CHAPTER III.

PRACTICAL REFORMS.

THE data of criminal anthropology and statistics, and the positive theory of responsibility which flows from them, although they have been systematised only by the positive school, are nevertheless too constantly in evidence not to have made their way into courts and parliaments.

I have already spoken of penal jurisprudence in its relations with criminal sociology, and may now cite a few examples of the more or less direct and avowed influence of the new data on penal legislation.

The legislators of to-day, vaguely impressed by statistical and biological, ethnographical and anthropological data, and still imbued with the old prejudice of social and political artificiality, were at first hurried into a regular mania for legislation, under which every newly observed social phenomenon seemed to demand a special law, regulation, or article in the penal code. Then, as Spencer has said in one of his most brilliant essays, the citizen finds himself in an inextricable network of laws, decrees, regulations and codes, which surround him, support him, fetter and bind him, even before his birth and after his death. For those whom M. Bordier calls the gardeners and trussmakers of society, forgetting the natural character of social phenomena, picture society as so much paste, to which the cook may give any form he pleases, whether pie-crust, dumpling, or tart.

Hence we see on all sides, side by side with dogma in the classical sciences of law, economy, and politics, empiricism in the laws themselves. And that is why the practical defects and constant impotence of repression in penal justice are the most eloquent arguments of the experimental school, which extends and strengthens its own theoretical inductions by the practical reforms which it suggests.

A first example of the influence more directly exercised by the new ideas in penal legislation is furnished by the proposal already realised in the penal laws of Holland, Italy, &c., of two parallel systems of punishment by detention—one for the graver and more dangerous crimes, and the other, ``simple detention,'' or custodia honesta (``as a first-class misdemeanant''), for contraventions, involuntary offences, and crimes not inspired by the baser passions.

Similarly, the enumeration contained in certain codes, as in Spain, and in the old Mancini draft of a penal code in Italy, of the main aggravating and extenuating circumstances common to all crimes and offences, such as the antecedents of the accused, venial or inexcusable passion, repentance and confession of a crime, extent of injury or the like, is only an elementary and empiric form of the biological and psychological classification of criminals.

Thus also the foundation of asylums for the detention of lunatic criminals, in spite of their being acquitted of moral responsibility; the more and more vigorous, but often too empirical measures against the progressive increase of recidivism; the proposed repressive measures as alternatives to short terms of detention; the reaction against the exaggerations of cellular confinement, which I regard as one of the aberrations of the nineteenth century, are all manifest proofs of the more or less avowed and logical influence of the data of criminal biology and sociology on contemporary penal legislation.

These practical reforms, which, when grafted on the old trunk of the classical theories of crime and punishment, are mere arbitrary and misplaced expedients, really represent, when they are logically co-ordinated and completed, the new system of social defence againt{sic} crime, which is based on the scientific data and inductions of the positive school, and which it is therefore necessary for us to trace out from its foundations.

I.

In the first place, whilst the positive theories largely reduce the practical importance of the penal code, yet they do more to increase the importance of the rules of penal procedure, which are intended to give practical and daily effect to penal measures, for the defence of society against criminals. For, as I maintained in the Italian Parliament, if the penal code is a code for evil- doers, that of penal procedure is a code for honest people, who are placed on their trial but not yet found guilty.

This is all the more true because, if it is possible to have penal codes whose machinery of psychological coercion is planted on a platonic platform of penitentiary systems written out fair in their symmetrical clauses, but still non-existent, as is the case in Italy, this is not possible in regard to penal procedure. The regulations of the code of ``instruction'' must of necessity be carried out by a judicial routine. The penal code may remain a dead letter, as, for instance, when it says that punishment by detention is to be inflicted in prisons constructed with cells; for, happily, the cells necessary in Italy for fifty or sixty thousand prisoners (or in France for thirty or forty thousand) are too expensive to admit of the observance of these articles of the penal code—which nevertheless have cost so many academic discussions as to the best penitentiary system: ``Auburn,'' ``Philadelphian,'' ``Irish,'' or ``progressive.'' In the organisation of justice, on the other hand, every legal regulation has its immediate application, and therefore reforms of procedure produce immediate and visible results.

It may be added that, if the slight deterrent influence which it is possible for punishment to exercise depends, with its adaptation to various types of criminals, on the certitude and promptitude of its application, the others depend precisely and solely on the organisation of the police, and of penal procedure.

Passing over special and technical reforms which even the classical experts in crime demand in the systems of procedure, and often rather on behalf of the criminals than on behalf of society, we may connect the positive innovations in judicial procedure with these two general principles:—(1) the equal recognition of the rights and guarantees of the prisoner to be tried and of the society which tries him; and (2) the legal sentence, whereof the object is not to define the indeterminable moral culpability of the prisoner, nor the impersonal applicability of an article in the penal code to the crime under consideration; but the application of the law which is most appropriate to the perpetrator of the crime, according to his more or less anti- social characteristics, both physiological and psychological.

From Beccaria onward, penal law developed by reaction against the excessive and arbitrary severity of the Middle Ages—a reaction which led to a progressive decrease of punishments. Similarly official penal procedure in the nineteenth century has been, and continues to be, a reaction against the medi<ae>val abuses of the inquisitorial system, in the sense of a progressive increase of individual guarantees against the domination of society.

As we considered it necessary in the interests of social self- defence, in the case of criminal law, to combat the individualist excesses of the classical school, so in regard to penal procedure, whilst admitting the irrevocable guarantees of individual liberty, secured under the old system, we think it necessary to restore the equilibrium between individual and social rights, which has been disturbed by the many exaggerations of the classical theories, as we will now proceed to show by a few examples.

The presumption of innocence, and therewith the more general rule, ``in dubio pro reo,'' is certainly based on an actual truth, and is doubtless obligatory during the progress of the trial. Undetected criminals are fortunately a very small minority as compared with honest people; and we must consequently regard every man who is placed on his trial as innocent until the contrary has been proved.

But when proof to the contrary is evident, as, for instance, in the case of a flagrant crime, or of confession confirmed by other elements in the trial, it seems fit that the presumption should cease in view of absolute fact; and especially when we have to do with habitual criminals.

Even the criminals of this class whom I have questioned recognise a presumption of the opposite kind. ``They have convicted me,'' said an habitual thief, ``because they knew I might have done it, without any proof; and they were in the right. You will never be convicted, because you never stole; and if we happen to be innocent once in a way, that must be set against the other times when we are not discovered.'' And the ironical smile of several of these prisoners, condemned on circumstantial evidence, reminded me of a provision which was once proposed in the Italian penal code, under which a person surprised in the attempt to commit a crime, if it was not known what precise form his crime would have taken, was to be found guilty of a less serious offence. This might be good for an occasional criminal, or a criminal of passion, but would be absurd and dangerous for habitual criminals and old offenders.

The exaggerations of the presumption ``in dubio pro reo'' are due to a sort of mummification and degeneracy of the legal maxims, whereby propositions based upon observation and generalisation from existing facts continue in force and are mechanically applied after the facts have changed or ceased to exist.

What reason can there be for extending provisional freedom, pending an appeal, to one who has already been found guilty and liable to punishment for a crime or offence, under sentence of a court of first instance? To presume the innocence of every one during the first trial is reasonable; but to persist in a presumption which has been destroyed by facts, after a first condemnation, would be incomprehensible if it were not a manifestly exaggerated outcome of classical and individualist theories, which can only see a ``victim of authority'' in every accused person, and in every condemned person also.

Another point is that of acquittal in case of an equality of votes, especially where born and habitual criminals are concerned. I think it would be much more reasonable to restore the verdict of ``not proven,'' which the Romans admitted under the form of ``non liquet,'' as an alternative to ``absolvo'' and ``condemno,'' and which may be delivered by juries in Scotland. Every one who has been put on his trial is entitled to have his innocence declared, it it has been actually proved. But if the proofs remain incomplete, his only right is not to be condemned, since his culpability has not been proved. But it is not the duty of society to declare him absolutely innocent, when suspicious circumstances remain. In this case the only logical and just verdict is one of ``not proven.'' Such a verdict would obliterate the shadow of doubt which rests on persons who have been acquitted, by reason of the identical verdicts in cases of proved innocence and inadequacy of proof, and on the other hand it would avoid the tendency to compromise, under which judges and juries, in place of acquitting when the proof is insufficient, sometimes prefer to convict, but make the punishment lighter.

Another case of exaggeration in the presumption of innocence is afforded by the regulations as to contradictory or irregular verdicts, which may be corrected only when there has been a conviction; whilst if the error has led to the acquittal of an accused person, it cannot be put right. The influence of the individualist and classical school is here manifest, for, as M. Majno says, ``the justice of sentences rests as much on just condemnations as upon just acquittals.'' If the individual has a right to claim that he shall not be condemned through the mistake or ignorance of his judges, society also has the right to demand that those whose acquittal is equally the result of mistake or ignorance shall not be allowed to go free.

On the same ground of equilibrium between the rights of the individual and the rights of society, which the positive school aims at restoring, something must be said as to the regulation by which, if the appeal is brought by a condemned person, the punishment cannot be increased. One classical expert in an official position would not even give the right to appeal at all.

Now if appeal is allowed for the purpose of correcting possible mistakes on the part of the original judges, why must we allow this correction in mitigation, and not in increase of punishment? And to this practical assurance of the condemned person that he has nothing to fear from a second trial, which seems to have been given to him for the sole purpose of encouraging him to abuse his power, since appeals are too often a mere dilatory pretext, there is a pendant in the right of the public prosecutor to demand a re- hearing, but only ``in the interest of the law, and without prejudice to the person acquitted.''

A last instance of the same kind of protective regulation for the protection of evil-doers is to be found in the new trials which are permitted only in cases where there has been a condemnation, and that on arbitrary and superficial grounds. Most of the classical commentators on procedure do not dream of the possibility of revision in the case of acquittals, and yet, as Majno justly says, ``even if he has profited by false witness, forged documents, intimidation or corruption of a judge, or any other offence, the acquitted person calmly enjoys his boast, and can even plume himself on his own share in the business without fear of being put on his trial again.'' The Austrian and German codes of procedure admit revision in cases of acquittal; and the positive rule in this connection ought to be that a case should be re-heard when the sentence of condemnation or acquittal is evidently erroneous.

From the same principle of equality between the guarantees of the individual criminal and of honest society we infer the necessity of greater strictness in the idemnification of the victims of crime. For the platonic damages now added to all sorts of sentences, but nearly always ineffectual, we believe that a strict obligation ought to be substituted, the operation of which should be superintended by the State, in the same way as the other consequence of the crime, which is called the punishment. I will return to this when I trace the outline of the positive system of social defence against criminals.

The positive school, precisely because it aims at an equilibrium between individual and social rights, is not content with taking the part of society against the individual. It also takes the part of the individual against society.

In the first place, the very reforms which we propose for the indemnification of the victims of crime, regarded as a social function, as well as the operation of the punishment, have an individualist character. The individualism of the classical school was not even complete as a matter of fact; for the guarantees which it proposed took account of the individual criminal only, and did not touch his victims, who are also individuals, and far more worthy of sympathy and protection.

But, beyond this, we may point to three reforms as an instance of the positive and reasonable guarantees of the individual against the abuse or the defects of social authority. Of these reforms two have been put forward by the classical school also, but, like criminal lunatic asylums, alternatives for short terms of imprisonment, and so on, they have generally remained inoperative, for they are not in harmony with the bulk of traditional theory, and only in a positive system have they any organic and efficacious connection with the data of criminal sociology. I refer to the exercise of popular opinion, the correction of judicial mistakes, and the transfer of sundry punishable offences to the category of civil contraventions.

The institution of a Ministry of Justice corresponds to the demands of general sociology, which exacts division of labour even in collective organisms, and to those of criminal sociology, which requires a special and distinct organ for the social function of defence against crime. Indeed it has become indispensable as a necessary judicial organ, even in nations like England which have not yet formally established it. So that, far from confounding the Public Prosecutor with the judicial body, we see the necessity of giving to this office a more elevated character and a distinct personality, with ampler guarantees of independence of the executive power.

Nevertheless the action of the Ministry of Justice, as now commonly organised, may be inadequate for the protection of the victims of crime, either indirectly through the insufficient number of its functionaries, or directly, through the functional defect insisted on by M. Gneist, ``party spirit or prejudice in favour of the governing powers.'' The latter, indeed, notwithstanding M. Glaser's objection that government pressure is impossible, have no need to give special instructions, of a more or less compromising character, in order to exercise a special influence in any particular case. There is no necessity for anything beyond the conservative spirit natural to every institution of the State, or the principle of authority which is a special form of it, apart from the less respectable motives of interested subservience to such as are in office and dispense promotion.

Hence it will be useful, in initiating criminal proceedings, to add to the action of a Public Prosecutor (but not to substitute for him) the action of private persons.

Criminal proceedings by citizens may take two forms, according as they are put in operation only by the injured person or by any individual.

