count to produce more beneficial effects. We understand that the author himself, though very liberal in his political opinions, is not one of those who push their principles to an extent which defeats their own objects, - and to France such men are invaluable.

The frequent conspiracies against the government which have lately been discovered in France, substantiated as they have been by judicial investigation at Tours, Marseilles, Nantes, and in other parts of the kingdom, and followed by the capital punishment of many of the parties implicated, have naturally suggested some doubts as to the efficacy of that mode of preventing the repetition of state offences. In these circumstances the work before us appears to have originated, and we rejoice that the subject has fallen into the hands of a writer qualified to perform his task with so much ability. The manner in which he has conducted his inquiries has not only rendered his book valuable for the justness of its views, but has likewise given to it a very considerable interest from the insight which it affords into the present state of political feeling in France. The perusal of it has also made us augur well of a country, in which so bold an exposition of liberal feeling has been made, at a period when such a proceeding cannot fail to excite the hostile sentiments of those whose measures are so freely scrutinized; while the moderation of the author's opinions induces a hope that the people of France have at length been taught to believe, that it is equally cruel and unwise to make violence and bloodshed the attendants of all political changes.

We moreover deem this publication of considerable importance from the new light in which the punishment of death is viewed as connected with political offences, whereas the generality of writers have regarded it exclusively in relation to crimes against individuals; and therefore we shall endeavour to give rather fully the substance of the author's arguments, referring to his own words when we find them necessary for the more forcible illustration of his positions.

After having defined what he proposes as the limits of his question, and observed that not only the public mind is agitated with doubts on the propriety of the punishment, but that even the government, by the irresolution and hesitation which it displays on these occasions, evinces the same feelings, M. GUIZOT proceeds to examine the grounds on which the utility of punishing political offences with death is supposed to rest. The efficacy of punishment, he says, is either physical or moral, or physical and moral united. It is physical inasmuch as it disables the criminal from repeating his of

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fence; and moral in the example which it gives of his chas tisement. In judging of the physical efficacy of the punishment of death in the present case, it is necessary to observe the changes which society has undergone in modern times. Formerly, political commotions were generally fomented by some powerful noble, and in cutting him off the tumult was quelled; or, even if the evil originated with a portion of the populace themselves, it was not unusual to punish them nearly to extirpation. It is evident, however, that, as at the present day political agitations are never caused by the former means, so in the latter case it is impossible to suppress them in the manner antiently adopted. In France more particularly, the writer observes, it is impracticable to reuder the punishment of death really effective by diminishing the number of the offenders. The Revolution has given rise to a salutary dread of exhibiting the spectacle of men of respectability and rank suffering execution; and it is among that class chiefly, according to the advocates of government, that the plots have their origin. It is equally unsafe to attempt the extirpation of such evil opinions by the destruction of their meaner professors. Within the last half-century, the face of society in France has been entirely changed; the impassable spaces which formerly separated different ranks have been removed, and in their stead we find a gradual ascent of rank above rank: an alteration which has had the effect of connecting individuals more closely, and rendering them of greater importance to society at large, since proximity of situation never fails to excite an interest. The mass of the people is no longer a weak and disjointed multitude, but is composed of merchants, tradesmen, and the small proprietors of lands; and there are no longer any feudal lords to be cut off, or mere populace to be decimated. Thus, both against individuals and against masses of people, the physical efficacy of the punishment is equally disputable.

Such is the outline of M. GUIzor's arguments on the first branch of his position. His succeeding observations on the moral effects of this mode of preventing political offences are very able and acute; and we shall give them, as much as we can, in his own terms.

Crime and punishment, he remarks, are intimately connected in the human mind; where the latter is seen, the former is presumed to exist. One great end of punishment, therefore, is to impress on the public mind a detestation of the criminal act. It is this feeling of reprobation which is the main preventive of crimes, and not the apprehension of the mere bodily suffering; for, supposing that all such moral

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impressions could be effaced, the utmost rigor would be insufficient to prevent the commission of crime. Now, with regard to offences against individuals, such as murder or robbery, a feeling of detestation already exists in the public mind which induces a persuasion of the necessity and justice of severity, and the principles of the law accord with the sentiments of the people: - but not so in the case of political offences.

In political crimes, the two circumstances of the certainty and the criminality of the act are undefined; it is not certain that the act of the accused is that which the law denounces, nor that, if denounced by the law, it is naturally and invariably criminal. The first uncertainty is evident. At the present day, in crimes against individuals, it is only necessary to discover the criminal, for of the commission of the act there is no doubt: but in political matters, as conspiracies, libels, &c. it is always requisite, by a chain of evidence more or less conclusive, to ascertain both the offence and the offender. With regard to the uncertainty as to the criminal nature of the act, let it not be said that, in affirming its existence, I wish to weaken the laws, and to leave public tranquillity defenceless; I only assert that the immorality of political crimes is by no means so clear and unchangeable, as that of private offences: it is perpetually disguised or obscured by the vicissitude of affairs: it varies according to times and circumstances, and the rights and merits of power: it staggers every moment under the blows of force, which pretends to fashion it according to its own caprices and necessities. It is scarcely possible to find, in the whole circle of politics, any innocent or meritorious action which has not been declared criminal at some period, and in some corner of the earth. Who will say that all these laws are founded in reason? Who will maintain that they have always carried into the minds of the people a conviction of their justice, and have inspired, together with a dread of the punishment, a detestation of the acts which they punish? Who will now rise up as the defender of absolute power, and submit himself entirely to the government of laws which declare the rights of society, without reference to the conduct of those who are invested with power? The supposition is vain. In matters of so changing and complicated a nature, the true morality of actions is not thus defined and imprisoned in the text of laws; and Providence, which so often suffers the fate of men to be decided by violence, will not permit him at his will thus to make and unmake vice and virtue. Were you not aware," said the President of the "Revolutionary Tribunal," "of the law which forbids the sending of money to emigrants ?". "Yes," replied the accused old man; "but I knew there was an older law, which commanded me to furnish my children with sustenance." This, which was true in 1793, will ever remain so, in spite of all codes, and in the face of every authority. No doubt there are political crimes, both odious and real; but those which the laws thus denominate are not always of that nature, whatever be the laws and the times. Force, it is true,

