, but against the whole executive machinery of the Constitution. The worst outbreak occurred at Bristol, where the gaols, public buildings, and many private houses were burnt, and the whole town sacked as ruthlessly as if it had been an enemy's stronghold. Birmingham was the headquarters of an association said to consist of 200,000 members, enrolled with the avowed intention of coercing the government by the use of armed force, if they were unable to achieve their objects by legitimate means. In London, an organization, calling itself "The National Political Union" had been established with affiliated branches all over the metropolis: these branches, or "classes," as they were called, each consisting of from 80 to 130 members, held secret meetings at which the most violent language was often indulged in: the Union leaders were wont to insist on the necessity of the associates arming themselves, in order that the police might be successfully resisted, and a certain Mr Hetherington went so far as to publicly advertise that he would give a reward of £5 to the best marksman in the ranks of the Union. The most formidable "class" was the 73rd, popularly known as the "fighting class," recruited chiefly from the Camberwell district, which, for some reason or other, seemed to be peculiarly hostile to the police: other centres were less openly violent, and, for the most part, contented themselves with the publication of political manifestoes and proclamations. The wording of these latter were, as a rule, more curious than edifying. Members of Parliament were called "mock representatives" and "borough-mongers' creatures," the House of Lords was referred to as "the hereditary hospital of incurable national nuisances," whilst the King was described in these words: "Alas, poor William Guelph! he is merely the puppet of a base scoundrelocracy."

Fortunately for the peace of London, the National Political Union lacked influential leadership; and this want, coupled with the fact that, by the institution of the Metropolitan Police, a powerful weapon had just been placed in the hands of the government, prevented the occurrence of disasters, similar to those which had devastated Bristol. But amongst the many difficulties that surrounded Colonel Rowan and Mr Mayne, the most exasperating originated in the hostile attitude of these Unions.

It was, therefore, much to be regretted that any just cause for complaint should have been given to that discontented section of the populace, which was anxiously looking out for an opportunity to discredit the new establishment. Unfortunately the hoped-for opportunity was soon afforded by the improper and unauthorised conduct of a policeman, Popay by name, who took it upon himself to act as a spy, and by pretending to be an advanced radical, to gain the friendship and confidence of the members of one of the classes of the union, in order to betray them to his superiors.

It appears that when it came to the knowledge of the police authorities, that speeches of a threatening nature were delivered at the meetings of the various centres, the district superintendents were instructed to send a man in plain clothes to make reports, not with any intention of entrapping the speakers, but in order that any projected breach of the peace might be prevented. Popay was accordingly sent to the Camberwell neighbourhood, and either misunderstanding his instructions, or, as is more likely, purposely exceeding them in the hope of earning the approbation of his officers, entered upon an elaborate career of deceit and double-dealing. Disguised under an assumed name, and pretending to be a struggling artist, he professed revolutionary principles of an advanced character; and having enrolled himself in the local class, quickly became one of its ruling spirits, inciting the other members to proceed to extreme lengths, railing against the government, abusing the police, and even subscribing to the funds of the society. This sort of thing continued for some months, until it happened one day that a Camberwell reformer, whilst passing a police office, saw Popay sitting at the window with a ledger before him. When questioned as to the business that took him there, Popay said that he had only casually been called in, because the police had got their accounts into a muddle, and had asked him to set them right. Suspicion having been aroused, however, further enquiries were made, and it soon came to light that the soi-disant ardent politician was actually one of Peel's hated myrmidons, with the result that the outcry about police tyranny began all over again.

The new agitation did not materially differ from the old one: the same exaggerations and the identical falsehoods, threadbare already, were again made use of. One new feature, however, was introduced in the shape of a petition, which was presented to the House of Commons, signed by one Frederick Young and nine other inhabitants of Camberwell and Walworth, setting forth their grievances with a great parade of humility. "Some of your petitioners," they wrote, "have frequently seen those whom they know to be policemen disguised in clothing of various descriptions, sometimes in the garb of gentlemen, sometimes in that of tradesmen and artizans, sometimes in sailor jackets, and sometimes in ploughmen's frocks: that thus feeling themselves living among spies, seeking their lives, and sorely feeling the taxes heaped upon them for the maintenance of those spies, they make this appeal to your honourable house," etc., etc.

