“The enormous number of our transported convicts—five thousand annually, for many years past—accompanied, at the same time, with a large increase of crime in general, would seem, prima facie, to be no very conclusive argument, in favor of the efficiency of the present system.” Ed. Rev., v. 86, p. 257, 1847. “What shall be done with our criminals?” Such is the caption of the able article, to which I refer. Lord Grey, and the most eminent statesmen of Great Britain have been terribly perplexed, by this awful interrogatory.—Well: we are a very great people.—Dr. Omnibus, Squire Farrago, and Mrs. Negoose have no difficulty upon this point; and there is some thought in our society, of sending out Mrs. Negoose, in the next steamer, to have a conference with Lord Brougham. Lord Grey’s plan was, after a short penitentiary confinement, to distribute the malefactors, among their own colonies, and among such other nations, as might be willing to receive them. Sending them to Canada, therefore, would be sending them, pretty directly, to the States. Dr. Omnibus is greatly surprised, that Lord Grey has never thought of building prisons of sufficient capacity to hold them all, since there are no more than five thousand transported, per annum, in addition to those, who have become tenants of prisons, for crimes, which are yet capital, in England, and for crimes, whose penalty is less than transportation.
It seems to be the opinion of the writer in the Edinburgh Review, whom I last quoted, that, under the anti-capital punishment system, there has been “a large increase of crime in general.” This he states as a fact. Facts are stubborn things—so are Mrs. Negoose—Dr. Omnibus—and Squire Farrago. They contend, that our habits of life and education, and the great difference of our political institutions entirely nullify the British example. They show, with great appearance of truth, that the perpetrators of murder, rape, and other crimes, in our own country, are more religiously brought up, than the perpetrators of similar crimes, in Great Britain. The statistics, on this point, are curious and interesting. They present an imposing array of educated laymen, physicians, lawyers, bishops, priests, deacons, ruling elders, professors, and candidates, in the United States, who have been tried, for various crimes, by civil or ecclesiastical courts; deposed, or acquitted, on purely technical grounds; or sentenced to imprisonment, for a shorter or longer term, or to the gallows, and duly executed. Now we contend, that the ignorant felon, and such he is apt to be, in all countries, where there is but little diffusion of knowledge, and especially of religious knowledge, when again let loose upon the community, whether by a full pardon, or by serving out his term, returns, commonly, to his evil courses, as surely as the dog to his vomit, or the sow to her wallowing in the mire. But we find, that men of talent and education, and particularly men, who have figured, as preachers, and professors of religion, who commit any crime, in the decalogue, or out of it, become objects of incalculably deeper and stronger interest, with a certain portion of the community—after they repent, of course—which they invariably do, in an inconceivably short space of time. Thus, when strong liquor, and lust, and prelatical arrogance turn bishops, priests, and deacons, into brutes, and prodigals, and sometimes into murderers, they, invariably, excite an interest, which they never could have excited, by preaching their very best, to the end of their lives.
I have sometimes thought, that, in the matter of temperance, for which I cherish a cordial respect, a lecturer, as the performer is called, though the thing is not precisely an abstract science, cannot do a better thing, for himself and the cause, when he finds, that he is wearing out his welcome with the public, than to get pretty notoriously drunk. Depend upon it, he will come forth, purified from the furnace. He will take a new departure, for his temperance voyage. His deep-wrought penitence will enlist a very large part of the army of cold-water men, in his favor. A small sizzle will be of no use; but the drunker he gets, the more marvellous the hand of God will appear, in his restoration.
From these considerations, our Anti-Punishment Society reason onward, to the following conclusions: that, whatever the penalty imposed may be, deposition, imprisonment, or death, it is all wrong, radically wrong. For, thereby, the community is deprived, for a time, or forever, of the services of a true penitent. They all become penitent, if a little time be allowed, or they are persecuted innocents, which is better still.
