“To be, or not to be--that is the question.”
That is indeed the question we are about to consider,--BEING or DEATH; a
short sentence, but of unequalled importance. Yet how little does the
demise of a fellow-man dwell on the human mind, unless the ties of
kindred, or any peculiarity of circumstance by which the event may
happen to be encircled, impart to it adventitious interest.
A newspaper paragraph entitled “Awful and sudden death” may for a moment
arrest our attention; but it is the “awful and sudden,” not the actual
transit, which attracts the fancy. Perchance, also, it may be printed in
rather a larger type than the adjoining paragraph, or we may expect to
find some exciting detail of the facts of the case; but the awful
Reality, the earthly ending of the being, immortal though it is to be,
elicits little sympathy, and the wearied eye turns to some other news.
The dying _speech_ of the malefactor arrests our attention; the dead
_speaker_ of it is unregarded as a lump of clay. Who that amidst the
excitement of a crowded court of justice has turned his thoughts within
himself, and divesting the scene of all the panoply of pomp which
surrounds him, has reflected on the moral effect to be the result of
the sentence of death _if executed_, but has felt his sympathy rather
awakened in favour of the culprit, and confessed to himself how
inefficient the gibbet is when viewed (according to its intended
purpose) as the roadside guidepost, by which other earthly travellers,
who might be disposed to stray, should be warned of a pathway to be
avoided.
Alas! the body on the gibbet is but like the scarecrow in the field of
grain,--little heeded by its brethren in plumage, scarcely noticed by
aught save the vacant gape of curiosity; it dangles for a time, and is
remembered no more!
But let us take a more serious view of the question,--one which commands
our deepest respect and our gravest veneration. Let us consider the
question of the assumed right to take human life on the warranty, or, as
is sometimes said, on the express command of Scripture.
It has been often urged that it is expressly commanded in the Old
Testament that “he who sheddeth man’s blood, by man _shall_ his blood be
shed;” and, consequently, that the punishment of death for murder is
sanctioned by the high and holy God who inhabiteth eternity.
How cautious should we be, to ascertain that no fallacy exists in this
our opinion! I grant that, according to our translation, the above
isolated text, if taken alone, may be so construed; but what are the
acts of the Creator recorded as following upon this text? What was his
first judgment on the first of murderers, Cain? Not only did he not
inflict death, but by a special providence protected him from its
infliction by his fellow-man. Behold again the case of David, guilty of
at least imagining the death of Uriah. Was David struck dead for the
crime?
Whatever an isolated chapter (much less, then, a single verse) may
amount to of itself, if we take the context of the same part of Genesis
and behold the first murderer even especially guarded, by God’s mark,
from the effect of “every man’s hand being against him;” and again if we
search the New Testament, where we find no passage, under the new
dispensation, that can be construed to call for the infliction of death
for murder,--from these results I submit that the question must be left
solely to mundane argument, to stand or fall by its own efficacy as a
preventive of murder, and that the isolated phrase of Scripture should
not be construed into a command as to what ought to be done, but rather
as the probable result of human revenge, a feeling at variance with
God’s holy ordinance; for we read, “Vengeance is mine, saith the
Lord,”--expressly and clearly withholding the power over human life from
mere mortal judgment.
Let me here give a short extract from the “Morning Herald,”--a paper
which has always so consistently and ably advocated the sacredness of
human life:--
“On the motion of Mr. Ewart, some important returns connected with
the subject of CAPITAL PUNISHMENTS have been made to the House of
Commons, and ordered to be printed.
“_First Class._--A return of the number of persons _sentenced to
death_ for MURDER in the year 1834, whose punishment was
_commuted_,--specifying the counties in which their crimes
occurred, and stating the number of _commitments_ for murder in
the same counties during the _same_ year and in the _following_
year, together with the _increase_ or _diminution of commitments_
for murder in the same counties in the year following the
commutation of the sentences; similar returns for 1835, 1836, 1837,
and 1838.
