The maids ran away,

They were frightened to stay,

And the lady, despite all the threats she could say,
Was seized by the men,

Placed on horseback, and then

Away they all gallop'd, through glade and through glen,
To the knight's; not a moment her courage forsook her.
At once to Sir Robert's grim presence they took her,
And then left the room,

For they knew, I presume,

That men at such moments don't like an o'erlooker.

The lady began;

"Well, you white-livered man,

"What on earth do you mean? speak, you brute, if you can." Sir Robert felt nervous ;

The Virgin preserve us!"

He said, "Lady fair, nought that's naughty, I mean;
"But I've fetched you to tell you how wretched I've been
"Since yesterday eve,

"When you caused me to grieve

"By the very odd manner in which you took leave; "And I've sought you again,

"To repeat my old strain,

"And I trust you will not let me urge it in vain."

Fast flew flashing fire from Adeline's eyes,-
She said, "Sir, your offer and you I despise!
"Allow me, this moment, from hence to go frec,
"Or beware!-there shall terrible harm come to thee!"

The knight tried to laugh, but 'twas perfectly plain,
Though he tried very hard, that the trial was vain;
Indeed it appeared from his funny grimace,

That the laughter was on the wrong side of his face ;
"Well,-go free you shall, if you'll promise," said he,
"To look with kind eyes on my passion and me;
"But, of course, if you won't,

"Why then, go hence you don't—

"Your freedom's a point for yourself to decide ;"But going or staying you shall be my bride."

"I'll see you

- accurst,'

Answered Adeline-" first,

"I defy you, you villain! so, pray, do your worst!"

"Ha, ha! then to prove

"That I'm earnest in this,"

Said the knight, "now, my love,

"I shall ravish a kiss."

"You'd better," said she,-" Well, I will then," said he,

"Here goes."-" Keep your distance, you monster!" cried she,

66

'I assure you you've captured a Tartar in me !"

Sir Robert approached the fair Tartar in haste,
And he threw his bold arm round her exquisite waist;
But lo! from her girdle the maid draws with speed
A dagger; "Once more, Sir," she warned him, "take heed!"
"Take fiddle," said he, "nought shall stay me;" he drew
The maiden more close than before to his breast-

When, horror! she cried, " Take thy doom then, and rue !"
And she buried the dagger hilt-deep in his chest!

One hard heavy groan

'Scaped the lips of the knight,
And down he fell prone

In the scared maiden's sight;

"Great God!" was her cry," what a deed I have done!"

She fled-no! she flew-with the speed of the wind,
Nor dared she to look for a moment behind;
On! on! with a wild frenzied glare in her eye-
On! on! but the speed of her terror was vain-
From her horror-struck thoughts not away could she fly,
It seemed as though spectres of blood fill'd the sky,
And pursued her with shrieks, as in torments of pain;
At length, faint and worn with her agony,
Exhausted and senseless she fell on the plain.

She was found and borne home; but alas! never more
Did reason return her reft spirit to guide-

In vain year on year of her life hurried o'er,

A wild shrieking maniac she liv'd and she died.

The knight liv'd to learn the sad fate of the maid-
And oh! who his agony's torments can guess—
As dying his deep-stricken conscience pourtray'd
The terrible scene of his victim's distress?

J. L. S.

TO ELLEN.

How light thy step-how beautifully fair

Breaks thy life's morning, Ellen! From the bowers
Of azure Spring, all gemmed with sunny flowers,
Joy bounds exulting; 'mid Hope's golden hair
Fondly he twineth roses young and rare,

Flinging rich odours round his sportive showers;
E'en Time smiles grimly o'er his new-born hours,
And smooths the frown of his stern daughter, Care.
But Earth-born beauties fade: Futurity

Opes her dark pages-'tis moist with many a tear;

Be nobler glories thine; so, ne'er to thee

Shall Autumn waft regret-or Winter, fear:

Safe may'st thou rest 'neath some blest Angel's wing
Thy soul the Temple of Eternal Spring!

DELTA.

77

THE MORAL ARGUMENT AGAINST CAPITAL

PUNISHMENT.

I AM not quite sure that the word moral is the best I could have chosen to express the particular line of argument which it is the aim of this section of my subject to pursue; inasmuch as my sole object, at the present time, is to consider the justness of the infliction of Capital Punishment; and the term Morality has, of course, a far wider scope. However, I am less anxious to describe my chapters by a word, than to make their contents intelligible, and I offer this explanation to prevent the possibility of cavils being raised against a word which I employ only because a better does not occur to me.

My aim on the present occasion is, as I have stated above, to enter into the abstract question of the justness of the punishment under consideration. In the preceding chapter I addressed myself to those persons only who defend capital inflictions on the ground of policy; in the present I intend to review the notions, and answer the objections, of those who hold them to be suggested and sanctioned by justice-those who express their sentiments on the subject by the observation," A murderer ought to suffer the infliction of death for his crime."

Now I trust that the reader will bear in mind, as he peruses this chapter, that he has to consider but the one proposition, namely, that the judicial infliction of Capital Punishment is essentially and in effect unjust. Let him not confound this argument with the Social or Political one, nor seek to compare and weigh it by any other balance than its own. All other considerations he must, for the time being, throw aside; he must leave human policy, social advantage, and Divine authority, quite out of the question, regarding alone, and on its own merits, the argument to which this chapter is devoted; and in the hope that the reader will do this much for the sake of the writer, the writer in return pledges himself, in all honesty of purpose, to the same most advisable course.

It seems to me that the best way to evolve our subject is to sift and examine the proposition, "that a murderer ought to suffer the infliction of death." "Ought"-the word implies the whole gist of the matter; it conveys, that he who takes life owes life; that it is reasonable and just that he who inflicts death, should suffer death. After investigating the proposition so far as it relates to the murderer individually, I shall speak of the injustice which Capital Punishment perpetrates upon the surviving relatives of the person executed, and upon society.

