THE SPECTATOR'S LIBRARY.

WHAT should we say of a man who, having found his watch was going wrong, beat it against a wall till it broke into a thousand pieces, with a view of repairing its errors ? If the punishment of death be not necessary for the preservation of the peace of society, then is it an act of horrid cruelty. It is a prima facie argument against death as a necessary punishment, that the most barbarous

nations put it most frequently in force ; the more civilized a people become, the less they resort to the infliction of death. Death is the easiest and the clumsiest description of punishment : it saves trouble, thought, care ; it demands no foresight, prudence, or pre- caution,—" Put him away, and have done with him !" is the ready idea of a barbarian lawgiver ; it is also one on which modern legislators, retaining the ancient prejudices of their country, have but too frequently acted. The surgeon, careless of cure, or igno- rant of any other medicament than his knife, cuts off the limb, as the shortest method of disposing of his case.

If the punishment of death be a necessary infliction, then is it one of the most painful and melancholy evils attendant upon the formation of society. If it be not a necessary infliction, in the case of every execution we have to answer for an atrocious crime. A question of this magnitude and interest, in an en- lightened and humane country like ours, has naturally attracted the attention of legislators and philanthropists. Many men of distinguished talents and acknowledged wisdom have reasoned against the necessity or the utility of the infliction of death, with- out, however, producing much effect upon the mass of public opinion. Antiquity—which is an argument against, rather than for the punishment—has lent its venerable sanction to it; and the autho- rity of writers and reasoners has been condemned as being urged in behalf of a dangerous theory. A voice has, however, risen from amidst the very centre of crime, misery, and wretchedness. A strange offence against society threw an enlightened reasoner, an active inquirer, an acute observer, into the place which is, as it were, the nucleus of metropolitan crime. The imprisonment of Mr. EDWARD GIBBON WAKEFIELD, in Newgate, will probably prove a source of the most essential benefit to the country. With

buoyancy of spirit and an activity of mind which we cannot but respect, forgetful of his own misfortunes, he appears to have in- stantly turned to the task of doing the greatest good open to him in his position. Newgate is the city of crime : its citizens are another society, at war with the society without the walls. Mr. WAKEFIELD, for a time, was one of the members of this antagonist institution ; and in the enemy's camp he studied the enemy's tactics. The perpetual argument which has been used in favour of the punishment of death, is the effect which it is said to have on the general body of criminals—namely, the deterring them from the commission of crime. Is it not singular, that men who have spent their lives in making sanguinary laws on this very ground, should not have inquired into its accuracy and truth, where alone they were to be ascertained? Newgate is not a place for a voluntary retreat, and it was, necessarily, a strange chance that sent a philo- sopher there ; and yet they who make laws against crime, ought surely to understand the nature, habits, and views of criminals. Mr. WAKEFIELD'S book, besides being full of most interesting details respecting human suffering, is a most extraordinary expo- sure of the injustice and absurdity of the legal criminal proceedings of the metropolis. The views he has been enabled to take, from his peculiar position, will strike every reader with astonishment and somewhat of horror: they show us that transactions which for folly and cruelty could only be believed of distant despotisms, are every day acted within a stone's throw of our daily avocations. Here is a little volume which, thrown into the middle of the metropolis, will electrify the careless throng.

"Some of the descriptions of scenes occurring within the walls of New- gate, will be hardly believed by persons who see the outside of the building every day of their lives. The great metropolitan prison is a terra incognita even to those by whose habitations it is surrounded. The writer expects, therefore, to be charged with exaggeration, as if he had described a far distant and unknown country. He expects this the more, because he has related facts, of which he must have doubted if he had not actually wit- nessed them. But here is his principal motive—as he trusts it may prove a justification—for publishing what he has seen. Incredible scenes of horror occur in Newgate. Is it to be desired that such evils should remain unknown ?" (Preface, p. viii.) The author dwells on the great point of prevention with peculiar force. Prevention is nearly unattempted in London—for many reasons: the magistracy is imperfectly armed for the purpose, and it is, moreover, nobody's business. Thieves—well-known thieves —beard the police in every street; and they resort in numbers to well-known houses kept for and by thieves, as to their general home. These houses are not at all concealed from the police, and yet they remain unmolested. A thief discharged from Newgate, in rags and pennyless, may be traced to one of these asylums : he leaves it well clothed, and with money in his pocket—prepared to. "go to work." Mr. WAKEFIELD suggests the appointment of a special police of prevention, with an officer resident in Newgate, who could procure intelligence as to all the ramifications of crime in the metropolis.