“_Second Class._--A return of the number of EXECUTIONS which took
place in England and Wales during the three years ending the 31st
day of December, 1836, and also during the three years ending the
31st day of December, 1839, together with the number of
_commitments_ in each of those periods respectively for offences
_capital_, on the 2d day of January, 1834. Also, the total number
of _convictions_ for the same offences, together with the
_centesimal proportions of convictions to commitments_ in each of
those periods respectively.
“The facts set forth upon the face of these returns furnish very
strong evidence, indeed, to prove the utter _inutility of_ CAPITAL
PUNISHMENTS as a means of preventing or repressing crime.
“What are the facts?
“We find that in one county (Stafford) in the year 1834 the
sentence of one convict for _murder_ was _commuted_. In that year
the commitments for murder were six, and in the following year the
commitments for that crime were also six. Thus the commutation of
the sentence in that instance was followed by neither a
_diminution_ nor an _increase_ of commitments for murder.
“It is sufficient for the argument of the advocates of abolition of
capital punishment to show that the suppression of the barbarous
exhibitions of the scaffold would _not_ necessarily cause an
_increase_ of heinous offences; for if the amount of crime were to
remain the _same_ under laws _non-capital_ as under those which are
_capital_, to prefer the latter to the former would evince a
passion for the wanton and unavailing destruction of human life,
unspeakably disgraceful to the Government or Legislature of any
civilized country.
“In Derbyshire, in the year 1835, we find a similar result
following a commutation of sentence for murder to that which
followed a similar commutation in the county of Stafford in the
preceding year; namely, the same number of _commitments for murder_
in the year following the commutation as in that in which it
occurred,--being two in each; thus, also, in this instance, there
was neither increase nor diminution of the crime of murder in the
year following that of the commutation, judging from the number of
commitments.
“In Warwickshire, in the year 1835, the sentence of a convict for
murder was commuted, the number of commitments for the crime in
that year being five, whereas in the year following there was but
one commitment. In this instance, then, we have not only _no
increase_ of the crime of murder, but an actual _diminution_
amounting to four.
“In Westmoreland, in the year 1835, there was one commutation; and
the commitments in the year following showed neither an _increase_
nor _diminution_, being two in each.
“In Cheshire, in the year 1836, the sentences of _two_ convicts for
_murder_ were _commuted_, the commitments for the crime in that
year being two; the commitments for the year following were also
two, showing _neither an increase nor diminution_.
“Here we have an instance where the sentences of _all_ convicted
were commuted, and no _increase_ of the crime followed.
“In Devonshire, in the year 1836, there was one commutation of
sentence for _murder_, the commitments being four. In the year
following there were _no_ commitments, making a _decrease_ of four.
“In Lancashire, in the year 1836, the sentences of _four_ convicts
for _murder_ were commuted, the number of commitments in the same
year being seven. In the year following the number of commitments
was one, making a _decrease_ of six.
“In the county of Norfolk, in the year 1836, the sentences of
_five_ convicts for _murder_ were commuted, the number of
commitments for the same year being eight. In the following year
the number of commitments for murder were but five, giving a
_decrease_ of three.
“In the counties of Norfolk, Nottingham, and Stafford, in the year
1837, there was one commutation of the sentence of murder for each
respectively. The result was a fall in the committals of the
following year from five to two in the first county,--giving a
decrease of three; in the second county a fall from one to _none_;
in the third county _neither_ an increase nor diminution,--the
number of committals having been three in each year.
“In the counties of Lincoln, Stafford, and Denbigh, in the year
1838, there was respectively _one_ commutation of the sentence for
_murder_. The result was that in the following year the commitments
fell from two to one in the first county, from three to one in the
second, and from one to _none_ in the third, thus giving
respectively a decrease of one-half, two-thirds, and of the whole.
The last is more correctly called an extinction than a decrease.
“In Cheshire, Middlesex, Somersetshire, and Surrey, in the year
1838, there were, respectively, _two_ commutations of the sentence
for murder. The result was that in the first county the
commitments, as between that year and the year following, fell from
two to one; in the second county they fell from seven to three; in
the third, from three to one; and in the fourth, from three to two;
thus giving a diminution, respectively, of one-half, four-sevenths,
two-thirds, and one-third.
