Chapter III: Treatment of the Insane (1)

As the abnormal and the rationally eccentric were considered witches, and held to have been disciples of the devil, so the more obviously sense-bereft were thought to be controlled by the fiends within them. Both witches and lunatics were held to be beneath the sway of infernal powers, but the former as willing agents of the devil, and the latter as involuntary victims, who were deemed to be possessed. In ancient Egypt, by the Temple of Saturn,[612] in classic Greece with the Asclepieia, and by the laws of Pagan Rome,[613] the mentally afflicted were treated with humanity, and, if without the aid of our present science, at least upon the same broad principles which we adopt to-day.

In the warm sunlight of the Eastern lands the life of the population was spent in the open air. As we read in the Scriptures and in books of travel, the lunatic might dwell amidst the tombs. He could wander through the soothing cypress groves in the moonlight or lie under shading palm in the noontide heat. He dwelt apart, like the leper, cut off by his terrible infirmity from the kinship of reason, but free at least in the air and sunlight, and often allowed a quite especial licence[614] as being in the guardianship of God.[615] But the troublesome conduct into which lunatics were ever liable to be led[616] would frequently rouse the instinct of retaliation, and bring down swift and heavy punishment upon them.[617]

In Europe also and in England the less-dangerous lunatics “were allowed to wander about the country,[618] beggars and vagabonds, affording sport[619] and mockery.” We get a vivid glimpse from Shakespeare of that “poor Tom[620] that eats the swimming frog, the toad, the tadpole, the wall newt and the water newt, that in the fury of his heart, when the foul fiend rages, eats cow-dung for sallets, swallows the old rat and the ditch dog, drinks the green mantle of the slimy pool;[621] who is whipt from tything to tything, and stocked, punished, and imprisoned.”[622]

This was the lot of sufferers in those times, and beyond doubt a certain number of them, unmindful or unheedful of savage laws, obeyed the obsessing suicidal impulse which is so common among mad people; and through this many of the most afflicted must have been taken, in the mercy of nature, out of the world of men in which they had no part. But if the half-witted poor were allowed to wander,[623] those of the richer class were less fortunate. Their families were shy and ashamed of them; they were concealed and locked in garrets and cellars, or penned apart, secured in sheds and outhouses—fastened up anywhere about the premises.[624]

Medicines there were indeed for the insane patients, and some of them might have added to the witches’ cauldron.[625] Among the less nauseous of these came wolf’s and lion’s flesh,[626] and as our Saxon forefathers were skilled herbalists, we find the clovewort, polion, and peony recommended,[627] also the mandrake, round which many stories were woven from its resemblance to the human form. They said: “For witlessness, that is, for devil sickness or demoniacal possession, take from the body of the same wort mandrake by weight of three pennies, administer to drink in warm water as he may find convenient; soon he will be healed.”[628]

Doubtless in all civilisations the more acutely insane would have to be a care for the community.[629] The early Christians tended them in their churches, in which they stood in a special part,[630] and where they were provided with food “while they abode in the church, which, it seems, was the chief place of their residence and habitation.”[631]

The monks to some extent looked after them in their monasteries.[632] But whatever medicines or other remedies they may have employed, the main idea of those days about lunacy was that it came through demoniacal possession. The object was to drive the devils out. To accomplish this they seem to have resorted to all sorts of incongruous “cures,” both ghostly and physical.[633] The great spiritual weapon has always been exorcism. This was the primal art of all religions, and it was practised also by the early Christians.

In the third century the exorcists were formed into a special order.[634] “When an exorcist is ordained,” we read, “he shall receive at the hands of the bishop a book wherein the forms of exorcism are written. These forms were certain passages together with adjurations in the name of Christ commanding the unclean spirit to depart out of the possessed person.” This custom has continued through the centuries,[635] forming the subject of innumerable legends and pictures relating to saints and teachers in the middle ages; and though the practice seems to be in abeyance,[636] the old idea of exorcism is not dead. We must perceive this when we read,[637] for instance, “Water and salt are exorcised by the priest, and so withdrawn from the power of Satan, who, since the Fall, has corrupted and abused even inanimate things.[638] But besides the weapons, mystic and spiritual, employed by the Church, were others of a more corporeal character.

The patients were bound to venerated crosses at evening, to be released as cured in the morning.[639] They were chained fast to stones in various churches; they were dipped into holy wells—this custom lasted in Cornwall to modern times; and they were sent as pilgrims to shrines,[640] at some of which they underwent a regular course of treatment; music was often an important element.[641] And remedies far more drastic might be provided, which relied not so much upon the power of the saints as on the human weakness of the devils.

Thus, scattered among the recipes for herbs and all the indescribable filthy mixtures which were advocated for insanity,[642] we come across the following prescription, the effects of which would prove anything but imaginary:—“In case a man be a lunatic, take skin of a mereswine or porpoise, work it into a whip, swinge the man well therewith, soon he will be well. Amen.” At one monastery the lunatics in the charge of the monks are said to have received ten lashes every day.[643]

The insane have been flogged for various reasons:—(1) Superstitiously, to drive out the devil, and even to scare away a disease; (2) therapeutically, because pain and shock would often subdue the ravings of the patients, although only temporarily; (3) instinctively, as a relief to their keepers’ feelings. The medical and the brutal whippings we shall meet again later on, long after devil-driving had been abandoned, though it prevailed through Christendom for probably over sixteen hundred years. To understand it we must turn aside to savages.

