Ordering the city: surveillance, public space and the reform of urban policing in England 1835–56

POLITICALGEOGRAPHY,Vol. 12, No. 6, November 1993,505-521

Ordering the city: surveillance, public space and the reform of urban policing in England 1835-56 MILESOCBORN

Lecturer in Geography, Department of Geography, Saint David’s University College, Lampeter, @fed SA48 7ED

ABSTRACT. This paper questions those interpretations of 19th century police reform which seek to explain its incidence and intensity through the lens of economic relations. Through a critical reading of the work of Anthony Giddens and Michael Mann it replaces the concern with the quantitative features of the post-1835 provincial police forces with a sustained consideration of the changes in the organization of policing based on the idea of ‘surveillance’. From this it is argued that police reform in this period involved transformations in the deployment of policemen across space and in the definition of administrative hierarchies (involving the organization of information and supervision). It also meant changes in the conception of public space. Applying this framework to the example of the Portsmouth Borough police it is demonstrated that, despite the lack of substantial industrial change, this provincial police force had been significantly transformed in the period before 1856 through a series of locally initiated reforms. It is concluded that the specific nature of police reform must be understood as part of a historical geography of state formation which theorizes states at all levels in terms of the administrative power they deploy.

Introduction: economic histories, political geographies and police reform

Policing arrangements are inherently geographical phenomena; they are also deeply political (Fyfe, 1991; Keith, 1992). Their analysis, therefore, must be undertaken within an understanding of the state which is sensitive to notions of space and place, and which avoids the lure of economic reductionism (Driver, 1991). The debate among historians over the origins of the modern police in 19th century Britain has, however, revolved around attempts to explain the geographical variations in police reform in terms of the uneven development of the industrial revolution, understanding transformations in the policing of urbanizing Britain through the lens of changing economic relations. Swift, confirming Hart’s argument that ‘in most boroughs the reform of the police was gradual and the level of efficiency was still low in the 185Os’, has suggested that the degree of continuity or change in policing-the numerical strength of the police and the intensity with which they policed working-class communities-can be understood with reference 0962.6298/12/06 0505-17 0 1993 Butterworth-Heinemann

Ltd

506

Ordering the city

to the economic histories of localities (Hart, 1955: 420-421; Jones, 1983; Starch, 1990; Swift, 1988). By critically drawing on various strands of social theory this paper seeks to question the primacy of that link and to suggest that a consideration of the political geography of policing shows that matters are rather more complex. Instead of concentrating on industrial activity it will be argued that the type of policing a locality, or nation, gets is not simply related to its economic relations. What is also important is a political history and political geography of state formation whose dimensions cannot be reduced to, or be explained solely by, the contours and discontinuities of economic change. Any assessment of the degree of continuity or change in policing in the first half of the 19th century is dependent upon the dimensions of reform which are given priority in the analysis: the adoption of particular models of policing, changes in personnel, increases in the size of forces, or alterations in arrest and conviction figures. What is emphasized in what follows is not the quantitative changes in policing, changes in the numbers of policemen or the numbers of defendants brought before the magistrates’ bench, but the qualitative changes in the way that policing was organized: the ways in which the geography of policing and the administrative hierarchies of the new police forces were arranged and rearranged as part of attempt to order the city’s public spaces, This concentration on the organization of hierarchies and spaces is prompted by an understanding of policing in relation to social theories of modern state power which stress ‘the power of the state to penetrate and centrally co-ordinate the activities of civil society through its own infrastructure’ (Mann, 1984: 190), and the basis of that power in the ‘control over the timing and spacing of human activities’ (Giddens, 1985: 47). This, in turn, is understood as relying on the accumulation and systematic use of coded information about civil society, and the exercise of direct supervision over it in various ways (Dandeker, 1990). These ways of thinking about the state help to address the problem considered here in two ways. First, a consideration of the nature of Mann’s infrastructurul power or Giddens’ administrativepower or surveillance helps in the empirical unravelling of the distinctive spatial and temporal patterns of modern policing in terms of the state’s penetration and coordination of the times and spaces of civil society. Second, because both Mann and Giddens, and others who use similar terminology, are concerned to theorize the bases on which the state can be understood as, at least relatively, autonomous, they can provide useful materials for rescuing the history of police reform from the historians’ economic reductionism. It must be noted, however, that the use of these materials cannot be uncritical. Thinking in these ways means that the ‘surveillance’ involved in policing is understood not only in a quite specific sense as a new programme for the intensive policing of working-class districts (Starch, 1976), but as the key to the organization of all modern policing in its combination of the accumulation of information and the exercise of direct supervision over a particular territory (Giddens, 1985). For the police this involves the ways in which the arrangement of police action over the space of the city intersects with their own internal authority structures and the information flows between their constituent parts. Within this framework the spatial dispositions of the police, evidence of which survives more readily-at least in skeletal form-in the dry notations of the bureaucratic record, are to be understood in relation to the geographies of knowledge and supervision they constitute and which, in turn, constitute them. As such all policing arrangements involve surveillance in some degree. They differ, however, in the intensity of surveillance, and whether it is increased or decreased as policing apparatuses are reformed (Dandeker, 1990).

MILES OCBORN

Understanding determinants

policing

in these

of police reforms

terms

turns

507

attention

to resituate those changes

away from

the

economic

within a broadly conceived

notion of political geography which stresses the processes of state formation and shifting ideas of governance. This can be seen most clearly in work which involves international comparisons of states and their policing arrangements (Emsley, 1983; see also the discussion of this issue in Fyfe, 1991). Histories of police reform can then be written which are not simply histories of class control, but which can also avoid the interpretive frameworks which stress a Whiggish progressivism or local pragmatism in the development of modern policing (Fyfe, 1991). So, while surveillance is rightly associated with the increasingly intensive moral regulation of working-class communities it is not only that. The connections that surveillance forges between knowledge, power and space are also the foundation of the modern police’s ‘service function’, those actions which are seen to legitimate the new police in the eyes of the respectable classes (Corrigan and Sayer, 1985; Gatrell, 1990). Neither ‘function’ can be pursued without the organization of police authority across space in ways which enhance the surveillance capacity necessary to police the continual conflicts of an unequal and changing society. Concentrating on mechanisms of surveillance means switching attention away from the workplace, although such practices are in play there as well, towards a more general consideration of the origins and deployment

of social power in a variety of arenas (Dandeker,

1990). In short,

there is a history of state formation, and a geography of the mechanisms through which that occurs, of which the reform of the provincial police is a part. This historical geography cannot be reduced to the logic of capital or class, nor can it be understood fragmented series of local adjustments.