“In Kent, in the year 1838, the sentences of _nine_ convicts for
murder were commuted, the commitments for that crime in the same
year being seventeen. In the following year the commitments for
murder were only two, showing a decrease of fifteen. In this last
case, however, we cannot in fairness press the argument in favour
of the _salutary_ effect of discontinuing capital punishments to
the extent that the arithmetical table would show. That year, if
we recollect right, was the year of the extraordinary outbreak
headed by the madman Courtenay or Thom. That event swelled the
commitments for murder to an unprecedented height. The fall in the
commitments from seventeen, in that year, to two in the year
following, is not a fall under _equal_ circumstances, and it would
be illogical to make it an argument for more than this: that
society received _no detriment_ because the deluded followers of
the frantic Courtenay _were sent to a penal settlement, instead of
being strangled on the scaffold_.
“Looking to the table of EXECUTIONS, we find that in the _three_
years ending the 31st of December, 1836, the number _executed_ was
85, while during the _three_ years ending the 31st of December,
1839, the number was only twenty-five. The _commitments_ in the
former period were 3,104, in the latter 2,989, showing a
_decrease_, though a small one, in the number of _commitments_,
while there is exhibited an _increase_ in the number of
_convictions_; namely, from 1,536 to 1,788, showing the
_centesimal_ proportion of convictions to commitments in the two
periods, to be represented by the figures 49·48 and 59·48
respectively.
“These returns, as far as they go, are highly satisfactory as the
testimony of experience to the _safe_ policy of ABOLISHING CAPITAL
PUNISHMENTS ALTOGETHER, and thus getting rid of the barbarous and
brutalizing exhibitions of cold-blooded cruelty and deliberate
slaughter which they present to the people.”
_Morning Herald_, 1840.
From this statement of facts, and indeed from all that has taken place
regarding crimes where capital punishment has been remitted, there can
be little doubt that it is inexpedient; there can be none that it is
unnecessary. But if any still persist that the Divine sanction is given
by “He who sheddeth man’s blood, by man shall his blood be shed,” then
the tyrant who engages in a war of aggression, the general who sanctions
one effective shot being fired, should alike bear the penalty with the
midnight assassin. Nay, does not the man who accidentally “sheds the
blood” of him who is “made in the likeness of God,” literally come
within the pale of the command, if _command_ it be?
The Chinese but seek to carry out this principle: they merely say, and
with juster pretension to consistency, “we cannot remit it; there must
be blood for blood.”
Yet we would dispute their right to have _always_ blood for blood; why
then may we not question the right _ever_ to have blood shed, under
Bible sanction at least? God makes no mention of motives or comparative
reasonings as to guilt; in this His supposed command there is no
discretionary option to soften its asserted force. By whatever means or
under whatever circumstances one man kills another, _blood is shed_; and
if blood for blood should hold good, then under this reasoning the
slayer must die. If it be argued, that _wilful_ shedding of blood is
meant, I point to the words of the text; they refer to “life for life,”
they give no exceptions: “Who then, oh man! made thee a judge to tell
the signs of the times?”
Once grant an exception to execution, once admit the doctrine of
reprieve, and the authority, as a command, in the Bible ceases
altogether.
Those who argue in favour of executions say, “But as an earthly
punishment, we _may_ hang;” _may_, indeed! There are fifty things we
_may_ do that are better avoided. Why need we hang, when other
punishments will suffice, and have been proved to have succeeded in
other cases? A very few years back, and the advances we have recently
made in the civilization of our laws would have been scouted as equally
Utopian, as is now considered the attempt to abolish the punishment of
death altogether. Let us reflect too that in a case of murder, the
prisoner (from a feeling which imperceptibly affects the minds of all)
is looked on with a degree of suspicious anxiety to convict that almost
watches to make out a case against him sufficient to condemn. The very
fact of his being put on his trial for murder prejudges him in our eyes;
and a slight variation in reporting a conversation has marvellously
increased many a poor man’s danger of the gallows.
There is no recalling the erroneously condemned from the grave; a wrong
judgment cannot there be reversed! Let us bear in mind, also, that the
wisest judges may sometimes decide wrongfully. They were considered by
myself and others to have erred in respect to the privileges of the
House of Commons; why might they not commit a similar error in the case
of a prisoner?