The first mode, already allowed in every civilised nation, needs amendment in various ways, especially in regard to the subordination of the penal action to the plaint of the injured person, which ought to be restrained, and even abolished. In fact, whereas this right has hitherto been regulated by law only in view of the legal and material gravity of the offence, it should in future be made to depend on the perversity of the offender; for society has a much greater interest in defending itself against the author of a slight offence if he is a born criminal or a criminal lunatic, than in defending itself against the author of a more serious crime, if he is an occasional criminal or a criminal of passion. And the necessity of bringing a private action in regard to certain offences is only a source of abuses, and of demoralising bargains between offenders and injured persons.

On the other hand, this prosecution by a citizen who has been injured by a crime or an offence ought to have more efficacious guarantees, either for the exercise of the rights of the injured person, or against the possible neglect or abuse of the Public Prosecutor. If, indeed, he is obliged to take up every charge and action, he is also (in Italy and France, but not in Austria or Germany, for instance) the only authority as to penal actions, and consequently as to penal judgments.

In Italy, out of 264,038 cases which came before the Public Prosecutor in 1880, six per cent., or 16,058, were ``entered on the records,'' or, in other words, they were not followed up; and in 1889, out of a total of 271,279, the number of unprosecuted cases was 27,086, or ten per cent. That is, the number had almost doubled in ten years.

In France the annual average of plaints, charges, and trials with which the Public Prosecutor was concerned stood at 114,181 in the years 1831-5; at 371,910 in 1876-80; and at 459,319 in 1887. And the cases not proceeded with were 34,643, or thirty per cent., in 1831-5; 181,511, or forty-eight per cent., in 1876-80; and 239,061, or fifty-two per cent., in 1887. That is to say, their actual and relative numbers mere nearly doubled in fifty years.

Is it possible that in ten, or even in fifty years, the moral conditions of a nation, and its inclination to bring criminal charges, should be so modified that the number of cases devoid of foundation should have been almost doubled? It is certain that in different nations and different provinces there are varying degrees of readiness to bring charges against lawbreakers rather than to take personal vengeance. But in one and the same nation this vindictive spirit and this readiness to bring charges cannot vary so greatly and rapidly, especially within ten years, as in Italy; for the persistence of popular sentiment is a well- known fact. It is rather in the disposition of the functionaries of the Ministry of Justice, which is far more variable, that we must look for an explanation of this fact, which is also accounted for by the tendency to diminish the statistical records of crime.

Now, why must the citizen who lodges a complaint of what he considers a crime or offence submit to the decision of the Public Prosecutor, who has allowed his action to drop? This consideration has led to the subsidiary penal action, already allowed in Germany and Austria, and introduced in the draft codes of procedure in Hungary, Belgium, and France, which is a genuine guarantee of the individual as against the social authority. We must not, however, deceive ourselves as to the efficacy or frequency of its operation, especially in the Latin nations, which have none too much individual initiative.

The second form of private prosecution is that of the ``popular punitive action,'' which existed in the Roman penal law—which, it may be said in passing, is not so insignificant as the classical school has supposed. The statement of M. Carrara, too often repeated, that ``The Romans, who were giants in civil law, are pigmies in penal law,'' is not in my opinion correct. It is true that the Roman penal law was not organised in a philosophical system; but it exhibits throughout the wonderfully practical judgment of the Roman jurisconsults; and indeed one cannot see why they should have lost this sense when dealing with crimes and punishments. On the other hand, I am inclined to think that the importance of the Roman civil law has been exaggerated, and that the spirit of the corpus juris springs from social and economic conditions so different from our own that we can no longer feel bound to submit to its tyranny. The penal law of the Romans, however, contains several maxims based on unquestionable common sense, which deserve to be rescued from the oblivion to which they have been condemned by the dogmatism of the classical school. Examples of these are the popular punitive action; the distinction between dolus bonus and dolus malus, which belongs to the theory of motives; the stress laid upon intentions rather than upon their actual outcome; the law of exceptio veritatis in cases of slander, which under the pharisaism of the classical theory serves only to give immunity to knaves; the penalty of twofold or threefold restitution for theft, in place of a few days or weeks in prison; the condemnation of the most hardened criminals to the mines, instead of providing them with cells, as comfortable as they are ineffectual—apart from the consideration that the firedamp in mines and the unhealthiness of penal settlements would be less mischievous if their victims were the most dangerous criminals rather than honest miners and husbandmen.

To return to the popular penal action, it is so commonly advocated, even by the classical school, that it is necessary to say another word on the subject.

Gneist, from his special point of view, proposed that this action should be introduced into penal procedure, as against electoral and press offences, offences against the law of public meetings and associations, and the abuse of public authority. But I consider that this action would be a necessary guarantee, in the case of all crimes and offences, for a reasonable and definite adjustment of the rights of the individual and of society.

Another reform, tending to a more effective guarantee of individual rights, is the revision of judicial errors in the interests of all who are unjustly condemned or prosecuted. Such a reform has been advocated also by several members of the classical school; but it seemed only too likely to remain with them a mere benevolent expression of opinion; for it can only be carried into effect by curtailing imprisonment, and by a more frequent and stringent infliction of fines, as advocated by the positive school.

Sanctioned in some special cases, as an exceptional measure—as, for instance, in the last century by the Parliament of Toulouse, and in our age by the English Parliament—compensation for judicial errors was rendered necessary in France at the end of the eighteenth century, after a series of unjust condemnations, even death sentences, which led Voltaire and Beccaria to demand the abolition of capital punishment. In 1781 the Society of Art and Literature at Ch<a^>lonssur-Marne offered a prize for an essay on the subject, and awarded it to Brissot de Warville, for his work, ``Le Sang Innocent Veng<e'>.'' In the records of the <E'>tats G<e'>n<e'>raux there were many votes in favour of this reform, which Louis XVI. caused to be introduced on May 8, 1788. In 1790 Duport brought in a measure in the Constituent Assembly; but it was rejected after a short discussion in February, 1791, during which the same practical objections were urged as have been repeated up to the present time. Nevertheless, the Convention decreed special indemnities, as, for instance. a thousand francs in 1793 for one Busset, ``for arbitrary imprisonment and prosecution.'' In 1823 the above-named Society at Ch<a^>lonssur- Marne proposed the same subject for an essay; and it has been the object of sundry proposals, all rejected, as in 1867 during the discussion on criminal appeals, on amendments moved by Jules Favre, Richard, and Ollivier; and again in 1883 by D<e'>put<e'> Pieyre, and in 1890 by D<e'>put<e'> Reinach.

This reform has been advocated by Necker, amongst other writers, in his memoir on ``Financial Administration in France,'' and by Pastoret, Voltaire, Bentham, Merlin, Legraverend, H<e'>lie, Tissot, and more comprehensively by Marsangy in his ``Reform of the Criminal Law'' (1864). Marsangy advocated many other practical reforms which have since been adopted, in substitution for the objectionable short terms of imprisonment. More recently the subject has been treated in France by the magistrates Bernard, Pascaud, Nicolas, Giacobbi, and by the Attorney-Generals Molines, Jourdan, Houssard, Dupry, Bujard, in their inaugural addresses.

In Italy there was a notable precedent for this reform in the Treasury of Fines, established for Tuscany in 1786, and for the kingdom of the Two Sicilies in the penal code of 1819, for the purpose of creating a fund for compensation in cases of judicial error. In 1886 Deputy Pavesi brought in a measure which was not discussed; and this indemnification, which had already been proposed in 1873 by De Falco, keeper of the seals, in his draft of an Italian penal code, was not included in subsequent Bills, mainly on account of the financial difficulties. Amongst writers on criminology, it was advocated in Italy by Carrara, Pessina, and Brusa; in Germany by Geyer and Schwarze; in Belgium by Prins and others, and more recently by M. Garofalo, in his report to the third National Congress on Law, at Florence, in September, 1891.

Amongst existing laws, indemnification for judicial errors, whether limited to cases in which the innocence of condemned persons can be proved, or extended to persons wrongfully prosecuted, is included in the penal codes of Hungary and Mexico, and by special laws in Portugal (1884), Sweden (1886), Denmark (1888), and especially in Switzerland, in the cantons of Fribourg, Vaud, Neuch<a^>tel, Geneva, B<a^>le, and Berne.

The legal principle that the State ought to indemnify material and moral injury inflicted by its functionaries, through malice or negligence, on a citizen who has done nothing to subject himself to prosecution or condemnation, cannot be seriously contested. But the whole difficulty is reduced to deciding in what cases the right to indemnification ought to be recognised, and then to providing a fund out of which the State can discharge this duty.

For the latter purpose it would be necessary to include an adequate sum in the Budget. This was done in Bavaria, in 1888, by setting apart 5,000 marks annually; and the first who profited by this provision received a pension of 300 marks per annum, after being rendered incapable of work by seven years' imprisonment for a crime which he had not committed. But if the policy of retrenchment imposed on the European States by their insane military expenditure and their chronic wars prevents the carrying out of this proposal, there is the Italian precedent of the Treasury of Fines, which, with the fines inflicted, or which ought to be inflicted on convicted persons, and the product of prison labour, would provide the necessary amount for the indemnities which the State ought to pay to innocent persons who have been condemned or prosecuted, as well as to the victims of offences.

As for the cases in which a right to indemnification for judicial errors ought to be acknowledged, it seems to me evident in the first place that we must include those of convicted persons found to be innocent on a revision of the sentence. Amongst persons wrongfully prosecuted, I think an indemnity is due to those who have been acquitted because their action was neither a crime nor an offence, or because they had no part in the action (whence also follows the necessity of verdicts of Not Proven, so as to distinguish cases of acquittal on the ground of proved innocence)—always provided that the prosecuted persons have not given a reasonable pretext for their trial by their own conduct, or their previous relapse, or their habitual criminality. The third proposition of the positive school in regard to individual guarantees, which was also advanced by M. Puglia, is connected with reform of the penal code, and especially with the more effectual indemnification of the victims of crime. The object is to prune the long and constantly increasing list of crimes, offences, and contraventions of all acts which result in slight injury, committed by occasional offenders, or ``pseudo- criminals''—that is, by normal persons acting merely with negligence or imprudence. In these cases the personal and social injury is not caused maliciously, and the agent is not dangerous, so that imprisonment is more than ever inappropriate, unjust, and even dangerous in its consequences. Deeds of this kind ought to be eliminated from the penal code, and to be regarded merely as civil offences, as __*simple__ theft was by the Romans; for a strict indemnification will be for the authors of these deeds a more effectual and at the same time a less demoralising and dangerous vindication of the law than the grotesque condemnation to a few days or weeks in prison. It will be understood that the classical theory of absolute and eternal justice cannot concern itself with these trifles, which, nevertheless, constitute two-thirds of our daily social and judicial existence; for, according to this theory, there is always an offence to be visited with a proportionate punishment, just as with a murder, or a highway robbery, or a slanderous word. But for the positive school, which realises the actual and practical conditions of social and punitive justice, there is on the other hand an evident need of relieving the codes, tribunals, and prisons from these microbes of the criminal world, by excluding all punishments by imprisonment for what Venturi and Turati happily describe as the atomic particles of crime, and by relaxing in some degree that monstrous network of prohibitions and punishments which is so inflexible for petty transgressors and offenders, but so elastic for serious evil-doers.

II.

The reforms which we propose in punitive law are based on the fundamental principle already established on the data of anthropology and criminal statistics. If the ethical idea of punishment as a retribution for crime be excluded from the repressive function of society, and if we regard this function simply as a defensive power acting through law, penal justice can no longer be squared with a minute computation of the moral responsibility or culpability of the criminal. It can have no other end than to prove, first, that the person under trial is the author of the crime, and, then, to which type of criminals he belongs, and, as a consequence, what degree of anti-social depravity and re-adaptability is indicated by his physical and mental qualities.

The first and fundamental inquiry in every criminal trial will always be the verification of the crime and the identification of the criminal.

But when the connection of the accused and the crime is once established, either the accused produces evidence of his honesty, or of the uprightness of his motives—the only case in which his acquittal can be demanded or taken into consideration—or else it is proved that his motives were anti-social and unlawful, and then there is no place for those grotesque and often insincere contests between the prosecution and the defence to prevent or to secure an acquittal, which will be impossible whatever may be the psychological conditions of the criminal. The one and only possible issue between the prosecution and the defence will be to determine, by the character—of the accused and of his action, to what anthropological class he belongs, whether he is a born criminal, or mad, or an habitual or occasional criminal, or a criminal of passion.

In this case we shall have no more of those combats of craft, manipulations, declamations, and legal devices, which make every criminal trial a game of chance, destroying public confidence in the administration of justice, a sort of spider's web which catches flies and lets the wasps escape.