The facts respecting juvenile crime are appalling.

" Another class of nurseries of crime, not indeed to be found in every. quarter of London, but confined to certain districts, such as St. Giles' the low parts of Westminster, and both sides of Whitechapel, are lodg- ing-houses, kept generally by receivers of stolen goods, and resorted to by none but thieves, or those who are on the point of becoming thieves.. Houses of this description often contain fifty beds. Into some of these, boys only are admitted ; the purpose of such exclusiveness being, on the part of the boys, to preserve their independence, that is, to escape the control of persons stronger than themselves,—(they are equal and often superior to grown thieves in skill, presence of mind, and knowledge of their business,)—and on the part of the lodging-house keepers, to prevent the men from robbing the boys, so that they, the lodging-house keepers, may reap as much as possible of the boys' plunder. Women, however, are not excluded. It would be more correct to say that girls of all ages above ten (for it is seldom that the female companion of thieves lives to be a woman) are admitted, not on their own account as independent lodgers, but as the acknowledged mistresses of the boys who introduce them. The scenes of profligacy that occur in these dens are indescrib- able, and would be incredible if described. Passing them over with no other remark, it must be stated, that one of these dens becomes the new home of a boy who is on the point of turning thief. Here, if he have any remains of honesty or wholesome fear, all impressions of that kind are quickly and for ever effaced. Here, too, receivers of stolen goods are admitted, who upbraid the boys if they have been unsuccessful, and show them handsful of gold, as an inducement to greater daring the next day. At one time, early in 1830, there were half-a-dozen boys in the school- yard of Newgate, who had lodged together in one of these houses ; and, during their confinement, a man, who had not been suspected before, was convicted of receiving stolen goods. This man happened to be placed in the yard next to that of the school ; and I heard many conversations be- tween him and the boys, and afterwards, when he had left the prison, frequently questioned the boys about him. Altogether, I learned, that for several years past he had been in the constant habit of visiting a cof- fee-shop attached to a boy-thieves' lodging-house, near Houndsditch, al- ways carrying with him a quantity of gold, which he used to show to the boys, not merely urging them to earn some of it, by bringing to him stolen goods at a more secret place, but suggesting to them all sorts of robberies, the plan of which it was part of his business to concoct, whilst apparently occupied with some honest calling. He was, as I un- derstood, not unlikely to be pardoned, in consequence of the interference on his behalf of a nobleman with whom his brother lived as servant. My attention was first directed to him by seeing him give money to the boys, and I soon found that these presents were bribes for their silence."

An argument against the extreme punishment of the law, powerfully handled by Mr. WAKEFIELD, is the unwillingness to convict on the part of judge and jury, on account of their aver- sion to join in a condemnation to death. This unwillingness is invariably calculated upon by prisoners ; and the old criminals understand perfectly how to count upon the numerous chances afforded them by the imperfectness and confusion of our institu- tions. The appointment of a public prosecutor is suggested as a measure which would strike terror into the heart of Newgate. Amongst the many schemes which experienced thieves invariably pursue, one is the attempt to work upon the feelings and the in- terests of the prosecutor. The machinery of this method of evading justice is dwelt upon by Mr. WAKEFIELD. The number of crimes committed, compared with the cases in which the parties are detected and prosecuted, is calculated by some thieves to be as fifty to one. The London thief, who lives upon chance, calculates upon two years' complete impunity. The matter is thus forcibly put by Mr. WAKEFIELD. " Taking the shortest period of perfect impunity to be two years, or the general impression amongst thieves to be that it is two years, and bearing in mind the enticements of a thief's life, it will appear that in London the trade of thieving may be properly compared to a game of hazard, in which, as said before, the player always wins until he loses all, and in which the average period, during which a player will always win, is two years. I ask, whether, if such a game were known, and if houses for playing it existed in every part of London, there would be any lack of players? Players, assuredly, would abound ; and it is just so with thiev- ing, which is a game encouraged by the law, since legislators must be aware of the temptation to crime, and yet abstain from creating any countervailing motive of greater force. The punishments of the law are severe enough, and too severe; it is the uncertainty of punishment,,of which too great severity is one main cause, that makes the law proclaim, as it were, impunity of crime ; saying to the needy and the idle, ' observe the defects of the law, as to detection, prosecution, and trial—see the numerous chances of escape—every one may hope for two years of riotous enjoyment ?'

