Old times : $b A picture of social life at the end of the eighteenth centuryAshton, John
History
Old times : $b A picture of social life at the end of the eighteenth century
Ashton, John
Great Britain -- Social life and customs
All day long they were not; but, at night, they came out with the
bats, and owls, armed with a long staff, and a lantern, periodically
droning out the hour of the night, and the state of the weather. This
was done with the laudable intention of shewing their vigilance, but
it must equally have acted in an opposite direction, for every thief
must have had due warning of the watchman's whereabouts. They had
temporary shelters, larger than the Military Sentry box, and the wild
spirits of those days delighted to catch a watchman napping, and
overturn his box, thus temporarily incapacitating him from giving an
alarm, or following their flight. For the former purpose they used
huge rattles, smaller specimens of which were carried, for the same
purpose, by our own Metropolitan Police, until 1884.
Each parish looked after its own interests, had its own watch and
ward, and was mightily jealous of interference from another parish--an
arrangement evidently very much to the advantage of a thief. People
were always grumbling--but the state of things was never altered. Hear
what they said about it in 1788:--
"The Decrepid old Dotards, to whose vigilance the different
Vestries have confined their fellow Citizens, are likely to
profit from the order of nature being reversed by the life of our
modern nobility, who, rising at _two_, dining at _eight_, and
paying afternoon visits at _midnight_, have superseded the
necessity of having watchmen, and are, in fact, with their
servants, a much better patrole than any of the Bow Street
Justices could furnish."--(_Morning Post, April 21, 1788._)
There were amateur thief catchers like Jonathan Wild, men who would be
the companions, and confederates, of Highwaymen, Housebreakers, and
Thieves, drawing Money from them until they were sucked dry, and then
sacrifice them without an atom of remorse.
And there were the detectives of that time, the Bow Street Runners, or
Robin Red breasts as they were called, from their wearing red
waistcoats. Peter Pindar sang of them, especially of the three that
were detailed for the protection of the Royal family at the time of
the French Revolution.
". . . . . . . . . . . .
What a bright thought in George and Charlotte,
Who to escape each wicked Varlet,
And disappoint Tom Paine's disloyal crew,
Fixed on _Macmanus_, _Townsend_, _Jealous_,
Delightful company, delicious fellows,
To point out, every minute, who is who!
To hustle from before their noble graces,
Rascals with ill looks, designing faces,
Where treason, murder, and sedition dwell;
To give the life of every Newgate wretch,
To say who next the fatal cord shall stretch,
The sweet historian of the pensive cell."
[Illustration: Seen home by the Watch.--1792.]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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