The crime will always be the object of punitive law, even under the positive system of procedure; but, instead of being the exclusive concern of the judge it will only be the ground of procedure, and one symptom amongst others of the depravation and re-adaptability of the criminal, who will himself be the true and living subject of the trial. As it is, the whole trial is developed from the material fact; and the whole concern of the judge is to give it a legal definition, so that the criminal is always in the background, regarded merely as the ultimate billet for a legal decision, in accordance with some particular article in the penal code—except that the actual observance of this article is at the mercy of a thousand accidents of which the judge knows nothing, and which are all foreign to the crime, and to the criminal.

If we rid ourselves of the assumption that we can measure the moral culpability of the accused, the whole process of a criminal trial consists in the assemblage of facts, the discussion, and the decision upon the evidence. For the classical school, on the other hand, such a trial has been regarded as a succession of guarantees for the individual against society, and, by a sort of reaction against the methods of legal proof, has been made to turn upon the private conviction, not to say the intuition, of the judge and counsel.

A criminal trial ought to retrace the path of the crime itself, passing backward from the criminal action (a violation of the law), in order to discover the criminal, and, in the psychological domain, to establish the determining motives and the anthropological type. Hence arises the necessity for the positive school of reconsidering the testimony in a criminal case, so as to give it its full importance, and to reinforce it with the data and inferences not only of ordinary psychology, as the classical school has always done (Pagano for instance, and Bentham, Mittermaier, Ellero, and others), but also, and above all, with the data and inferences of criminal anthropology and psychology.

In the evolution of the theory of evidence we may distinguish four characteristic stages, as M. Tarde observed—the religious stage, with its ordeals and combats; the legal stage, accompanied by torture; the political stage, with private conviction and the jury; and the scientific stage, with expert knowledge of experimental results, systematically collected and studied, which is the new task of positive procedure.

We must glance at each of the three elements of the criminal trial: collection of evidence (police and preliminary inquiry); discussion of evidence (prosecution and defence), and decision upon evidence (judges and juries).

It is evident in the first place, as I remarked in the first edition of this work, and as Righini, Garofalo, Lombroso, Alongi, and Rossi have confirmed, that a study of the anthropological factors of crime provides the guardians and administrators of the law with new and more certain methods in the detection of the guilty. Tattooing, anthropometry, physiognomy, physical and mental conditions, records of sensibility, reflex activity, vaso- motor reactions, the range of sight, the data of criminal statistics, facilitate and complete the amassing of evidence, personal identification, and hints as to the capacity to commit any particular crime; and they will frequently suffice to give police agents and examining magistrates a scientific guidance in their inquiries, which now depend entirely on their individual acuteness and mental sagacity.

And when we remember the enormous number of crimes and offences which are not punished, for lack or inadequacy of evidence, and the frequency of trials which are based solely on circumstantial hints, it is easy to see the practical utility of the primary connection between criminal sociology and penal procedure.

The practical application of anthropometry to the identification of criminals, and to the question of recidivism, which was begun in Paris by M. Bertillon, and subsequently adopted by almost all the states of Europe and America, is too familiar to need description. It will be sufficient to recall the modifications of Bertillon's system by Anfosso, with the actual collection of anthropometric data, and their inclusion in the ordinary records of justice.

Thus the sphygmographic data on the circulation of the blood, which reveal the inner emotions, in spite of an outward appearance of calm or indifference, have already served to show that a person accused of theft was not guilty of it, but that he was on the contrary guilty of another theft, of which he had not been so much as suspected. On another occasion they established the innocence of a man condemned to death. We shall have more speaking and frequent illustrations when these inquiries have been placed regularly at the service of criminal justice.

The sphygmograph may also be useful in the diagnosis of simulated disease, after the example set M. Voisin in the case of a sham epileptic in Paris, ``whose sphygmographic lines have no resemblance to those of true epileptics before and after a fit, and <168>only resemble those produced by normal persons after a violent gesticulation.''

As for the possible utilisation of hypnotism, we must be cautious before we draw any legal conclusions from it; but it cannot be questioned that this is a valuable source of scientific aid in the systematic collection of criminal evidence.

But, for the present, the most certain and profitable aids in the collection of evidence are those afforded by the organic and psychical characteristics of criminals. In my study on homicide I reckoned up many psychological and psycho-pathological symptoms which characterise the murderer, the homicidal madman, and the homicide through passion. And in my professional practice I have often found by experience that there is a great suggestive efficacy in these psychological symptoms in regard to the conduct of a criminal, before, during, and after a crime; and it is important to bring this knowledge scientifically before detectives and judges.

These data are not applicable to accused persons exclusively. When we remember the enormous importance of oral evidence in the chain of criminal proof, and the rough traditional empiricism of the criteria of credibility, which are daily applied in all trials to all kinds of witnesses, by men who regard them, like the prisoners, as an average abstract type—excluding only the definite cases of inability to give evidence, which are defined beforehand with as much method as the cases of irresponsibility— the necessity of calling in the aid of scientific psychology and psycho-pathology is manifest.

For instance, not to dwell on the absurd violation of these traditional criteria of credibility, when police officers are admitted as witnesses (often the only witnesses) of resistance to authority or violence, wherein they are doubly interested parties, how often in our courts do we give a thought to the casual imaginations or credulity of children, women, weak-nerved or hysterical persons, and so on? Counsel for defence or prosecution who desired to know if any particular witness is or is not hysterical would bring a smile to the face of the judge, very learned, no doubt, in Roman law or legal precedents, but certainly ignorant in physiology, psychology, and psycho-pathology. Yet the tendency to slander in hysterical cases, which M. Ceneri urged so eloquently in a celebrated trial or the tendency to untruth in children, which M. Motet has ably illustrated, are but manifest and simple examples of this applicability of normal, criminal, and pathological psychology to the credibility of witnesses. And, under its influence, how much of the clear atmosphere of humanity will stimulate our courts of justice, which are still too much isolated from the world and from human life, where, nevertheless, prisoners and witnesses come, and too often come again, living phantoms whom the judges know not, and only see confusedly through the thick mist of legal maxims, and articles of the code, and criminal procedure.

Apart from these examples, which prove the importance of what M. Sarraute justly called ``judicial applications of criminal sociology,'' the fundamental reform needed in the scientific preparation of criminal evidence is the creation of magisterial experts in every court of preliminary inquiry. In a question of forgery, poisoning, or abortion, the judge has recourse to experts in handwriting, chemistry, or obstetrics; but beyond these technical, special, and less frequent cases, in every criminal trial the basis of inquiry is or ought to be formed by the data of criminal biology, psychology, and psycho-pathology. So that, over and above the knowledge of these sciences which is necessary to judges, magistrates, and police officers, it is most important that an expert, or several experts in criminal anthropology should be attached to every court of criminal inquiry.

This would provide us with an anthropological classification, certain and speedy, of every convicted person, as well as a legal classification of the material fact, and we should avoid the scandal of what are known as experts for the prosecution and experts for the defence. There should be but one finding of experts, either by agreement between them or by a scientific reference to arbitration, as in the German, Austrian, and Russian system; and over this finding the judges and the litigants should have no other power than to call for explanations from the chief of the experts.

In this way we should further avoid the scandal of judges entirely ignorant of the elementary ideas of criminal biology, psychology, and psycho-pathology, like the president of an assize court whom I heard telling a jury that he was unable to say why an expert ``wanted to examine the feet of a prisoner in order to come to a decision about his head.'' This president, who was an excellent magistrate and a learned jurist was wholly unacquainted with the elements of the theory of degeneracy, like one of his colleagues whom I heard saying, when the expert spoke of the abnormal shape of the ears of a prisoner (in accord with the inquiries of Morel and Lombroso), ``That depends on how the hat is worn.''

For in consequence of the assumption, made by Kant amongst others, that questions of mental disease belong to the philosopher rather than to the physician, and of the absurd and shallow idea which superficial persons entertain of those who are insane, picturing them as constantly raving, the judge or juryman who pins his faith to an expert in handwriting thinks himself above the necessity of taking the opinion of an expert in insanity.

It must be recognised, however, that this foolish assumption is partly due to a reasonable anxiety for the public safety, under the sway of the classical theories, which allow the acquittal and discharge of criminals who are found to be of unsound mind. It will eventually disappear, either by the wider diffusion of elementary ideas of psycho-pathology or by the application of positive theories, which are far from carrying the proved insanity of a prisoner to the dangerous and absurd conclusion of his acquittal.

After the first stage of the collection of evidence, during which we can admit the legal representation of the accused, especially for the sake of eliciting both sides of the question, without, however, going so far as the individual exaggerations of complete publicity for the preliminary inquiry, we come to the second stage of procedure, that of the public discussion of the evidence.

The principals in this discussion represent the prosecution (public or private) and the defence; and for these, as I cannot go into great detail, I will only mention one necessary reform. That is the institution of a sort of public defence, by a legal officer such as used to be found in certain of the Italian provinces, under the title of ``advocate of the poor,'' who ought to be on a par with the public prosecutor, and to be substituted for the present institution of the official defence, which is a complete failure.

As for the actual discussion of evidence, when we have established the scientific rules of evidence, based upon expert acquaintance with criminal anthropology, and when we have eliminated all verbal contention over the precise measure of moral responsibility in the prisoner, the whole debate will be a criticism of the personal and material indications, of the determining motives, and the anthropological category to which the accused belongs, and of the consequent form of social defence best adapted to his physical and psychical character.

The practical conclusion of the criminal trial is arrived at in the third stage, that of the decision on the evidence.

So far as we are concerned, the criminal adjudication has the simple quality of a scientific inquiry, subjective and objective, in regard to the accused as a possible criminal, and in relation to the deed of which he is alleged to be the author. We naturally therefore require in the judge certain scientific knowledge, and not merely the intuition of common sense.

But as the consultation of the jury, by reason of its inseparable political aspect, must take place in private, we can only insist on the fundamental reform of the judicial organisation, which alone can realise the scientific principle of criminal adjudication. It was Garofalo who, in the earlier days of the positive school, urged that civil and criminal judges ought to be wholly distinct, and that the latter ought to be versed in anthropology, statistics, and criminal sociology, rather than in Roman law, legal history, and the like, which throw no light on the judgment of the criminal.

Learned jurists, proficient in the civil law, are least fit to make a criminal judge, accustomed as they are by their studies to abstractions of humanity, looking solely to the juridical bearings, inasmuch as civil law is mostly ignorant of all that concerns the physical and moral nature of individuals. The demoralisation or uprightness of a creditor, for instance, has no influence for or against the validity of his credit.

The jurist, therefore, in a matter of criminal adjudication, entirely loses sight of the personal conditions of the accused, and the social conditions of the community, and confines his attention to the deed, and to the maxims of a so-called retributive justice. They who are called upon to try criminals ought to possess the ideas necessary to the natural study of a criminal man, and should therefore constitute an order of magistrates wholly distinct from that of civil judges.

The practical means of securing this fundamental reform of the judicial bench ought to begin with the organisation of the university, for in the courses of the faculty of law it will be necessary to introduce a more vigorous and modern stream of social and anthropological studies, which must also eventually put new life into the ancient maxims of the civil law.

In the second place, law students at the university ought to be admitted to what Ellero called a science of clinical criminology, that is to interviews with and systematic observations of prisoners. The first Congress of Criminal Anthropology approved the proposal of M. Tarde, upon the following motion of Moleschot- Ferri:—``The Congress, in agreement with the scientific tendency of criminal anthropology, is of opinion that prison authorities, whilst taking necessary precautions for internal discipline, and for the individual rights of condemned prisoners, should admit to the clinical study of criminals all professors and students of penal law and legal medicine, under the direction and responsibility of their own professors, and if possible in the character of societies for the aid of actual and discharged prisoners.''

Lastly, a special school should be founded for policemen and prison warders, with the object of securing detectives distinguished not only for their personal ability, but also for their knowledge of criminal biology and psychology.

To these reforms, which guarantee the scientific capacity of the criminal judge, we must add reforms which would secure his complete independence of the executive authority, which is now the only authority responsible for the advancement and allocation of judges. But this independence would not be exempt from every kind of control, such as public opinion, and disciplinary authority to some extent distinct from the personnel of the bench; for otherwise the judicial authority would soon become another form of insupportable tyranny.

The most effectual mode of securing the independence of the judges is to improve their position in life. For admitting that a fixed stipend, payable every month, makes a man content with a somewhat lower figure, still it is certain that in these days, with a few honourable exceptions, the selection of judges is not satisfactory, because low salaries only attract such as could not earn more by the practice of their profession.

The personal character of the bench vitally affects the quality of the government as a whole. The most academic and exalted codes are of little avail if there are not good judges to administer them; but with good judges it matters little if the codes or statutes are imperfect.

In criminal law the application of the statute to the particular case is not, or should not be, a mere question of legal and abstract logic, as it is in civil law. It involves the adaptation of an abstract rule, in a psychological sense, to a living and breathing man; for the criminal judge cannot separate himself from the environment and social life, so as to become a more or less mechanical lex loquens. The living and human tests of every criminal sentence reside in the conditions of the act, the author, and reacting society, far more than in the written law.