To commence then. The principle most obviously affirmed in the proposition that a murderer ought to suffer death-is retaliation, in another word-revenge; and for a few moments we will inquire whether the principle of revenge is consistent with morality.

Morality is the duty which man owes to man: now, in what does this duty consist? The question is easily answered. We are placed here capable of assisting, supporting, and promoting the interests of one another, and our own happiness is advanced as we do this. Here then is our duty clearly pointed out. We owe it to one another to

be kind, sympathetic, affectionate; to assist, to support, to console, to do good. We are members of a great family, whose welfare and advantage are one. All infringement of the sympathetic bond that keeps us together-all wilfully inflicted pain, of whatever sort, or to whatever extent, is moral crime and evil. Now, revenge is the wilful infliction of pain, and therefore is inconsistent with morality. It matters not that it has been provoked; the retaliation is wilful, and therefore criminal. Nor does it avail us anything to say, that the person on whom we retaliate, having done the original evil, forfeits his rights, and therefore we owe him no duty. In reply to this it would be enough to remark, that if every one who causes evil ought to forfeit his human and social rights, the retaliator should suffer the punishment as well as the original perpetrator; but even if the foolish plea be granted, it only goes to show that we do not owe the criminal kindness and sympathy; it does not justify us in concluding that we owe him cruelty and pain. If we are absolved from doing him good, we are not enjoined to do him harm. I grant, that if a man injures us, we have clearly a right to seek reparation; but anything beyond this is forbidden. To inflict pain on him because we have suffered pain from him is to make two evils out of one. If he has committed a crime, the fault is his, and we may be sure that he will not escape from punishment; for

""Tis the Eternal Law,

That where Guilt is, Sorrow shall answer it;"

and as surely as fire throws out beat will sin cause suffering. We need not fear, therefore, that the criminal is likely to escape from punishment, and gather from that fear the authority to chastise; for, not to refer to that certainty surrounding us all, that the righteous balance of a future world will weigh to every man the just proportion of suffering for guilt, we know, that by the wise but mysterious orderings of the law of Nature, even in this world there is retribution. That Law therefore is the judge-that Law the dispenser of punishment. Man has no right to take the sword of vengeance in his hand; but he is bound by reason, by morality, and by interest, to preserve inviolate-yes, even to the worthless and the criminal-the law of kindness, affection, and sympathy.

I should here, perhaps, pause for a moment to inquire into the abstract right of society to inflict punishment at all, and into the extent to which that right should be carried.

Men forsake a savage state of existence, and form themselves into a community. Why? For the sake of protection and security. In their barbarous condition, each one must defend, and secure, and preserve himself. In consideration of his joining himself to society, society undertakes to guard him, and promote his advancement. It follows, therefore, that society is entitled to punish offences committed against its peace and security. But this is all. The right is clearly to be limited to such punishments only as undoubtedly prevent social evil, and all inflictions having any other end in view are indefensible and unjust. Punishment, therefore, which has revenge or retaliation for its object, is of course altogether unwarrantable. Neither can it be admitted that, even for the prevention of social evil,

society is warranted in adopting any punishment it may please. There is a limit even here. I am ready to grant that any punishment short of taking life society has a right to inflict: deprivation of property and liberty, and so forth. The reason why I except life is this: that it is what society cannot give, and therefore should not take away. Property, liberty and social happiness, are things gained by the institution of society; over them the social government stands in the light of a guardian, and nothing appears more just than to take away from a man who has injured society that which he has gained from society. But life is a possession of another sort-differently derived, and entirely inalienable. It is not given by the community, and therefore the community can have no right over it. It is the gift of God-held of Him alone, and He only has the right to dispose of it.

In quitting savage life, and placing himself under the sway of social government, it is true man yields up his natural rights for the protections and advantages which society offers him; and by the act he admits the sway of society over all his rights, and binds himself to obey all such laws as refer to his natural rights, and his duties as a citizen. But you cannot say that he thereby yields up his right over his life, and places that at the disposal of the community he joinsfor such a right he does not possess. A man has no right at all over his life; he holds it in charge from the God who gave it, and when he takes away his life he does wrong. He cannot, therefore, yield up to society the right over his life, for he has no such right to give.

On the principle of retaliation or revenge, then, the infliction of death, even upon a murderer, is unwarranted and unwarrantable. Now let us go back to our proposition again, and see if it can be answered differently on viewing it in other aspects.

"A murderer ought to suffer death"-that is the assertion: we will now look at the real amount and quality of crime contained in an act of murder, and see if it be, in its nature or in its degree, as compared with other crimes, so intrinsically worse, or so much more extensive, than the rest, as to deserve so tremendous an award as death.

You say a murderer ought to suffer death. Why? Because of the vastness of his crime? Let us inquire into this.

What is crime? The infraction of that universally binding code which we call the moral law. The moral law is that which prescribes man's duty to his fellow beings. The duty man owes to his fellow beings is sympathy, kindness, and respect for their persons and possessions. Any invasion of this law is crime. Theft is an infraction of the moral law, because it takes from a man what he has a right to call his own; and Murder is an infraction of the moral law for the same reason. Now wherein is murder worse than theft, both being invasions of the moral law? Why, not in nature at all, but simply in degree. Murder is the robbery of life, theft the robbery of property. Life is more valuable than property, and therefore the taking away of life is stealing more than property. But the real crime is the same in either case. The thief who steals a penny is in reality as great a culprit as the thief who steals a pound. Precisely the same distinction, and no more, exists between the robber of property and the