Although the mis-statements and exaggerations contained in this petition were patent to all, the House of Commons very properly considered the matter to be a serious accusation against the entire police force, and at once appointed a Committee to enquire into the truth or falsity of the system of espionage, which was alleged to be universal. After the most careful investigation the Committee gave it as their opinion, that the authorities should be exonerated from the charge of connivance, but that Popay's conduct had been highly reprehensible, adding by way of comment that "with respect to the occasional employment of policemen in plain clothes, the system as laid down by the heads of the police department affords no just matter of complaint, whilst strictly confined to detecting breaches of the law and to preventing breaches of the peace, should these ends appear otherwise unobtainable: at the same time, the Committee would strongly urge the most cautious maintenance of those limits, and solemnly deprecate any approach to the employment of spies, in the ordinary acceptation of the term, as a practice most abhorrent to the feelings of the people, and most alien to the spirit of the Constitution."

The Popay incident would not in itself have been of more than passing interest, had it occurred at some later period when results had justified the creation of the metropolitan police, but happening as it did, whilst everything was still in the experimental stage, and at a time when the new constables were, so to speak, on probation, the certainty that even a single policeman had been guilty of such conduct was a severe blow to the well-wishers of the force.

The culminating point of the tide of unpopularity which threatened to overwhelm Sir Robert Peel's police was reached soon afterwards. In the month of May 1833, it was advertised that a public meeting, under the auspices of the National Political Union, would be held in Coldbath Fields. Lord Melbourne, the Home Secretary, fearing disorder would result, informed the organizers that the gathering would not be permitted to take place, and instructed the Police Commissioners to have the ring-leaders arrested if they should attempt to disregard his veto.

The steps taken by Colonel Rowan to carry out these orders were as follows: 70 men of the "A" division were selected for the duty and despatched under a superintendent to Coldbath Fields, with instructions to seize the leaders the moment they began to address the crowd, and, if the attempt was persevered in, to disperse the meeting. It was not considered advisable to occupy the ground in force before the agitators assembled, because, strictly speaking, the police had no authority to prevent peaceable citizens from walking across this particular piece of ground if they were minded to, and because it was foreseen that, should the mob find their rendezvous already strongly held, they would attempt to carry out their programme at some other spot, where there was no police force strong enough to interfere with them. Colonel Rowan attended in person to direct the operations of the police, and to read the Riot Act, if either of these steps should appear necessary; as a further precaution, a considerable body of constables were kept in reserve close by, in order that there should be no danger of the police being worsted in any encounter that might take place. This reserve, which consisted of about 400 men, was kept out of sight, it being thought that, in the excited state of public feeling then prevailing, the display of an overpowering force would be calculated to irritate the mob, and to attract in consequence a still larger crowd than might otherwise be expected to assemble.

At the time appointed numbers of people began to congregate on the waste ground at Coldbath Fields, and soon afterwards the speeches commenced. As soon as it became clear that the meeting was identical with that proscribed by the Home Secretary, the men of "A" division, after having been warned by Colonel Rowan to be cool and temperate in their demeanour, were ordered to carry out the instructions previously given them. At the same time a portion of the reserve was moved from the stables (where the men had been waiting) to support the first party, and it was during this advance that a collision took place at a street corner with a mob of people, who immediately began to throw stones, by which several constables were injured. Thereupon the superintendent gave the word to charge, and in the melée which followed truncheons were made use of, and three policemen were stabbed, one of them being killed on the spot. Meanwhile the crowd was incited to further resistance by the action of a man called Stallwood, who falsely representing himself to be a magistrate, harangued the police from the balcony of his house, and told them that they were acting illegally in making use of force before the Riot Act had been read. The struggle was of short duration. The people began to disperse in all directions, and numerous arrests were made by the police, who committed the error of following up their victory with too much vigour, carrying pursuit in some instances to a considerable distance from the scene of the original conflict.

This first collision between the Metropolitan force and the people gave rise to a series of charges against the police, which, if they could have been substantiated, might have ended in the undoing of all the good achieved after so many years, and brought about with so much labour and difficulty. It was said that the police were intoxicated and, in that condition, had made an unprovoked assault on inoffending citizens, knocking down women and children with brutal impartiality, and then stunning them with their truncheons as they lay on the ground. Fortunately an exhaustive enquiry was held, with the result that the action of the police was satisfactorily vindicated. An unanswerable argument against the accusers was that, whereas several constables were badly knocked about, and one killed, not a single case of serious injury was to be found on the other side.