But enough; let errors in judgment speak for themselves. They contain
matter for deep reflection and self-examination for us all.
If the average number of executions be reduced, even by one, I shall
have the satisfaction of feeling at least that I have been an humble
labourer in the great cause of mercy, which could not have a more
zealous advocate, though it may have many more powerful and successful
supporters.
Happy are we if, in all we do during the course of our career, we have
not to answer for one death; for the bitter word, the cruel neglect, the
light injurious observation, may be the cause of death, as well as the
bludgeon or the steel.
I would here desire to make a few observations as to the medium through
which I have introduced to the public my opinions in favour of the
abolition of Capital Punishment, and the advantages to the cause
obtained from its appearing in the form of a translation, the
reflections being those of a foreigner who looked not to England when he
penned his work. In all this there is a beneficial distraction of ideas
created, for we look, as it were, at a foreign scene when we read the
interesting paper of the narrative,--the sentiments conveyed, the idioms
transcribed, are foreign, and the reader appropriates alone the portion
he feels is applicable to the circumstances of his own country; in fact,
he examines the context, not as he would an original treatise, but as
one who would apply the problems found advantageous in one region to
another. He cavils not at words or similes; his criticism is reserved
for the object at which the translator aims,--no matter even if the
phraseology be too flowery, the expressions too strong. There may be
strange similes, strained amplifications; he studies but a translation,
and cares comparatively little for them. True, he may have some
curiosity awakened as to what the original author was in feeling and
ideas; but these thoughts are light and evanescent compared with the
anxiety, or more properly the curiosity, he has to ascertain what could
be the translator’s ideas in thus “wasting the midnight oil” by
reducing into the phraseology of his vernacular (English) tongue, the
varied thoughts, the acute observations, the (to English ears) novel
ideas of that clever, eccentric, single-minded writer, Victor Hugo.
“What was the aim of the copyist?” methinks I hear repeated by many; and
as my object is one of serious importance to the realities of life, and
to arrest the attention of the reader beyond the mere passing hour, I
reply: The object for which I plead is the priceless value of human
life. Well and truly may the reading public,--and happy for this my dear
native land is it that its public is a reading one,--well may this
public exclaim, “Who is he, or what his view, who has thus dared to
scatter these additional leaves on the pathway of a nation’s thoughts?
Why has he done so, what motives urged him, what end did he seek?”
Such are the surmises that may flit across the reader’s brain, and the
translator humbly hopes that the lightning scowl, or the thunder of
maledictive criticism, will be directed alone against the oaken plank of
a hundred years’ growth, and that this his nautilus bark will feel no
breeze beyond the _aura populi_. Probably to the English public many of
the observations in this translation will be original. Haply to the gay
and frivolous the thoughts may appear exaggerated; but, alas! with too
many they will come home to the heart. Numbers there are, who, steeped
in misery before they were steeped in crime, had as little inclination
to sin as their more fortunate fellow-men, but whose first
transgressions were the offsprings of their misery, the necessitous
urgings of their poverty. Yes, gentle reader,--for among the fair and
young I hope to have many readers; readers whose hearts yet know how to
feel,--ye would I address, and exclaim, for the startling fact is but
too true, that though,--
“we who in lavish lap have rolled
And every year with new delight have told;
We who recumbent on the lacquered barge
Have dropped down life’s gay stream of pleasant marge;
We may extol life’s calm untroubled sea,”
well may the miserable, the guilty answer,--
“The storms of misery never burst on thee.”
“YOU NEVER FELT POVERTY. You never were comparatively tempted to crime.”