simply as a

Much of this has been demonstrated for the Metropolitan Police (founded in 1829). Its ‘modernity’ is expressed through its administration and its geography: the preventative function it sought to perform; its central coordination; the pervasiveness of its presence throughout the city; and the visibility of a body of uniformed, patrolling men (Miller, 1977; Thurmond Smith, 1985). Again the extension of policing beyond economic imperatives is clear. The aim was to achieve control of the streets, ‘the general organization of city life’, not simply control of the work-force (Brogden, 1982; Jones, 1982). There were clear-cut changes taking place here. The idea of a disciplined body of men making regular patrols across a delimited territory, imposing various forms of moral regulation on its population, was a strikingly new one and is perhaps better captured by Corrigan and Sayer’s notions of state formation as a thoroughgoing cultural revolution than by the more prosaic formulations of Giddens and Mann (Corrigan and Sayer, 1985). There were, however, strands of continuity as well. A link remained with an early-modern definition of the term ‘police’ which, rather than invoking the world of the parish constable, referred explicitly to the ordering of the public domain (Burchell et al., 1991; Oestreich, 1982). Yet this was not without its new inflections towards more precise conceptions of order. So while Steedman (1984: 14) argues that early 19th century police forces were ‘being maintained for the general good ordering of a particular place’, Gatrell(l990: 244) can hold that, for the same period, the police were ‘put in the vanguard of the disciplinary exercise’. One issue is clearly the degree to which the modernity of the provincial forces matched that of the metropolis. Indeed the two are linked, since the latter provided a model for the former. However, the history of police reform is not simply the history of the imposition of a central model on the localities, and here lies a crucial weakness in the frameworks provided by both Giddens and Mann. Both are concerned to stress the differential power capacities of modern and traditional states, the result of enhanced infrastructural/ administrative power. In doing this they overestimate the unity and centralization of

508

Ordm’ng

the city

modern states (for Mann [1984] ‘centrality’, a term which he uses in a variety of both concrete and abstract senses, is a defining feature of the state). what is neglected is a recognition that the extension of the state’s rule across its territory, something that both Giddens and Mann are more alive to than most state theorists, is always a difficult and tenuous practice, one which involves the construction of a series of political mechanisms, most notably the constituent parts of a central-local state relation. Indeed, as I have argued elsewhere, understanding this relationship in terms of surveillance can prove a fruitful basis for understanding local state power and the consequent tensions within the 19thcentury state apparatus (Ogborn, 1992). These notions are used here in order to demonstrate that, even in the absence of central direction, the local state can be a key initiator of surveillance practices and a staunch defender of its administrative powers. Attention is then drawn to the period 1835-56 when the local state controlled law and order to the extent that ‘the provincial police were structured and policing policies formulated, according to local designs’, or at least according to one of a variety of policing models which stressed local control (Brogden, 1982: 39; Emsley, 1987, 1991; Starch, 1990). So if ‘police reform outside London was gradual, patchy and unspectacular compared with what happened in the metropolis’, that must be understood in terms of the structure and priorities of local government (Hart, 1951: 31) and the degree and direction of local change must be understood in terms of what had gone before rather than being measured only against the metropolitan experience. Acknowledging this political context, and the theoretical provisos set out earlier, this study undertakes an assessment of the direction and degree of change in a provincial police force. More specifically, this is pursued through a detailed reconstruction of the qualitative changes in Portsmouth’s policing brought about by the local reforms of the period 1835-56. Using the example of Portsmouth is not an attempt to isolate a typical case: it is not a 19th.century English city that can stand for all 19th.century English cities. The cases chosen for analysis will clearly influence the assessment of continuity or change. In this Portsmouth offers several advantages. It was a large enough city to have a significant policing establishment. It may have fallen from being England’s seventh largest city in 1801 to its thirteenth largest in 1841, but it remained the twelfth largest until 1891 and its population increased almost fivefold over the century (Robson, 1973). It also contained strongly differentiated districts, a social landscape which helped shape the precise form that surveillance took: Old Portsmouth, the core of the port with all that implies in terms of high life and low life; Portsea, to the north, the product of the Royal Dockyard; Landport, to the north-east, an expanding working-class district; and Southsea, to the south-west, the new affluent suburb. It is also comparable to Swift’s examples of York and Exeter, towns left behind, or bypassed, by the industrial revolution (Swift, 1988). Portsmouth’s fortunes were, however, tied up with rather different processes. As a dockyard town its booms and slumps were determined by the ups and downs of politics and geopolitics. Portsmouth also had rather closer ties with the state than many other localities, even though the Admiralty’s interest in the town rarely extended beyond the dockyard gates (Field, 1979). The political economy of this locality means that the relative continuity of Portsmouth’s 19th century is in marked contrast to the dramatic upheavals in other parts of the country. It is perhaps easier to avoid mistakenly conflating social, economic and political transformations in Portsmouth than elsewhere. In order to demonstrate the nature of the changes in police administration and practice the reform of the Portsmouth Borough Police is traced through from the early 19th century to show how a patchwork of different forces was gradually, and in a rather piecemeal fashion, welded into a qualitatively different police force with enhanced capacity for the

MILES OGBORN

509

supervision of the city’s public spaces and the accumulation, storage and use of information which that entailed. It is also shown that this force had, as one of its central functions, the establishment of a transformed conception of public space, a new idea of the city. If this means ending, in 1856, with the sort of police force which can be defined as modern, it involves starting on rather less familiar territory.

The mosaic of pre-1835 policing in Portsmouth John Field has shown that until 1835 Portsmouth was policed by a variety of sporadically coordinated and overlapping forces. Its largest early 19th~century policing bodies were the Borough force and the Admiralty force which patrolled the Dockyard. Other policing functions were performed by the customs men, the yeomanry, military pickets, ships’ constables, and private subscription night-watches in Landport and Portsea. This fragmentation was evident within as well as between forces. The Borough force was divided into three sections: the corporation’s constables, their night-watchmen, and the street commissioners’ beadles. Only the beadles were full time. The corporation men were predominantly small businessmen, remunerated through fees and rewards and under the control of the Borough magistrates. The bench’s directions were also sporadic. Specific orders were issued to the constables when the magistrates saw fit: enforcing licensing laws, cracking down on sabbath gaming and prostitution. These directives embodied the personal priorities of the resident aldermen from whom the justices were selected rather than pursuing any coherent policy. In short, everyday policing was mostly a matter between the constable, the victim and the reward money. Nor was this likely to change via locally initiated reform. As Field argues, Portsmouth’s status as a dockyard town meant that its ‘criminal’ or ‘rough’ element was both predictable and tolerated (Field, 1979, 1981). In places, however, this caricature of a non-preventative, non-patrolling, pre-reform police force is inapplicable to Portsmouth. The Portsea night-watch displayed elements of a different system, one in which the attention to time and space characteristic of surveillance practices was evident. Constables were not fetched from home by victims. Instead they were allotted well-defined beats. Portsea, with a built-up area of less than a quarter of a square mile, was divided into nine beats of approximately equal size. Each had its own watchman, with a stand or post where he could be found if not on patrol. He was ‘to go his rounds and call the time every half-hour; no watchman to leave his post until relieved by another, unless he shall have sufficient cause for so doing; and each watchman to be furnished with a rattle, to give an alarm with the same, as occasion may require’. An administrative hierarchy was also designed, and stretched across Portsea, with ‘Rounders or Captains to superintend the others in their duty, and to be responsible for their conduct’.’ Penalties were imposed upon the watchmen to ensure accurate time-keeping and sobriety. The degree to which these rules were followed cannot be assessed, and doubts were to be expressed about the cost-efficiency of extending the system across the whole Borough. However, the Portsea night-watch’s foreshadowing of ‘post-reform’ administrative geographies, hierarchies, and rules and regulations is important to correct the caricature of pre-reform forces even in places as unfavourable to policing changes as Portsmouth. Yet it is also necessary to set this one agency in context. It was but one part of a fragmented mosaic of policing arrangements, which meant that ‘a great proportion of the Borough [was] without any watch by day or night’.’ It was this pattern that the post-1835 reforms were directed against,