Primitive peoples,[644] like children, _personified_ everything. Disease appeared to be a sort of personal entity—like that deceitful dream[645] Zeus sent to Agamemnon—a “thing” “to be drawn out in an invisible form, and burnt in the fire or thrown into the water.” A foe invisible, but yet so human in its limitations as to be stopped by thorns placed in its path.[646] And if all manner of physical ailments were looked upon as being, or, at any rate, as emanating from personal demons, much more would such a fearful and mysterious affliction as insanity be held to indicate a devil’s presence and immediate handiwork.[647] Moreover, to the primitive mind, the demons of all sorts were much too near, too vividly conceived, too real, too commonplace, to be regarded as spiritual beings within the modern meaning of the word. They were conceived as obviously living and moving about,[648] and therefore as being human in their character. Thus among savages “the souls of the dead are thought susceptible of being beaten, hurt, and driven like any other living creatures,”[649] and demons could be hunted out of the houses and scared away to woods and outer darkness.[650]

The ideas of the profoundly superstitious middle ages resembled these. Even the great opponent or accuser, Satan, who was restored by Milton to the rôle of Ahriman,[651] was but a wretched creature, a poor devil,[652] in the popular imagination. “He” is continually outwitted like the pantomime policeman,[653] and nonplussed by the shallowest equivocations.[654] He beats a man[655] and is beaten and vanquished.[656] He aims a stone at Dunstan and misses,[657] and when seized by the nose with pincers, his bellowings are heard for three miles round.[658] He howls when sprinkled with holy water,[659] and Luther hurls an inkstand at his head.[660] This man-like and material monster of course felt pain, and when he took up his abode in a human body he was supposed to feel the blows inflicted on the sufferer.[661] It was the devil (or his representative) who might be driven out of man or woman; the demons could be commanded to quit each portion of the invaded body, member by member.[662] The fiends were supposed to writhe in anguish[663] when the possessed cowered beneath salt water or the whip.[664] On _them_ the curses and the stripes were meant to descend,[665] until at last, through unendurable torments, they fled the body by the nearest orifice.[666]

This crude and savage way of expelling “devils” was long continued; belief in it is probably by no means dead in the minds of some countryfolk. Hawthorne, writing of the seventeenth century Puritans,[667] makes the gaoler say of his prisoner, “Verily she hath been like a possessed one, and there lacks but little that I should take in hand to drive Satan out of her with stripes.” But there were times enough when exorcism failed and flogging proved unavailing. Then the insane would have to be restrained and subjected to some sort of treatment[668]—to say some sort of _ill-treatment_ were nearer the truth. Doubtless they always aimed at quieting the more troublesome patients, and bringing them into order, if not back to reason.

Says Andrew Boorde in his strange _Regyment of Health_:[669] “I do advertyse every mā the which is mad or lunaticke or frenticke or demoniacke, to be kept in save garde in some close house or chambre where there is lytell lyght. And that he have a keper the which the mad man do feare.” The same idea we see expressed by Shakespeare:[670] “We’ll have him in a dark room and bound,” is the immediate cry towards the mad. Shut up and bound they were, in all manner of ways and places, by relatives, monks, and keepers. As we have seen, many were executed as witches or malefactors, and would be thrown into gatehouses and prisons,[671] where they might furnish horrible diversion for the other prisoners,[672] and where they were sometimes drugged to make them silent and to cease from raving.[673] Sometimes they were placed in such hospitals as there were,[674] along with fever and accident cases.[675]

In the course of time, as population spread and townships grew, the old resorts were found to be inadequate. The number of the lunatics was increasing, and the whole country was filling up and enclosing. Whipping from place to place became ineffective, and there had been no public institutions available but monasteries, gaols, and hospitals.[676] In the year 1247 was founded by Bishopsgate the Priory of St. Mary of Bethlem,[677] and here insane people were kept and tended, at any rate from 1403. Doubtless there came to be other places thus put to use, such as, for instance, one St. Katherine’s by the Tower,[678] where, we are told, “they used to keep the better sort of mad folks.” But it was not until about the middle of the eighteenth century[679] that grim and sombre circumvallate buildings began to be erected to intern the troublesome.[680] “They were,” says Dr. Conolly,[681] “but prisons of the worst description. Small openings in the walls, unglazed, or whether glazed or not, guarded with strong iron bars, narrow corridors, dark cells, desolate courts, where no tree nor shrub nor flower nor blade of grass grew.[682] Solitariness, or companionship so indiscriminate as to be worse than solitude; terrible attendants armed with whips ... and free to impose manacles and chains and stripes at their own brutal will; uncleanness, semi-starvation, the garrotte, and unpunished murders—these were the characteristics of such buildings throughout Europe.” What may be called the theoretical treatment was bad enough. Those who could not be cured must be subdued;[683] the teaching of Boerhaave and Cullen admitted this, and the latter wrote: “Fear being the passion that diminishes excitement, may therefore be opposed to the excess of it, and particularly to the angry and irascible excitement of maniacs; these being more susceptible of fear than might be expected, it appears to me to have been commonly useful.”[684]

It was desired “to acquire some awe over them,”[685] and he declares that “sometimes it may be necessary to acquire it even by stripes and blows.”[686] This was the therapeutic flogging already alluded to.[687] Shock, terror, blistering, bleeding, purging, the use of chains and all manner of manacles[688]—these were the means employed and set down in the textbooks to heal the disordered mechanism of the brain.[689]