Why are there not more criminals ?"

It is said that, by the laws of England, a person charged with crime must be tried three times before he can be punished,—first by the magistracy, next by the grand jury, and thirdly by the judge and petty jury. The capital convicts of London and Mid- dlesex are, however, tried four or five times : after capital convic- tion and sentence of death pronounced, they are tried by the King in Council—which is the fourth time ; and again there is an ap-

peal to the King in form, but in fact to the Home Secretary—this is the fifth trial. Mr. WAKEFIELD proves the injustice and the

liability to err under these last two trials : they are in fact con- sidered by criminals a lottery, where the blanks are death, but where the chances are in favour of the cunning and experienced

malefactor. The author details the melancholy history of Mr. MONTGOMERY'S fourth and fifth trials ; which is a notable in- stance of the injustice of this mode of procedure. This, and many other exposures, show that the punishment of death, even If it be necessary or expedient, is yet administered in such a way as to destroy the efficacy it might have. The certainty of punish- ment is that alone which produces a preventive effect ; and the punishment of death, which above all others is that which criminals are most likely to calculate on escaping from, is administered in the manner best adapted to foster the hope of ultimate evasion. Mr. WAKEFIELD has made an observation on the sanguine expectations of men on this head, which demands the serious attention of legis- lators.

" Fear of death is a principle of man's nature, yet every man is so prone to believe in his own superior fortune, that the cases are rare when even the mortally sick expect to die on that occasion. Premature death is the al- . most certain consequence of hard drinking; yet when does the fear of premature death, by itself, operate as a motive to sobriety ? Perhaps never. It is just so in respect to hanging for crimes. The principle of the fear of death is counteracted by that principle of self-love and hope, which may be called forth, to the extent of delusion, in nearly every mind. No one, perhaps, expects to escape one trifling penalty of drinking hard, viz. a head-ache. So it is with persons liable to comparatively slight punishments for crime. If they do not fully expect to be punished, at least they do not expect to escape. In truth, they expect to be punished though they hope to escape. The greater the evil of which there is a rational prospect, the stronger appears the bias to delusion. In i punishing with death, legislators have had in view only the universal fear of death; never perceiving, that in proportion to the fear is the delusion of hope. It would be difficult to imagine a more striking instance of the delusive hope of life, produced by the fear of death, than that which may be always witnessed in the cells of Newgate.

"I do not pretend that the capital convict's hope of escape is greater because his chances of escape are less. The fear must not be confounded with the danger. It is an abstract fear of death which blinds him to the actually existing danger. In his blindness, all his thoughts dwell on his one last chance of escape : if he had eight chances instead of only one, his confidence of escaping would be still greater. lf, then, we allow that no delusion takes place in 1 out of 100 cases, after sentence of death, what must be the proportion of cases in which, before the exhaustion of the seven chances above recited, the capital criminal really expects capi- tal punishment ? Probably not 1 in 1000. Consequently, it may be said, that the numerous chances of escape, arising in great part from the na- ture of the punishment, and the nature of the punishment independently of chances of escape—the calculations of reason, and the delusion of hope excited by fear—conspire to render capital punishment utterly inefficient for the sole end of punishment, which is to present to all a stronger mo- tive for abstaining from crime than the ordinary motives for committing crime. No punishment, probably, however mild, would be effectual, if administered by chance, and with the chances in favour of a wrong deci- sion :—the punishment of death, so administered, is worse than useless to society ; for whilst it affords numerous chances of impunity, it leads every criminal, and much more every would-be criminal, to expect impu- nity ; and by affecting to give protection to persons and property, it de- nies to individuals the protection of their own courage and such weapons of defence as they would use if there were no law."

Of the scenes described in this book, the most effective and the most interesting is the Condemned Sermon ; which will serve as a specimen not only of the horrors of Newgate, but of Mr. WAKEFIELD'S power of composition.