510

Ordering the city

The conditions

for reform: the MunicipaI Corporations

Act of 1835

The Municipal Corporations Act of 1835 (5&6 Will. IV c.76) promised no dramatic reform of policing arrangements and, consequently, led to no overnight alteration in the policing of the streets of Portsmouth or, indeed, of the majority of the other boroughs to which it w&s applied. This was not, however, due to any failure of the boroughs to act on central government directives. The lack of immediate police reorganization was rooted in the Act’s provisions, and in the assumptions about the politics of policing which lay behind them. In the 1830s provincial policing was understood as a local matter and, consequently, direct and routine central interference was kept to a minimum. However, in altering the local administrative framework within which policing was situated the Act did create the pre-conditions for later reforms. Before 1835 there was, as has been noted above, a lack of pressure for police reform in Portsmouth. The predictable geography of the town’s criminal activity, the acceptance of much ‘rough culture’, the embeddedness of the constables within the community, and the lack of large crowd disturbances which marked it off from the areas convulsed by Luddism and Swing meant that crime was not the political threat that it was in the industrial north and the agricultural south (Field, 1981). Members of the unreformed corporation had no reason to doubt that the iI~habita1~~ were satisfied with the way that they upheld law and order. I believe that the inhabitants are particulariy satisfied with the administration

of justice; and even the greatest political opponents of the Corporation will do them the credit of saying that there was never the least ground of complaint on that score the Police of the borough, on all ordinary occasions has been quite sufficient.3

Even those who opposed the old corporation had no objections.* There was no reason for wholesale change. Field argues that, as a result, there was simply a continuation of policing arrangement before and after the 1835 Act. Portsmouth, like other towns which had been bypassed by the industrial revolution, had no anti-police riots, and demonstrated a continuity of both old faces in new uniforms and of the old police practices and procedures (Field, 1981; Swift, 1988). Yet, to understand this as a failure of the Municipal Corporations Act is to misconceive the purpose of this Act and to underestimate the preconditions for policing reform that it introduced. Two interconnected facets of the Municipal Corporations Act are crucial here. First, the Act was concerned with putting into place a uniform structure of local government, a vital part of the infrastructure for effectively exercising administrative power. It was not primarily concerned with police reform. Second, policing was treated as essentially a local issue, a question for local government within a political doctrine of ‘local responsibili~ for local needs’ (Thane, 1990: 7). In consequence, the Act was not simply the imposition of a programme based on the 1829 Metropolitan Police Act on to the provincial forces, neither were these changes fully part of the ‘Age of Refortn’. LJnlike the Poor Law and prison reforms of the 1830s the Municipal Corporations Act did not inaugurate an administrative apparatus for the police which would bind together central and local agencies and transform their relations into a new configuration (Corrigan and Sayer, 1985). While there was enthusiasm for more extensive reform of police administration in certain quarters at the time, its alteration in 1835 occurred primarily because it was part of the local state, part of that older notion of ‘Police’ as urban ordering. Instead of inaugurating a new structure of central-local government relations the policing apparatus was put into the hands of a reformed local state which was collecting

MILES OGBORN

511

powers under the Act. These new corporations were to appoint a watch committee (a sub-committee of the borough council, with representation from each ward) to take over from the magistrates and to be charged with establishing a police force and overseeing its operation, These watch committees had responsibility for matters of local police policy, for dealing with complaints from the public and for disciplining police officers. The autonomy of their decisions, which, combined with the priority policing was accorded within local government, made watch committee membership one of the most prestigious council positions disturbed only by the requirement that they submit an annual report to the council and, more subs~nti~ly, that the council vote on any watch committee decisions with financial implications. The aim was to create single, but accountable, police authorities in each borough in charge of a single force. Within day-to-day administration this localism was almost totally undisturbed by central control. The Home Secretary asked only that information as to the size of the force, their equipment (including weapons), wages, and the number and location of the station houses be sent to him four times a year along with a copy of the force’s rules and regulations. These requirements foreshadowed the implementation of closer central-local government relations in the field of policing after 1856. They also mirror the early history of 19th.century prison reform. It is important, however, to note that in 1835 the Home Office set no m~imum or minimum force size, no rate of wages, no force structure, no set of rules or regulations. There was no full-time requirement and no abolition of fees. In this sense it is erroneous to speak of the 1835 Act as a victory for local government because there was as yet no such battle within police administration in Britain (Field, 1979; Palmer, 1988). There was no clear central policy to implement further than the restructuring of local police administration to ensure inter-borough administrative uniformity and the transfer of power from the judiciary to the executive. These policies were fully adopted by the boroughs. The crucial implication of these changes is the formation of a unitary local police authority able effectively to alter local policing arrangements. If there had been no will to implement systematic change before 1835 the fragmentation of the policing authorities had also ensured that there was no basis upon which to do it either. The initiation of a monopoly of policing in the hands of a reformed corporation changed that. It made possible the implementation of a series of police reforms in Portsmouth over the next 20 years. The local state had been put in a position to become an effective coordinator of surveillance over its limited territory. Pragmatism and policy: local police reform 1836-56 While the 1835 Act was unlikely to promote large-scale reform in provincial police forces the contention that little changed in the 20 years before the 1856 Police Act must be questioned (Emsley, 1987; Hart, 1955). It is true that watch committees were not all innovators of new forms of police organization, but there were locally initiated changes. Instead of concentrating on the continuity of personnel to demonstrate stasis, a consideration of the alterations in policing’s administrative arrangements shows that these changes were in the direction of more ‘modern’ policing arrangements. They extended surveillance across the city, and sought to order public space in new ways. If the ‘old’ police was characterized by a mosaic of non-patrolling, non-preventative and essentially uncoordinated agencies, then the ‘new’, or perhaps ‘modern’, police force was a single body with the monopoly of policing over a defined area. This involved the police constantly patrolling their territory in order to maintain the pervasive and obvious presence necessary to pursue both their new preventative function and the extension of direct supervision in time and space. This geographica deployment in turn required a set