Herein we have an opportunity of solving the old question of the authority of the judge, wherein we have gone from one excess to another, from the unbounded authority of the Middle Ages to the Baconian aphorism respecting the law and the judge, according to which the law is excellent when it leaves least to the judge, and the judge is excellent when he leaves himself the least independent judgment.

If the function of the criminal judge were always to be, as it is now, an illusory and quantitative inquiry into the moral culpability of the accused, with the equally quantitative and Byzantine rules on attempt, complicity, competing crimes, and so forth—that is to say, if the law were to be applied to the crime and not to the criminal, then it is necessary that the authority of the judge should be restrained within the numerical barriers of articles of the code, of so many years, months, and days of imprisonment to be dosed out, just as the Chinese law decides with much exactitude the length and diameter of the bamboo rods, which in the penal system of the Celestial Empire have the same prominence as penitentiary cells have with us.

But if a criminal trial ought to be, on the other hand, a physio- psychological examination of the accused, the crime being relegated to the second line, as far as punishment is concerned, the criminal being kept in the front, then it is clear that the penal code should be limited to a few general rules on the modes of defence and social sanction, and on the constituent elements of every crime and offence, whilst the judge should have greater liberty, controlled by the scientific and positive data of the trial, so that he may judge the man before him with a knowledge of humanity.

The unfettered authority of the judge is inadmissible in regard to the forms of procedure, which for the prosecuted citizen are an actual guarantee against judicial errors and surprises, but which should be carefully distinguished from that hollow and superstitious formalism which generates the most grotesque inanities, such as an error of a word in the oath taken by witnesses or experts, or a blot of ink on the signature of a clerk.

III.

Scientific knowledge of criminals and of crime, not only as the deed which preceded the trial, but also as a natural and social phenomenon—this, then, is the fundamental principle of every reform in the judicial order; and this, too, is a condemnation of the jury. Whilst Brusa, one of the most doctrinaire of the Italian classical school, foretold a steady decline of the ``technical element'' in the magistracy, and consequently a persistent intervention of the popular influence in the administration of justice, the positive school, on the other hand, has always predicted the inevitable decline of the jury in the trial of crimes and ordinary offences.[16]

[16] It is interesting to observe that Carrara, in spite of his public advocacy of the jury, wrote in a private letter in 1870 (published on the unveiling of his monument at Lucca):—``I expressed my opinion as to the jury in 1841, in an article published in the Annals of Tuscan Jurisprudence—namely, that criminal justice was becoming a lottery. Justice is being deprived of her scales and provided with a dice-box. This seems to me to be the capital defect of the jury. All other defects might be eliminated by a good law, but this one is inseparable from the jury. . . . Even amongst magistrates we may find the harsh and the clement; but in the main they judge according to legal argument, and one can always more or less foresee the issue of a trial{.??} But with juries all forecast is rash and deceptive. They decide by sentiment; and what is there more vague and fickle than sentiment{. .??} . . With juries, craft is more serviceable to an advocate than knowledge. I once had to defend a husband who had killed his wife's lover in a caf<e'>. I challenged the bachelors on the jury, and accepted the married men. After that, I was sure of success, and I succeeded. . . . This is the real essential vice of the jury, which no legislative measure could overcome.''

Theodore Jouffroy, after listening at the University of Pisa to a lecture by Carmignani against the jury, said, ``You are defending logic, but slaying liberty.''

Apart from the question whether liberty is possible without logic, it is nevertheless a fact that there is always a prominent political character in the jury. This accounts for the more or less declamatory defences of this judicial institution, which is no favourite with the criminal sociologist.

At the end of the eighteenth century, when there was a scientific and legislative tendency towards the creation of an independent order of magistrates, the French Revolution, mistrusting the whole aristocracy and social caste, opposed this tendency, believing enthusiastically in the omnipotence and omniscience of the people, and instituted the jury. And whilst in the political order it was inspired by classical antiquity, in the order of justice it adopted this institution from England. The jury was not unknown to the Republic of Athens and Rome, but it was developed in the Middle Ages by the ``barbarians,'' as an instrument which helped the people to escape from tyranny in the administration of the law. It used to be said that the jury made a reality of popular sovereignty, and substituted the common sense and good will of the people for the cold dogmatism of the lawyers, penetrated as they were by class prejudices. From this point of view the jury was too much in accord with the general tendency of the ideas of the day not to be greedily adopted. It was another example of the close connection between philosophic ideas, political institutions, and the judicial organisation.

The jury, transported to the Continent, in spite of the improvements recorded by Bergasse in his report to the Constituent Assembly, on August 14, 1789, was a mere counterfeit of that which it was, and is, in England. But its political character is still so attractive that it has many supporters to this day, though the results of its employment in various countries are not very happy.

Yet, as the jury is a legal institution, we must consider its advantages and defects, both from the political and from the legal point of view, and accept the conclusion forced upon us by the predominance of one or the other.

From the political standpoint, it is unquestionable that the jury is a concession to popular sovereignty; for it is admitted that the power of the law not only originates with the people, but is also directly exercised by them.

The jury may also be a guarantee of civic and political liberties as against the abuses of government, which are far more easy with a small number of judges, more or less subordinate to the government.

Again, the jury may be a means of affirming the sentiment of equality amongst citizens, each of whom may to-morrow become a judge of his equals, and of spreading political education, with a practical knowledge of the law. It is true that, with this knowledge of the law, juries also learn the details of every kind of crime, without the equally constant evidence of virtuous actions; and there is here a danger of moral contagion from crime. But, from the political point of view, it is certain that the jury may awaken, with a knowledge of the law, a consciousness of civic duties, which are too frequently undertaken as a forced and troublesome burden.

On these political advantages of the jury, however, a few remarks may be made.

In the first place, the concession to popular sovereignty is reduced to very small proportions by the limitations of the jury list, and of the functions of the jury, which legislation in every country is compelled to impose.

The essential characteristic distinguishing the jury from the judge is especially marked by the origin of their authority; for the jury is a judge simply because he is a citizen, whilst the magistrate is a judge only by popular election or appointment by the head of the State. So that any one who has entered on his civil and political rights, and is of the necessary age, ought, according to the spirit of the institution, to administer justice on every civil or criminal question, whatever its importance, and not only in giving the final verdict, but also in conducting the trial. Yet not only is the ancient trial by popular assemblies impossible in the great States of our day, but also faith in the omniscience of the people has not availed to prevent all kinds of limitations in the principle of the jury. Thus the political principle of the jury is such that it cannot be realised without misapprehension, limitation, and depreciation.

In fact, even in England, where the jury can of its own motion declare in the verdict its opinions, strictures, and suggestions of reform, as arising out of the trial, it is always subject to the guidance of the judge, and it is not employed in the less serious and most numerous cases, on which the whole decision is left to magistrates, who apparently are not to be trusted to decide upon crimes of a graver kind.

And as for the other political advantages of the jury, experience shows us that the jury is often more injurious than serviceable to liberty.

In the first place, in continental States the jury is but an institution artificially grafted, by a stroke of the pen, on the organism of the law, and has no vital connection or common roots with this and other social organisms, as it has in England. Also the example of classical antiquity is opposed to the institution of the jury, which has been imposed upon us by eager imitation and political symmetry; for if the jury had disappeared amongst continental nations, this simply means that it did not find in the ethnic types, the manners and customs, the physical and social environments of these nations, an adequate supply of vitality, such as it has retained, for instance through so many historical changes, amongst the Anglo-Saxons.

And if sometimes the jury can withstand the abuses of government, still too frequently it does not withstand its own passions, or the influence of the social class (the bourgeoisie in our own day), to which nearly all juries belong. It is notorious, in fact, that the jury is more rigorous in regard to prisoners accused of crimes against property than in regard to those accused of crimes against the person, especially crimes instigated by personal motives such as hate, vengeance, or the like; for every juryman thinks that he himself might be a victim of the exploits of a thief, or the attacks of a murderer for the sake of gain; whereas there is less reason to fear a murder provoked by vengeance, an outrage, an embezzlement of public money, or the like. And Macchiavelli said that men would rather have blood drawn from their veins than money from their pockets.

Besides, the same jury which will resist pressure from the Government does not resist popular pressure, direct or indirect, especially in view of the secrecy of their individual votes. No doubt there are noble exceptions; but society is made up of average virtues, and only upon them can it count.[17]

[17] In Dublin, for the trial of the murderers of Burke and Lord Frederick Cavendish, in 1883, the empanelling of the jury was very difficult, for nobody was willing to expose himself to the vengeance of the fanatics.

And when it is continually asserted, in the words of Jouffroy, that the jury is an outpost of liberty, or in those of Carrara, that it is its necessary complement, we have to remark that this would be true if the jury were instituted by a despotic government; but when popular liberties have far more effectual guarantees in the political organisation of the State, then this quality of the jury is more apparent than real.

In fine, either the government is despotic, and then juries are not strong enough to preserve liberty, as in England from the time of Henry VIII. to that of James II.; or, as Mittermaier said, ``when authority is corrupt, and the judge is cowardly or terrorised, a jury cannot assist in the defence of liberty.'' Or else the government is liberal, and then the judges also are independent, so that there is no need of juries, especially with the guarantees of their independence which I have already indicated.

Now history reminds us that the jury is never instituted by despotic governments. It was refused, for instance, in upper Italy by Napoleon in 1815, in Naples by the Bourbons in 1820, in Lombardy by Austria in 1849, and in our own day in Russia, for political crimes, though it is allowed for ordinary crimes.

Thus the jury, as a political and liberal institution, is oddly destined to be excluded when it would be serviceable, and to be useless when it is admitted. It reminds us of the destiny of the National Guard.

But, even in England, the jury is regarded as especially a legal institution; and the main qualities attributed to it in this connection are moral judgment and private conviction.

The law, we are told, has always a certain harshness and insufficiency, for it ought to provide for the future whilst grounding itself on the past, whereas it cannot foresee all possible cases. Progress is so rapid and manifold, in modern society, that penal laws cannot keep pace with it, even though they are frequently recast—as for instance in Bavaria, which in one century has had three penal codes, and in France, where an almost daily accumulation of special laws is piled upon the original text of the most ancient code in Europe.

The jury, by its moral judgment, corresponding in some degree to the equity of the ancients, is able to correct the summum jus with verdicts superior to the written law. And, in addition, the jury always follows its private conviction, the inspiration of sentiment, the voice of the conscience, pure instinct, in place of the stern and artificial maxims of the trained lawyer.

I do not deny these qualities of the jury; but I very much suspect that they are serious and dangerous vices rather than useful qualities in a legal institution.

In the first place, I believe that the distinction of powers or social functions, corresponding to the natural law of division of labour, ought not to be destroyed by the jury. The duty of the judicial power, before everything else, is to observe and apply the written law; for if we once admit the possibility that the judge (popular or trained) has to amend the law, all guarantee of liberty is lost, and the authority of the individual is unlimited. As I have said above, we allow the authority of the judge only when we have actual guarantees of his capacity and independence, and always within the limits of the general precepts of the law, and under the control of a superior disciplinary power.

But the omnipotence of the jury, liberated from all reasonable regulation, with no directing motives for its verdict, and no possibility of control, is a two-edged blade, which may sometimes improve upon the law, or at least usefully indicate to the legislator the tendencies of public opinion in regard to a particular crime. But it may also violate the law, and the liberty of the individual, and then we pay too dear for the slight advantage which the jury can confer, and which might be replaced by other manifestations of public opinion. In any case, as Bentham said, it is better to have our remedy in the law than in the subversion of the law.

As for private conviction, we willingly admit that no system of legal proof is acceptable. But it is one thing to substitute for the legal and artificial assurance of the law the assurance of the judge who tries the case, and quite another thing to substitute for conviction founded on argument, and for a critical examination of the evidence collected during the trial, the blind and simple promptings of instinct or sentiment.

Even apart from technical notions, which we consider necessary to the physio-psychological trial of any accused person, social justice certainly cannot be dispensed through the momentary and unconsidered impressions of a casual juryman. If a criminal trial consisted of the simple declaration that a particular action was good or bad, no doubt the moral consciousness of the individual would be sufficient; but since it is a question of the value of evidence and the examination of objective and subjective facts, moral consciousness does not suffice, and everything should be submitted to the critical exercise of the intellect.

To the instinctive blindness of the judgment of juries we must add their irresponsibility.

No doubt if the legislator required from all judges a simple Yes or No, then perhaps the jury would be as good as the magistrate. But instead of the unexplained verdict which Carmignani called ``the method of the cadi,'' we are of opinion that there should always be substituted a sentence based on reasons and capable of control, especially in the positive system of criminal procedure, which demands from the judge an acquaintance with anthropology and criminal sociology, and from his sentence the elements necessary to the subsequent treatment of the convict, in agreement with the characteristics of his individuality and of his crime.

But not only is the jury devoid of the qualities attributed to it; it has a fatal defect, which alone is sufficient to condemn this institution of the law.