In the _Gentleman’s Magazine_ of 1765[690] we read of the private asylums that “persons were taken forcibly to these houses without any authority, instantly seized by a set of inhuman ruffians trained up to this barbarous profession, stripped naked, and conveyed to a dark room.” So ignorant were the doctors of those days as to the nature of insanity that the harsh cruelties practised on private patients were carried out even upon the king. Of the eighteenth-century practice Mr. Massie has written:[691] “Mental disease was at that time a branch of art little understood, and the specific treatment of lunatics was worthy of the barbarous age of medicine. The unhappy patient” (King George III.) “upon whom this most terrible visitation of Heaven had fallen, was no longer dealt with as a human being. His body was immediately enclosed in a machine, which left it no liberty of motion. He was sometimes chained to a staple. He was frequently beaten and starved, and at least he was kept in subjection by menacing and violent language.” That, like most lunatics, he was very annoying is certain; he once talked for nineteen hours unceasing. But all his troubles were intensified by ill-treatment;[692] they left him to be knocked about by a German servant,[693] and the first doctors kept him even from his own children, at which the poor old man complained “very heavily.”[694] Such, then, was the orthodox treatment applied against the highest in the land. But the worst deeds were done behind thick walls. “Sane people,” says Beach,[695] writing of private establishments, “were frequently confined in these asylums, for persons frequently availed themselves of the facilities[696] then in use in order to get rid of a troublesome relative or to obtain some selfish object.”

And what of the really mad?[697]—irritable, violent, irrational, helpless, often with as little control over the functions of the body as on the workings of the mind. We can imagine what their state became when left in the hands of ignorant practitioners and brutal attendants, with chains and instruments of restraint convenient and ready. Screened off from all kith and kin they writhed with sores and rotted in ordure.[698] Sometimes—mostly on Monday mornings after the Sabbath rest and accumulations—they might be carried out into a yard[698] to be mopped and soused from pails in the coldest weather.[699]

The condition of the living rooms and wards[700] was often such that visitors grew physically sick from going into them;[701] but they were rare within those private prisons,[702] strangers are never welcome behind the walls. At York Asylum[703]—an especial plague spot opened in 1777 and burnt,[704] it is said, to avoid disclosures that might hang its keepers,[705] in 1814—a rule was adopted in 1813 “that no person[706] shall be allowed to visit any of the patients without a special written order signed by the physitian.” Official visitors were generally harmless.[707] At York the worst rooms were not shown them.[708] For most of the small asylums there were none at all.[709]

Even the larger public asylums during the eighteenth, and also far into the nineteenth century, were horrible monuments of cruelty and neglect. The miserable patients lay upon straw in cells,[710] or upon wooden shelves to which they were fastened. Many were naked or decked over with one blanket.[711] In the wards they were frequently chained to the wall by wrist or ankle,[712] and occasionally by both. One patient at Bethlem,[713] a fierce, powerful man whose name was Norris, after a fracas with a drunken keeper, had his arms and shoulders encased in a frame of iron obtained from Newgate.[714] This instrument[715] was attached by a twelve-inch chain to a collar round his neck, from a ring round a vertical iron bar which had been built into the wall by the head of his bed.[716] His right leg was secured to the frame upon which he lay. The effect was that the patient could move up and down as far as the ring and short chain round the upright bar permitted, but he could not stir one foot from the wall, and could only rest lying upon his back. “In this thraldom,” says Dr. Conolly,[717] “he had lived for twelve years. During much of this time he is reported to have been rational in his conversation. At length relief came, which he only lived about a year to enjoy. It is painful to add that this long-continued punishment had the recorded approbation of all the authorities of the hospital. Nothing can more forcibly illustrate the hardening effect of being habitual witnesses of cruelty, and the process which the heart of man undergoes when allowed to exercise irresponsible power.”

The medical men were poorly paid and proportionately neglectful. At the time of which we are speaking—the end of the eighteenth and the beginning of the nineteenth century—the physician at Bedlam got only £100 a year.[718] However, he kept a private asylum, and sometimes left the public institution for months together.[719] One of the surgeons is described as having been “generally insane and mostly drunk,” in spite of which he was retained there for ten years.[720]

With such shameful neglect and callousness on the part of the doctors—there appear to have been no chaplains in those days[721]—it is not to be wondered that the unhappy patients fell entirely into the hands of their keepers and immediate attendants, and most of these were quite ignorant people, rendered impatient and brutal by the exasperating ways of the demented inmates, and by their boundless power over them. Instinctive and retaliative floggings (the third kind, alluded to on p. 149), assaults, and possibly even murders, were not uncommon, as well as the distressing and unlimited restraints already referred to.[722] One doctor invented and introduced a special instrument to prize open the patients’ mouths at compulsory feeding. He mentions that, by the usual process, teeth were apt to be broken, and some were left “without a front tooth in either jaw.”[723]

In the eighteenth century[724]—up to 1770—and in some places, doubtless, even to later times, the mad people were reckoned among the “sights.”[725] The public paid[726] to go round the asylums, as they do now to gaze upon wild beasts.[727] The baser and more mischievous among them would irritate and purposely enrage the secured patients, as their descendants tease caged animals to this day;[728] and thus reproduced for their ghastly diversion “exhibitions of madness which are no longer to be found, because they were not the simple product of malady, but of malady aggravated by mismanagement.”

Such conduct appears to have been general in those times.[729] At Geneva[730] some lunatics would be given grass and horrible things to eat to amuse visitors. This also happened at the Bicêtre,[731] in certain parts of Germany, etc.[732] “Les Fous de Charenton” became, for a time, notorious for their plays,[733] which were presented with much sound and fury, attracting spectators from very grotesqueness. They were forbidden in 1811.

