PEELERS.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 6496, 27 May 1899, Page 2

PEELERS.

.", (Pall Mall iSaeette.) They are "peelers" because the Boyal Irish Constabulary owes its inception to Sir Kobert Peel, but the name is applied indiscriminately' to all police in Ireland. As "peelers" they find their way; into song and story, as -witness the lyric, of "The Peeler and the Goat," which ; is nearly as certain to cause bloodshed ' if sung within heading of a policeman as.' that mysteriously inflammatory - tune " Harvey Duff. " "The ' Peeler" and the Goat " relates/how a policeman captured a goat in mistake for a, rebel in Fenian days'. "I am no Fenian or^Ribbdnman," said/ the goat* "no.' tinker, rogue or . Tory .0," and then therrefrain wenjb '' '"'•'■ ■• ; • ""■;'■»» ■ ' '■• '■'■■"••' ' -.. -'"■'""' O, Meggy-meg-geg, let go my legy • .Or I'll pluck you with, my horn, 0. ■ Presumably because of this arrest they used 1 to call -ther 'police "Hornies " ' in' ' the' Fenian and post-Fenian times, 'and 'the present writer remembers to have heard opprobrious rhymes with this epithet shouted after policeman in the streets of Dublin. ~No doubt the Dublin policeman is still to some ' extenfc "the homey." The police are. theoretically unpopular in Ireland. That they are really so I very much doubt. In our hearts we have a sneaking admiration, however , rebellious we are, for this little army' of fine, soft, handsome boys. We like to point out how difficult it would be for any other country to produce the like of the I3;000 constabulary, while as for those sons' of Anak, the Dublin Metropolitans, they are the'objects of our. jusfc pride. • ■ The policemen have almost superseded '■' the watch " now in the Irish provincial towns; Perhaps Limerick Sri' t • i asfc to give up its famous Night Watch, thoiigh; within --the ■■decade now dandling I have lain awake : at night 'in lipperary town. and heai-d the' watch cry, as though, out of the" 1M century^ !" Past twelve^ o'clock and a cloudy riight/' ' K the companionship is not a. profane one I should venture to, say that after the Irish priests the police' are T the body of men I most admire in Ireland, /the priests have all the Celtic virtues-gemaW hospitality, good humour, good fellowship, gaiety, affectionateness, so often to seek in the laymaji— that is to touch .the- merely human side of them. . The police are goodly to look upon, have the soft, pleasant ways we ascribe to. the Irish, are clean- and well drilled; and their barracks is an oasis in an Irish village^ being .not only spotlessly clean, but ■ decorated with that simple ingenuity which seems to belong, to the man who wears uniform, the soldier, -the sailor, the railway servant et hoc. The Dublin Metropolitan, is very unlike the London policeman. He is less your servant than your master; more of the gen- J darme about, him than of the policeman as ! England sees him. He is apt to be overbearing, like the member for -Parliament who forced. his way haughtily through a i Dublin crowd. "Do you know who I am, sir.' he. cried, to a resistant coal-porter — the coal-porters of -Dublin quays being, by the way, "braw fighters," so that a victorious encounter with one is equivalent to the blue-ribbon of the prize ring. "Do you know, sir, that I am the representative of the people?" "Why, bad luck to you," ; said the coal-porter, "I'm the people them- j selves!" THE DESPOTISM OP THE DtJBLIK POLICE has its benevolent, even fatherly, side. The last time I arrived at the North Wall, in the cold grey of a winter morning, I heard I a great rosy giant of a policeman expostu- j lating with a poor waif of the : night who ttos trying unseasonably to gain admittance to a publichouse. : " Ah, now, sure, aren't you ashamed 6' \ yourself, woman dear, to be wantin' drink this hour o' the morning? Go up there to the coffee palace if you want somethin' to warm you. An' then go home like a good woman out o' the cowld." . When he had sent her drifting on her way towards the coffee palace^ he turned to answer my 'question about a shivering smalt dog I was leading. ■ . ■■; . : | "Is there a muzzlin' order? Is that. what 1 you want to know? Well, there's a sort uv a wan th' other side 6' the water," nodding his head across to the south side of the river, " but sure no wan'll say a word to \ ye. He 'doesn't look as if he'd do any harm." We found the muzzling order was only "a. sort ay a wan," and pur dog ran free during that holiday. I'm afraid Mr Long ' has altered those slip-shod ways since. " Is there any law against walking along the sea-wall?" asked an acquaintance of mine of a policeman, noticing the fine causeway the broad slabs of stone make between Kingstown and Dublin. "No law at all, sir," was the reply, "but sure I wouldn't ,doitif I. was you. It's too cowld." i The same kindliness towards the public prevails among the constabulary. A friend of mine cycling on the pathway in a county which shall be nameless, suddenly turned a corner on two stalwart greenbacks, and , in his eagerness to avoid running into the 1 guardians of the law overturned his machine and lost a nut. The behaviour of the constables was beautiful. They spent about an hour in finding the nut and helping to fix up the machine again; and when they had completed the job they parted from the cyclist with A WOHD OF FKIENDI-Y ADVICE. . " I'd take the path, sir, from here to J , but as soon as you come to J Church get off. There's a terrible man a sergeant in J He dosn't cycle himself." • ,'■'■, ; Last summer I had to step into the road during a country walk in Ireland to yield 1 the path to a cycling constable. ■'■'■■ ! "Much obliged to you!" he said, with ] a military salute. -"Til 'do -as much f6r yourself 'One day.'-'- ■• No Irishman is law-abiding' by nature,, and have- I not said the policeman- is -tlfe finest of Irish types/ save one? I remember the apologies of the police when an- >Irish magistrate who had been perverted by being. brought up in England made trouble about our muzzleless tykes assailing his law-abiding pets. " I don't like botherin' ye about it at all, but • look here now, yez'll Have to keep thim dogs from attacking Sir Edmund's. He is a terrible quare gentleman that won't let the bastes fight it uut themselves." The same policemen would find their gardening immensely engrossing when we had to past the police barracks with unmuzzled dogs at our. heels. After all . the peeler, however theoreti : cally opposed to the people, is "kindly Irish of the Irish." I have heard an imported English' hotel manager, not yet acclimatised, express his amazement at the sympathy of the Irish policeman with lawbreakers. A descendant . of Irish kings, Johnny • O'Donnell by" name, had been - painting the town red, as he . was accustomed to do, with impunity. But; the new .. manager of the Railway Hotel objected to the performance ..oa his premises, and finally sent . for', the police. A big c'qnstable was . ushered- in, who, when he be-, held Johnny strutting about in a redtablecloth — a reminiscence of. some /famous tragedian— burst into an appreciative grin. "Well, Masther Johnny, 'tis yourself s the play-boy ! What mischief are. ye up to now?" "Sergeant," said Johnny, loftily— . we always- give constables in Ireland promotion, unless we're determined to be unfriendly—" Sergeant, tell this man- who has sent for you that when his progenitors were woad-stained savages roaming the English woodlands, my ancestors were kings in this land." " Musha, give over your nonsense, Masther .Johnny/ an' go home to the misthress," said the constable, 1 hugely delighted. "Sure you wouldn't be ■ : keepin' the gentleman out uv his bed?" " Sergeant," said Johnny,- ignoring this i appeal, "what'll you. have to drink?" I. "Musha, .whatever ye say yerself,: Masthej i Johnny. ... Maybe a ; drop o' malt ud. be a? [■ good as .;Myiiui^U;'>-'Tis'> ; -.cow.id i -.-iiiglifc! ; I ''.PolicemaJaj" cried y; ; : \j '■}-: :'*■': : $- i ; : ; '.- . : r.THK '*'•?; '''■ : ;",I^6ent for 1 you to 'arfe§t..tms;irian, tipt:t< 1 .. drlialc -' with . him. .. r Your' conSuci; H.seems; t< - ; i :irie Kke''e6Jlusionv'aiid--c6njionatibh of : hii ! offence." "Musha, don't oe puttin' you] ' tongue to them hard words," said "thi 1 policeman, philosophically. " Lave hin • to me, an' he'll go home like a lamb." An( t he did so, in a very short space of time. The rack wouldn't extort from me thi

