Until 1861 there were still a considerable number of capital offences left on the statute book, but the practice grew up, as we have it to-day, of hanging for murder only. In fact, from 1837 onwards, there are only five cases of executions for any other offence than that of murder, one in 1837, one in 1839, one in 1841, one in 1851 and one in 1861. Murder, treason, piracy with violence, setting fire to dockyards and arsenals, are all capital offences, but practice confines the death penalty to murder only, and in a large proportion of cases it is not carried out for

that.

EXECUTIONS AND HANGMEN.

At one time the executions were held in public, but they occasioned such scandalous scenes that a Royal Commission was issued to inquire into the provisions and operation of the laws, under which the punishment of death was inflicted, and the manner in which it was inflicted. The Commission reported against public executions, and they were discontinued by Act of Parliament in 1868.

The Judge orders the place and time of the execution, which must be not more than twenty-one days, and not less than seven from date of his order. The king's signature was formerly required to every death warrant; on the accession of the Queen, however, it was felt that there were many cases not pleasant to discuss with a young woman, and an Act of Parliament was accordingly passed to render her signature unnecessary.

Formerly the hangman was specially sworn in to do his duty. The office was held in such disrepute that a decent respectable man was unwilling to take it, and it was usually filled by some criminal. He was not even allowed

to enter the gaol to receive his wage, but was paid over the gate.

Calcraft-up to 1874-was paid by the Corporation of London a guinea a week retaining fee and a guinea for each execution, he was also paid 2s. 6d. for each flogging, with an allowance for implements. The County of Surrey further paid Calcraft five guineas as retaining fee, with a guinea for every execution; he was also paid £10 for every execution in the country.

The hangman's office was held in disrepute when capital offences were many; it is still held in disrepute now that they are few. In February, 1895, a paragraph appeared in the papers to the effect that Berry, the ex-hangman, was unable to obtain employment; nor could any of his children get work on account of the office their father had held. And, indeed, I think that most people would instinctively shrink from numbering a hangman amongst their personal friends. His office is generally regarded as a shameful one.

THE OBJECT OF PUNISHMENT.

So far, I have limited myself strictly to the history of capital punishment in this country. I have traced-as briefly as possible—the rise and the decline of this particular penalty in England, not merely to relate more or less interesting details in our history, but to make our past experience form a ground on which we can base reasons for our future conduct.

Before we discuss the merits of death as the penalty best suited to the most serious of all offences, it will be well to get a clear idea of what we look upon as the object of punishment. I may have one notion, you may

have another, and Jones in the street may have a third; or, on the other hand, Jones in the street might be simply astonished if he were asked what he thought should be the object of punishment. "Object? Why punishment of course," he might say. "Wicked people must be punished." This vagueness, this want of agreement is, after all, extremely natural; there is so much confusion between theory and practice, that the mind is distracted from what should be, by what is.

Bentham, in his "Rationale of Punishment," puts it that the main purpose of punishment should be the general prevention of crime, i.e., that the object of punishment should be to prevent future crime in the criminal and to prevent, or deter, others from becoming criminals. It was Hobbes, I think, who added to that that there should be no other design in punishment than the correction of the offender and the admonition of others. Other writers we find putting the same idea in different words, and I think we may take it, that the generally received theory is, that the main purpose of punishment is the security of society by the general prevention of crime. I will go a step beyond this, and urge that the prevention of crime should be not merely the main purpose but the only purpose of punishment.

THE LEX TALIONIS.

I once heard a gentleman, who spoke with the authority of many years' experience of prisons and prisoners, put the objects of punishment as four, (1) judicial punishment, (2) deterrence of crime, (3) protection of society (4) the reformation of the criminal. Now, such an enumeration is more confusing than helpful, and, in fact, showed that, in

spite of his experience, his mind was still in a very vague and hazy condition on the subject upon which he was speaking. His four objects were not really four, but two; for the third, the "protection of society" is achieved when you have succeeded in the second and the fourth-"the deterrence of crime and "the reformation of the criminal." In regard to "judicial punishment," if by that, is meant some penalty put upon the criminal other than that which is necessary to promote the security of society, then it must be in the nature of retaliation or revenge. And this is the point I have been leading up to, because it is just here that theory and practice clash. Enlightened theories of punishment disclaim the idea of revenge-punishment which is mere revenge is itself a crime. As a matter of practice, however, our penal system is not content with seeking only to deter, and to reform; the old law of retaliation (lex talionis) may be seen in its enactments and its administration every day. Unhappily, our efforts at reformation and deterrence have not so far resulted in any marked success, and there are writers like Farrer who argue that, as punishment is a complete failure, both as a reformative and a deterrent, we must look upon it as an adjustment of natural vindictiveness; in other words, the regulation by society of the vengeance of individuals. I must admit that I cannot regard this as a very elevated idea of punishment; yet, at the same time, I am also bound to admit that it is in harmony with the actual state of things. It is, in fact, what is, instead of what should be.

DEATH AS PUNISHMENT FOR MURDER.

We will now proceed to consider the propriety of death

-whether by the gallows, as in England; the guillotine, as in France; or the axe, as in Scandinavia-as a punishment for murder. We can look at it from both the humane and the barbaric points of view. We can ask ourselves, is the execution of murderers necessary for the protection of society? and we can also ask ourselves, is the execution of murderers necessary to satisfy the natural vindictiveness of society? To each of these questions I shall emphatically answer "no."

In order to promote the security of society, a punishment should aim at working such a change in the criminal as will restrain him from committing further crimes, and it should also be of such a nature as will deter others from crime. Death certainly fulfils the first requisite in the most effective way, for at one and the same moment it removes from the criminal both the will and the power for further crime. But life imprisonment would be found an equally forcible restraint, if forcible restraint is all that should be aimed at.

In regard to the second and more far-reaching quality of punishment-the deterrence of others-I think I can show that in this respect the death penalty has been a failure wherever and whenever it has been practised.

RESULTS IN ENGLAND.

We will take our own country first. It is a matter of common notoriety that when theft was a capital offence, pockets were picked at the gallows' foot. In his address to the Middlesex Grand Jury in December, 1811, Mr. Mainwaring (the chairman) plaintively remarked that "the severity of punishments ordained for particular crimes acts very feebly on the minds of hardened thieves," and later on.