NFBE Chapter 1976 - 171: Patron Saint of British Police_2
Chapter 1976 - 171: Patron Saint of British Police_2
Precisely for this reason, Sir Robert Peel had to go to great lengths, using means such as excluding the old city (London Financial City) police forces from the jurisdiction of Scotland Yard and amusing the Special Committee with various statistics on street crime and vagrancy, to ensure the successful parliamentary review of the Metropolitan Police Act.
For Londoners, eight years after the passage of the Metropolitan Police Act, they witnessed profound changes in London’s urban landscape and experienced noticeably decreased crime rates.
As for Sir Arthur Hastings, the establishment of Scotland Yard marked a small step in his personal career, yet a giant leap for the British police system.
Since its inauguration in 1829, these rookies dressed in dark blue tailcoats became the laughingstock of London.
Children chased after them calling "Mr. Peel," drunks whistled at them at alley corners, and maidservants covered their mouths to snicker, saying these people were just young watchmen in different uniforms. Yet, no matter how much people laughed, Scotland Yard’s steps continued to appear on the cobblestone streets daily, with batons and gloves becoming the new street fashion.
In 1832, London showed them no mercy. The revolutionary waves from France swept into Britain’s streets as well.
Demonstrators pushed from the East District all the way to White Hall, with crowds bustling in front of the Parliament. The military drew lines at the back while police blocked the road at the front.
People cursed them as government dogs, yet under the Tower of London, a gunshot sounded...
Well... never mind.
It was still better than the French deploying the Dragon Cavalry to calm the situation.
After 1833, the situation gradually eased, although the Cold Bath incident appeared amidst, the number of theft and robbery cases on the streets undeniably decreased, leading citizens to become hesitant but begin to acknowledge perhaps this group of "blue lobsters" was not entirely useless.
By 1834, after the Westminster Palace caught fire and Officer Robert Cali’s memorial ceremony at St Martin’s Church, the reputation of the police system in this city surprisingly started to improve.
This year, with Queen Victoria ascending the throne, Scotland Yard had endured the storms and emerged with some semblance.
On the streets of London Market, the aroma of oil-fried pancakes mixed with the mist from the charcoal stoves spread around.
Vendors had just set up their stalls, with dew still hanging on the vegetables on the carts, while the sound of horse hooves mixed with cries of trade.
Two uniformed young policemen squeezed in front of a breakfast stall, each holding a rough tin plate.
Two pieces of bread, a few slices of smoked bacon, adding a cup of hot milk, this was their breakfast today.
"Have you heard?" The taller one took a bite of the bread, mumbling indistinctly: "Sir Arthur has indeed been appointed. The news from White Hall is spreading, heard that the London Gazette will publish it in a couple of days, it should be soon."
The shorter one was drinking milk with little concern, waving his hand: "What new appointment does Sir Arthur have now? He just went to the Police Commissioner Committee not long ago, already needs to be transferred again?"
The taller one shook his head, deliberately lowering his voice in mystery: "Transferred? Ha, you’re thinking too small. This time it’s not simply changing a job."
The shorter one paused, placing the cup on the table: "Not a job? What else could it be? Surely not entering the Cabinet? Sir is not a member of Parliament, how can he become a minister?"
Upon saying this, the shorter one hesitated for a moment, then analyzed, pinching his chin: "However... logically speaking, with the King’s passing, Parliament must hold a re-election, right? I remember a few years ago when George IV died, didn’t they hold an election again? Could it be that this time Sir..."
The taller one couldn’t help but laugh at this, almost spitting out the bacon in his mouth: "Stephen, your mind is full of those imaginable things. Parliamentary elections are parliamentary elections, nothing to do with Sir Arthur entering the Cabinet, and even if elections are held now, where would he have the time to prepare?"
The shorter one reddened, retorting indignantly: "Then tell me, what benefits can he gain? I only know he moved swiftly from Patrolman to the Police Commissioner Committee, shocking everyone, where can he go from here? To meet God?"
The taller one turned his eyes, holding the suspense: "I heard... he’s to oversee intelligence."
The shorter one was stunned, blinking: "Intelligence? Wasn’t he overseeing intelligence already? Anything from the Police Intelligence Department goes to him first, even our brothers from Scotland Yard get second-hand intelligence, if he wants fresher intel, Sir can only go out on the streets himself."
The taller one stuffed the last piece of bacon into his mouth, chewing slowly, his eyes showing a hint of smugness: "You really think it’s just Scotland Yard’s small turf? I’m not talking about the usual trifles."
"Trifles?" The shorter one snorted: "Then you don’t know what the Police Intelligence Department is doing, if I tell you, it’ll scare you to death!"
The taller one initially feigned mystery, but upon hearing this, dismissed it with a sneer: "Scare me? Come on, Stephen, you think I don’t know, they just do some dirty work like planting informants in unions, you think I don’t know?"