In the first place, it is not easy to understand how a dozen jurymen, selected at hazard, can actually represent the popular conscience, which indeed frequently protests against their decisions. In any case, the fundamental conception of the jury is that the mere fact of its belonging to the people gives it the right to judge; and as the ancient assemblies are no longer possible, the essence of the jury is that chance alone must decide the practical exercise of this popular prerogative.

Now these two conceptions of the jury are in manifest contradiction with the universal rule of public end private life, that social functions should be exercised by persons selected as most capable.

Thus in everyday life we all require of every labourer the work of which he is more particularly capable. No one would dream, for instance, of having his watch mended by a cobbler. The administration of criminal justice, on the contrary, is demanded of any one we chance to come across, be he grocer or man of independent means, painter or pensioner, who may never in his life have witnessed a criminal trial!

The irregularity of our statutes corresponds to the incapacity of individual jurymen; for it is evident that we cannot impose the rigorous process of a special mode of procedure on the first- comer. And the law heightens the absurdity by plainly declaring that juries must give their decision without regard to the consequences of their verdict! ``Jurymen fail in their highest duty when they have regard to the penal law, and consider the consequences which their verdict may have upon the accused'' (Article 342 of the French code of criminal procedure).

That is to say, criminal justice should be based on the neglect of the elementary rule of justice, according to which every man ought always to consider the possible consequences of his actions. And the criminal law demands from juries this proof of their blindness (which is fortunately impossible) that they should judge blindfold, with no regard for the prisoner, or for the consequences which their verdict may have upon him.

It was impossible that the advocates of the jury should fail to see the absurdity of these principles; and they have been compelled to slur them over, at any rate in ordinary practice.

In respect of the composition of juries, restrictions have been introduced, by means of lists of eligible persons, selection by lot, the optional exclusion of a certain number of jurymen by the public prosecutor and the defence, &c. All these expedients, however, some of which are imposed by necessity, can only insure a general and presumptive capacity, for they have the merely negative effect of contributing to exclude the most manifest moral or intellectual incapacity. But the only capacity which is necessary in a judge, which is a special and positive capacity, is not guaranteed by these restrictions, which, after all, are a negation of the very principle of the jury.

And even if the jury were always composed of persons of adequate capacity, it would still be condemned by two inevitable arguments of human psychology.

First, the assembling of several individuals of typical capacity never affords a guarantee of collective capacity, for in psychology a meeting of individuals is far from being equivalent to the aggregate of their qualities. As in chemistry the combination of two gases may give us a liquid so in psychology the assembling of individuals of good sense may give us a body void of good sense. This is a phenomenon of psychological fermentation, by which individual dispositions, the least good and wise, that is the most numerous and effective, dominate the better ones, as the rule dominates the exceptions. This explains the ancient saying, ``The senators are good men, but the Senate is a mischievous animal.''

And this fact of collective inferiority, not to say degeneracy, is observed in casual assemblies, such as juries, meetings, and the like, far more than in organised and permanent councils of judges, experts, &c.

Secondly, the jury, even when composed of persons of average capacity, will never be able in its judicial function to follow the best rules of intellectual evolution.

Human intelligence, in fact, both individual and collective, displays these three phases of progressive development: common sense, reason, and science, which are not essentially different, but which differ greatly in the degree of their complexity. Now it is evident that a gathering of individuals of average capacity, but not technical capacity, will in its decisions only be able to follow the rules of common sense, or at most, by way of exception, the rules of reason—that is, of their common mental habits, more or less directed by a certain natural capacity. But the higher rules of science, which are still indispensable for a judgment so difficult as that which bears on crimes and criminals, will always be unknown to it.

As for the irregularity of the action of a jury, it has been deemed that this can be provided against by the formal distinction between a decision of fact and a decision of law, in obedience to the advice of Montesquieu, that ``to the popular judgment we should submit a single object, a fact, a single fact.''

But without dwelling on the remark of Hye-Glunek, that in this way the legal problem, which ought to be as indivisible as the syllogism which creates it, is cut into two parts, it is evident that Cambac<e'>r<e!>s was amply justified in saying, in the Council of State, that the separation of fact from law is a fallacy.

In fine, not only under the positive system of criminal procedure, which demands of the judge, in addition to legal conceptions of crime, some anthropological and sociological knowledge of criminals, but even at the present day it is more correct to say that the jury is concerned with the crime—that is, in the words of Binding, with a legal fact, and not merely a material fact; whilst the judge is concerned with the punishment. Thus, in the Assize Court, the separation of the judgments is not between fact and law, but only between the crime and the punishment

Even admitting the possibility of this separation of fact and law, logic and experience have already belied the assertion of those who say with Beccaria that, ``for the appreciation of facts, ordinary intelligence is better than science, common sense better than the highest mental faculties, and ordinary training better than scientific.''

On the contrary, a criminal trial is not only concerned with the direct perception of facts, but also and especially with their critical reconstruction and psychological appreciation. In civil law the fact is really accessory, and both sides may be agreed in its exposition, whilst disputing about the application of the law to this fact. But in criminal justice the fact is the principal element, and it is not merely necessary to admit or to decide upon this or that detail, but we have also to regard its causes and effects, from the individual and the social point of view, without speaking of the common difficulty of a critical and evidential appreciation of a mass of significant circumstances. So that, as Ellero said, in a criminal trial the decision as to fact is far more difficult than that as to law. And by this time daily practice has accumulated so many proofs, more or less scandalous, of the incapacity of the jury even to appreciate facts, that it is useless to dwell upon them.

To conclude this question of the jury, it remains to speak of its defects, which are not the more or less avoidable consequences of a more or less fortunate application of the principle, which might be the case with any social institution, but, on the contrary, are an inevitable consequence of the laws of psychology and sociology.

So far as science is concerned, a fact exists in connection with a general law. For common sense, on the other hand, the actuality of the particular fact is the only matter of concern. Hence the inevitable tendency of the jury to be dominated by isolated facts, with no other guide than sentiment, which, especially in southern races, confines all pity to the criminals, whilst the crime and its victims are all but forgotten. The very keenness of sentiment which would urge the people to administer ``summary justice'' on the criminal, when surprised in the fact, turns entirely in his favour when he is brought up at the assizes, with downcast mien, several months after the crime. Hence we obtain an impassioned and purblind justice.

And the predominance of sentiment over the intelligence of the jury is revealed in the now incurable aspect of judicial discussions. There is no need and no use for legal and sociological studies and for technical knowledge; the only need is for oratorical persuasiveness and sentimental declamations. Thus we have heard an advocate telling a jury that, ``in trials into which passion enters, we must decide with passion.'' Hence, also, the deterioration of science in the Assize Courts, and its faulty application, and its completely erroneous consequences.

Moreover, the verdict of the jury cannot represent the sum of spontaneous and individual convictions—not only in countries where juries are exposed to all kinds of influences during the adjournments of the discussion, but even in England, where unanimity is required, and where all communication of the jury with the outer world is forbidden until the end of the trial. For in every case the influence of the most intriguing or most respected jurymen in the jury's room is always inevitable. So that we have even had irresponsible suggestions of public deliberation on the part of the jury.

Against these defects of the jury its advocates have set an objection in regard to the trained judge, namely that the habit of judging crimes and offences irresistibly inclines the judge to look upon every prisoner as guilty, and to extinguish the presumption of innocence even in cases where it would be most justified.

This objection has really a psychological basis; for the conversion of the conscious into the unconscious, and the polarisation of the intellectual faculties and dispositions, are facts of daily observation, determined by the biological law of the economy of force. But it is not sufficient to make us prefer juries to judges.

In addition to the fact that this mental habit of judges may be counteracted by a better selection of magistrates under the reforms which I have indicated, it is to be observed that this presumption of innocence, as we have seen, is not so absolute as some would have us believe, especially in case of a trial which follows upon a series of inquiries and proofs in; the preliminary hearing.

Again, this tendency of judges is restrained and corrected by the publicity of the discussions. And all, or nearly all, the famous and oft-repeated instances of judicial errors go back to the time of the inquisitorial and secret trial—in regard to which an interesting historical problem presents itself; that is to say the co-existence of the inquisitorial trial, which impairs every individual guarantee, with the political liberties of the medi<ae>val Italian republics.

This is why the number of acquittals, and of the admission of extenuating circumstances, is always very remarkable, even in the Correctional Tribunals, which in Italy show proportions not greatly differing from those of the Assize Courts.

We must remember that, under our modern penal procedure, it is not the individual guarantees that are lacking, such as the assigning of reasons for the sentence, the almost total abolition of punishments which cannot be reconsidered, appeals, reversals, revision, which would be still more efficacious under the positive system which we propose.

One logical consequence of the psychological objection raised against judges would be the granting of a jury even in the Correctional Tribunals, though the experience which we have of it in the Assize Courts is not so encouraging as to leave many advocates of a jury in the minor courts.

But a decisive objection, founded on the most positive data of sociology, can be raised against the jury.

The law of natural evolution proves that no variation in the vegetable or animal organism is useful or durable which is not the outcome of a slow and gradual preparation by organic forces and external conditions. Thus an organ which ceases to have a function to discharge is subject to atrophy, and no new organ is possible or capable of development if it is not required by a new function to which it corresponds.

What has been said of organic variations is also true of social institutions. And when the jury is contemplated from this point of view, we see that it has been artificially grafted by a stroke of the legislator's pen on the judicial institutions of the continent, without the long-continued, spontaneous and organic connections which it had, for instance, with the English people. The jury had even disappeared from the continental countries in which it had left traces of former existence; for it had not found in the race-characteristics or the social organism that favourable environment which is supplied in England by the natural groundwork of institutions and principles which, as Mittermaier says, are its necessary correlative.

The jury, as it has been politically established on the continent of Europe, is what Spencer calls a false membrane in the social organism, having no physiological connection with the rest of the body politic. So that it is not yet acclimatised, even in France, after a century of uninterrupted trial.[18]

[18] The actual state of the law in Europe, so far as regards the jury for common crimes and offences, is as follows:—England, Scotland, Ireland, and Switzerland have the jury for assizes and courts of first instance. France, Italy, Cisleithan Austria, Istria, Dalmatia, Rhenish Prussia, Alsace-Lorraine, Bavaria, Bohemia, Gallicia, Belgium, Roumania, Greece, Portugal, Russia, and Malta, have the criminal jury only. Spain had suspended it, but restored it in 1888. Prussia, Saxony, Baden, Wurtemberg, have the criminal jury and echevins (bodies of citizens sitting with the judges) for correctional and police cases. Denmark, Sweden, and Finland, have the echevins. Holland, Norway, Hungary, Slavonia, Poland, Servia, and Turkey, have neither juries nor _echevins__.

As for the other bio-sociological law, of single organs for single functions, it seems to me that if in England the jury and the magistracy have been developed side by side and interwoven, this is only a case of organic integration. But on the continent, as the jury has been added artificially to the magistracy, this is on the other hand a genuine example of non-natural growth.

And if it be said that the jury, as an advance from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous, indicates a higher degree of social evolution, we must draw a distinction between differentiations which amount to evolution and those which, on the contrary, are symptoms of dissolution. Division of labour, physiological or social, is a true evolutionary differentiation; whilst modifications introduced by a disease in the animal organism, or by a revolt in the social organism, are but the beginning of a more or less extended dissolution.

Now the jury belongs to the domain of social pathology, for it is essentially contrary to the law of the specialisation of functions, according to which every organ which becomes more adapted to a given task is no longer adapted to any other. It is only in the lower organisms that the same tissue or organ can perform different functions, whilst in the vertebrates the stomach can only serve for digestion, the lungs for oxygenation, and so on. Similarly in primitive societies, each individual is soldier, hunter, tiller of the soil, &c., whilst with the progress of social evolution every man performs his special function, and becomes unfitted for other labours. In the jury we have a return to the primitive confusion of social functions, by giving to any chance comer, who may be an excellent labourer, or artist, a very delicate judicial function, for which he has no capacity to-day, and will have no available experience to-morrow.

In modern societies, to tell the truth, there is another function assigned to all citizens, outside of their special capacity, and that is the electoral duty. But the cases are very different. The franchise does not demand a labour so difficult and delicate as critical judgment, and the reconstruction of the conditions of an act and of its author. It has no direct influence on the positive function of the person elected, but on the contrary it is a confession of the special incapacity of the elector to do what he intrusts to the capacity of the person elected. The franchise is but an elementary function of the assimilation of physiological elements in the social organism, which in the animal organism is performed by the aggregate of living cells, and in society by the aggregate of individuals, not being idiots or criminals, who possess the minimum of social energy.

Far different is the administration of criminal justice, a technical and very noble function, which has nothing in common with the elementary function of the franchise. I could not indeed agree with the assertion of Carrara, who thought it a contradiction to deny to the people any participation in the exercise of the judicial authority when they are allowed to participate in the exercise of legislative authority. In the first place, the people have but a very indirect share in the legislative function, and, even where the referendum exists, very useful as I believe it to be, the people have only a simple, almost negative function, to say Yes or No to a law which they have not made, and would have had no technical ability to make. Thus the argument of Carrara could only lead to the popular election of judges, as of legislators, and to a control by the people of the administrative action of the judges when elected No doubt this would have theoretical advantages, though in my opinion it would raise practical difficulties, especially in nations which do not possess a very keen conscience and political activity, after enfeeblement by centuries of despotism, or of political and administrative tutelage and centralisation.