“A noble,” say they, and truly, “a noble is tried, is judged by his
peers, as being those who alone are considered to know, to be able to
appreciate his case. Let poverty have her peers also.” “My poverty and
not my will consented” is a phrase to which too little consideration is
given when we discuss the question of crime and punishment; for though
poverty cannot be pleaded by the criminal in justification of his
offence (nor should such justification be permitted in the legal view),
Society, whose interests are represented by the tribunal which adjudges,
should be careful that any circumstances or defects in its conformation
which may have had a tendency even to induce the criminality of the
culprit, should go in mitigation of his punishment. It would be a
startling observation in the present day, and one for which Society is
not yet prepared, to hear the assertion made that _punishment_ for
crime is more often unjust than just; but after much reflection on the
origin of crime, humanly speaking, I am constrained to come to this
conclusion: that the criminality of individuals is more frequently
traceable to the evils incidental to an imperfect social system than to
the greater propensity towards crime, as affecting others, that exists
in the heart of one person if compared with another. Had the judge or
the prosecutor entered life under the same circumstances as the
prisoner, been early initiated into the same habits, been taught to view
society through the same distorted glass, and had their feelings blunted
by the same cold blasts of adversity, who shall say what their
respective positions might have been?
In the phrase “My poverty but not my will consented,” let me not be
understood to speak of poverty merely in the light of want of money;
that is a very narrow view, and very confined as to what forms the real
pains of poverty. Poverty is the want of means, intellectual and moral
as well as pecuniary, to feed the being who is placed on the area of the
world; with mind active as well as body, sustenance is necessary to its
existence. If the poor man cannot obtain bread, he takes to gin to
assuage cravings of the stomach. No less, if the mind cannot obtain
light to guide it in the onward path, the visual organs become
habituated to the dark and murky gloom of almost darkness; and through
these confused gleamings, no wonder if the being fall into the pits and
whirlpools which beset with danger the pathway of man, even when blessed
with the clear light of day; how much more, therefore, when he has not
light to discern good from evil, nor an intellectual poor-law to supply
him with food, when a beggar by the way-side of knowledge! How strange
it is that we can incarcerate the _bodies_ of the poor because they are
poor, objecting to let them be dependent on casual charity for bodily
sustenance, and yet cannot be equally strict in legislating for the
mind.
Surely if, as members of one common society, we contend it is necessary
for the well-being of the community at large that each person should be
provided with work to enable him to procure food, and that if persons be
unable to obtain work, or purchase food, then that the State shall
provide for them,--should we not equally be provident for the mental as
well as we are for the corporeal wants of those who hold a less
fortunate position in the scale of society; more particularly when we
reflect on the effect mind has on matter, and that did we sufficiently
provide for the former, each individual would probably find little
difficulty in procuring a supply for his bodily wants.
The poverty of the mind, if relieved, will probably be a permanent good;
whereas bodily relief is at best but temporary. How vast, too, is the
effect of knowledge, on the creation of food. Knowledge teaches
industry; knowledge and industry multiply an hundred fold the product of
labour. Comfort and security are thus increased; idleness, and
consequently crime, is diminished,--for a man of information is seldom
idle, and one surrounded with comforts is rarely inclined to commit
crimes against society.
Would not, therefore, the effects resulting from education be the best
preventative of crime?--and, if so, heavy indeed is the responsibility
of every man who puts an impediment in the way of a nation’s
enlightenment. Circumstanced as Great Britain now is, internally
speaking, with her countless millions congregated or _hived_ in large
towns, ready to follow any leader of more daring or greater knowledge
than themselves, comparatively indifferent as to the means for
compassing any much desired end,--though actuated by no wish to work ill
to others, even when excited beyond the unmanageableness of irrational
physical force,--there is much to be feared from the effects of any
combustion which might suddenly inflame a people thus charged to the
full with every ingredient requisite for scenes of violence, whilst at
the same time, through a strong line of prescribed demarcation,
separated from the privileged classes; and it cannot but be mainly by
the controlling power of knowledge that we can expect to see the masses
endeavouring to be satisfied with their lot in life. Thus it is, as I
have before asserted, that the poverty of opportunity for information,
and consequently acquirement of knowledge, originates much of the
present state of crime. Oh, that I could distinctly see my way through
the halo which as yet obscures that glorious day, when ignorance shall
be deplored as much as shame! With what satisfaction would the statesman
then die and bequeath his country to the care of, not the fate of
accident, as now, but the masses of its own population. Methinks the
gleam which harbingers this bright morning, already, though faintly,
begins to tinge the horizon, under the happy auspices of our beloved
Queen; and to the credit of the liberal advisers of Her Majesty, a more
liberal arrangement of schools has been established,--though it
probably remains for ages yet unborn to develope fully the blessings of
such a system. Well worthy, aye, brighter than a diadem of a thousand
stars, is the advancement of a nation’s happiness. May such thoughts
have our beloved Queen’s deep and considerate attention; and as her
noble mind traces, on an ideal map, the future destinies of her people,
and turns to times when another generation, with its train of guilt or
happiness, shall arise, may she anticipate in time the benefits which
will flow from a system of general education!