" Let us return to the condemned pew, supposing it to contain four persons ordered for execution. The rest of the congregation, i have said already, pray for the condemned during each morning's service ; but, on the Sunday preceding the execution, there is a grand ceremony, usually called the condemned sermon,' when, besides the sermon, which is of course made for the occasion, appropriate hymns are sung—such as the lamentation of a sinner ;' and if the execution be to take place next day, part of the burial service is performed. " The condemned service is conducted with peculiar solemnity, being attended by the Sheriffs in their great gold chains, and is in other ways calculated to make a strong impression on the minds of the congrega- tion, who may be considered as representing the criminals of the metro- polis. Whether the impression be a good or a bad one, I leave the reader to decide : but in order that he may have the necessary materials for de- .ciding justly, I lay before him the following description of a condemned service, premising only this—that not a circumstance is stated which I have not witnessed.

"The Sheriffs are already seated in their own pew, accompanied by their Under-Sheriffs, and two friends drawn thither by curiosity. Not far from them appear two tall footmen, swelling with pride at their state liveries. The Ordinary is in his desk : his surplice is evidently fresh from the mangle ; and those who see him every day observe an air of peculiar solemnity, and perhaps of importance, in his face and manner. The Clerk is busied, searching out the psalms proper for the occasion. "The tragedy begins. Enter first the Schoolmaster and his pupils ; then the prisoners for trial ; next the transports, amongst whom are the late companions of the condemned men ; and then the women. Lastly come the condemned. They are four in number. The first is a youth, about eighteen apparently. He is to die for stealing in a dwelling-house goods valued at more than 51. His features have no felonious cast : on the contrary, they are handsome, intelligent, and even pleasing. Craft, and fear, and debauchery have not yet had time to put decided marks on him. He steps boldly, with his bead upright, looks to the women's gal- lery, and smiles. His intention is to pass for a brave fellow with those who have brought him to this untimely end ; but the attempt fails : fear is stronger in him than vanity. Suddenly his head droops ; and, as lie sits down, his bent knees tremble and knock together. The second is an older criminal, on whose countenance villain is distinctly written. He has been sentenced to death before, but reprieved, and transported for life. Having incurred the penalty of death by the act, in itself innocent, of returning to England, he is now about to die for a burglary committed since his return. His glance at the Sheriffs and the Ordinary tells of scorn end defiance. But even this hardened ruffian will wince at the most try- ing moment, as we shall see presently. The third is a sheep-stealer, a poor ignorant creature, in whose case there are mitigating points, but who is to be banged, in consequence of some report having reached the ear of the Secretary of State, that this is not his first offence ; and se- condly, because, of late, a good many sheep have been stolen by other people. He is quite content to die : indeed, the exertions of the

• Chaplain And others have brought him firmly to believe that his situation is enviable,.and that the gates of heaven are open to receive him. Now observe the fourth—that miserable old man in a tattered suit of black. He is already half dead. He is said to be a clergyman of the Church of England, and has been convicted of forgery. The 'great efforts made to -save his life, not -only by bia friends bet by inanyutter strangers, fed him

with hope until his doom was sealed. He is now under the influence of despair. He staggers towards the pew, reels into it, stumbles forward, flings himself on to the ground, and, by a curious twist of the spine, buries his head under his body. The Sheriffs shudder; their inquisitive friends crane forward ; the Keeper frowns on the excited congregation ; the lately smirking footmen close their eyes and forget their liveries ; the Ordinary clasps his hands ; the Turnkeys cry hush !' and the old Clerk lifts up his cracked voice, saying, Let us sing to the praise and glory of God.'

" People of London ! is there any scene in any play so striking as this tragedy of real life, which is acted eight times a year in the midst of your serene homes ?

" They sing the Morning Hymn; which, of course, reminds the con- demned of their prospect for to-morrow morning. Eight o'clock to-mor- row morning is to be their last moment. They come to the Burial Ser.. vice. The youth who alone, of those for whom it is intended, is both able and willing to read, is, from want of practice, at a loss to find the place in his Prayer-Book. The Ordinary observes him, looks to the Sheriffs, and says aloud, ' the Service for the Dead !' The youth's hands tremble as they hold the book upside-down. The burglar is. beard to mutter an angry oath. The sheep-stealer smiles, and, extending his arms upwards, looks with a glad expression to the roof of the chapel. The forger has never moved.