The jury, then, is a retrogressive institution, as shown by history and sociology, for it represents the medi<ae>val and instinctive phase of criminal justice. It has, indeed, a few advantages (there is always a certain profit in misfortune), especially when it operates on the final outcome of the classical theories—bringing to bear, for instance, an irresistible force against repeated theft, or murders committed at the instigation of others. And it has sometimes drawn attention to necessary penal reforms, after accepting certain conclusions of the positive school, such as the acquittal of criminals of passion, and political prisoners, or a greater severity towards habitual criminals.

But the only possible conclusion from the foregoing criticisms is that the jury should be abolished for the trial of common crimes, *after the introduction of reforms which would ensure the capacity and independence of the judges.

Meanwhile, since it is much easier to establish a new social institution than to abolish one, it is worth while to indicate the principal and most urgent reforms which should be made in the jury system, so as to eliminate its more serious and frequent disadvantages.

The theoretical distinction of the classical school between ordinary and political crimes is not very precise, for the so- called political crimes are either not crimes (as when they are confined to the manifestation of an idea), or they are common crimes which spring from a lofty and social passion in individuals, who have the characteristics of the criminal by passion, or, in other words,—are but quasi-criminals; or else they are common crimes committed by ordinary malefactors, under the pretext of a popular idea. Instead of distinguishing crimes, I think we ought to distinguish between ordinary and political criminals, according to their determining motives, and the social bearings and historical moment of their acts. At the same time, whilst our criminal laws retain this distinction, I think it is useful to keep the jury for the trial of political crimes and offences, and for those connected with the press and with society as a whole; for if in these cases the jury might yield to the influence of class interests and prejudices (as for instance in the trial of actions arising out of the conflict of capital and labour), the danger will still be less than it would be with judges alone, who are not sufficiently independent of the executive, which in its turn is but the secular arm of the dominant class, and which therefore combines the interests and prejudices of the political order with those of the economic and moral order which dominate the jury.

For common crimes it would be necessary to withhold from a jury the trial of prisoners who avow their crime. The essence of a trial by indictment is the principle that the discussion as to punishment is a private affair, and it has no further ground for existence when one of the parties withdraws from the duel. Hence the English mistrust of a prisoner's confession of guilt, which in the inquisitorial trial, on the other hand, is a mainstay of the evidence. Yet I believe that in these cases the Scottish system is preferable to the English. In England the judge begins by asking the prisoner if he is Guilty or Not Guilty, and in case of a confession he passes sentence without a verdict from the jury. In Scotland, on the contrary, the prosecutor can furnish his proof, in spite of the confession of the prisoner, and demand a verdict from the jury. In this way it is possible to avoid not only a scandalous acquittal of prisoners who have confessed their guilt (as happens in Italy, France, and elsewhere), but also the danger that the confession may not be true, and that an innocent man may be condemned.

Juries ought, moreover, as proposed by M. Ellero, to specify attenuating circumstances, on each of which a special question ought to be put to them.

The jury ought also to have the right of spontaneously finding in a sense less serious than that of the charge, even when no corresponding question has been put to them.

But at the same time it cannot be denied that these would only be palliatives, more or less efficacious.

The only positive conclusion is that, whilst retaining the jury for crimes of the political and social order, we should aim at its abolition for common crimes, immediately after securing stringent reforms as to the independence and capacity of the judges.

IV.

It needs no further demonstration that the modern organisation of punishment, based partly on the assumption that we can measure the moral culpability of criminals, and partly on an illusion as to their general amendment, and almost entirely reduced, in consequence, to imprisonment and the cell system, has absolutely failed to protect society against crime.

Holtzendorff, one of the best known of the classical school, frankly confessed that ``the prison systems have made shipwreck.'' So also in Italy we have had disquisitions ``on the futility of repression,'' and in Germany it has been held that ``existing criminal law is powerless against crime.'' Thus the necessity of taking steps to counteract this failure is forced upon us more and more every day. We must proceed either by way of legislative reforms, as effectual as we can make them, but always inspired by reaction against the established prison system, or by a propaganda on scientific lines. The most striking form which has been taken by the latter process is the International Union of Penal Law, which in 1891, two years after its foundation, numbered nearly six hundred members of various nationalities, and which in the second clause of its charter, in spite of the varied reservations of a few members, notably supported the positive theories.

The defects of the penal system inspired by the theories of the classical school of criminal law, and by the actual regulations of the classical prison school, may be briefly summed up. They are, a fallacious scale of moral responsibility; absolute ignorance and neglect of the physio-psychological types of criminals; intervals between verdict and sentence on the one hand, and between the sentence and its execution on the other, with a consequent abuse of pardons; disastrous practical effects of corruption and of criminal association in prisons; millions of persons condemned to short terms of imprisonment, which are foolish and absurd; and a continuous, inexorable increase of recidivism.

So that the tribunals of Europe, as M. Prins observed, with the absolute impersonality of modern justice, allow their sentences to fall upon unhappy wretches as a tap allows water to fall drop by drop upon the ground.

Without counting fines or police detention, there were sentenced in Italy, in the ten years 1880-89, to various terms of imprisonment, 587,938 persons by the Pretors, and 465,130 by the Correctional Tribunals. That is, more than a million terms in the minor courts within ten years!

And the total number sentenced in Italy to various punishments, by Pretors, Tribunals, and Assize Courts, in the same ten years, was not less than 3,230,000.

As for recidivism, without repeating the familiar figures of its annual increase, it will suffice to recall the astounding fact to which I drew attention before the central Commission of Legal Judicial Statistics. That is to say, amongst the prisoners condemned in 1887 for simple homicide, there were 224 who had been already condemned, either *for the same crime (63), or for a crime mentioned in the same section of the penal code (181); and even of those condemned for qualified manslaughter, 78 had already been condemned, either *for the same crime (8), or for one of like character.

In France we have figures equally striking, for they relate not to the effect of exceptional conditions, or conditions peculiar to this or that country, but to the uniform consequence of the classical theories of criminal law and prison organisation.

The total number condemned to imprisonment by the French tribunals, and detained by the police, in the ten years 1879-88, was 1,675,000; the Tribunal sentences under six days being 113,000.

And the total condemned to punishments of various kinds, by Assize Courts, Tribunals, and police courts, reached in the same ten years the enormous number of 6,440,000 individuals!

The meaning of this is that penal justice at the present moment is a vast machine, devouring and casting up again an enormous number of individuals, who lose amongst its wheels their life, their honour, their moral sense, and their health, bearing thenceforth the ineffaceable scars, and falling into the ever-growing ranks of professional crime and recidivism, too often without a hope of recovery.[19]

[19] As regards recidivism and the enormous numbers tried, England is in as bad a position as Italy and France. See my articles in _Nineteenth Century__, 1892, and _Fortnightly Review__, 1894.—ED.

It is impossible, then, to deny the urgent necessity of substituting for our present penal organisation a better system corresponding to the governing conditions of crime, more effectual for social defence, and at the same time less gratuitously disastrous for the individuals with whom it deals.

The positive school, in addition to the partial reforms proposed by Lombroso, and by myself in the second edition of this work, has put forward in the Criminology of Garofalo a ``rational system of punishment,'' whereof it is desirable to give a summary.

I. MURDERERS (moral insensibility and instinctive cruelty) who commit—

Murder for greed, or other selfish
gratification Criminal Lunatic Asylums: or
Murder unprovoked by the victim the death penalty.
Murder with attendant cruelty

II. VIOLENT OR IMPULSIVE CHARACTERS (deficiency of the sense of pity, with prejudices on the subject of honour, on the duty of revenge, &c.). Adults who commit—

Violent assault suddenly provoked Removal of the offender from the by a cruel injury neighbourhood of the victim or Justifiable homicide in self-defence his family.

Transportation to an island, colony
Homicide to avenge honour (isolated or village—at liberty, under
or endemic) supervision (for an indefinite
period, with from 5 to 10 years
supervision).

Bodily injury during a quarrel; Damages and fine: heavy for such
slight and transitory malice; as can pay. Alternative
blows; threats; slander; verbal penalty:—deduction from wages,
insults or forced labour. Imprisonment
in case of refusal.

Malicious injury or disfigurement; Criminal lunatic asylum (for
mutilation; rape or outrage with hysterical or epileptic), or
violence; restraint on personal Transportation for an indefinite
liberty period, with supervision from 5
to 10 years.

Young persons who commit—

Criminal lunatic asylums (for
those with congenital
Crimes of violence without excuse, tendencies).
or rape Penal colony in case of relapse.
Transportation without constraint.

III. DISHONEST CRIMINALS. Adults who commit—

Habitual theft, swindling, incendiarism, Lunatic asylums (if insane or
forgery, extortion epileptic). Transportation.

Labour-gangs (unfixed periods);
Occasional theft; swindling; or suspension of right to exercise
forgery; extortion; incendiarism a profession, until complete
reparation of damage.

Peculation; embezzlement; sale of Loss of office. Suspension of
offices; abuse of authority civil rights. Fine. Restitution.

Reparation of damage (with optional Incendiarism; vindictive destruction imprisonment). Criminal of property (without personal lunatic asylums (for the insane). injury) Transportation (for recidivists).

Bankruptcy, when due to malpractice Restitution. Prohibition to trade or to discharge public functions.

Uttering false coin; forgery of stock Imprisonment (unfixed periods) and certificates; personation, and fine, in addition to loss of false witness, &c. office, and restitution.

Bigamy, palming or concealment of Banishment for unfixed periods. birth

Young persons who commit—

An agricultural colony (for unfixed
Theft, swindling, &c. periods).

IV. Persons guilty of—

Outbreaks, resistance or disobedience Imprisonment (for unfixed periods)
to authority

In other words, the system of repression proposed by M. Garofalo amounts to this:—

Absolute elimination of the criminal Penalty of death

Criminal lunatic asylum.
Transportation with liberty.
Perpetual banishment.
Relative elimination Banishment for various periods.
Agricultural colonies.
Interdiction from a particular
neighbourhood.

By payment of money.
Reparation of damages Deduction from wages.
Fine (going to the State) Forced labour, without
Indemnification of the victims imprisonment.

Imprisonment for fixed periods for special offences (forgery and outbreaks); or as alternative to indemnification or forced labour. Interdiction of certain professions and public functions.

M. Liszt also, agreeing with the positive school in regard to the necessity of a radical reform in the penal system, yet with certain reservations, has propounded a scheme, which, however, as it does not sufficiently consider various classes of criminals, whom he divides merely into the habitual and the occasional, would need completion, especially in comparison with the well-reasoned scheme of Garofalo. M. Liszt's system is as follows:—

Punishment by fines.

In proportion to the property of the offender—not alternative with For offences (with alternative imprisonment imprisonment).

Capable of being worked out by For contraventions of the law forced labour without imprisonment (without imprisonment).

Conditional sentences.

For first offenders condemned to imprisonment, with or without For offences punishable by

sureties for three years imprisonment.

__Imprisonment_ (for an indeterminate period, a maximum and minimum

being enacted). Separate confinement—six weeks to two years.

House of detention (separate for 2 to 15 years (with police
one year, then gradual relaxation supervision and assistance of
discharged prisoners)—or for life.

Indemnifications (always as a civil liability) added to other penalties.

I believe, however, that it is necessary, before laying down practical and detailed schemes, more or less complete, to establish certain general criteria, based upon the anthropological, physical, and social data of crime, such as may lead up to a positive system of social defence.

These fundamental criteria, it seems to me, can be reduced to the three following:—(1) No fixity in the periods of segregation of criminals; (2) the social and public character of the exaction of damages; (3) the adaptation of defensive measures to the various types of criminals.

1. For every crime which is committed, the problem of punishment ought no longer to consist in administering a particular dose, as being proportionate to the moral culpability of the criminal; but it should be limited to the question whether by the actual conditions (breach of law or infliction of injury) and by the personal conditions (the anthropological type of the criminal) it is necessary to separate the offender from his social environment for ever, or for a longer or shorter period, according as he is or is not regarded as capable of being restored to society, or whether it is sufficient to exact from him a strict reparation of the injury which he has inflicted.

Under this head there is a radical contradiction. The existing schemes of punishment, differing in their machinery (and out of harmony with the sentence of the judge, often even with the terms of the law), are all based on the principle of fixed periods of punishment, graduated into hundreds and thousands of possible doses, and have regard far more to the crime than to the criminal. On the other hand we have the positive system of punishment, based on the principle of an unfixed segregation of the criminal, which is a logical consequence of the theory that punishment ought not to be the visitation of a crime by a retribution, but rather a defence of society adapted to the danger personified by the criminal.