S12

bang

the

city

of centrally coordinated instructions, operating through a hierarchically organized administrative structure able effectively to transmit information across space. In effect, orders were transmitted down the hierarchy and out across space; information about the city and its inhabitants was transmitted up the hierarchy towards the centre. Urban space, however, was not only to be policed homogenously in order to fulfil these functions, It was also internally differentiated in order more effectively to pursue that other goal of modern policing: moral regulation (Bragden, 1982; Gatrell, 1990; Miller, 1977; Starch, 1976). This presupposes an alternative spatial deployment. Some social spaces were to be policed more intensively than others: they were more intensely supervised and more knowledge about them was garnered. In ordering these ‘deviant spaces’ the project of ordering the city was also prosecuted (Cohen, 1979; Davis, 1989). It is the combination of these two strategies which lay at the heart of police reform, their inseparability underlining the falsity of a separation between ‘surveillance’ and the police forces’ ‘service function’. Moreover, it was this transformation in surveillance which was implemented by Portsmouth’s Borough Council through a series of primarily pragmatic reforms, which were made possible by its new administrative monopoly of policing. Local reformers were aware from the outset that the major point of opposition to policing changes was the cost to the ratepayers. As a result the Portsea night-watch model was rejected as too expensive, and it was suggested that only one constable be appointed for Portsmouth Town because it was patrolled by troops. The Council was also warned that ‘great care should be taken in the first formation of a Constabulary Force, as it is liable to be carried to a great extent and become a serious charge upon the Borough’.’ In this way certain changes, especially those involving large increases in the number of constables, were ruled out. This is not, however, an indication of the total failure of reform. Giving priority to infrastructural power means that the numerical strength of a police force is only significant in relation to its organizational characteristics: the administrative hierarchy within which those officers work and their geographical deployment. These are the crucial di~nensions of surveillance, and the fact that the Watch Committee’s first reorgan~~tion concentrated on geography and administrati~~e hierarchy must be interpreted in that light. In 1836 the Watch Committee divided the Borough into three districts: Portsmouth Town, the territory inside Portsea’s walls and the territory outside. Each had its own watch-house with the constables distributed between them primarily on the basis of each district’s geographical extent. A separation was maintained between day and night watches.” The duties of the constables and the head constables, one for each district by day and night, were defined geographically. Constables were to exercise vigilance across the Borough, but to pay special attention to their allotted districts. They were to act to prevent crime and implement moral regulation by being ‘always on the alert to prevent offences and disorderly conduct, and to detect and apprehend offenders, and to preserve the peace of the Borough’. The head constables, who would subsequently be required to live in their administrative territories, were to ensure the effectiveness of policing by exercising ‘constant Superintendence throughout their respective districts’, keeping their men on their toes with regular inspections, and more effectively fighting crime by facilitating communication between districts. In presenting this plan to the Council the Watch Committee were wary of financial objections. They claimed that the scheme ‘carried the principle of economy as far as it can be carried with any advantage’. But financial considerations could not hold total sway. Having a monopoly of policing meant that no part of the Borough could be left without protection. Finally, they attempted to square the circle by arguing that the truest economy lay in the prevention of offences.’ Yet if numerical strength is only significant in terms of administrative organization, then

513

MLLESOGBORN

such organizational

transformations

disposal of the administrators.

can be hampered

by the number

of officers at the

So before the year was out the new force was already felt to

be inadequate. The Watch Committee wanted six more night constables: two for Portsea Town, whose numbers would still fall short of those employed by the 1818 night-watch, and four for the area outside the walls. Since the Parish Beadles had also been discontinued as the Borough force’s monopoly of policing was extended, four constables were needed to enforce moral regulation on the streets, ‘preventing vagrancy and other nuisances’. It was the need to police certain areas of the Borough with differential and increased intensity which meant that more men were required. For example, two policemen were needed to concentrate on preventing the frequent disturbances in the area around Old Rope Wak8 Such piecemeal changes were questioned in a series of complaints about the police force’s efficiency in responding to calls and in reporting incidents to their superiors. This refuelled the debate over reform and led, in 1837, to a general review of the policing establishment.” Central to this was a proposal from George Stigant, Tory councillor and member of the Watch Committee, for a large increase in the force and a restructuring of its hierarchy. The plan, which entailed an overall director, an assistant director, 12 inspectors and I9 constables, could not win enough support and was turned down, presumably on the basis of cost. Again administrative changes were substituted when, a month later, the Watch Committee declared its opposition to any new system but agreed to new regulations which would increase surveillance capacity by increasing the flow of information across space and up and down the hierachy. This, it was hoped, would increase police efficiency without increasing expenditure. Direct supervision was also to be sharpened, especially at night and over suspicious characters. Felonies were to be reported immediately both up the hierarchy and horizontally across space to the nearest constable. Inspectors were to aid this process by passing information from constable to constable. In an attempt to guarantee the success of these and the previous reforms, there was a parallel increase in the inspection of the constables themselves as the Watch Comittee instigated a more regular scrutiny of their report books. lo These increases in surveillance

capacity, coupled with a

redrafting of the police force’s entrance qualifications in line requirements which stressed information processing and active (illiterates and men over 40 years of age were proscribed), meant were increasingly ordered in tandem with their extension of order Ten months later these reforms were pronounced

with the new duty territorial patrolling that policemen’s lives over the city,

a success, albeit a qualified one:

[T]he establishment is as efficient as with that number it can possibly be. [The new regulations] have been attended with the best effect and have produced that communication among them and that mutual aid and support which are essential to the effkiency of a police establishment.” This success rested upon a combination of spatial strategies. In addition to the constables’ regular beats the Watch Committee maintained a certain flexibility on police deployment to ensure that ‘troublesome’ areas could be intensively supervised.‘* According to these special orders the final years of the ‘immoral’ Free Mart Fair were met with a police force carefully distributed across space. Additional constables were drafted in from Portsea and Landport, and the Old Portsmouth district was divided into six beats with a constable each. Moreover, to ensure their effectiveness it was ruled that ‘the Constables are again Positivelyforbidden collecting together. Should any of them be found doing so they will be brought before the Watch Committee’.13 In this way the directors of Portsmouth’s police combined intensive and extensive geographical policing strategies, systematically extending surveillance across space.‘*

