Saunterings in and about London

by Max Schlesinger

On his arrival in Folkestone or Dover, many an honest German has, from mere force of habit, put his hand in his pocket and produced his passport ready for inspection. Of course the methodical foreigner was laughed at for his pains. The Emperor of France and his satellites may possibly have an interest in knowing all particulars about those who turn their backs upon them; but constitutional England is not in the habit of asking her guests whence they come, why they come, and whither they go. After a short interview with the Custom-house officers—and these, too, though functionaries, are dressed like all other honest men—the stranger is free of the country; and if his trade be an honest one, he is not interfered with; indeed, he is almost neglected by the public authorities. On his arrival in London, he takes apartments in an hotel, or in a boarding-house, or he takes furnished lodgings, or a house, or a street; no matter, the police do not interfere with him; and to all appearance they pay no attention whatever to his proceedings.

This apparently unguarded liberty is the secret of the real grandeur of the Preventive Service. But that this is possible, is partly owing to the good-will of a liberal government, and partly to the peculiarities of English life and manners. This is a point which we shall, on a future occasion, treat at greater length.

The circumstance that a stranger may walk to and fro between the Isle of Wight and the Orkneys without being questioned, protocolled, and stopped, has caused many a foreigner to doubt the safety of life in England generally. A certain Berlin professor, I am told, got quite angry on the subject. “A man,” said he, “goes about in England exactly as if he were disowned by society and removed from within the pale of it. The very dogs of Berlin are more respected! At least they have their numbers taken and are entered into the dog-book (Hundebuch), at the police-office, while in England none but thieves can feel comfortable, since thieves alone are in a manner noticed by the police.”

In treating of the functions of the London Police, we ought at once to say, that the police in England is essentially a force of safety, whose functions are limited to the prevention of crime and the apprehension of criminals. All its departments of river, street, and railway police are instituted for the same purpose. There has not hitherto been a political department in Scotland-yard. The police, as at present organised, deals only with the vulgar sins of larceny, robbery, murder, and forgery; it superintends the cleaning of the streets; it prevents the interruption of the street traffic, and it takes care of drunkards and of children that have strayed from their homes. But political opinions, however atrocious, if they have not ripened into criminal action, are altogether without the sphere of the English police.

The policemen, as the free citizens of a free country, are perfectly at liberty to have political opinions of their own; they need not modify or conceal their sentiments when they take the blue coat and the glazed hat. They are required to catch thieves as cats do mice. Some of them are ultra-royalists; others are ultra-radicals. Generally speaking, they are not by any means conservatives. The majority of them belong to the poorer and less educated classes; they take their political opinions from the radical weekly papers. They club together as sailors, cabmen, and labourers do, and take in their weekly paper, which they read and discuss all the week through. They quote their paper whenever they talk politics, and this they do frequently, for your London policeman is as zealous a dabbler in politics as any ale-house keeper in Suabia.

Adam Smith founds his financial theories on the division of labour. The division of labour is also the firm basis of the efficiency of the English police. Since they have not to perform all the functions which weigh on the shoulders of their helmeted and sabred brethren on the continent; since they need not devote their attention to political conversations and movements in the case of individuals or of communities; since they need not keep watch over and give an account of the movements and opinions of strangers and natives; and since they have nothing whatever to do with the secrets of families, the leaders of the daily papers, nor with the unsealing and sealing of post-office letters, they are at liberty to devote all their energy and ingenuity to the efficient discharge of those functions which are properly assigned to them.

It is not a fable, nor a piece of English braggadocio, when it is said, that the thieves are more thoroughly hunted down in this immense city of London, than they are in the smaller German capitals. A foreigner who studies the police-reports of the great London journals, will find there ample matter for admiration and reflection. We quote but one example, to show the manner in which the various parts of the police machine work together. The anecdote may possibly contain some useful hints for the guardians of constitutional towns.

A printer sends one of his men to the stationer to take in stock for the printing-office. It was late on a Saturday afternoon, and the manufacturer promised to have the paper in readiness early on Monday. The man to whom the message was entrusted and who brought back the answer, was, for some reason or other, dismissed in the course of that very evening.

On the Monday, another messenger was sent for the paper. He came back without it. The paper had been taken away a few hours before he arrived at the stationer’s. No paper, however, had come to the printing-office. The greatest embarrassment prevailed. A couple of hours pass, and yet the paper does not arrive. Suspicion is at length directed to the man who had been discharged. Inquiries are made at the stationer’s, and the description of the person who came for the paper corresponds with the appearance of the suspected person. Upon this, the printer proceeds to the police-station to report the case. What with waiting and sending about, the better part of the day was gone.

Mr. M—then makes his appearance in the inspector’s office, and proceeds to state his case. But scarcely has he given his name, when the inspector puts a stop to all further explanations. “You’ve been robbed, Mr. M—. We know all about it. The thief is in custody, and the goods must by this time have been delivered at your office. One ream of No. 2 and two reams of No. 5 are wanting; but we know where to find them. They shall be sent to you to-morrow. Good bye, sir.”