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.