"Let us pass on. All have sung the lamentation of a sinner,' and have seemed to pray, especially for those now awaiting the awful execu- tion of the law.' We come to the sermon.

" The Ordinary of Newgate is an orthodox, unaffected Church of Eng- land divine, who preaches plain, homely discourses, as fit as any religious discourse can be fit for the irritated audience. The sermon of this day, whether eloquent or plain, useful or useless, must produce a striking i effect at the moment of its delivery. The text, without another word, is enough to raise the wildest passions of the audience, already fretted by an exhibition of gross injustice, and by the contradiction involved in the conjunction of religion with the taking away of lives.. The sacrifices of God are a broken heart a broken and contrite heart, 0 God! thou wilt not despise' For a while the preacher addresses himself to the congregation at large, who listen attentively—excepting the clergyman and the burglar, of whom the former is still rolled up at the bottom of the condemned pew, whilst the eyes of the latter are wandering round the chapel, and one of them is occasionally winked, impudently, at some acquaintance amongst the prisoners for trial. At length the Ordinary pauses : and then, in a deep tone, which, though hardly above a whisper, is audible to all, says Now to you, my poor fellow-mortals, who are about to suffer the last penalty of the law.' But why should I repeat the whole ? It is enough to say, that in the same solemn tone he talks for about ten mi- nutes, of crimes, punishment, bonds, shame, ignominy, sorrow, suffer.. ings, wretchedness, pangs, childless parents, widows, and helpless or- phans, broken and contrite hearts, and death to-morrow morning for the benefit of society. What happens ? The dying men are dreadfully agitated. The young stealer in a dwelling-house no longer has the least pretence to bravery. He grasps the back of the pew; his legs give way; he utters a faint groan, and sinks on the floor. Why does no one stir to help him ? Where would be the use? The hardened burglar moves not, nor does he speak; but his face is of an ashy paleness ; and if you look carefully, you may see blood trickling from his lip, which he has bitten unconsciously, or from rage, or to rouse his fainting courage. The poor sheep-stealer is in a phrensy. He throws his hands far from him, and shouts aloud, Mercy, good Lord ! mercy is all I ask. The Lord in his mercy come ! There ! there ! 1 see the Lamb of God ! Oh ! how happy ! Oh ! this is happy I' Meanwhile, the clergyman, still bent into the form of a sleeping dog, struggles violently,—his feet, legs, hands, and arms, even the muscles of his back, move with a quick, jerking motion, not naturally, but, as it were, like the affected part of a galvanized corpse. Suddenly he utters a short sharp scream, and all is still. "The silence is short. As the Ordinary proceeds 'to conclude,' the women set up a yell, which is mixed with a rustling noise, occasioned by the removal of those whose hysterics have ended in fainting. The She- riff's cover their faces ; and one of their inquisitive friends blows his nose with his glove. The Keeper tries to appear unmoved; but his eye wanders anxiously over the combustible assembly. The children round the com- munion-table stare and gape with childish wonder. The two masses of prisoners for trial undulate and slightly murmur ; while the capital con- victs, who were lately in that black pew, appear faint with emotion."

Mr. WAKEFIELD is not a mere dealer in the melodramatic : this scene is introduced, not to feed the appetite for vulgar horror, but in order to illustrate, by example, the nature of the effect pro- duced on the body of criminals by the solemnities which precede the dreadful punishment of the law. Mr. WAKEFIELD has taken pains to ascertain the feelings of men under sentence of condemnation, respecting execution, from per- sons whose sentences have been remitted : and, again, he has ob- served the general impression made upon the prison at large, by the execution 'taking place without the walls. A part of the re- sults of these two inquiries are thus graphically described.

"I never missed an opportunity of leading prisoners, whose sentence uf death had been remitted by the Council or the Secretary of State, to con- verse with me about executions and the effect of those shows on the . individual thus led to express his own feelings. With a great many ca- pital convicts, whose sentences have been remitted, I held a dialogue to the following effect. Indeed, what follows is copied, omitting some oaths, from a note made at the time, of a conversation held with a convict who was within an ace of being hanged for coining.