Public animosity, however, did not pause to reason; and at the inquest which was held on the body of the murdered policeman Culley, the jury, sympathizing with, or intimidated by, the popular feeling, brought in a verdict of "justifiable homicide." A verdict so flagrantly in the teeth of the evidence could not be allowed to stand: the Crown applied to the Court of King's Bench, and the inquisition was very properly quashed.

A Committee of the House of Commons was then appointed to enquire into the conduct of the police, who came out of the ordeal with more credit than the Government did, for it was proved that the Police Commissioners only carried out the instructions of the Home Secretary, who, when trouble arose, sought to escape all responsibility, and to throw the blame on Colonel Rowan. Whatever may be thought of Lord Melbourne's action, it is certain that he did not err on the side of over-generosity, and the slender support which he somewhat grudgingly gave to the police authorities was hardly of a nature to encourage them in their uphill task. It may be that this cold-shouldering of its youngest child by a government department was not altogether a misfortune, for a popular reaction in favour of the police quickly followed, and friendship was expressed in quarters where nothing but hostility had been looked for: vestries which had recently petitioned against the formation of the force now passed resolutions in its praise, and nearly all those parishes situated just outside the boundary applied to be admitted into the Metropolitan police area. Before long provincial towns and outlying districts began to solicit the loan of police officers trained in the London school; and in eight years some two hundred places, including Birmingham, Bristol, Hull, Liverpool and Manchester were supplied with experts, who carried with them to their new sphere of action the methods they had learnt in the metropolis, and whose excellent work in the provinces did much to disprove the ridiculous fables, which had once gained credence, as to the overbearing incompetence of the new constabulary.

Public opinion is notoriously unstable; and in recent years the police have probably suffered to a greater extent than any other institution from the alternating favour and disfavour of the populace.[188] The comparative popularity enjoyed by the Metropolitan police force in 1834 was only a precarious possession, gratifying enough at the moment, but of little permanent value. No such disadvantage, however, attaches to a testimonial deliberately given by a representative tribunal, especially when such testimony is in direct contradiction to anticipations recently expressed by an equally competent and similarly constituted body. The 1822 Committee were of opinion that it would be difficult "to reconcile an effective system of police with that perfect freedom of action and exemption from interference which are the great privileges and blessings of society in this country." The 1834 Committee, on the other hand, having satisfied themselves that these gloomy forebodings were groundless, reported to the House of Commons as follows: "Looking at the establishment as a whole, it appears to your Committee that the Metropolitan police has imposed no restraint, either upon public bodies or individuals, which is not entirely consistent with the fullest practical exercise of every civil privilege, and with the most unrestrained intercourse of private society."

CHAPTER XIV
POLICE REFORM IN BOROUGHS

It is sometimes assumed that the Metropolitan Police Act solved, once and for all, the question as to the manner in which London was to be policed for the future. Such, however, was far from being the case. The old prejudice was not lived down in a day; and the jealousy of those who saw what they were pleased to consider their vested rights slipping out of their grasp into the hands of the newcomers, caused the remnant of the old office-holders to make frantic efforts to recover what they had lost, and to hold fast what they were in danger of losing. There were still many irreconcilables, who looked upon the new force as a gang of usurpers and treated it with distrust and suspicion accordingly, hoping that some false move on the part of the police authorities, or some unlooked-for happy chance, might change the fortunes of the day. Luckily no such set-back occurred, and by slow degrees the ultimate success of the principles enunciated by Peel became more and more assured, and Scotland Yard triumphed to the discomfiture of all possible rivals.

From the very commencement Sir Robert Peel had declared that unity of design was essential to success; but when the reorganization took place, Parliament shrank from the bold course marked out for it, and instead of making a clean sweep of all that was useless, whilst transferring to the new police anything in the old system that was of value, preferred to retain some of the existing unsatisfactory agencies, and to allow them to continue to manage or mismanage their own affairs as before.