514

Ordering the ciy

Until the late 1830s no wholesale restructuring of the force had been undertaken. Although the changes that had been made were gradually inching towards demonstrably ‘modern’ policing arrangements there were still many problems with policing, and some appetites had only been whetted for more extensive reforms. So it was that in 1839 George Stigant reformulated his 1837 proposals and resubmitted them.15 This move was prompted by a series of conflicts within the force involving disputes between constables and inspectors over job demarcation and fees. Since these difficulties, along with harsh policing methods, were threatening the ends of justice policing had become of increasing concern to the local authorities. For Stigant the only solution was to increase surveillance capacity through the adoption of the Metropolitan model of policing: a full-time, professional, uniformed, patrolling police force operating through a strict administrative hierarchy. He was not alone in wanting to import this way of policing to the provinces. In the period before 1856 the Metropolitan model came closest to being a central programme for local police organization. Yet, apart from the Metropolitan Commissioners’ willingness to provide information and advice, there was no administrative machinery set up to encourage its adoption by provincial forces. There was certainly no compulsion to adopt such a programme and, in addition, the Metropolitan model was in competition with a multiplicity of other potential models. Stigant saw the reforms he proposed as entailing an entire alteration of the ‘system’ of policing. Although, in terms of police practice, these reforms can only be understood as a continuation of what had been done in Portsmouth since 1835, such language does illustrate a new politics of reform. It explicated for the reforming councillors the interlocking of geographical and hierarchical administration and, more importantly, sharply differentiated the task ahead from the way that the Council had dealt with policing policy in the past. It made change imperative: I fear there is a disposition in some gentlemen to mend it, to tinker it, to make a patchwork of it, with here a little good, and there a large patch of bad, and thus render it worse than it now is, were that possible, and save it for a time from the fate that inevitably hangs over it [I]f one particle of [the old] system is allowed to remain, nothing whatever will have been done. Destroy it, break it, knock it on the head .I6

The problems could only be solved with a total restructuring of the geographical and hierarchical arrangements of the police force. Under Stigant’s plan there was to be a single head. This director would hold ‘constant controul of the Police’, passing it to his assistant only when he was asleep or unavailable. This new departure for Portsmouth would mark the transition to a single police force whose monopoly of policing would finally replace the remains of the fragmented mosaic of law and order agencies. It had become necessary to effective policing: There is no discipline because there is no head

the Council may rest assured that no Body, whether civil or military, can ever be either efficient or respectable, unless placed under the controul of a Chief, [Goodmen are] paralyzed by the

defective nature of the system under which they act.lT Under this director there were to be four inspectors: three on duty every night, one for each district. Three-quarters of the 24 constables would also do night duty, their beats visited by the district inspectors. The reformers and the Watch Committee both had informal consultations with the Metropolitan Police Commissioners in order to draw upon their knowledge and experience.18 The Committee also made local enquiries and interviewed Borough

MILES

OGBORN

515

councillors. Yet, despite all this, the Watch Committee rejected the plan. However, as this rejection was only achieved on the basis of the Mayor’s casting vote the Borough Council was able to refer the proposals back to the Watch Committee, and to persuade them, and Stigant, to agree to have the plan voted on proposal by proposal in order that he might answer the objections of those who had voted against him.19 As a result of these discussions the compelling case for a general superintendent was agreed, although the proposal for an assistant was narrowly defeated. Unanimous agreement also met the proposal to have inspectors and assistant inspectors, lengthening the chain of comm~d, although they agreed on three of each instead of St&ant’s proposed four. The 24 constables were passed on the Mayor’s casting vote, although it must be noted that no one pushed for the proposed numbers to be reduced. Again the force’s restructuring was to be accompanied by a tightening of the entrance requirements to ensure bodily health, general intelligence, literacy, numeracy and freedom from patronage. Finally, a set of rules and regulations were drawn up to govern the working of the force.z0 Far from St&ant’s plan being rejected, as Field suggests, all its main reforms, albeit with slightly fewer personnel, were embodied in the Watch Committee’s recommendations to the Borough Council (Field, 1981). These proposals set out a radical restructuring of the force: a superintendent with ‘the entire controul and management of the police, subject to the directions of the Watch Committee’; an increase in the number of constables; the division of the force and the Borough between three pairs of inspectors and sub-inspectors who were required to ‘perambulate the streets and to make specific visits to parts of their beats’ both day and night; and the minute recording in writing of their movements and the constables spoken to. *’ Although the force agreed upon was not as large as had been proposed, cost cannot be claimed to have been the paramount concern. In adopting the proposals the Council showed some contempt for the ratepayers’ objections to the expense by raising the superintendent’s salary by a quarter. They also showed signs of the cooperation with the Watch Committee that the latter considered necessary for effective policing.22 To effect these changes the force was disbanded and reformed anew on the first day of 1840. While the nightwatchmen were to continue for 10 days, this was to ensure a smooth transition into the monopoly of policing, and their final abolition signalled the end of any gaps in policing or conflicts of authority caused by separate bodies being responsible for policing by day and by night. There was a significant continuity of personnel. Just over half of the new constables had been policemen under the old system. Yet they were reselected only if they conformed to the new entrance requirements. 23 Their respectability was also to be assured by the threat of punishment. Any man’s first drinking offence was now punishable by dismissal, not simply by a warning. Such rules were strictly enforced and each man’s disciplinary and promotion records were now kept on file by the Watch Committee.‘” The geography of pohcing was also reconfigured. There were more policemen in each district. Their beats were also allotted to ensure easier access to inspectors or sub-inspectors, and a more intensive surveillance of the populous areas of the Borough, distributing them across the new suburbs of Landport and Southsea as well as Portsea and Old Portsmouth.25 If policing was to be effective it had to be responsive to the changing geography of the city. This new pattern was held in place by the Watch Committee’s rules and regulations. Policemen were admonished for deviating from their beats, suspended for being found absent, and ordered not to leave their areas to take deserters back to their ships.26 The reforms of the period until 1856 reinforced and consolidated this ‘system’. New