But if these things be now lightly accounted, the time may arrive when
population shall be yet more dense, and the strong arm of numbers become
yet more strong; for if no countervailing power intervene, force and
numbers must prevail at last, and there must come a time when it will
alone depend upon the respective powers of intellect or animal force
being dominant, whether confidence in our stability shall be shaken,
capital cease to be here expended, and commerce leave our
shores,--whether, in fact, brute force or reason become the recognized
sovereign of the people; whether the influence of intellect has been
fostered, and nobler thoughts and more refined pleasures become the
pastime of this great nation. Then, but not till then, will crime hide
her head, and the race no longer be to the swift or the battle to the
strong: a calm and steady breeze will temper the course of the swift to
wrath, or the powerfully scientific lever of knowledge uproot violence
out of the councils of the nation; for they will then appreciate law,
knowing it is peculiarly the palladium of the defenceless, and
confident in the strength of their cause, they will cast off the
trammels of tradition, form unions of information, not restriction; and
when the various classes of society shall have learned to know that each
has his proper duties, each his proper limits, each is equally necessary
to each, whose strength is a combination of the whole,--like the arch,
sure to drop to pieces if the key-stone were removed.
Oh, how the heart bleeds to reflect on the pains which are taken to
render efficient the laws for punishing crime, and the little care to
fortify the minds of the people to resist the first impress of crime.
Train up the child in the way he should go, and he will not depart
therefrom. If, therefore, we train it not up, it never has wherefrom to
depart, but is cast forth, like a helmless, pilotless bark, on the
waters of life; strange if it founder not, or at least if it become not
damaged by striking on some of the shoals by which it is beset on every
side. We talk of “penal laws” or a “penal settlement” as though the aim
and intention of laws were to be _penal_, instead of being as they most
decidedly are, or ought to be, _sanitary_. Wherefore do we, as we term
it, _punish_, but to cure an evil which hurts and pains society? Just so
we cauterize a wound, in order to heal the body, not for the sake of
giving pain to the affected limb.
The very fact of the common acceptation of the word _penal_, as applied
to our criminal system, is of itself a strong proof of the
misunderstanding on which that system is founded, and on which we
legislate. If we arrogate to ourselves a right to judge men for their
criminality, instead of urging our only legitimate excuse for
punishing, namely, “the giving over the offending member to that course
of discipline we deem most likely to restrain a similar disposition to
delinquency in another member of the frame-work of society,” let us at
least carry out this principle to the full extent; and then the man who
cheats his neighbour of money by availing himself of his ignorance, and
leads him to make an improvident bargain, will be deemed as guilty in
the eye of the law as he who, throwing him off his guard,
surreptitiously conveys his hand into the other’s pocket.
But it is really absurd to talk of laws being framed to punish sin. It
is to restrain others, as well as the culprit himself, from similar
offences that pains and penalties are inflicted. If they fail of this
end they become themselves improper; if the same end can be attained by
a mild as by a severe sentence, the milder course should be adopted.
Perhaps there may be some who are only timid regarding the total
abolition of capital punishment because they are fearful of a license
being given which would render human life of less value in the sight of
man. Can then the destruction of a second life increase the reverence
for its sacredness? Surely, not! If we were, in imagination, to place
ourselves in the chamber of the condemned, or by the fire-side of the
mere spectator of an execution, we shall find the heart of the first
generally in a morbid state, whilst the spectator commiserates the fate
of the condemned more than he learns to reprobate the crime for which
the guilty one suffered.
