frequent causes of murder. So violent is this passion that

the victim of it is often quite prepared to sacrifice life
rather than forego indulgence, or allow another to supplant

him; both men and women will gloat over the murder of a
rival, and gladly accept death as its penalty, rather than

survive the possession of the desired object by another.
Further, in addition to those who yield to fits of passion,

there is a class whose criminal promptings are hereditary: a
large number of unfortunates of whom it may almost be said

that they were destined to commit crimes. 'It is unhappily a
fact,' says Mr. Francis Galton ('Inquiries into Human

Faculty'), 'that fairly distinct types of criminals breeding
true to their kind have become established.' And he gives

extraordinary examples, which fully bear out his affirmation.
We may safely say that, in a very large number of cases, the

worst crimes are perpetrated by beings for whom the death
penalty has no preventive terrors.

But it is otherwise with the majority. Death itself, apart
from punitive aspects, is a greater evil to those for whom

life has greater attractions. Besides this, the permanent
disgrace of capital punishment, the lastinginjury to the

criminal's family and to all who are dear to him, must be far
more cogent incentives to self-control than the mere fear of

ceasing to live.
With the criminal and most degraded class - with those who

are actuated by violentpassions and hereditary taints, the
class by which most murders are committed - the death

punishment would seem to be useless as an intimidation or an
example.

With the majority it is more than probable that it exercises
a strong and beneficial influence. As no mere social

distinction can eradicate innate instincts, there must be a
large proportion of the majority, the better-to-do, who are

both occasionally" target="_blank" title="ad.偶然地；非经常地">occasionally and habitually subject to criminal
propensities, and who shall say how many of these are

restrained from the worst of crimes by fear of capital
punishment and its consequences?

On these grounds, if they be not fallacious, the retention of
capital punishment may be justified.

Secondly. Is the assumption tenable that no other penalty
makes so strong an impression or is so pre-eminently

exemplary? Bentham thus answers the question: 'It appears
to me that the contemplation of perpetual imprisonment,

accompanied with hard labour and occasional solitary
confinement, would produce a deeper impression on the minds

of persons in whom it is more eminently desirable that that
impression should be produced than even death itself. . . .

All that renders death less formidable to them renders
laborious restraintproportionably more irksome.' There is

doubtless a certain measure of truth in these remarks. But
Bentham is here speaking of the degraded class; and is it

likely that such would reflectseriously upon what they never
see and only know by hearsay? Think how feeble are their

powers of imagination and reflection, how little they would
be impressed by such additional seventies as 'occasional

solitary confinement,' the occurrence and the effects of
which would be known to no one outside the jail.

As to the 'majority,' the higher classes, the fact that men
are often imprisoned for offences - political and others -

which they are proud to suffer for, would always attenuate
the ignominy attached to 'imprisonment.' And were this the

only penalty for all crimes, for first-class misdemeanants
and for the most atrocious of criminals alike, the

distinction would not be very finely drawn by the interested;
at the most, the severest treatment as an alternative to

capital punishment would always savour of extenuating
circumstances.

There remain two other points of view from which the question
has to be considered: one is what may be called the

Vindictive, the other, directly opposed to it, the
Sentimental argument. The first may be dismissed with a word

or two. In civilised countries torture is for ever
abrogated; and with it, let us hope, the idea of judicial

vengeance.
The LEX TALIONIS - the Levitic law - 'Eye for eye, tooth for

tooth,' is befitting only for savages. Unfortunately the
Christian religion still promulgates and passionately clings

to the belief in Hell as a place or state of everlasting
torment - that is to say, of eternaltorture inflicted for no

ultimate end save that of implacable vengeance. Of all the
miserable superstitions ever hatched by the brain of man

this, as indicative of its barbarousorigin, is the most
degrading. As an ordinance ascribed to a Being worshipped as

just and beneficent, it is blasphemous.
The Sentimental argument, like all arguments based upon

feeling rather than reason, though not without merit, is
fraught with mischief which far outweighs it. There are

always a number of people in the world who refer to their
feelings as the highest human tribunal. When the reasoning

faculty is not very strong, the process of ratiocination
irksome, and the issue perhaps unacceptable, this course

affords a convenientsolution to many a complicated problem.
It commends itself, moreover, to those who adopt it, by the

sense of chivalry which it involves. There is something
generous and noble, albeit quixotic, in siding with the weak,

even if they be in the wrong. There is something charitable
in the judgment, 'Oh! poor creature, think of his adverse

circumstances, his ignorance, his temptation. Let us be
merciful and forgiving.' In practice, however, this often

leads astray. Thus in most cases, even where premeditated
murder is proved to the hilt, the sympathy of the

sentimentalist is invariably with the murderer, to the
complete oblivion of the victim's family.

Bentham, speaking of the humanity plea, thus words its
argument: 'Attend not to the sophistries of reason, which

often deceive, but be governed by your hearts, which will
always lead you right. I reject without hesitation the

punishment you propose: it violates natural feelings, it
harrows up the susceptible mind, it is tyrannical and cruel.'

Such is the language of your sentimental orators.
'But abolish any one penal law merely because it is repugnant

to the feelings of a humane heart, and, if consistent, you
abolish the whole penal code. There is not one of its

provisions that does not, in a more or less painful degree,
wound the sensibility.'

As this writerelsewhere observes: 'It is only a virtue when
justice has done its work, &c. Before this, to forgive

injuries is to invite their perpetration - is to be, not the
friend, but the enemy of society. What could wickedness

desire more than an arrangement by which offences should be
always followed by pardon?'

Sentiment is the ULTIMA RATIO FEMINARUM, and of men whose
natures are of the epicene gender. It is a luxury we must

forego in the face of the stern duties which evil compels us
to encounter.

There is only one other argument against capital punishment
that is worth considering.

The objection so strenuously pleaded by Dickens in his
letters to the 'Times' - viz. the brutalising effects upon

the degraded crowds which witnessed public executions - is no
longer apposite. But it may still be urged with no little

force that the extremeseverity of the sentence induces all
concerned in the conviction of the accused to shirk the

responsibility. Informers, prosecutors, witnesses, judges,
and jurymen are, as a rule, liable to reluctance as to the

performance of their respective parts in the melancholy
drama.' The consequence is that 'the benefit of the doubt,'

while salving the consciences of these servants of the law,
not unfrequently turns a real criminal loose upon society;

whereas, had any other penalty than death been feasible, the
same person would have been found guilty.

Much might be said on either side, but on the whole it would
seem wisest to leave things - in this country - as they are;