516

ordeving the city

station houses were built in Landport and Portsea and, after the escape of a thief in 1847, the spatial constraints on policemen were tightened. No constable was to leave the Borough without the permission of the mayor, or his delegate, on pain of instant dismissal. The police force was also subject to more minute internal surveillance. The superintendent was to visit all the beats at specified times, and the PCs were to report on which senior officers visited them each day.” A surviving report book shows that these rules were adhered to and successful prosecution of these duties was rewarded by promotion through a threefold classification of constables.2x Gradually the gaps in the force’s geographical coverage were sealed up and the spatial monopoly of policing was put into place. The police were also put firmly under one official master when the last fees were abolished, and policemen stopped undertaking private business. That this involved, in passing, the arrest of the leader of the Landport subscription watch after a clash with the ‘official’ police force serves to demonstrate that a mosaic of authorities could no longer be tolerated in the orderly city. 29Yet , it must also be noted that cost constraints still denied the Watch Committee the numbers necessary to implement their plans fully. In order to cover certain areas Ordnance men and the Pier Company toll collector had to be sworn in as constables.30 Despite these staffing difficulties, and despite the high turnover of officers in the force, significant changes can be detected (Steedman, 1984; also Field, 1981). Three days after the new system was inaugurated the Mayor reported to the Watch Committee that PC William Braxton had taken a fee, acted without the authority of a magistrate, and had failed to document his actions correctly. He was dismissed. By 1840 it was clear that policing was no longer a matter between the policeman, the victim and the reward money. Whatever the continuities of personnel they were overshadowed by the changes in the ‘system’ that had been implemented through local adaptations of a central programme drawn from the example of the Metropolitan Police, a policing programme which organized authority and information across space to produce a new and systematic surveillance of the city.31 Lighting and watching: towards a new order of public space This new organization of space was not simply a matter of more regular, widespread and intensive policing of public space in the 19th~century city. It also involved a transformation in the nature of that space. In order to understand changes in policing in relation to conceptions of urban governance it is necessary to understand that a new form of public space was being actively created through both the practices of policing and the legislation that the police enforced. By reviewing the legislation that underpinned the new role of the police in prosecuting previously tolerated ‘street crimes’ such as drunkenness, prostitution and disorderly behaviour, it is possible to demonstrate the inseparability of these more narrowly defined policing objectives from a wider redefinition of public space, and a concomitant delineation of a separate private sphere (Roberts, 1988). The initial provisions for legislating against street disorders in Portsmouth were incorporated into legislation which sought a far more general ordering of the city. The 1826 Act for the Lighting and Watching of Portsea, and the 1847 Act for ‘Paving, Lighting, Cleansing, Watering and otherwise Improving the Town of Portsmouth’ replaced 18th~century legislation which sought the improvement of the thoroughfares of the town and the removal of ‘Nuisances, Annoyances and Obstructions’.32 While continuing the concern to rationalize and cleanse public spaces, and the desire to ensure the effective circulation of traffic and commodities through the arteries of late Georgian and early Victorian Portsmouth they also extended and intensified the guiding principles of this

MILES OGBORN

517

earlier legislation in various ways. They extended them by providing adequate lighting for the city at night, spreading order in time as well as space (Schivelbusch, 1988). The 1826 Act also made provision for a Night Watch to be organized. The timing and spacing of its beats were to be fixed, and its hierarchy set out, by a Board of Trustees. This Night Watch was charged with a responsibility to ‘use their best Endeavours to prevent as well as all Mischiefs happening by Fires, as all Murders, Burglaries, Robberies, and other Outrages and Disorders’ and were empowered to arrest ‘all Felons, Rogues, Vagabonds, Night Walkers. Malefactors, and disorderly and suspected Persons, who shall be found wandering or misbehaving themselves in any Place or Places within the . . Town’.33 The Act’s other provisions serve to demonstrate the affinity that policing was seen to have with other aspects of urban governance: fire and crime were clearly seen as analogous threats to urban order; the watch was to be financed in the same way as cleansing and paving; and the legislation putting it in place aiso dealt with the licensing and regulating of Hackney carriages and ensuring public safety from dangerous dogs. These connections are by no means specific to Portsmouth. Provisions for ‘Lighting and Watching’ were incorporated into a permissive Act open for adoption by any parish in England and Wales3* This set out the watchmen’s responsibility for public spaces and public safety in exactly the terms defined above, and solidified them in the provision of watch stands and gas lamps. That concern for the good order of the streets continued, and became increasingly associated with a concern for the behaviour of the people on them, can also be seen in the Portsea Act of 1843 and the Towns’ Police Clauses Act of 1847.35 LJnder the Towns’ Police Clauses Act the streets were to have their purpose rationalized, redefined and refined. There was to be a state-sponsored cultural revolution in urban public space. No longer were they to be a market-place for farm animals, a theatre for public entertainments, a shop counter or an impromptu abbatoir. Pavements and roads were to be kept clear of all obstructions and dangers, from crowds and cattle to furniture and ferocious dogs. They were to become arteries whose orderly flows of people and goods involved the rationalization and regulation of the moral behaviour of the streets’ users. The catch-all nature of the new urban order is evidenced in that drunkenness, disorderly behaviour, street-walking, indecent exposure, the selling of indecent literature, and even the singing of indecent songs and the use of profane language were prohibited alongside kite-flying, carpet-beating and having loose window-boxes, Newly impermissible activities were to be segregrated away from the public street and confined to the home or the designated market-place, places where they could not offend the sensibilities of the respectable ‘Residents or Passengers’.36 That this involved the differential policing of different areas was largely due to the different socio-economic characteristics of different parts of the town, and extensive police discretion over the interpretation and enforcement of such statutes. Portsea and Old Portsmouth were, due to their positions within the urban economy and social structure, more likely to fall foul of such regulations, containing as they did entertainment, production, shops and dwellings for all classes, and all in the same dense network of streets. The working-class suburb of Landport was less likely to be the site of such offences. Simply by being a landscape primarily concerned with working-class reproduction it contained less of a mix of activities, although what it did contain could still be seen as problematic by the police. The more up-market areas such as Southsea were even less likely to be seen as disorderly urban spaces. Crime statistics are notoriously difficuft to interpret, those gleaned from newspapers even more so, but it may be mentioned in support of this idea of a differentially imposed new urban order that of the 114 crimes of disorderly behaviour and begging reported in the Hampshire TeLegrapb for 1851 for which

518

Ordering the city

a location can be established, 42 per cent were in Portsea, 38 per cent were in Old Po~mou~, 15 per cent were in Landport, and only 4 per cent were in Southsea. A new degree of control was being exerted over public space. The first half of the 19th century saw a new definition of urban order organized in terms of the timing, spacing and respectability of the activities of the city’s inhabitants. Directly connected with this new order were the stricter delineation of a female gendered private sphere, and the ‘modern’ forms of the policing of public space described above.3*

