Prison Poor Cure for Crime.
Locking a man up for committing a crime does not always cure him. It is now proven that affixed penalties to certain crimes accomplishes practically nothing, for it is based on a wrong principle. The length of confinement ought, confessedly, to be adjusted to the needs of the prisoner. He should not be discharged from his moral hospital until there is reasonable assurance that he is cured. He certainly should not be turned loose on society, on the mere expiration of a formal sentence, when it is known he will begin anew on his old life. Protection to society, as well as the reformation of the criminal, call for the retention of the latter until he can be trusted with his liberty, and affords proof that he is fitted to take his place in the world as a useful, law-abiding citizen. This system alone permits the fullest scope to reformatory methods, and leaves to the court the right of sentencing indefinitely, and to the tribunal which has to do with the prisoner's release, to say when there is reasonable ground for faith that if discharged he will not prove either a burden or menace to society. Where conduct and character afford no such grounds he should be incarcerated for life, just as we would retain hopeless lunatics in asylums.
Maconochie's Experiment.
This form of sentence was first put into operation in a modified form by Maconochie, at Norfolk Island, in 1836, with a success in the way of reformatory results from the start which was unequalled. Now the best authorities in penology in all countries not only commend it, but the opinion is fast becoming general that it is a necessary feature in every reformatory system of prison discipline. Of course it implies in prison management the highest wisdom and integrity, and especially the banishment of partisan politics therefrom. It makes the dominant idea of prison administration manhood-making, and not money-making.
Faces Portray Character.
Every one knows that men's passions, propensities, and peculiarities, as well as their calling, are reflected in their faces.
It is as impossible to disguise a face as a handwriting. When the expert comes the disguise is torn off and the face tells the true story of the spirit inside the body. One only needs to visit the penitentiary to realize how undeniably vice writes its sign manual on the features. It is not the drunkard only whose red nose, flabby cheeks and rheumy eyes betray him; it is the senualist whose vice is read in his lips, the knave whose propensity is revealed in the shape of his mouth; the man of violence is surrendered by his eyes. An experienced detective policeman, or a trained jailer seldom needs to ask the crime of which the prisoner was guilty. He can tell it by his face.
It is quite evident that in the future the study of physiognomy is going to be pursued more vigorously than it has been. As a means of preventing crime it may prove invaluable. How constantly do we hear of men "falling from grace," as the phrase goes. Yet these men must have carried their crime in their faces for a long time. If any one had been able to read their features the mischief might have been averted. It is well known that every man's face is more or less stamped by the pursuit he follows. An experienced observer can generally detect a lawyer, or a doctor, or a merchant, or a clerk, or a mechanic, or a clergyman, by merely studying his face.
The instinctive criminal is a social parasite. The conclusion is irresistible that he is organically morbid. He will proceed to any extreme, and life and property, separating him from the accomplishment of his wishes, are but barriers to be overcome. The occasional criminal is largely a negative creature, who yields himself when temptation and the stimulus of opportunity exceed his resistive power. The habitual and professional criminal represents degree rather than kind. Criminality is to him a profession, a fine art, and susceptible of division into specialties.