This principle of unfixed punishment is not new, but it is only the positive theory which has given it system and life. The idea of justice as assigning punishment to a crime, measured out by days and weeks, is too much opposed to the principle of the indeterminate sentence to allow it to receive any systematic trial under the sway of the classical theories. There has been only an isolated and exceptional use of it here and there, such as the seclusion of mad criminals in special asylums, ``during her Majesty's pleasure,'' in England. Nevertheless, personal freedom (which is held to be violated by seclusion for unfixed periods) is greatly respected by the English people.

The fundamental principle of law is that of a restriction imposed by the necessity of social existence. It is evident, therefore, to begin with, that seclusion for an unfixed period, as for life, is in no way irreconcilable with this principle of law, when imposed by necessity. Thus it has been proposed, even by the classical school, as a mode of compensation or adjustment.

If, indeed, we admit an increase of punishment for a first relapse, it is logical that this increase should be proportional to the number of relapses, until we come to perpetual seclusion or transportation, and even to death, as under the medi<ae>val laws. So that there are some of the classical school who, by way of being logical if not practical, and refusing to admit progressive increase, begin by refusing increase in any degree, even for a first relapse.

Moreover, if the jurists agree in allowing conditional liberation, before the term assigned in the sentence, when the prisoner seems to have given proof of amendment, the natural consequence, by mere abstract logic, ought to be a prolongation of punishment for the prisoner who is not amended, but continues to be dangerous.

This is admitted, amongst others, by Ortolan, Davesies de Pont<e!>s, and Roeder, who quote as favourable, though only for recidivists, Henke Stelzer, Reichmann, Mohl, Groos, von Struve, von Lichtenberg, G<o:>tting, Krause, Ahrens, Lucas Bonneville, Conforti, and others, amongst students of criminality; and Ducpetiaux, Ferrus, Thomson, Mooser, Diez, Valentini, and D'Alinge amongst prison experts.

After this first period, the principle of segregation for an unfixed term, as a basis for the penal system, has been supported by Despine, and developed by a few German writers. These latter have insisted especially on the disadvantages of the penal systems inspired by the classical theories, though they run somewhat to excess, like Mittelst<a:>dt, who proposed the re- establishment of the brutal punishment of flogging.

In corporal punishments, it is true, there would be a certain gain of efficaciousness, particularly against such hardened offenders as the born criminals, so that there is a reaction in favour of these punishments. M. Roncati, for instance, writing of prison hygiene, says that he would be glad to see ``the maternal r<e'>gime,'' with its salutary use of physical pain before the child has developed a moral sense; and if flogging is objectionable, resort might be had to electricity, which is capable of giving pain without being dangerous to health or revolting. Similarly Bain says that the physiological theory of pleasure and pain has a close relation to that of rewards and punishments, and that, as punishment ought to be painful, so long as it does not injure the convict's health (which imprisonment is just as likely to do), we might have recourse to electric shocks, which frighten the subject by their mysterious power, without being repugnant. Again, the English Commission of Inquiry into the results of the law of penal servitude declared in its report that, ``In English prisons, disciplinary corporal punishments (formerly the lash, then the birch) are inflicted only for the most serious offences. The evidence has shown that in many cases they produce good results.''

Nevertheless corporal punishments, as the main form of repression, even when carried out with less barbarous instruments, are too deeply opposed to the sentiment of humanity to be any longer possible in a penal code. At the same time they are admissible as disciplinary punishments, under the form of cold baths, electric shocks, &c., all the more because, whether prescribed by law or not, they are inevitable in prisons, and, when not regulated by law, give rise to many abuses, as was shown at the Stockholm Prison Conference in 1878.

I agree with Kirchenheim that Dr. Kraepelin's scheme of seclusion for unfixed periods is more practical and hopeful. When the measure of punishment is fixed beforehand, the judge, as Villert says, ``is like a doctor who, after a superficial diagnosis, orders a draft for the patient, and names the day when he shall be sent out of hospital, without regard to the state of his health at the time.'' If he is cured before the date fixed, he must still remain in the hospital; and he must go when the time is up, cured or not.

Semal reached the same conclusion in his paper on ``conditional liberation,'' at the second Congress of Criminal Anthropology.

And this notion of segregation for unfixed periods, put forward in 1867 for incorrigible criminals by the Swiss Prison Reform Association, has already made great progress, especially in England and America, since the Prison Congress of London (1872) discussed this very question of indefinite sentences, which the National Prison Congress at Cincinnati had approved in the preceding year.

In 1880 M. Garofalo and I both spoke in favour of indefinite segregation, though only for incorrigible recidivists; and the same idea was strikingly supported in M. Van Hamel's speech at the Prison Congress at Rome (1885). The eloquent criminal expert of Amsterdam, speaking ``on the discretion which should be left to the judge in awarding punishment,'' made a primary distinction between habitual criminals, incorrigible and corrigible, and occasional criminals. ``For the first group, perpetual imprisonment should depend on certain conditions fixed by law, and on the decision of the judge after a further inquiry. For the second group, the application of an undefined punishment after the completion of the first sentence will have to depend in the graver cases on the conditions laid down by law, and in less serious cases upon the same conditions together with the decision of the judge, who will always decide from time to time, after further inquiry, as to the necessity for prolonging the imprisonment. For the third group, the judge will have to be limited by law, in deciding the punishment, by special maximums, and with a general minimum.''

The Prison Congress of Rome naturally did not accept the principle of punishment for unfixed periods. More than that, advancing on the classical tendency, it decided that ``the law should fix the maximum of punishment beyond which the judge may not in any case go; and also the minimum, which however may be diminished when the judge considers that the crime was accompanied by extenuating circumstances not foreseen by the law.''

It is only of late years, in consequence of the reaction against short terms of imprisonment, that the principle of segregation for unfixed periods has been developed and accepted by various writers, in spite of the feeble objections of Tallack, Wahlberg, Lamezan, von Jagemann, &c.

Apart, also, from theoretical discussion, this principle has been applied in a significant manner in the United States, by means of the ``indeterminate sentence.'' The House of Correction at Elmira (New York) for young criminals carries into effect, with special regulations of physical and moral hygiene, the indeterminate imprisonment of young prisoners; and this principle, approved by the Prison Congresses at Atalanta{sic} (1887), Buffalo (1888), and Nashville (1889), has been applied also in the New York prisons, and in the States of Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, Minnesota, and Ohio.

M. Liszt proposes that the indeterminate character of punishment should be only relative, that is to say, limited between a minimum and a maximum, these being laid down in the sentence of the judge. Special commissions for supervising the administration of punishment, consisting of the Governor of the prison, the Public Prosecutor, the judge who heard the case, and two members nominated by Government (instead of the court which passed sentence, as proposed by Villert and Van Hamel), should decide on the actual duration of the punishment, after having examined the convict and his record. Thus these commissions would be able to liberate at once (with or without conditions) or to order a prolongation of punishment, especially for habitual criminals.

With the formation of these commissions there might be associated the prison studies and aid of discharged prisoners referred to on a former page.

But I think that this proposal of M. Liszt is acceptable only for commissions of supervision, or of the execution of punishment, such as already exist in several countries, with a view solely to prison administration and benevolence, and in which of course the experts of criminal anthropology ought to take part, who, as I have suggested, should be included in every preliminary criminal inquiry. As for the determination of the maximum and minimum in such a sentence, I believe it would not be practicable; the acting commissions might find it necessary to go beyond them, and it would be opposed to the very principle of indeterminate segregation. The reason given by M. Liszt, that with this provision the contrast with actual systems of punishment would be less marked, does not seem to me decisive; for the principle we maintain is so radically opposed to traditional theories and to legislative and judicial custom that this optional passing of the limits would avoid no difficulty, whilst it would destroy the advantages of the new system.

In other words, when the conditions of the act committed and the criminal who has committed it show that the reparation of the damage inflicted is not sufficient by way of a defensive measure, the judge will only have to pronounce in his sentence an indefinite detention in the lunatic asylum, the prison for incorrigibles, or the establishments for occasional criminals (penal colonies, &c.).

The execution of this sentence will be rendered definite by successive steps, which will no longer be detached, as they now are, from the action of the magistrate, and taken without his knowledge, but will be a systematic continuation of his work. Permanent commissions for the supervision of punishment, composed of administrative functionaries, experts in criminal anthropology, magistrates, and representatives of the Public Prosecutor and the defence, would render impossible that desertion and oblivion of the convict which now follow almost immediately on the delivery of the sentence, with the execution of which the judge has nothing to do, except to see that he is represented. Pardon, or conditional liberation, or the serving of the full punishment, are all left at present to the chance of a blind official routine. These commissions would have great social importance, for they would mean on one hand the protection of society against imprudent liberation of the most dangerous criminals, and on the other hand the protection of the less dangerous against the danger of an imprisonment recognised as excessive and unnecessary.

Allied to the principle of indeterminate segregation is that of conditional release, which with the progressive prison system, known as the Irish, is now accepted in nearly all European countries. But conditional liberation in the system of definite punishments, without distinction amongst the types of criminals, is both contradictory in theory and ineffectual in practice. At present, indeed, it has only a mechanical and almost impersonal application, with one fallacious test, that of the alleged ``good conduct'' of the prisoner, which, according to the English Inquiry Commission in 1863, ``can only have the negative value of the absence of grave breaches of discipline.''

It will be understood that conditional release, as it would be organised in the positive system of indeterminate segregation, ought only to be granted after a physio-psychological examination of the prisoner, and not after an official inspection of documents, as at present. So that it will be refused, no longer, as now, almost exclusively in regard to the gravity of the crime, but in regard to the greater or less re-adaptability of the criminal to social conditions. It will therefore be necessary to deny it to mad and born criminals who are guilty of great crimes.

Conditional liberation is now carried out under the special supervision of the police; but this is an ineffectual measure for crafty criminals, and disastrous for occasional criminals, who are shut out by the supervision from re-adaptation to normal existence. The system of indeterminate segregation renders all special supervision useless. Moreover, this duty only distracts policemen by compelling them to keep an eye on a few hundred liberated convicts, and to neglect thousands of other criminals, who increase the number of unknown perpetrators of crime.

Similarly as to the discharged prisoners' aid societies, which, notwithstanding their many sentimental declamations, and the excellence of their intentions, continue to be as sterile as they are benevolent. The reason here also is that they forget to take into account the different types of criminals, and that they are accustomed to give their patronage impartially to all discharged prisoners, whether they are reclaimable or not. It must not be forgotten, moreover, that this aiding of malefactors ought not to be exaggerated when there are millions of honest workmen more unfortunate than these liberated prisoners. In spite of all the sentimentalism of the prisoners' aid societies, I believe that a foreman will always be in the right if he chooses an honest workman for a vacancy in his workshops in preference to a discharged prisoner.

At the same time these societies may produce good results if they concern themselves solely with occasional criminals, and especially with the young, and make their study of crime contribute to the training of future magistrates and pleaders.

2. The second fundamental principle of the positive system of social defence against crime is that of indemnification for damage, on which the positive school has always dwelt, in combination with radical, theoretical, and practical reforms.

Reparation of damage suffered by the victims of crime may be regarded from three different points of view:—(1) As an obligation of the criminal to the injured party; (2) as an alternative for imprisonment for slight offences committed by occasional criminals; and (3) as a social function of the State on behalf of the injured person, but also in the indirect and not less important interest of social defence.

The positive school has affirmed the last two reforms—the second on the initiative of Garofalo and Puglia, and the third on my own proposal, which, as being more radical, has been more sharply contested by the classical and eclectic schools.

In my treatise on ``The Right of Punishment as a Social Function,'' I said: ``Let us not be told that __civil__ reparation is no part of penal responsibility. I can see no real difference between the payment of a sum of money as a fine and its payment as damages; but more than that, I think a mistake has been made in separating civil and penal measures too absolutely, whereas they ought to be conjoined for defensive purposes, in preventing certain particular anti-social acts.'' And again, classifying the measures of social defence (``measures of prevention, reparation, repression, and elimination''), I said in regard to measures of reparation: ``Our proposed reform is not intended to be theoretical merely, for indeed it may be said already that this liability to indemnify is established in the majority of cases; but it should be above all a practical reform, in the sense that, instead of separating civil and penal measures, we shall make their joint application more certain, and even require special regulations to compel the criminal judges, for instance, to assess the damages, and so avoid the delays and mischances of a new trial before the civil judges, and to compel the Public Prosecutor to make an official demand, even when through ignorance or fear there is no action on the part of the injured person, that the criminal should be condemned to make good the loss which he has inflicted. It will then be seen that the fear of having to make strict restitution will be a spur to the diligence of the well-to-do, in regard to involuntary offences, whilst for the poor we shall be able to impose work on behalf of the injured person in place of pecuniary damages.''

Shortly afterwards Garofalo wrote: ``In the opinion of our school, for many offences, especially slighter offences against the person, it would be serviceable to substitute for a few days' imprisonment an effectual indemnification of the injured party. Reparation of damage might become a genuine penal substitute, when instead of being, as now, a legal consequence, a right which can be enforced by the rules of civil procedure, it would become an obligation from which the accused could in no way extract himself.''