High walls kept things dark for years, but the light stole through in the end, as it always will.[734] In 1793 Pinel removed the chains from patients in the Bicêtre. At home, the York Asylum, already alluded to, began to bear an evil reputation. In 1788 it incurred the _Animadversions_[735] of the Rev. William Mason.[736] In the year 1791 some friends of a female patient desired to visit her, but were not allowed, upon the plea that she was not in a suitable condition to be seen by strangers (she probably was not!) A few weeks after this she was reported dead.[737] The woman belonged to the Society of Friends, and the suspicious circumstances of her incarceration caused much resentment among the Quakers. Soon after, William Tuke resolved that they should have a hospital of their own. The Retreat was started in the year 1792, and its humane and enlightened methods were soon contrasted with the barbarous and secret administration prevailing at the older institution. But the years rolled by while patients languished and died. It was in 1813 that Samuel Tuke—a grandson of the founder of the Retreat—brought out a little work[738] describing the system there. It “excited universal interest, and, in fact, achieved what all the talents and public spirit of Mason and his friends had failed to accomplish. It had still better effects. A very inoffensive passage in this book roused, it seems, the animosity of the physician to York Lunatic Asylum, and a letter which this gentleman published in one of the York newspapers[739] became the origin of a controversy among the governors of that establishment, which terminated in August 1814, after a struggle of nearly two years, in the complete overthrow of the old system, and the dismission of every officer of the asylum, except the physician himself.”[740]

The conflict was taken up by others and carried on. Towards the close of that same year (1813), a case of alleged misconduct was brought forward by Mr. Godfrey Higgins, a magistrate for the West Riding. “Mr. Higgins’ statement was read” (before twenty-seven governors), “after which the accused servants of the house were called in and sworn. They denied upon oath the truth of the charges. No other evidence was called for; nor was any minute committed to writing of what had been sworn by the servants. The following resolution was passed:—The governors having taken into consideration the statements published in the York and other newspapers respecting the treatment of William Vicars, lately a patient in this asylum, ... are unanimously of opinion that ... he was treated with all possible care, attention, and humanity.”[741] It was of no avail; thirteen gentlemen of the county came forward with donations, in virtue of which they qualified as governors. These new men brought their votes to bear to force on an inquiry, and though the old gang of scoundrels never got their deserts, and, to conceal their guilt, are said to have set the premises on fire, yet they were driven out of their situations, and soon investigation became national.

In 1814 Mr. George Rose brought in a Bill to regulate asylums, which passed the House of Commons. But the authorities at Bedlam opposed the measure,[742] spending over £600 in so doing. They had good cause, as we shall see presently. The York Asylum governors—nineteen of them, including the archbishop—sent in a petition against it; and the intrepid Mr. Higgins sent one in its favour, signed by himself.[743] The Bill was thrown out by the House of Lords,[744] but a committee of the House of Commons was then appointed, and collected the inconceivable and horrible evidence from which we have quoted. Its report was presented by Mr. Rose in 1815,[745] and though the committee at Bedlam formally exonerated its officials for all things they had done and neglected to do, including even the dreadful instrument placed round Norris,[746] the unofficial mind of the public had been roused to indignation, and many of the worst abuses were presently remedied.

Mr. Rose died in 1818, but in the following year Mr. Wynn brought forward another Bill, which was, however, opposed by Lord Eldon, who observed[747] that “there could not be a more false humanity than over-humanity with regard to persons afflicted with insanity,” a line of argument which we shall come on again. That Bill shared the fate of its predecessor. It was not until nine years afterwards that Mr. Gordon secured the passing of an Act[748] to improve the asylums, in the year 1828. Though abuses continued into the middle of the nineteenth century,[749] and many Acts of Parliament were subsequently brought in,[750] the monstrous evils of which we have spoken continued as crimes where previously they had been customs, and took place on a much diminished scale.

At Lincoln Asylum,[751] about 1838, Dr. Gardner Hill removed mechanical restraints, and Dr. Conolly[752] followed at Hanwell in the succeeding year. In this they were, of course, opposed in the Profession,[753] but new ideas and new conceptions were coming, which are still working in the treatment of insanity. All along, heretofore, the Mind and the Body had been conceived as two separate things. People had ceased to believe in the interference of devils, but they spoke vaguely of “a mind diseased.” There being often no physical injury that could be detected, “the common opinion seemed to be confirmed that it” (mental disorder) “was an incomprehensible, and consequently an incurable, malady of the mind.”[754]

A medical writer[755] of the early nineteenth century could allude to lectures he had attended, at which the doctor had declared that treatment and physic were useless in a case of _furor uterinus_, because it was a disease of the mind, not of the body. No doubt there loomed the fear of Free Will and Theology. “... Many very able men,” says Dr. Halliday,[756] “led away by what appeared to be the general opinion of mankind, shrank from a strict investigation of a subject that seemed to lead to a doubt of the immateriality of mind, a truth so evident to their own feelings and so expressly established by divine revelation.” It is not for us to turn aside into labyrinths, or to attempt to settle what “mind” may mean. But we know that, to our present power of comprehension, the mind can only function through the body. How it first formed, and if it can yet rekindle, are vital questions which may never be answered; at any rate they lie beyond our range.

Gradually metaphysics and moral concepts were left behind as experts examined facts. “... Derangement,” says a nineteenth-century writer,[757] “is no longer considered a disease of the understanding, but of the centre of the nervous system, upon the unimpaired condition of which the exercise of the understanding depends. The brain is at fault and not the mind.”

“The old notion,” says Dr. Wynter,[758] “that derangement of mind may happen without any lesion of the instrument of thought being the cause or consequence, has long been exploded.”