Punishment, when strained beyond what is necessary becomes revenge;
punishment, also, should never exceed, but rather be milder than, public
opinion. In the awful decision of death, more especially, we should be
careful not to inflict a penalty which we cannot repay back to the
sufferer if the condemnation should afterwards prove to have been
erroneous. There can be no recall from the grave: in the beautiful words
of our author, “THE DOOR OF THE TOMB OPENS NOT INWARDS!”
* * * * *
There are several points in “The Last Days of a Condemned” to which I
would particularly invite the attention of the reader. In the first
place, the story being left unfinished, and there being a doubt as to
whether the condemned was executed or pardoned, takes from the feeling
of horror without affecting our interest in his fate. It is as a veil
cast over the last moments,--a film, an indistinctness that blends into
harmony the last distorted features of the vision we are contemplating.
Next, I would mention the papers relating to chaplains. How touchingly
does the author paint the pure and pastorly being who has dwelt in the
homely cure, and amid the peaceful scenes of nature studied nature’s
God! At page 277, the poor captive, crushed in worldly feeling, yearns
for those “good and consoling words” that shall “heal the bruised reed,
and quench the smoking flax.” How beautiful to see the soul seeking for
that hope which dieth not; and whether we look at pages 279 and 280, or
289, we cannot but feel a happy and holy wish that Heavenly Peace may
rest on the poor condemned.
Pass we now to a beautiful scene of nature, page 290,--the final
interview between the prisoner and his infant daughter, which few could
read unmoved by its pathos. How happy for the parent who can enfold his
child in his arms,--a happiness of which parents seldom know the value
until the grave has closed over them, or they have left the homestead
and parental hearth for the pathway of independent manhood. Agonizing
must it be to a parent when absence has transferred much of the warmth
of filial affection to strangers, to behold the child you have pictured,
possibly for years, as anxious to welcome home from distant noxious
climes the parent from whom it parted in the happy days of innocence,
perhaps ere yet the mind was conscious of the father’s parting blessing.
How the pulse throbs and the heart beats when the vessel touches land,
and the waving handkerchief is indistinctly discerned amidst hundreds of
spectators; and if when disengaged from the crowd, and with the beloved
object seated beside you as the carriage speeds you to your home, how
scrutinizingly does the heart search each gaze, fearfully anxious lest
it should be able to fathom the depth of a love it would hold
fathomless! But oh! how bitter beyond expression must be a meeting such
as is described by the author of “The Condemned:” not only want of
recognition from the innocent little prattler, not only indifference
towards him,--but _terror_! How infinitely more must this have
reconciled him, and made him court death than all that myriads of
arguments could have effected!
A widely contrasted scene is painted from page 245 to 251, wherein is
described the departure of the convicts for the Galleys. What an
interesting and painful study for the philanthropist or the moralist! In
a few words we read the history of years, the downward path, the
emulation in vice. The pride of the hardened sinner to show his
superiority in crime, and the effort of the newer delinquent to hide his
inexperience under a more hardened exterior, prove forcibly how equally
emulative is man, whether the object be a sceptre or a public execution,
that his fellows may admire him when he is gone, that his compeers shall
not surpass him while he remains!
The deterioration of mind on all connected with a crowded gaol,--that
university for crime--is shown, in a paper a few pages further on (page
255), where even the song of a young girl, the outpouring of an
unburthened heart, is tainted by the details of crime. The words are
left in their original tongue; retained for the sake of showing the
ability of the author, but not translated, as being little suited to
give pleasure or effect any good. Alas! that the gaol should have power
thus to efface even the charms of melody, and render discordant music’s
silvery tones. But even that sweetest of sounds, a female voice, becomes
tainted by prison association: the rust of a gaol corrodes the heart,
and eats into every thing; time cannot efface its mark, nor the
brightest sun call forth one gleam from where its dimness has once
affixed itself.
As it mars lovely woman’s charms, so it renders disgustful the
venerableness of age. From the song of the young girl we trace its
earlier mildew; from the powerful paper narrating the history of the old
convict (which is by far the most stirring and full of adventure of the
whole, see pages 268 to 272) we learn its baleful effects on old age.
May a beneficent, rationally-grounded clemency be, in future, the means
of redeeming “all such as have erred;” and may a widely-spread system of
enlightened education happily train the children of adverse
circumstances “in the way they should go.”