" Q. ' Have you often seen an execution ?' A. 'Yes, often.' " Q. 'Did not it frighten you ?' A. 'No—why should it ?' " Q. Did it not make you think that the same would happen to your* • self ?' A. Not a bit.'

" Q. What did you think, then?' A. 'Think ? Why I thought it was a — shame.'

"Q. Now when you have been going to run a great risk of being caught and hanged, did the thought never came into your head that.it would be as well to avoid the risk ?' A. ' Never.'

" Q. ' Not when you remembered having seen men hanged for the same thing?' A. Oh ! 1 never remembered any thing.about it ; and if I had, what difference would that make ? We must all take our chance. I never thought it would fall on me, and I don't think it ever will.' " Q. But if it should ?' A. Then 1 hope I shall suffer like a.man.- where's the use of snivelling ?'

" The above, though actually written down at the time, is but a sample of many like conversations; and I beg the reader to observe, that rn every case the answers were the same in substance, whilst the questions

were always- framed so as to.haye elicited auswers of quite another.d.e.!

acription, had it been true that public executions excite terror amongst criminals.

" One would think that the execution of three or four of the inmates of Newgate in front of the prison, would, at least during some hours after the deed, leave a solemn ti4ression on those who remain behind. In the night preceding the execution, many of the prisoners hear the noise of hammers striking the scaffold in the course of being raised. When the procession of the pinioned men moves from the press-yard to the scaffold, headed, as all the prisoners know, by the Ordinary reading the service for the dead, the great bell of the prison tolls mournfully, like a church-bell at ordinary funerals. And when the tollingof the bell ceases, all know that their late companions are in the agony of death. All know, too, that for about an hour the bodies of the dead men remain hanging in the street. If there were any terrors in the punishment of death, evi- dence of them would appear on this occasion.

" Now I took great pains to observe the demeanour of the prisoners "generally during and immediately after executions. For a few minutes, whilst the death bell is tolling, the usual noises of the prison cease, and most of the prisoners are perfectly silent and motionless. The common expression of their features is strained attention with the ear. They seem anxious to learn the exact moment when their comrades cease to breathe. But no sooner is their curiosity satisfied, than they talk with unusual gesticulation and noise. The feeling which their language describes is savage recklessness. Now and then 1 have heard a man speak mournfully of those who had just been slain ; but, generally, the execution is imme- diately followed by violent language, abusive of the law and the authori- ties, full of desperate threats, brutal oaths, and other savage expressions. It can hardly be doubted that, every year, persons confined in Newgate, Who have never committed any crime accompanied by violence, are con- verted into savage burglars and merciless foot-pads, by the feelings of anger and desperation which the killing of their late companions engen- ders. But the evidence of such angry feelings, which follows each execution, lasts but a short while. Two hours after the execution, the prisoners in Newgate have resumed their ordinary pursuits and -demeanour. The more excitable spirits, indeed, occasionally recur to it with the sentiments before described ; but the great mass never think of it again, being so hardened by their familiarity with such events, as to look upon them, except at the very moment of their occurrence, with complete indifference. It may he concluded, therefore—and this is my own firm belief—that upon hardened offenders the execution makes no more impression than the death of a fly ; whilst it is apt to convert the merely dishonest into the most violent and reckless of criminals.

" Letthe Schoolmaster of Newgate he examined, and he will prove that for some days after every execution, a common amusement of the boys is to play the scene over again ; one boy acting the convict, another

the Ordinary, a third the Sheriff, and a fourth the Hangman. I have seen this done many times ; and, on one occasion, before -the bodies of the

men just hanged had been removed from the scaffold. To dwell upon the fact were needless. It removed the last doubt that yet lingered in my own mind of the inutility of public executions."

The importance of the subjects of this little book, and the novelty and ingenuity of the manner in which they are treated, must be our apology for dedicating so large a space to a consideration of its contents.

• If ever man redeemed the wrong he had done society, by confer- ring upon it a vast benefit, it is Mr. WAKEFIELD. We would call upon all generous minds to forget that this enlight,,ned and inge- nious inquirer had ever been detained within the walls of a prison, except for the purpose of a philosophical investigation.