The physical origin of insanity “became gradually accepted. Its mental phenomena were more carefully observed, and its relation was established to other mental conditions which had not hitherto been regarded as insane in the proper sense of the word.... Hitherto the criteria of insanity had been very rude, and the evidence was generally of a loose and popular character; but whenever it was fully recognised that insanity was a disease with which physicians who had studied the subject were peculiarly conversant, expert evidence obtained increased importance, and from that time became prominent in every case. The new medical views of insanity were thus brought into contact with the old narrow conceptions of the law courts, and a controversy arose in the field of criminal law, which, in England at least, is not yet settled.”[759]

The instinct of retaliation was not readily restrained by reasoning or proofs of irresponsibility. In postulating freedom of choice under all physical conditions; in assuming plenary responsibility in men and women under all circumstances; in refusing to recognise any abnormal state unless it were so extreme and obvious as to render the person before the court unconscious of his actions and surroundings, the judges were defending their own position. Thus the new theories[760] were disputed and sneered at, and arbitrary standards as to sanity were set up at variance with all facts and expert evidence.[761]

Some contended that the more subtle and amazing forms of madness or abnormality perceived by the specialists were but new names for old perversities.[762] Others averred that nothing physical ought to exculpate. Smollett wished that all lunatics guilty of grave offences might be subjected “to the common penalties of the law.” Upon this Mr. Tuke observes in comment that “The entire inability to distinguish between voluntary and involuntary acts, ... between motives and consequences, is singularly well shown. Unfortunately it was not peculiar to Smollett.”[763]

And I might add that this instinctive feeling continued—as everything instinctive generally does. Turning to the work of a writer still living (in 1908), we come upon the following: “Of late years a certain school of thinkers[764] ... have started some theories respecting the responsibility or irresponsibility of many dangerous criminals and murderers, which have very properly been objected to by more practical observers.” And the writer continues with all the sweet simplicity of ignorance: “Even the inmates of lunatic asylums know well the distinction between right and wrong. And it is precisely upon this knowledge that the government and discipline of such establishments are based. Hence no theories of criminal irresponsibility should be permitted to relax the security and strictness of the detention of dangerous offenders, whether sane, or partially insane, or wholly mad. And it is important to observe that the treatment and condition even of mad murderers should not be made attractive to others outside.” But the hard scientific facts persisted. Injustice and cruelty, practised upon the weak and helpless, do not, alas! and _pace_ good Mrs. Stowe, bring down upon nations the visible wrath of God; but the manifest falseness of the old assumptions, and the continued failure of the mediæval methods, could not be hidden through unending years. Slowly the light of science began to penetrate into the dark places of punishment. The entirely mad were first rescued and treated as patients, and these now, happily, no longer concern us; their case belongs to Medicine, not to Criminology. With regard to the half-mad we are in a state of slow change and transition. Their wrongs, long known to the alienists, are being brought before the law-makers. “Crime,” says the Report of Mr. Secretary Gladstone’s Committee,[765] “its causes and treatment, has been the subject of much profound and scientific inquiry. Many of the problems it presents are practically at the present time insoluble. It may be true that some criminals are irreclaimable, just as some diseases are incurable, and in such cases it is not unreasonable to acquiesce in the theory that criminality is a disease and the result of physical imperfection. But criminal anthropology as a science is in an embryo stage....” With regard to the abnormal we are only on the threshold of justice; a multitude of causes, theological and instinctive, prevent the facts from being faced and known.

We may take comfort in the course of evolution; in that the violently mad (employing the word in a wide and general sense) are no longer exorcised and tormented; in that the eccentrically mad are no longer burned and tortured for what was imagined against them; in that the weak-minded and the partially deranged are being considered, with a view to their segregation in special places apart from healthy offenders; in that innate and absolute abnormality of emotions has been established by the specialists upon overwhelming evidence; and that the knowledge of this is quietly spreading, and being recognised and admitted among educated people, throughout the civilised world.

THE END

_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, _Edinburgh_.

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FOOTNOTES FOR ALL CHAPTERS

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Footnote 1:

“In the early cuneiform writing ... the symbol for a prison is a
combination of the symbols for ‘house’ and ‘darkness.’”—Isaac Taylor,
_History of the Alphabet_, p. 21. London, 1899.

Footnote 2:

It has been said that imprisonment is not mentioned in Anglo-Saxon
laws as a punishment; it is, however, referred to in the laws of
Æthelstan thus: “For murder let a man forfeit his life, if he will
deny it and appear guilty at the threefold ordeal let him be 120
nights in prison; afterwards let his relations take him out and pay
the king 120 shillings and to his relatives the price of his
blood....” See J. Johnson, _Ecclesiastical Laws_. London, 1720. The
same king ordained that “If a thief be brought into prison that he be
40 days in prison and then let him be released thereout with cxx.
shillings and let his kindred enter into borh for him that he will
ever more desist.”—B. Thorpe, _Ancient Laws and Institutions of
England_, fol. ed. p. 85. London, 1840.

Footnote 3:

“In the reign of Henry III. imprisonment for a definite period was an
unknown punishment.”—G. J. Turner, _Select Pleas of the Forest_, p.
lxv. London, 1901.

Footnote 4:

“Imprisonment occurs in the Anglo-Saxon Laws only as a means of
temporary security.”—Pollock and Maitland, _Hist. Eng. Law_, vol. i.
p. 26. Cambridge, 1895.

