CHAPTER LI.
Police—Dr. Colquhoun’s book—The old Watchmen—Their inadequacy admitted—Description of them—Constables—“First new mode of robbing in 1800”—Robbery in the House of Lords—Whipping—Severe sentence—The Stocks—The Pillory—Severe punishment—Another instance.
THE POLICE authorities very seldom attempted to interfere with these duels; indeed, practically there was no police. There were some men attached to the different police courts, and there were the parochial constables with their watchmen; but, according to our ideas, they were the merest apology for a police. Indeed, our grandfathers thought so themselves, and Dr. Colquhoun wrote a book upon the inefficiency of the police, which made a great stir. It was felt that some better protection was needed, as may be seen from two contemporary accounts: “Two things in London that fill the mind of the intelligent observer with the most delight, are the slight restraints of the police, and the general good order. A few old men armed with a staff, a rattle, and a lantern, called watchmen, are the only guard throughout the night against depredation; and a few magistrates and police officers the only persons whose employment it is to detect and punish depredators; yet we venture to assert that no city, in proportion to its trade, luxury, and population, is so free from danger, or from depredations, open or concealed, on property.”
WATCHMEN GOING ON DUTY—1808.
“The streets of London are better paved, and better lighted than those of any metropolis in Europe; we have fewer street robberies, and scarcely ever a midnight assassination. Yet it is singular, where the police is so ably regulated, that the watchmen, our guardians of the night, are, generally, old decrepit men, who have scarcely strength to use the alarum which is their signal of distress in cases of emergency.”
WATCH-HOUSE. MARYLEBONE—1808.
Thus we see that even contemporaries were not enthusiastic over their protectors; and a glance at the two accompanying illustrations fully justify their opinion. “The Microcosm of London,” from which they are taken, says: “The watch is a parochial establishment supported by a parochial rate, and subject to the jurisdiction of the magistrates: it is necessary to the peace and security of the Metropolis, and is of considerable utility: but that it might be rendered much more useful, cannot be denied. That the watch should consist of able-bodied men, is, we presume, essential to the complete design of its institution, as it forms a part of its legal description: but that the watchmen are persons of this character, experience will not vouch; and why they are so frequently chosen from among the aged, and incapable, must be answered by those who make the choice. In the early part of the last century, an halbert was their weapon; it was then changed into a long staff; but the great coat and the lantern are now accompanied with more advantageous implements of duty—a bludgeon, and a rattle. It is almost superfluous to add, that the watch-house is a place where the appointed watchmen assemble to be accoutred for their nocturnal rounds, under the direction of a Constable, whose duty, being taken by rotation, enjoys the title of Constable of the night. It is also the receptacle for such unfortunate persons as are apprehended by the watch, and where they remain in custody till they can be conducted to the tribunal of a police office, for the examination of the magistrate.
CONSTABLES—1805.
The following little anecdote further illustrates the inefficiency of these guardians of the peace—Morning Herald, October 30, 1802: “It is said that a man who presented himself for the office of watchman to a parish at the West-end of the town, very much infested by depredators, was lately turned away from the vestry with this reprimand: ‘I am astonished at the impudence of such a great, sturdy, strong fellow as you, being so idle as to apply for a Watchman’s situation, when you are capable of labour!’”
Part of their duty was to go their rounds once every hour, calling out the time, and the state of the weather, and this was done to insure their watchfulness, but it must also have given warning to thieves. This duty done, they retired to a somewhat roomy sentry box, where, should they fall asleep, it was a favourite trick of the mad wags of the town to overturn them face downwards. Being old and infirm, they naturally became the butts and prey of the bucks, and bloods, in their nocturnal rambles; but such injuries as they received, either to their dignity, or persons were generally compounded for by a pecuniary recompense.
The Constable, was a superior being, he was the Dogberry, and was armed with a long staff.
Crime then was very much what it is now; there is very little new under the sun in wickedness—still, the Morning Post of February 3, 1800, has the
“First new mode of Robbing
in 1800.
“A few days past, a man entered a little public-house, near Kingston, called for a pint of ale, drank it, and, whilst his host was away, put the pot in his pocket, and, without even paying for the beer, withdrew. The landlord, returning, two other men, who were in the room, asked him whether he knew the person who had just left the house? ‘No,’ he replied. ‘Did he pay for the ale?’ said they. ‘No,’ answered the other. ‘Why, d—n him,’ cried one of the guests, ‘he put the pot in his pocket.’ ‘The devil, he did!’ exclaimed the host, ‘I will soon be after him.’