true, exercises a wonderful empire over the weak intellect of man : but it cannot deprave it to such an excess, that the crimes which it invents shall excite the instinctive apathy attached to crimes that have been declared such by the sound judgment of the law.'

In comparing the different effects of punishment in cases of political and of private crimes, M. GUIZOT remarks on the different sentiments with which the offenders are impressed concerning the criminality of their actions. A robber or murderer is an isolated being: he knows that society is armed against him; and that, whenever he is seen, he excites the horror of his fellow-creatures. Not so the state-criminal, who lives among men of similar feelings, and looks to them for protection and assistance. Even when he falls, he considers himself as a martyr to his principles, and leaves to his friends the task of avenging his fate. The writer has given a faithful representation of the consequence of punishing with death those actions which, in public opinion, bear no certain stamp of criminality.

Of all the means, which power employs to attain this end, certainly punishments are the least efficacious. Punishment presupposes crime; and, if that supposition be not admitted, its moral efficacy vanishes. Let us examine the The consequences. individual who is punished, and those who think with him, conceive that they are wronged, and the punishment produces nothing but a conviction of its injustice. It causes irritation; instead of effecting a change in their opinions, it confirms them; and, thus separating them more completely from power, it directly defeats one of its own objects. If, on the contrary, the enemies of power admit the right to punish them, if they grant that force is employed against them with reason, - it is because they have resolved to consider themselves in a state of actual war. In that case, every social bond is broken, and there is no question of laws or punishments; conspiracies are ambuscades, and executions are defeats. Government then loses its moral position, and descends into the arena of force, where every thing is equal between it and its enemies. As it has a right to defend itself, its enemies have a right to attack it. We should err in saying that the one seeks for obedience, or that the other demands justice. Those acts belong to society, and society is dissolved: there is nothing but war; war, with the licentiousness of its arms, the continuance of its dangers, and the uncertainty of its results.'

Does the dread of death, then, produce no effect? We think that the author shews very clearly that it operates much less powerfully in cases of political than of private offences. Men, he observes, are governed by different motives, and it is therefore vain to attempt to control them all by the same means. Interest, passion, and a sense of duty, all operate differently on the mind; and that which will deter an interested man from the commission of a deed may be totally ineffica

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cious in restraining another, who imagines that he is performing a necessary and virtuous action. Interest and passion may be subdued by fear, but opinion never. It is true that all these motives will be found to enter into the composition of the various individuals who are implicated in popular commotions, and that fear may therefore have its effects in deterring the selfish and the malevolent from the prosecution of their design: but it will only serve doubly to strengthen the determination of those whose views are honest. M. GUIZOT illustrates this part of his argument by a reference to that period of our own history, in which the Stuarts endeavored by severity to fortify their approaches to despotic power. 'In the eyes of the ambitious portion of their party, Russell and Sidney were only unfortunate conspirators, affording a discouraging example, but to the people they were martyrs. It required no long time to prove that, if fear had produced its fruits for power, it had at the same time sown its bitter seeds.'

With these arguments the writer has filled the first three chapters of his work. In the fourth, he applies the principles which he has laid down to the state of France at the restoration of the Bourbons. His fifth chapter treats on the double character of governments,' and contains some most able and excellent remarks on the changes which have of late years been wrought in the state of society. A government, it is observed, has a double character:- it is charged with the maintenance of public order and justice, and with the conduct of state-affairs, and it thus represents the interests of society : but, as it is composed of men open to the passions and even the vices of our nature, it has also interests purely personal.

To abjure the personal and to retain the social character of government is the highest virtue of those who are in power. To convince the people that they act only for the public interest, and that the fortunes of the governors and the governed are the same, is the truest policy: while to permit themselves to be seen occupied with their own situation, and in the nakedness of their own separate existence, is the most ridiculous and dangerous folly.*** As the representative of society, the force of governments is prodigious, and greater than it even was in former times but in its individual and isolated character it is almost a nullity. It stands alone to-day; to-morrow it ceases to exist.

There are certain traits which belong more peculiarly to one than to the other of these characters; circumstances which are symptomatic of the one or the other. The employment of the punishment of death is in the number, and announces the predominance of the personal over the social character of power; causing a belief that it is occupied with its individual affairs, and is contending with a danger which is menacing itself only. What can be more natural? When we turn to history, and demand the

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