Footnote 5:

“In the nature of the Saxons in the most ancient times there existed
neither a knowledge of the most high and heavenly King ... nor any
dignity of honour of any earthly king....”—W. Stubbs, _Const. Hist._
p. 49. Oxford, 1880.

Footnote 6:

_Ibid._ p. 75.

Footnote 7:

“Nihil neque publicae neque privatae rei nisi armati agunt.”—Tac.
_Germ._ xiii.

Footnote 8:

Among the Jutes, etc., see J. M. Lappenberg, _Hist. of Eng. under the
Anglo-Saxon Kings_, i. p. 97. London, 1845. The Anglo-Saxon lad came
of age at twelve; see work just quoted, p. 173, and J. Thrupp, _The
Anglo-Saxon Home_, p. 108. London, 1862.

Footnote 9:

The exceptions to this wise though primitive rule are to be found
where occasionally “God” and even “Nature” would be cited as injured
third parties, upon theological grounds. See, for instance, N.
Marshall, _Penitential Discipline of the Primitive Church_, pp. 49,
190, Oxford, 1844; and the thirteenth-century _Mirror of Justice_,
chap. xiv.

Footnote 10:

“To keep the peace is the legislator’s first object, and it is not
easy. To force the injured man or the slain man’s kinsfolk to accept a
money compensation instead of resorting to reprisals is the main aim
of the law-giver.”—F. W. Maitland, _Constitutional History of
England_, p. 4. Cambridge, 1908.

Footnote 11:

Thus in the Laws of the XII. Tables the manifest thief would be killed
if a slave, or if free become the bondman of the person robbed; if,
however, he were captured later, he had to refund double the value of
what he had taken. By the Germanic codes a thief might be instantly
chased and then hanged or decapitated, but fines for homicide would be
imposed if he were slain after an interval. Henry Maine, _Ancient
Law_, ed. of 1906, pp. 387, 388.

Footnote 12:

For instance, Exodus xxi. 23, 24, 25.

Footnote 13:

See E. Westermarck, _Moral Ideas_, vol. i. p. 178. London, 1906.

Footnote 14:

At first it was not always necessary to accept the blood-fine. See E.
W. Robertson, _Scotland under her Early Kings_, p. 287, Edinburgh,
1862, on this point; and as to the treatment of female relatives, see
J. Thrupp, _Anglo-Saxon Home_, p. 151.

Footnote 15:

In the seventh century a law of Ine ordained that “If any one takes
revenge before he demands justice, let him give up what he has taken
to himself and pay the damage done and make bōt with xxx.
shillings.”—Thorpe, _Ancient Laws and Institutions_, fol. ed. p. 48.

Footnote 16:

“The penal law of ancient communities is not a law of crimes; it is a
law of wrongs, or, to use the English technical word, of torts. The
person injured proceeds against the wrongdoer by an ordinary civil
action, and recovers compensation in the shape of money damages if he
succeeds.”—Maine, _Ancient Law_, p. 379.

Footnote 17:

“It is curious to observe how little the men of primitive times were
troubled with these scruples (as to the degree of moral guilt to be
ascribed to the wrongdoer), how completely they were persuaded that
the impulses of the wronged person were the proper measure of the
vengeance he was entitled to exact, and how literally they imitated
the rise and fall of his passions in fixing their scale of
punishment.”—Maine, _Ancient Law_, p. 389.

Footnote 18:

“Every man’s life had its value, and according to that valuation the
value of his oath in a court of justice varied, and offences against
his person and protection were atoned for.”—Stubbs, _Const. Hist._ i.
p. 188.

Footnote 19:

A front tooth usually cost six shillings; in Alfred’s time, eight.

Footnote 20:

Laws of Æthelbert. If a freeman rob the king let him pay a forfeiture
ninefold. If a freeman rob a freeman let him make threefold
satisfaction.—J. Johnson, _Ecc. Laws_.

Footnote 21:

For a collection of the various codes and for examples of their
amazing minuteness as to all possible injuries, see F. Lindenbrog,
_Codex legum antiquarum_, pp. 474, 498, etc. Frankfort, 1613.

Footnote 22:

The Mercian pound was equal to 60 scillings, the Wessex to 48; see H.
A. Grueber, _Handbook of the Coins_, p. ix. London, 1899.

Footnote 23:

Stubbs, _Const. Hist._ i. p. 109.

Footnote 24:

Thorpe, fol. ed. p. 80.

Footnote 25:

W. S. Holdsworth, _History of English Law_, p. 13. London, 1903.

Footnote 26:

J. M. Kemble, _The Saxons in England_, i. p. 149. London, 1876.

Footnote 27:

R. Ruding, _Annals of the Coinage_, p. 110. London, 1840.

Footnote 28:

F. W. Maitland, _Domesday Book_, p. 44. Cambridge, 1897.

Footnote 29:

“It was at least theoretically possible down to the middle of the
tenth century for a man-slayer to elect to bear the feud of the
kindred. His own kindred, however, might avoid any share in the feud
by disclaiming him; any of them who maintained him after this, as well
as any of the avenging kinsfolk who meddled with any but the actual
wrongdoer, was deemed a foe to the king.”—Pollock and Maitland,
_Hist._ ed. of 1898, i. 48.

Footnote 30:

When a ceorl had been frequently accused, if afterwards he were
apprehended he might lose a hand or a foot.—Laws of Ine. R Schmidt,
_Gesetze_, p. 29. Leipzig, 1858.

Footnote 31:

See Laws of Ine, sect. 12. Thorpe, fol. ed. p. 49.

Footnote 32:

Pollock and Maitland, _Hist._ i. 476 and ii. 451, ed. of 1898.