Conclusions None of this should suggest that the development of Po~mouth’s ‘modern’ police force in this period was in any way automatic. These changes in the policing of an unequal society were the product of a variety of local conflicts and negotiations. On the streets there were continual co~l~ontatiol~s between the police and the ‘disorderly’ elements who had become increasingly ‘visible’ as a result of changes in police organization and legislation. This was continued in the courts as a battle over the interpretation of the meaning of disorder between the police, the magistrates and those who bore the brunt of the new legislation. 3L)There were also, as has been seen, battles over numbers and deployment within and between the local government committees charged with maintaining and reforming the police. There were battles over which places should be protected, which places should be subject to intensive moral regulation, and what form their policing should take. For example, discussions over the provision of a police station for Southsea were shaped by conflicts between local class factions, administrative bodies and residential groups which asserted or denied the right of more wealthy and orderly areas to policing resources.40 Moreover, these conflicts were not simply local ones. In the mid-1850s Po~rno~l~ became, with York, one of the centres of the opposition to the Counties and Boroughs Police Bills of 1854 and 1856. The intensity of their opposition was based primarily on the notion that such legislation would reduce local control over the police force in financial and operational terms, Indeed, local control was the crucial issue. It was certainly local control which, according to the proponents of national police reform, meant that provincial police forces failed to meet the centrally set efficiency criteria. However, these criteria were based primarily on the sizes of the police forces and do not provide a definitive assessment of police effectiveness and change. Turning again to questions of surveillance, to the spatial and hierarchical organization of police forces, it would not be unreasonable to suggest that it was local control that had wrought impo~nt changes by the 1850s.So, if Po~~~outh had all the trappings of modern policing by 1856 then it was the product of many unspectacular and routine local reforms, through which the local state apparatus, which had been created by centrally sponsored legislation, made strategic alterations in local policing arrangements, adapting various programmes to local contexts and resources, In this way the gradual, contingent and conflict-ridden nature of the changes in local policing is revealed. Significantly, the changes which had effected the consolidation of local control over local policing in turn provided the basis upon which the locality opposed central controls (Ogborn, 1992). It is now possible to return to some of the issues raised in the introduction. Portsmoutll, bypassed by the industrial revolution, can be shown, according to criteria based on the notion of surveillance, to have reformed its police force through locally sponsored reforms by the slid-19th century. On this evidence it seems necessary to prise open the relationship between economic change and the intensity of police reform and to argue that

MKES OGBORB

519

changes in the implementation of law and order depend on criteria other than the extent to which local economies were catapulted into the modern world by industrialization. Giddens and Mann show that there are other aspects of modernity that must be considered, aspects which involve a consideration of questions of the changing nature of ‘government’. Police reform is part of the poiiticai process of state formation. It must be considered alongside the other transformations in state-society relations of the same period: the new Poor Law, separate confinement in prisons, and the revolution in government. However, in using their ~gumen~ we must be conscious of the ways in which such forms of power can be taken up effectively by local states, and how this can cause tensions within state infrastructures. None of this is to deny that there are connections between economic and political transformations but, instead, to acknowledge that if economic change gave law and order issues a certain urgency in certain places at certain times it cannot be said to have dictated the form that police reform took in those places or any others. The qualitative transformations in the spatial administration of the police have their own specificity and are best understood in terms of the 19thcentury English state’s increased capacity for surveillance on a variety of scales.

Acknowledgements I would like to thank Roshan Dadoo for her comments on the ordering of the built environment the 19thcentury

city, and the two anonymous

referees for their helpful comments

in

and suggestions.

Notes 1. Rules and Regulations to be Observed by the Night Constables and Watchmen of the Town of Portsea (30 March 1818). Sections viii and i. Portsmouth Central Library, Local Collection. 2. Ha~s~i~e Te~egrapb, 2 February 1836, p. 3. 3. Humps&-e Telegraph, 8 Jufy 1833, p. 2. Reporting the evidence of Daniel Howard, a member of the unreformed Corporation, before the Commissioners for Municipal Corporations. 4. Select Committee on Municipal Corporations, British Parliamentary Papers 1833, XIII 42622. 5. Report of Committees, Januay 18364ebrwy 1848. P[ortsmouth] C[ity] Rjecord] O[ffice] CCRl, 25 January 1836 and Ha~~re Te~e~~b, 2 February 1836. 6. Watch Committee Minutes, 8 Febrwy 18_36-12 November 1840. PCRO CCMI/l,16 March 1836. 7. PCRO CCRl, 27 February 1836 and PCRO CCMl/l, 18 August 1836. 8. The beadles were replaced as follows: one constable for Portsmouth Town, one for Portsea Town, and two for the area of Portsea outside the walls, PCRO CCRl, 26 September 1836. 9. PCRO CCMlil 14, 19 December 1837. 10. PCRO CCMl/l, 24 November 1836 and PCRO CCRI, 19 January 1838. 11. PCRO CCRl, 9 November 1838. 12. PCRO CCRl, 26 March 1838; PCRO CCMl/l, 6 December 1838, 17, 31 January, 14, 28 February 1839 and 5 September 1839. 13. M~cei~~~ Papas Relating to the Police, PCRO S21, 7 Juiy 1842. Emphasis in original. 14. PCRO CCMlIl, 21 November 1839 shows the coordination of day and night forces to avoid any gaps between them. 15. PCRO CCMl/l, 19 September 1839. 16. Captain Travers, JP Hampshire Telegraph, 18 November 1839. 17. Hampshire Telegraph, 28 October 1839. 18. Portsmouth Borougfi Cow&l Minutq _?I Lkzwmber 2835-28 October 3833, PCRO CMl/l, 1 October 1839 and PCRO CCMl/l, 9 October 1839. 19. PCRO CCMl/l, 16 October 1839, 20. PCRO CCMl/l, 28 November, 2 and 5 December 1839.

Ordering the city

520 21. 22.

23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35.

36. 37. 38.

39.

40.

Hampshire Telegraph, 16 December 1839 and PCRO CCRl, 11 December 1839. The proposals were carried 21:12; Portsmouth Borough Council Minutes,9 November1839-20 August 2849 PCRO CMlI2, 11 December 1839. For objections see Hampshire Teiegraph, 21 December 1840 and PCRO CMll2, 22 March 1841. See also ~~rnp~~re Te~e~~~, 8 February 1841, p.3. PCRO CCMl/l, 23 and 30 December 1839. PCRO CCMl/l, 4 June and 23 July 1840 and Recorcl ofPolice Force, 1845-87 PCRO 123A/1/4/1. PCRO CCMl/l, 27 February 1840. Proust Watch Committee Mim&zs,9 Nodal 2840-27 March 1855, PCRO CCMlI2, 14 December 1840,8 February and 12 July 1841. PCRO CCM1/2 12, 19 January 1847. Portseu District Police Duty Report Book, 11-12 May 1854. PCRO 123Al/l/2 and PCRO CCMlR, 13 May 1851,3, 11 July and 14 November 1848. PCRO CCMlI22 February 1844, I1 January 1848, PCRO CMli2,l February 1841 and 5 May 1844. PCRO CCM1/2, 19Januaty, 14 December 1847 and 8 October 1850. PCRO CCMl/l, 3 January 1840. See 4 Geo.111 c.92. (1764); 8 Geo.IJIc.62. (1768); 16 Geo.111c.59. (1776); 32 GeoIII cl03 (1792) 7 Gee. lV c.64. (1826) and lo&11 Vic.c.257. (1847). 7 Geo. IV c.64, Section XXII. Ligbtzhgand Watching Act, 18333&4 Will. IV c.20. Provisions such as those contained within 6 Vie. c. 35 (Portsea Act) were systematized and provided for adoption in the Town’s Police Clauses Act of 1847 (lo&l1 Vie. c. 89). Adoption was widespread, but see also ‘Portsmouth’ (lo&l1 Vie. c. 257) and Landport and Southsea’ (20&21 Vic.c.37). lo&l1 Vie. c. 89, sections XXVIII and XXIX. From Hampshire Telegraph police columns for 1851. An indication of the gendered nahire of this new urban space can be glimpsed in that of 73 cases of disorderly behaviour reported in the Harqsbire Telegraphpolice columns for 1851:74% were women. See, for example, the case of Susan Grimes. She was stopped by the police for driving around the streets of Portsmouth in a donkey cart dressed partly as a soldier. Although she had committed no crime she was reprimanded by the magistrates. Hampshire TeZegrapb,8 March 1851. PCRO CCM1/2,15 and 28 January 1845 and 25 March 1848; PCRO CM1/2,3 February and 5 May 1845 and 20 March 1848; Hamp~~re Telegraph, 1 January and 25 March 1848.