Besides, how audacious, for mere mortals to lessen the sum total of joy, among the immortals! As religious men, who, when misguided, commit rape or murder, invariably repent, if there is any prospect of pardon; hanging may be supposed, in many cases, to prevent that great joy, which exists in Heaven—rather more than ninety-nine per cent.—over one sinner that repenteth.
To be convicted of some highly disgraceful or atrocious crime, or to be acquitted, upon some technical ground, though logically convicted, in the impartial chancel of wise and good men’s minds, is not such a terrible thing, after all, for a vivacious bishop, priest, or deacon; provided, in the former case, he can contrive to escape the penalty. Such an one is sometimes more sure of a parish, than a candidate, of superior talents, and unspotted reputation. It is manifest, therefore, that a serious injury is done to society, by shutting up, for any great length of time, these penitent, misguided murderers, ravishers, &c., and, especially, by hanging them by the neck, till they are dead.
This phrase, hanging by the neck, till they are dead, imports something more, than some readers are aware of. It was not uncommon, in former times, for culprits to come—usque ad—to the gallows, and be there pardoned, with the halter about their necks. Occasionally, also, criminals were actually hung, the halter having been so mercifully adjusted, as not to break their necks, and then cut down, and pardoned. Of thirty-two gentlemen, traitors, who were taken, in the reign of Henry VI., 1447, after Gloucester’s death, five were drawn to Tyburn on a hurdle, hanged, cut down alive, marked with a knife for quartering, and then spared, upon the exhibition of a pardon. This matter is related, in Rymer’s Fœdera, xi. 178; also by Stowe, and by Rapin, Lond. ed. 1757, iv. 441.
We are a cruel people. Our phraseology has become softened, but our practice is merciless, and our lawgivers are Dracos, to a man. When a poor fellow, urged by an impulse, which he cannot resist, seizes upon the wife or the daughter of some unlucky citizen, commits a rape upon her person, and then takes her life to save his own—and what can be more natural, for all that a man hath will he give for his life—with great propriety, we call this poor fellow a misguided man. This is as it should be. He certainly committed a mistake. No doubt of it. But are we not all liable to mistakes? We call him a misguided man, which is a more Christian phrase than to say, in the coarser language of the law, that he was instigated by the devil. But, nevertheless, we hang this misguided man by the neck, till he is dead. How absurd! How unjust!
A needy wanderer of the night breaks into the house of some rich, old gentleman; robs his dwelling; breaks his skull, ex abundanti cautela; and sets fire to the tenement; thus combining burglary, murder, and arson. He well knew, that ignorance was bliss; and that the neighborhood would be happier, in the belief, that accident was at the bottom of it all, than that such enormities had been committed, in their midst. Instead of calling this individual, by all the hard names in an indictment, we charitably style him an unfortunate person—provided he is caught and convicted—if not, he deems himself a lucky fellow, of course. Now, can anything be more barbarous, than to hang this unfortunate person, upon a gallows!
A desperate debtor rouses the indignation of a disappointed creditor, by selling to another, as unincumbered, the very property, which had been transferred, as collateral security, to himself. Irritated by the creditor’s reproaches, and alarmed by his menaces of public exposure, the debtor decides to escape, from these compound embarrassments, by taking the life of his pursuer. He affects to be prepared for payment; and summons the creditor, to meet him, at a convenient place, where he is quite at home, and at a convenient hour, when he is quite alone—bringing with him the evidences of the debt. He kills this troublesome creditor. He is suspected—arrested—charged with murder—indicted—tried—defended, as ably as he can be, by honorable men, oppressed by the consciousness of their client’s guilt—and finally convicted. He made no attempt, by inventing a tale of angry words and blows, to merge this murder, in a case of manslaughter: for, before his arrest, and when he fancied himself beyond the circle of suspicion, he had framed the tale, and reduced it to writing, in the form of a brief, portable memorandum, found upon his person. He had paid the creditor, who hastily grasped the money and departed—returning to perform the unusual office of dashing out the debtor’s name from a note delivered up, on payment, into the debtor’s possession! Thus he cut short all power to fabricate a case of manslaughter.