Footnote 33:

J. Thrupp, _Anglo-Saxon Home_, p. 145.

Footnote 34:

G. G. Coulton, _Chaucer and His England_, p. 293. London, 1908.

Footnote 35:

Pollock and Maitland, i. 478, ii. 450.

Footnote 36:

And see _Early Assize Rolls for the County of Northumberland_, pp.
xviii., xix., etc. Durham, Surtees Society, 1891.

Footnote 37:

Stubbs, _Const. Hist._ p. 89.

Footnote 38:

Dooms of Alfred, sect. 24. “If any one steal another’s ox and slay or
sell it, let him give two for it, and four sheep for one. If he have
not what he may give be he himself sold for the cattle.”—Thorpe,
_Laws_, fol. ed. p. 23. Compare Exodus xxii. 3; Pollock and Maitland,
_Hist._, ed. 1895, vol. ii. 514.

Footnote 39:

Pollock and Maitland, ii. p. 11.

Footnote 40:

The intertribal wars at one time “filled the foreign markets with
English slaves,” says J. R. Green, relating the well-known story of
Pope Gregory.—_Hist. Eng. People_, i. 37. London, 1881.

Footnote 41:

Hovenden. H. T. Riley’s ed. i. p. 143. London, 1853.

Footnote 42:

A vigorous slave trade was carried on just prior to the
Conquest.—Thrupp, _Anglo-Saxon Home_, p. 130.

Footnote 43:

Pollock and Maitland, _Hist._ i. p. 12. Cambridge, 1895.

Footnote 44:

Law of Ine, seventh century. “If any one sell his countryman bound or
free, though he be guilty, over sea, let him pay for him according to
his wer.”—Stubbs, _Charters_, p. 61. Oxford, 1884.

Law of Æthelred. “Christian men and condemned persons are not to be
sold out of the country, at least not into heathen nations.”—Thorpe,
fol. ed. p. 135.

A law of William I. was to the same effect.—R. Schmidt, _Gesetze_, p.
347.

Footnote 45:

F. W. Maitland, _Domesday Book_, p. 31.

Footnote 46:

Æthelbert. “If any one slay a ceorl’s hlf-æta, let him make bōt with
vi. shillings.”—Thorpe, fol. ed. p. 3.

Footnote 47:

Thorpe, 8vo ed. i. p. 626.

Footnote 48:

Thrupp, _Anglo-Saxon Home_, p. 127.

Footnote 49:

See _Theodori liber poenitentialis_. Thorpe, fol. ed. p. 288.
_Poenitentiale Ecberti_, lib. ii. 3. Thorpe, p. 368.

Footnote 50:

Compare Exodus xxi. 20, 21; “And if a man smite his servant, or his
maid, with a rod, and he die under his hand; he shall be surely
punished.

“Notwithstanding, if he continue a day or two, he shall not be
punished: for he is his money.”

Footnote 51:

Stubbs, _Const. Hist._ p. 89.

Footnote 52:

Omne damnum quod servus fecerit, dominus emendet.—Thorpe, fol. ed. p.
11.

Footnote 53:

Maitland, _Domesday Book_, p. 32.

Footnote 54:

Or he might be scourged thrice, _temp._ Æthelstan. See Thorpe, fol.
ed. p. 88.

Footnote 55:

Laws of Æthelred. D. Wilkins, _Leges Anglo-Saxonicae_, p. 103. London,
1721.

Footnote 56:

By Alfred’s Dooms rape on a ceorl’s female slave was punished by a
five-shilling bōt to the ceorl; if a theow committed the offence, he
might be emasculated.—Thorpe, fol. ed. p. 35.

Footnote 57:

Stubbs, _Const. Hist._ i. p. 25.

Footnote 58:

Thrupp, _Anglo-Saxon Home_, p. 131.

Footnote 59:

William Andrews, _Old-Time Punishments_, p. 146. Hull, 1890.

Footnote 60:

Thrupp, _Anglo-Saxon Home_, p. 144.

Footnote 61:

E. W. Robertson, _Scotland_, ii. p. 450.

Footnote 62:

Pollock and Maitland, _Hist._ ed. 1898, ii. p. 450.

Footnote 63:

See Thorpe, 8vo ed. vol. i. p. 579: “Si quis dominum suum occidet,”
etc.

Footnote 64:

F. Lindenbrog, _Codex legum antiquarum_, p. 498.

Footnote 65:

For similar laws in ancient Wales and eighteenth-century America,
etc., see Westermarck, _Moral Ideas_, i. p. 518.

Footnote 66:

“Imprisonment,” say Pollock and Maitland, “would have been regarded in
those old times as a useless punishment; it does not” (as it was then
employed and understood) “satisfy revenge, it keeps the criminal idle,
and do what we may it is costly.”—_Hist. Eng. Law_, ed. of 1895, vol.
ii. p. 514.

Footnote 67:

Grant Allen, _Anglo-Saxon Britain_, p. 47.

Footnote 68:

E. W. Robertson, _Scotland_, p. 295.

Footnote 69:

Laws of Ine. To fight in the king’s house rendered the offender liable
to be put to death.—J. Johnson.

Laws of Alfred. To fight in the presence of an archbishop meant a fine
of 150 shillings.—Thorpe, p. 32.

To fight in the house of a common man meant a mulct of thirty
shillings, and six shillings to the ceorl.—J. Johnson.

Footnote 70:

Thrupp, _Anglo-Saxon Home_, p. 148.

Footnote 71:

See example, _temp._ Cnut. Thorpe, fol. ed. p. 174.