Of all the positive school, Garofalo has insisted most strongly on these ideas, enlarging upon them in various proposals for the practical reform of procedure.

The principle has made further progress since the speech of M. Fioretti at the first Congress of Criminal Anthropology (Rome, 1885), which adopted the resolution brought forward by MM. Ferri, Fioretti, and Venezian: ``The Congress, being convinced of the importance of providing for civil indemnification, in the immediate interest, not only of the injured party, but also of preventive and repressive social defence, is of opinion that legislation could most expeditiously enact the most suitable measures against such as cause loss to other persons, and against their accomplices and abettors, by treating the recovery of damages as a social function assigned to its officials, that is to say, to the Public Prosecutor at the bar, to the judges in their sentences, to the prison officials in the ultimate payment for prison labour, and in the stipulation for conditional release.''

The classical principle that indemnification for loss caused by an unlawful act is a purely civil and private obligation of the offender (like that created by any breach of contract!), and that in consequence it ought to be essentially distinct from the penal sentence which is a public reparation, has inevitably caused the complete oblivion of indemnification in every-day judicial practice. For the victims of crime, finding themselves compelled to resort to the courts, and fearing the expense of a civil trial to give effect to the sentence of damages and interest thereon, have been driven to abandon the hope of seeing their loss actually and promptly compensated. Hence the necessity for some paltry compromise, which has to be accepted almost as a generous concession from the offender, together with the revival of private vengeance, and a loss of confidence in the reparatory action of social justice.

Even in the scientific domain it has come about that criminal experts have abandoned the question of indemnification to the civil experts, and these in their turn have almost suffered it to pass into oblivion, inasmuch as they always regarded it as belonging to matters of penal law and procedure.

It is only by the radical innovation of the positive school that this legal custom has received new energy and vitality.

I do not, however, intend in this place to concern myself with indemnification from the first point of view, namely, the forms of procedure necessary to render it more strict and effectual, such as the official demand and execution by the Public Prosecutor, even when no action is brought by the injured party; the fixing of the damages in every penal sentence; the immediate lien and claim upon the goods of the condemned person, so as to avoid the pretence of inability to pay; the paying down of the sum, or a part of the salary or wages of solvent defendants; compulsory labour by those unable to pay; the assignment of part of the prison wages for the benefit of the victims; the payment of all or most of the damages as a necessary condition of pardon or conditional release; the establishment of a treasury of fines for prepayment to the family of the victims; the liability of the heirs of the condemned persons for indemnifications, and so forth.

All these propositions are in sharp contrast with Art. 37 of the new Italian penal code, which has given no other guarantee to the victims of offences than the superfluous, or ironical, or immoral declaration that ``penal condemnation does not prejudice the right of the injured person to restitution and indemnification''—as though there were any doubt of the fact.

I only wish to insist on the question of principle, that is, on the essentially public character which we assign to indemnification as a social function. For us, to compare the liability of the criminal to repair the loss caused by his crime with the liability arising from breach of contract is simply immoral.

Crime, just as it implies a social reaction in the form of an indefinite segregation of the criminal, when the act is serious and the author dangerous, ought also to imply a social reaction in the shape of indemnification, accessory to segregation when that is necessary, or adequate by itself for social defence when the act is not serious, and the author is not dangerous. For slight offences by occasional criminals, strict indemnification will, on the one hand, avoid the disadvantages of short terms of imprisonment, and will, on the other hand, be much more efficacious and sensible than an assured provision of food and shelter, for a few days or weeks, in the State prisons.

Indemnification may naturally take two forms, as a fine or an indemnity payable to the State, and as an indemnity or a reparation payable to the injured person.

It may also be added that the State should be made responsible for the rights of the victims, and give them immediate satisfaction, especially for crimes of violence, recouping itself from the offender, as it does, or ought to do, for legal costs.

The evolution of punishment is a striking proof of this. First, the reaction against crime is an entirely private concern; then it assumes a weaker form in pecuniary reparation, whereof, by and by, a portion goes to the State, which presently retains the whole sum, leaving to the victim the poor consolation of proceeding separately for an indemnification. Nothing therefore could be more in accord with this evolution of punishment than the proposed reform, whereby the indemnification of a merely private injury, as it is regarded in the primitive phase of penal justice, becomes a public function, so far as it is the legal and social consequence of the offence.

The classical principles in this respect, and the practical consequences which flow from them, are more like a humorous farce than an institution of justice; and it is only the force of habit which prevents the world from realising its full comicality.

In fine, citizens pay taxes in return for the public services of the State, amongst which that of public security is the chief. And the State actually expends millions every year upon this social function. Nevertheless, every crime which is committed is followed by a grotesque comedy. The State, which is responsible for not having been able to prevent crime, and to give a better guarantee to the citizens, arrests the criminal (if it can arrest him—and seventy per cent. of *discovered crimes go unpunished). Then, with the accused person before it, the State, ``which ought to concern itself with the lofty interests of eternal justice,'' does not concern itself with the victims of the crime, leaving the indemnification to their prosaic ``private interest,'' and to a separate invocation of justice. And then the State, in the name of eternal justice, exacts from the criminal, in the shape of a fine payable into the public treasury, a compensation for its own defence—which it does not secure, even when the crime is only a trespass upon private property!

Thus the State, which cannot prevent crime, and can only repress it in a small number of cases, and which fails accordingly in its first duty, for which the citizens pay it their taxes, demands a price for all this! And then again the State, sentencing a million and a half to imprisonment within ten years, puts the cost of food and lodging on the shoulders of the same citizens, whom it has failed either to defend or to indemnify for the loss which they have suffered! And all in the name of eternal retributive justice.

This method of ``administering justice'' must be radically altered. The State must indemnify individuals for the damage caused by crimes which it has not been able to prevent (as is partially recognised in cases of public disaster), recouping itself from the criminals.

Only then shall we secure a strict reparation of damage, for the State will put in motion its inexorable fiscal machinery, as it now does for the recovery of taxes; and on the other hand the principle of social community of interests will be really admitted and applied, not only against the individual but also for him. For we believe that if the individual ought to be always responsible for the crimes which he commits, he ought also to be always indemnified for the crimes of which he is the victim.

In any case, as the indefinite segregation of the criminal is the fundamental principle of the positive system of social defence against crime, apart from the technical systems of imprisonment and detention, so indemnification as a social function is a second essential principle, apart from the special rules of procedure for carrying it into effect.

These two fundamental principles of the positive system would still be incomplete if they did not come into practical operation according to a general rule, which leads up to the practical organisation of social defence—that is to say, the adaptation of defensive measures to the various criminal types.

The tendency of the classical theories on crime and prison discipline is in sharp contrast, for their ideal is the ``uniformity of punishment'' which lies at the base of all the more recent penal codes.

If for the classical school the criminal is but an average and abstract type, the whole difference of treatment is, of course, reduced to a graduation of the ``amount of crime'' and the ``amount of punishment.'' And then it is natural that this punitive dosing should be more difficult when the punishments are different in kind, and not very similar in their degrees of coincident afflictive and correctional power. Thus the ideal becomes a single punishment, apportioned first by the legislature and then by the judge, in an indefinite number of doses.

Here and there a solitary voice has been heard, even amongst the classical experts, objecting to this tendency towards dogmatic uniformity; but it has had no influence. The question brought forward by M. D'Alinge at the Prison Congress in London (Proceedings, 1872, p. 327), ``whether the moral classification of prisoners ought to be the main foundation of penitentiary systems, either in association or on the cellular plan,'' which he himself decided in the affirmative, was not so much as discussed, and it was not even referred to at the successive Congresses at Stockholm (1878), Rome (1885), and St. Petersburg (1889). On the contrary, the Congress at Stockholm decided that, ``reserving minor and special punishments for certain slight infractions of the law, or for such as do not point to the corrupt nature of their authors, it is desirable to adopt for every prison system the greatest possible legal assimilation of punishments by imprisonment, with no difference except in their duration, and the consequences following upon release.''[20]

[20] _Proceedings__, i. 138-70, 551-7, 561-3. Now and then, however, a prison expert of more positive tendencies maintains ``the very great use, or rather the scientific necessity, of the classification of prisoners as a basis for the punitive and prison system'' (Beltrani Scalia.)

To positivists, the ``uniformity of punishment,'' even of mere detention, appears simply absurd, since it ignores the capital fact of different categories of criminals.

There must be homogeneity between the evil and its remedy; for, as Dumesnil says, ``the prisoner is a moral (I would add a physical) patient, more or less curable, and we must apply to him the great principles of the art of medicine. To a diversity of ills we must apply a diversity of remedies.''

In this connection, however, we must avoid the two extremes, uniformity of punishment and the so-called individualisation of punishment, the latter especially in fashion amongst American prison experts. No doubt it would be a desirable thing to apply a particular treatment to each convict, after a physical and psychological study of his individuality, and of the conditions which led him into crime; but this is not practicable when the number of prisoners is very great, and the managing staff have no adequate notions of criminal biology and psychology. How can a governor individualise the penal treatment of four or five hundred prisoners? And does not the cellular system, which reduces the characteristic manifestations of the personal dispositions of prisoners to a minimum, levelling them all by the uniformity of routine and silence, render it impossible to observe and get to know the special character of each condemned person, and so specialising the discipline? Where, too, are we to find the necessary governors and warders who would know how to discharge this difficult duty? The solid fact that particular houses of correction or punishment are in excellent condition when their governors have the psychological intuition of a De Metz, a Crofton, a Spagliardi, or a Roukawichnikoff, and languish when he departs, strikingly demonstrates that the whole secret of success lies in the spirit of a wise governor, skilled in psychology, rather than in the slender virtue of the cell.

Just as an imperfect code with good judges succeeds better than a ``monumental'' code with foolish judges, so a prison system, however ingenious and symmetrical, is worthless without a staff to correspond.

And as the question of the staff is always very serious, especially for financial reasons, I believe that, instead of the impracticable idea of individualisation in punishment, we ought to substitute that of classification, which is equally efficacious and more easily applied. It cannot be denied that criminal anthropologists are not all agreed on the classification of criminals. But I have already shown that the differences between proposed classifications are only formal and of secondary importance; and again, the number of those who agree to the classification which I have proposed increases day by day.

Before inquiring how we can practically organise the positive system of social defence on the basis of this anthropological classification of criminals, we must bear in mind two rules, common to all the technical proposals of the same system.

First, care must be taken that segregation does not become or continue to be (as it is too often at present) a welcome refuge of idleness and criminal association, instead of a deprivation.

Penitentiaries for condemned prisoners—the classical prison experts make no distinction between their cells for prisoners before trial and those for convicts!—should not be so comfortable as to excite the envy (a vast injustice and imprudence) of the honest and ill-fed rural labourer vegetating in his cottage, or of the working-man pining in his garret.

Secondly, the obligation to labour should be imperative for all who are in prison, except in case of sickness. Prisoners should pay the State, not as now for their tobacco and wine, but for food, clothes, and lodging, whilst the remainder of their earnings should go to indemnify their victims.

The classical theory declares that ``the State,'' as Pessina writes, ``being compelled to adopt deprivation of liberty as the principal means of penal repression and retribution, contracts an absolute obligation to provide those whom they punish in this way not only with bodily sustenance, but also with the means of supplying their intellectual and moral needs.'' So the State maintains in idleness the majority even of those who are said to be ``sentenced to hard labour,'' and the offence, after it has served the turn of the offender, further assures him free lodging and food, shifting the burden on to honest citizens.

I cannot see by what moral or legal right the crime ought to exempt the criminal from the daily necessity of providing for his own subsistence, which he experienced before he committed the crime, and which all honest men undergo with so many sacrifices. The irony of these consequences of the classical theories could not, in fact, be more remarkable. So long as a man remains honest, in spite of pathetic misery and sorrow, the State takes no trouble to guarantee for him the means of existence by his labour. It even bans those who have the audacity to remind society that every man, by the mere fact of living, has the right to live, and that, as work is the only means of obtaining a livelihood, every man has the right (as all should recognise the duty) of working in order to live.

But as soon as any one commits a crime, the State considers it its duty to take the utmost care of him, ensuring for him comfortable lodging, plenty of food, and light labour, if it does not grant him a happy idleness! And all this, again, in the name of eternal and retributive justice.

It may be added that our proposals are the only way of settling the oft-recurring question as to the economic competition (by the price of commodities), and the moral competition (in the regularity of work) which prison labour unjustly wages with free and honest labour. As a matter of fact, as prisoners can only remain idle or work, they must clearly be made to work. But they must be made to work at trades which come less into competition with free labour and it is especially necessary to give prisoners wages equal to those of free labourers, on condition that they pay the State for their food, clothes, and lodging, whilst the remainder goes to indemnify their victims.

Over the prison gates I should like to carve that maxim of universal application: ``He who will not work, neither shall he eat.''