name-of the-distnct in- which the following: ;j incident occurred. In a.^ry. hard winter w^cabbage was. w<^HJte, weight in copper, the owner of a very fin* -kJia W "t ; ance of cabbages from the rows Itwas not the number taken. wttcb^red tfj mmmm cake make his fare and SL I gndAH ' tables have I seen ZttiTjJZ^^i each time with sy^paSy !* m ' exam^ d and where, .the. wayfarers sSed^Tbe aa "?*■ Wia6k • bomde d the field saw suddenly two gigantic figures loom on , them out of the mist. They were too ; close for retreat or concealment. It was i THE BIG SERGEANT AND HIS BIGGEST i . CONSTABLE, ' and each earned a bundle of cabbages suspended by the stalk. The pair broke into bashful grins; then, their embarrassment giving way before the humour of the situation, into roars of delighted laughter ' " Whatever you do, ladies, don't lo a^ ' tellin'.youi- papa," entreated the sergeant, beaming all over his .rosy face. Sometimes the policeman's sense of humour is an inconvenience. I asked a noliceman the last time I. was in Ireland if I was near S- — . As a. matter of fact R-rrr- was quite close, but I had no idea of that, " Go. on, quo that now, an' . don't be humbuggin' me," he said, with humorous . appreciation of what he took to be my joke. And no • assurance of seriousness could make him give any other answer. We abuse the policeman, in Ireland, but we love him and are proud of him. Do you remember the rioting in Belfast a few years ago, when police from the south ol Ireland, had to s-tand up against the hail of paving-stones and nuts and rivets from the Queen's Island? The rioters didn't like to fight with and be fought by their natural opposites in race and religion. Nor did we like our soft, handsome big boys to be maimed and disfigured by the cruel weapons of the mob. There was something motherly in our resentment in tho-ii-days, as there is something motherly m the pride with which we point to what .we call " the finest body of men en ; earth."