References (1982). i’be PO&X?: ~~~o~orny and Gamer& London: Academic Press. G., GORDON,C. ANDMILLER,P. EDS (1991). The Foucuult Eflkct: Studies in Governmenta#y. Hemel

BROGDEN, M. BURCHELL,

Hempstead: Harvester Wheatsheaf COHEN,P. (1979). Policing the working class city. In Capital&m and &heRule of Law: From Deviancy Theory to Marxism (8. Fine, R. Kinsey, J. Lea, S. Picciotto and J. Young eds) pp. 118-136. London: Hutchinson. CORRIGAN,P. ANKISAYER,D. (1985). X&eGreat Arch: English State F~~~o~ as Cz&u~aJR~~~~o~. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. DANDEKJIR, C. (1990). Sunk?il&mce,Power and Modernity: Bureaucracy an& Discplinefiom 1700 to the Present Day. Cambridge: Polity Press. DAVIS,J. (1989). From ‘rookeries’ to ‘communities’: race, poverty and policing in London, 1850-1985. History Wo&&op JoumaE 27,66-85. DRWER,F. (1991). Political geography and state formation: disputed territory. &ogress in Hwnurz Geoff 15(3), 268-280. EMSLN, C. (1983). Policing and its Context, 1750-1870. London: Macmillan. EMSLEY, C. (1987). Crime nnd Society in England, 1750-1.900. London: Longman. EM!%N, C. (1991). The &g&b Police: A Political and Social Histuly. Hemel Hempstead: Hanrester Wheatsheaf.

MILESOGBORN

521

J. I.. (1979). Bourgeois Pons?noutb: Social Re(ation.s in a Victorian Dockyard Town, 1815-1875. Unpublished PhD dissertation, University of Warwick. FIELD,J. L. (1981). Police, power and communi~ in a provincial English town: Portsmouth 1815-75. In Pu&%zg and pUn&ment tn ,~i~~~ Cenhny Britain. (V. Bailey ed.) pp. 42-64. London: Croom Helm. FYFE,N. R. (1991) The police, space and society: the geography of policing. progvesS in Human Geogq&y 15(3), 249-267. GATRELL, V. A C. (1930). Crime, authority and the policeman-state. In The Cambridge Social History oJ&&ain 1750-19.50. Volume 3: Social Agencies and Institutions (F. M. L. Thompson ed.) pp.243-310. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. GIDDENS, A (1985). K!.xNat&-Stare and Violence. Cambridge: Polity Press. HART, J. M. (1951). The Et-&&.& PO&~. London: George Aiien & Unwin, HARr,J. M. (1955). Reform of the borough police, 1835-1856. EngZti H~fori~a~Review 70, 411-427. JONES,D. J. V. (1982). Crime, Protest, Community and Police in Nineteenth Century Britain. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. JONES,D. J. V. (1983). The new police, crime and people in England and Wales, 1829-1888. Transuctions of the Royal H&tory Society fifth series 33, 151-168. Km-rrt, M (1992). ‘Policing a perplexed society?‘: no-go areas and the rn~~t~~tion of police-black conflict. In w of Order?. PoWng Black PoepEe(E. Cashmore and E. McLaughlin eds) pp. 189-214.London: Routiedge. MANN,M. (1984) The autonomous power of the state: its origins, mechanisms and results. Archives Eurq&res de Sociologic 25, 185-213. MILLER, W. R (1377). CopsandBobbies: PoliceAuthor@ in New York andLondon 1830-1870. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. OESIREICH, G. (1982). Neostoicljnz and the Early Modem State. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. OGBORN, M. J. (1972). Local power and state regulation in nineteenth century Britain. Transom of the Institute ofBrtti Geogrq&ers 17(2), 215-226. PALMER, S. (1988). Police andProteQ in Eng~andanrdlreland X750-2850. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. ROBERTS,M. J. D. (1988). Public and private in early nineteenth century London: The Vagrant Act of 1822 and its enforcement, Social Histo?y 13(3), 273-294. ROBSON, B. T. (1973) Urban Growth: AYIilpproacb. London: Methuen. SCHNELBUSCW, W. (1988). Disexhanted Night: T&eIndusti~arion ofLight in the Nineteenth Century Oxford: Berg. STEEDMAN, C. (1984). Policing the Victorhz CommumXy: The Formation of EngZid~ProeidncialPolice Forces, 1856-1880. London: Routkdge and Kegan Paul. STORCH, R. D. (1976). The policeman as domestic missionary: urban discipline and popular culture in northern England, 1850-1880. Journal of .SocialHistory P(4), 481-509. STORCH, R. D. (1990). Policing rural southern England before the police: opinion and practice, 1830-1856. In PoZicingandProsecution iz Britain 1750-1850. (D. Hay and F. Snyder eds) pp. 211-266 Oxford: Clarendon Press. Swtrr. R. (1988). Urban policing in early Victorian EngIand, 1835-86: a reappraisal. Hisro~ 73(238), 21 l-237. THANE,P. (1990). Government and society in England and Wales, 1750-1914. In The Cambridge SociulHistory of Britain 1750-1950 Volume 3: Social &en&s and Institutions (F. M. L. Thompson ed.) pp. 1-61. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. THLIRMONDSMITES, P. (1985). Policing Victorian London: Political Policing, Public Order, and the London Me@opo&tan Police. Westport. CT: Greenwood Press. FIKD,