The establishments within the boundaries of the Metropolitan Police area that survived the reorganization of 1829 were[189]—

Each of these independent establishments carried out its police functions according to its own peculiar ideas and local traditions. One and all were jealous of their powerful neighbour at Scotland Yard; and when they dared to do so, were not ashamed to countenance the petty and spiteful tactics that their subordinate officers lost no opportunity of indulging in.

It will be remembered that a short supplementary Act[190] had contemplated the transference of the powers possessed by the Chief Magistrate at Bow Street over the Horse Patrol, to the Metropolitan Police Commissioners. This intention was not given effect to at the time, the Patrol being left under the command of its old chief, Mr Day; and the Act was repealed in 1833.[191] It was not until October 1836, or more than seven years after the passing of Peel's measure, that the Horse Patrol became an integral part of the Metropolitan Consolidated Police, an amalgamation which, besides increasing the actual efficiency of both forces, effected an annual saving of more than a thousand pounds.[192] The horse-patrolmen became mounted constables, being attached as such to the exterior divisions, where the beats were long; and this arrangement has been continued to the present day.

It took longer to arrive at a satisfactory settlement with regard to the small detached bodies of police belonging to the nine stipendiary offices enumerated above. No one wished to interfere with the judicial functions of these police-courts; but it was highly desirable to effect a separation between the judicial and executive branches, and to bring under proper supervision and control the undisciplined plain-clothes policemen who thought more of picking up a good living for themselves, and of "scoring off" their uniformed rivals, than they did of the preservation of the peace. The manner in which the general business of these police offices was conducted left much to be desired, whilst the arrangements for the conveyance of prisoners, and for their detention when awaiting disposal and under remand, were about as bad as they could be. As many as thirty prisoners of all conditions, of various ages, and of both sexes, were often crowded together in a prison van, in which there was only accommodation for twenty, and left there for hours in the dark whilst the van was making the tour of the police offices. When no conveyance was available, prisoners were sometimes conducted from the place of detention to the police-court handcuffed and fastened together by a long chain. It was alleged, probably with truth, that the officer in charge would allow his prisoners to be supplied with drink by sympathetic onlookers as, in Indian file, the procession passed through the public streets.

Such abuses were put an end to when the inevitable consolidation took place and the separate jurisdiction of the stipendiary offices ceased. The necessary duties about the courts were for the future ably performed by sergeants and constables of the new police, and the old staff, including the Bow Street Runners, were pensioned off or absorbed into the Metropolitan force. This centralization not only materially conduced to increased efficiency and diminished expense, but by severing the too intimate connection that had previously existed between magistrates and policemen, was calculated to reassure the public, in so far that a magistracy untrammelled by police responsibility would be less prone to be over-indulgent towards any excesses of which the Constabulary might at any time be guilty.

The case of the third independent body was altogether different. The duties that fell to the River Police were special duties, and specially trained men were required to perform them adequately. The Thames police establishment, which was recruited chiefly from ex-sailors and watermen, consisted of sixty constables under the direction of twenty "surveyors"—each surveyor being in charge of a boat manned by three men; their powers comprised the right to board vessels in search of contraband or stolen articles, and generally to discharge the duties of excisemen and policemen combined. Since the year 1798, when the River Police was remodelled on the lines suggested by Colquhoun, it had proved an efficient body, and there were no obvious abuses or shortcomings that necessitated a radical change; the arguments for and against amalgamation were therefore more evenly balanced than was the case with the stipendiary offices, but it was felt that as both banks of the Thames were patrolled by the Metropolitan Police, it was rather absurd that the river between should be under a separate organization and control. It was accordingly decided to continue the work of consolidation, and many of the powers previously exercised by the magistrates of the Thames Office were transferred to the Commissioners at Scotland Yard, the personnel of the river force being left as before.