“Saying this, he ran to the door, and the two men with him. ‘There, there, he’s going round the corner now!’ said one, pointing. Upon which the landlord immediately set off, and, cutting across a field, quickly came up to him. ‘Holloa! my friend,’ said he, ‘you forgot to pay for your beer.’ ‘Yes,’ replied the other, ‘I know that!’ ‘And, perhaps you know, too,’ added the host, ‘that you took away the pot? Come, come, I must have that back again, at any rate.’ ‘Well, well,’ said the man, and put his hand into his pocket, as if about to return the pot; but, instead of that, he produced a pistol, and robbed the ale-house keeper of his watch and money.
“This might seem calamity enough for the poor man; but, to fill up his cup of misfortune to the brim, he found, on reaching his home, that the two he had left behind, had, during his absence, plundered his till, stolen his silver spoons, and decamped.”
One of the most audacious robberies of those ten years, was one which took place on September 21, 1801, when the House of Lords was robbed of all the gold lace, and the ornaments of the throne, the King’s arms excepted, were stripped, and carried away. Nor was the thief ever found.
For minor offences the punishments were, Whipping, the Stocks, and the Pillory; for graver ones, Imprisonment, Transportation, and Death.
As a specimen of the offence for which Whipping was prescribed, and the whipping itself, take the following—Morning Post, November 4, 1800: “This day, being hay-market day at Whitechapel, John Butler, pursuant to his sentence at the last General Quarter Sessions, held at Clerkenwell, is to be publicly whipped from Whitechapel Bars, to the further end of Mile End, Town, the distance of two miles, for having received several trusses of hay, knowing them to have been stolen, and for which he gave an inferior price.”
The Stocks were only for pitiful rogues and vagabonds, and for very minor offences; but the Pillory, when the criminals were well known, and the crime an heinous one, must have been a very severe punishment; for, setting aside the acute sense of shame which such publicity must have awoke in any heart not absolutely callous, the physical pain, if the mob was ill-tempered, must have been great. As a proof, I will give two instances.
The first is from the Morning Herald, January 28, 1804: “The enormity of Thomas Scott’s offence, in endeavouring to accuse Capt. Kennah, a respectable officer, together with his servant, of robbery, having attracted much public notice, his conviction, that followed the attempt, could not but be gratifying to all lovers of justice. Yesterday, the culprit underwent a part of his punishment; he was placed in the pillory, at Charing Cross, for one hour. On his first appearance, he was greeted by a large mob, with a discharge of small shot, such as rotten eggs, filth, and dirt from the streets, which was followed up by dead cats, rats, &c., which had been collected in the vicinity of the Metropolis by the boys in the morning. When he was taken away to Cold Bath Fields, to which place he is sentenced for twelve months, the mob broke the windows of the coach, and would have proceeded to violence[79] had the Police Officers not been at hand.”
PILLORY. CHARING CROSS.
The other is taken from the Annual Register, September 27, 1810: “Cooke, the publican of the Swan, in Vere Street, Clare Market, and five others of the eleven miscreants convicted of detestable practices, stood in the pillory in the Haymarket, opposite to Panton Street. Such was the degree of popular indignation excited against these wretches, and such the general eagerness to witness their punishment that by ten in the morning, all the windows and even the roofs of the houses were crowded with persons of both sexes; and every coach, waggon, hay-cart, dray, and other vehicle which blocked up great part of the streets, were crowded with spectators.
THE PILLORY.
“The Sheriffs, attended by the two City marshals, with an immense number of constables, accompanied the procession of the prisoners from Newgate, whence they set out in the transport caravan, and proceeded through Fleet Street and the Strand; and the prisoners were hooted and pelted the whole way by the populace. At one o’clock, four of the culprits were fixed in the pillory, erected for, and accommodated to, the occasion, with two additional wings, one being allotted to each criminal. Immediately a new torrent of popular vengeance poured upon them from all sides; blood, garbage, and ordure from the slaughter houses, diversified with dead cats, turnips, potatoes, addled eggs, and other missiles to the last moment.
“Two wings of the pillory were then taken off to place Cooke and Amos in, who, although they came in only for the second course, had no reason to complain of short allowance. The vengeance of the crowd pursued them back to Newgate, and the caravan was filled with mud and ordure.
“No interference from the Sheriffs and police officers could restrain the popular rage; but, notwithstanding the immensity of the multitude, no accident of any note occurred.”
