It is astonishing how illogically and irrationally some persons reason upon the punishment of death.
We have one broad fact to deal with—namely, that all that a man hath he will give for his life; that no fear can operate on him like the fear of death; that every man calculates upon the chapter of accidents bringing up something in his favour as long as he lives and breathes; and, in fact, the words which Shakespeare put into the mouth of Claudio are not more eloquent than true.
Remove this powerful deterrent, or restrict its operation, and we must be prepared for very mixed results.
At the present time each case is taken on its merits, and the chances are that no man is ever hung now for what is understood to be “murder of a second class.”
There is no valid reason for asserting that the substitution of imprisonment and hard labour for death, as a punishment for murder, would more effectually deter men from the commission of that crime. Nothing that has been brought forward by the abolitionists leads us to believe so, and the direct testimony of those best acquainted with the criminal classes negatives such a supposition.
It is generally admitted that the most reckless and violent have a thorough fear of the gallows, which secondary punishments do not inspire. It will perhaps be answered, “why not hang for everything?” If death be the best deterrent, and society has the right to inflict it, “Why not bring the coiner and forger to the gallows as of old?” The answer is that murder is a crime so pre-eminently hurtful to society that it is advisable to distinguish it by a punishment above all others, and by one which may be held up before the eyes even of a man who is undergoing the most extreme sentence for a minor offence. Secondly, the crime of murder is contradistinction to ordinary crimes of larceny, or fraud, and is generally the offspring of that kind of savage disposition, which only the fear of death will effectually control. If the opinions of those conversant with prisoners are to be taken, there does exist a salutary fear of the death penalty among the worst class of the population.
A man will rob a house and waylay a traveller, but in the heat of his act, or in the very height of his fury, he will know how to hold his hand and avoid the actual killing of a human being.
It is said, and, we do not doubt, with perfect truth, that the reason why the proportion of murders to minor offences is so small—why the deed so often stops short of the capital offence, even at the risk of leaving a witness of the scene—is, that there is among the criminal classes the very strongest fear of actually causing death.
They know that the pursuit will be far more keen if a murder be in question, and that, if caught and convicted, a very different doom awaits them.
If this be the effect of the law, it is certainly a most important advantage to society, and one that certainly should not be thrown away in deference to either sentimental humanity or the vague theories of abstract justice.