A History of Police in England

by W. L. Melville Lee

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.