The police arrangements in the City of London have already been described; certain modifications and improvements had been recently introduced, but the general scheme remained virtually the same as it had been any time during the last quarter of a century. It is true that a better class of man was employed than was formerly the case; but the system was not good, marred as it was by a lack of uniformity within, and a failure to co-operate with the kindred agencies without, the city boundaries. The expense too was excessive, and there was a period between the relief of the day patrols and the mounting of the night watch when no police at all were on duty. There can be little doubt that if the civic authorities had permitted this unsatisfactory state of affairs to continue much longer, government would have insisted upon consolidation, thus putting an end to the separate and exclusive jurisdiction in matters of police which, for five hundred years, had been the privilege of the City of London. Such a step, however, was rendered unnecessary by the timely precautions adopted by the Lord Mayor and Aldermen, who, taking the Metropolitan police as a pattern, entirely reorganized the city force, bringing it up to date both in respect to numbers and efficiency, and so ordering it that there should be no cause for friction between the city constables and metropolitan policemen, and no cause for jealousy other than that which proceeds from a healthy sentiment of esprit de corps. The legislature was all the more ready to acquiesce in this compromise, because the City, asking for no assistance from the Treasury, bore the whole expense connected with the improved constabulary out of its private revenues.[193]

By the end of 1839 the consolidation was complete, and within a circumference distant fifteen miles from Charing Cross there remained but two police forces, both organized on similar lines and each designed on intelligent principles, in the place of the heterogeneous medley of samples formerly existing. In this same year, the efficiency of the Metropolitan Police was increased, and its sphere of usefulness enlarged, by an Act[194] which enables additions to be made to the police district by an Order in Council, and which empowers its officers to act as constables in and for certain specified districts outside the Metropolitan Police Area, such as, for example, the City of London, all navigable parts of the River Thames, and any place within ten miles of a Royal Palace. Authority was also given to police-constables to suppress gaming houses, disorderly houses, and illegal games (such as cock-fighting, prize-fighting, bull-baiting, and the like), to supervise licensed premises and pawnbrokers, and to regulate fairs and street-musicians.[195]

The success that had attended the reorganization of the police of the metropolis, and the gratifying results that, on the whole, had followed the experiment, encouraged the hope that the benefits conferred by an efficient constabulary would soon be shared by the boroughs throughout the country. It would be an endless task to attempt a description of all the various police systems which found favour in the provincial towns, especially as in no two places was exactly the same pattern adopted; and it will be quite sufficient for our purpose if we briefly notice the arrangements come to for the prevention of crime and the maintenance of order in the case of a few selected boroughs.

In 1833 Bath had a population of about 20,000, or if we include the suburbs, 55,000; there was no permanent body of professional peace officers, only tythingmen or constables to the number of 110. This small force was split up into three parts, each part independent of, and antagonistic to, the others: on the occasion of a parliamentary election, when party feeling ran high and serious disturbances took place all over the town, the Walcot and Bathwick divisions gave their assistance, but the city police refused to act, even when they were appealed to by the Mayor in person. If a felony was committed in the city, the guilty party could only be apprehended on the warrant of a city magistrate, and, if the felon should succeed in reaching the suburbs, the city constables could not execute the warrant until it was backed by a justice of the county of Somersetshire.

In Gloucester no watchmen were employed before 1822, and the whole available constabulary force consisted of the Sergeant-at-Mace, and the other officers of the Corporation, assisted by twelve constables appointed by the magistrates. The ancient Court of Pie-poudre flourished until 1770 or thereabouts, after which it gradually fell into disuse. In 1831 two day policemen were appointed in imitation of the London system.

Coventry, with a population of 28,000, supported 60 peace-officers under the command of a chief-constable, and from 8 to 10 watchmen under the orders of an official called "the Inspector of the Watch." In case of emergency the town looked for protection to the services of special constables who had been enrolled in times of tumult to the number of four or five hundred. Generally speaking the police were unpaid, but when employed in quelling a riot, the constables were sometimes given a shilling or eighteenpence for refreshments.

Dover had two distinct forces, one under the control of the magistrates, and the other (established under the "Pavement Act"), wholly independent. The total number of constables was from 25 to 30, but they had nothing to do with watching the town.

At this time Hull contained 36,000 inhabitants, and was policed on a very economical plan. The chief constable supervised thirty-nine officers who were only paid for work done; that is to say, the constables were allowed so much an hour for time actually spent in apprehending felons or vagrants, on the principle: no prisoner, no pay.

The dock companies employed a percentage of their day-labourers to act as night watchmen, and, under a local act, 72 watchmen were appointed for the town and outlying districts. In Portsmouth 22 peace officers pretended to protect nearly 50,000 people, and in Liverpool, where the prevalence of crime was so pronounced that the town was often spoken of as the "black spot on the Mersey," the only police force existing in 1834 was a body of 50 watchmen (of the usual type), to keep order amongst 240,000 inhabitants.

