The Copybook
Short passages for reading, drawn from history, legend, poetry and fiction.
Short passages for reading, drawn from history, legend, poetry and fiction.
At the very centre of Sir Robert Peel’s idea of policing was the constable’s beat: a few streets, shops and families that he must know and care about.
Whenever newspapers print letters from anxious correspondents demanding more ‘constables on the beat,’ letters are sure to follow reminding us that patrolling a beat is an archaic model of policing not seen in this country for a generation. But back in 1862, the Metropolitan Police still clung to their founding principle that prevention is better than cure.
The Commissioners of the Metropolitan Police reiterated that what they liked best was a policeman who never arrested anyone.
In 1829, Sir Robert Peel’s Metropolitan Police Act passed into law with the blessing of Prime Minister Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington, and King George IV. Sir Richard Mayne, a barrister, drew up guidelines emphasising that the measure of success was not arrests and prosecutions, but tranquil communities, and thirty-three years later the Met saw no reason to change them.
Chinese merchant Lien Chi tells a colleague that English liberties have little to do with elections, taxes and regulations.
In a fictional ‘letter’, supposedly by Chinese merchant Lien Chi, Oliver Goldsmith argued that England felt more free than other countries because minor transgressions were winked at until they become too great for safety. On the Continent they maybe had simpler laws and more democracy, but they also had more meddlesome, self-righteous and prying governments.
After witnessing a bus conductor’s battle of wills with the London public, journalist Alfred Gardiner felt obliged to give him a little advice.
The conductor of an open-topped bus once told a lady carrying a little dog to take it upstairs, despite the lashing rain. The passengers backed her up, stopped the bus and summoned a constable. The conductor stuck to his position, however, and eventually got his way; but after everyone else had gone home he tried to win a little sympathy from journalist A. G. Gardiner.
On the day that the Unknown Warrior was laid to rest in Westminster Abbey, ‘Alpha of the Plough’ wondered if the country would prove worthy of him.
Like other correspondents for London’s newspaper ‘The Star,’ Alfred Gardiner took a nom-de-plume from astronomy, choosing ‘Alpha of the Plough.’ In this extract, written on November 11th, 1920, he reflected on the burial of the Unknown Warrior in Westminster Abbey that same day, and wondered if the people of Britain really understood what had happened.
Marguerite, Lady Blakeney, is powerless to intervene as her husband Sir Percy walks into a trap.
Marguerite St Just, now Lady Blakeney, has followed her husband Sir Percy to France after discovering that that amiable idiot is none other than the dashing Scarlet Pimpernel, responsible for saving so many from the guillotine — including, she hopes, her brother Armand. Concealed behind a curtain in a dirty Calais café, she watches in horror as Citizen Chauvelin draws his net tight around the heedless aristocrat.