These brief but representative examples will give some idea of the diversity of police systems and police expedients to be found in the larger towns. If each borough had been left to work out its own salvation according to its own predilections, constabulary forces more or less efficient would eventually, no doubt, have sprung up here and there; but the absence of uniformity and co-operation, which necessarily must accompany such a spasmodic process, would have seriously retarded the ultimate triumph of good government throughout England.

There were three principal reasons why the immediate provision of a general scheme of police reform in the Boroughs was urgently required at this particular moment. Criminals of all kinds are ever on the alert to find an Alsatia where they can ply their trades without the unwelcome interference of their hereditary enemy, the policeman, and the formation of the Metropolitan force was the signal for a wholesale exodus of depredators from London towards other and more secluded centres of activity. The smaller country towns and rural districts offered few attractions to enterprising thieves, and so boroughs like Liverpool, Manchester and Bristol, where considerable plunder was to be had at little risk, were the chosen retreats of many who no longer dared to brave it out in London.

If any reliance may be placed on contemporary statistics, this migration entirely altered the distribution of the criminal classes: it was estimated, incredible as it may seem, that in 1797 nearly ten per cent. of the population of London supported themselves "by pursuits either criminally illegal or immoral":[196] in 1837, the proportion of known bad characters to the population was calculated at only 1 to 89 in the Metropolitan Police District, but at 1 to 45 in the Borough of Liverpool, 1 to 31 in the City of Bristol, and 1 to 27 in the Town of Newcastle-on-Tyne.[197] One cannot believe that these calculations were based on perfectly accurate information, but on the other hand it is unlikely that the results are so wide of the mark as to be altogether without value, and after allowing a large margin for error, proof enough remains that the enhanced security of London had, to some extent, been purchased at the expense of the inhabitants of other towns.

The desire to acquire wealth without working for it—to "live idly yet to fare well"—is the main incentive that makes men criminal, and experience proves that if those who live by their wits are sufficiently harassed, they soon show their wit by returning to the humdrum path of honesty till such time as the vigilance of their enemies is relaxed. "Allow the thief no rest" is a sound maxim of preventive police; and if in 1829 it had been possible simultaneously to provide efficient police for all the towns of England, many and many a thief would have been driven to exchange his old occupation for some less precarious trade.

The second reason why delay was dangerous was because of the enormous increase of population in the manufacturing towns. Trade was brisk, money plentiful, and the rapid development of the railway system caused an increasing stream of workers to flow from the country into the industrial centres. The population of Birmingham, for instance, increased in this way from 90,000 in 1815 to 150,000 in 1832.

The last of the three reasons which contributed to make this particular moment especially opportune for insisting that the provincial towns should provide themselves with an improved and adequate police, was because Municipal reform was the question of the hour, and it was therefore extremely important that the new-fashioned Boroughs should neither perpetuate faulty tradition nor originate impracticable experiment.

The history of English Boroughs cannot here be discussed; it will be sufficient to remark that, early in English history, charters, giving powers of self-government, had been granted to many towns and by many successive sovereigns. The creation of Corporate Towns was esteemed one of the highest prerogatives of the Crown, but the powers so conferred were seldom employed to the best advantage; and the fact that failure was especially pronounced in the matter of peace-maintenance is sufficiently illustrated by the examples already given of borough police forces, as at this time constituted.

Legislative reform was set on foot in 1833 by the "Lighting and Watching Act" of William IV.,[198] which provided that inspectors should be appointed and given a large measure of control over the local police establishments of all English towns with the exceptions of London, Oxford, and Cambridge; this Act was, however, of little permanent value,[199] and is only worthy of notice as the first attempt to provide a day police outside the metropolis. In the following year the whole question of charters, etc., was investigated by Special Commissioners, who issued a report embodying recommendations, which, for the most part, were given effect to by the "Municipal Corporations Act" of 1835.[200] After repealing all Acts, charters, and customs inconsistent with itself, this statute proceeds to create municipal corporations for the larger towns; such corporations to be styled "The Mayor, Aldermen, and Burgesses." The Mayor is declared to be a Justice of the Peace for the borough, and no property qualification is now required of him. The Common Law method of appointing constables is placed on a new basis, for the Act entrusts the making of Head and other constables to a body composed of the mayor and councilmen, called "The Watch Committee," the members of which are empowered, at their discretion, to make regulations for the management of the police, and to discharge or otherwise punish any constable found remiss in his duties, provided that three members at least are present when the award is made.

Borough constables are given powers to act in the county as well as in the town, and are authorized, not only to apprehend disorderly persons at any time, but during the night may take bail by recognizance from persons brought before them for petty misdemeanours, such recognizance to be conditioned for the appearance of the parties before the magistrate.

Watch Committees are required to provide station-houses, and every quarter must transmit to the Home Secretary a return shewing the number of men employed, the nature of their arms and accoutrements, together with an account of all salaries, clothing, and standing regulations for the forces; provision is made for the appointment, under certain conditions, of stipendiary magistrates at the request of the Council; the office of Borough Coroner is instituted; and finally, the Act requires two or more Justices to nominate and appoint by precept in writing, in October of each year, as many as they see fit of the inhabitants of the Borough to act as Special Constables there, whenever they shall be required by the warrant of a J.P.

The institution of special constables was a natural accompaniment to the general drift of circumstances which, for a long time, had been modifying English police. Originally, as we have seen, every free Englishman was compelled to take an active part in maintaining the peace: subsequently, by common consent and merely for the sake of convenience, the performance of police functions passed into the hands of individuals, either chosen or hired for the purpose, it mattered not which. As long as the principle of an inherent liability to universal service was generally well understood and acted upon, or, in other words, as long as the Sheriff's posse was available in emergencies, no legislation was required on the subject, because at Common Law a sufficient force of special constables already existed; but when this common responsibility for action was in danger of being forgotten, or, what amounts to much the same thing, when the existing machinery was incapable of giving effect to it, some new expedient had to be devised to take its place.

The first Act of Parliament authorizing the appointment of special constables was passed in 1673,[201] and was a tardy attempt to repair the havoc caused by the Civil War, but like many laws that found their way into the Statute Book during the seventeenth century, it might just as well have remained unprinted, for all the use that was made of it. It was not employed to restrain the Mohocks, nor to suppress the Gordon rioters, nor to save Bristol from the incendiaries. In 1831, however, began a sustained effort to systematize the overwhelming reserve of force at the disposal of the government of the country; this was the combined work of "The Special Constables' Act"[202] of 1831, of the "Municipal Corporations Act"[203] of 1835, and lastly of an Act[204] which became law shortly after the accession of Queen Victoria. These three Statutes dealt with the subject in detail, by defining what constitutes a special constable, by specifying his powers, and by stating when and by whom he is to be appointed. Between them they authorize "two or more justices, upon information on oath of any credible witness, that tumult, riot, or felony has taken place, or may be reasonably apprehended, such justices being of opinion that the ordinary officers are not sufficient for the preservation of the peace and protection of the inhabitants and property," to "nominate and appoint by precept under their hand so many as they shall think fit of the householders or other persons (not legally exempt from serving the office of Constable) residing in the parish or place or in the neighbourhood, for such time and in such manner as to the same justices shall seem fit," and ordain that they "shall send notice of such appointment to the Secretary of State and the Lieutenant of the county. Specials may act, not only in the parish or place for which appointed, but throughout the jurisdiction of the Justices appointing, and on the order of Justices of their own county, may act in an adjoining county."[205] Generally speaking, special constables have all the powers, and are subject to all the responsibilities, that ordinarily attach to police constables within their constablewicks.

The years 1829 and 1839 mark the limits of the most important decade in our police history. During this period of time the English boroughs acquired the means of securing themselves against the rising tide of crime which had threatened to overwhelm them; and an adequate defence against mob violence was made available by the legislation which restored, and reduced to a system, the power of the executive to enlist as many special constables as might be necessary for the maintenance of law and order. Whilst the former year will always be considered, and rightly so, as the most prominent landmark of the great revival from which dates an almost constant growth of police efficiency, the latter is hardly less noteworthy. 1839 not only saw the metropolitan forces for the first time firmly established on a permanent and satisfactory basis, it witnessed also the earlier stages of that movement in the rural districts which eventually provided the whole of England with a trustworthy constabulary.