Footnote 72:

J. Johnson, _Ecc. Laws_.

Footnote 73:

Thorpe, fol. ed. p. 174.

Footnote 74:

J. Johnson, _Ecc. Laws_.

Footnote 75:

Thorpe, Laws of Cnut, fol. ed. p. 169.

Footnote 76:

_Ibid._ p 213.

Footnote 77:

See _Saxon Chronicle_, J. Ingram’s ed. p. 295. London, 1823.

Footnote 78:

Stubbs, _Const. Hist._ i. p. 204.

Footnote 79:

Maitland, _Domesday Book_, p. 33.

Footnote 80:

Often of death for serious offences, but the prisoner’s goods were
forfeited for felony; hence it was to the profit of the government to
have many felonies. See F. W. Maitland, _Const. Hist. Eng._ p. 111,
and J. Britton, Nichols’ ed. p. 35. Oxford, 1855.

Footnote 81:

“To them” (the subject people) “a new tribunal seemed only a new
torment.”—L. O. Pike, _Hist. Crime_, i. 134. London, 1873.

Footnote 82:

The hundreds were liable to be fined for undetected murders—as
villages now are in India—and also officers for neglect of duty; see
T. Madox, _History and Antiquities of the Exchequer_, chap. xiv. p.
539, etc. London, 1769. J. Britton, F. M. Nichols’ ed. p. 138. This
liability was abolished in the reign of Edward III.; see W. S.
Holdsworth, _Hist._ p. 8.

Footnote 83:

T. Madox, _Hist. Exch._ i. p. 425, etc.

Footnote 84:

Maitland, _Domesday Book_, p. 52.

Footnote 85:

_Infangthef_, the right to hang a thief, “hand having and back
bearing.” _Utfangthef_, the right to punish a thief beyond the
particular boundary.

Footnote 86:

Holdsworth, _Hist._ p. ii.; and see Stubbs, _Const. Hist._ i. 452,
453, etc.

Footnote 87:

“The lord exercised ... jurisdiction in civil and criminal suits
which, with all the profits—for in early times the pecuniary interests
of justice formed no small part of the advantages of judicial
power—was conferred on him by the original gift.”—Stubbs, _Const.
Hist._ i. p. 102, and Holdsworth, 13, 14.

Footnote 88:

See Maitland, _Domesday Book_, p. 33.

Footnote 89:

_Ibid._ p. 83.

Footnote 90:

“So intimate is the connection of judicature with finance under the
Norman kings, that we scarcely need the comment of the historian to
guide us to the conclusion that it was mainly for the sake of the
profits that justice was administered at all.”—Stubbs, _Const. Hist._
i. p. 438.

Footnote 91:

After Henry II. “a crime is no longer regarded as a matter merely
between the criminal and those who have directly suffered by his
crime; it is a wrong against the nation.”—Maitland, _Const. Hist._ p.
109, ed. of 1898.

Footnote 92:

L. O. Pike, _History of Crime in England_, i. p. 130.

Footnote 93:

In the period of the Civil War, however, the barons had made their
castles robbers’ caves, from which they raided the unhappy English.
Vide _The Saxon Chronicle_ for the year 1137.

Footnote 94:

See Stubbs, _Charters_, p. 143.

Footnote 95:

The expenses for gaols at Canterbury, Rochester, Huntingdon,
Cambridge, Salisbury, Malmesbury, Aylesbury, and Oxford are detailed
in the Roll of 1166.

Footnote 96:

See John Lingard, _Hist. Eng._ ii. p. 619. London, 1849.

Footnote 97:

Pike, _Hist._ i. p. 130.

Footnote 98:

“Carcer ad continendos et non ad puniendos habere debeat.”—_De
Legibus_, lib. iii. cap. vi. f. 105.

Footnote 99:

F. M. Nichols’ ed. p. 44.

Footnote 100:

And see 5 Hen. IV. c. 10.

Footnote 101:

In 1295 a law was passed by which a man should no longer suffer death
or mutilation for prison-breaking alone, unless his crime would have
been so punished upon conviction. See statute, De Fragentibus
Prisonam, 23 Edward I., Record Commission. _Statutes of the Realm_,
vol. i. London, 1810.

Footnote 102:

W. J. Whittaker’s ed. p. 52.

Footnote 103:

In the reign of Henry III. the judges set forth every seven
years.—Pike, _Hist. Crime_, p. 135; and see G. J. Turner, _Pleas of
the Forest_, p. xv. By 13 Ed. I. assizes were to be held three times a
year at most. In the early part of the nineteenth century the gaols in
the provinces were delivered only twice a year. See Blackstone,
_Commentaries_, bk. iv. chap. xix.; J. Stewart’s ed. p. 352. London,
1854. W. Crawford’s remarks in his _Penitentiaries of the United
States_, p. 37. London, printed for the House of Commons, 1834.

Footnote 104:

The gaol was his pledge or security that could find (or was allowed)
none.—Glanville, J. Beames’ ed. pp. 346, 348. London, 1812. For
details as to who were or who were not replevisable in the thirteenth
century, see 3 Ed. I. c. 15 and 27 Ed. I. c. 3.

Footnote 105:

F. M. Nichols’ ed. p. 46.

Footnote 106:

Fourpence is mentioned as the gaoler’s fee in the _Liber Albus_ (early
fifteenth century), H. T. Riley’s ed. p. 448. London, 1861.

Footnote 107:

On this point see F. A. Gasquet, _Henry VIII. and the English
Monasteries_, p. 4. London, 1906.

Footnote 108:

Lib. iii. f. 137.

Footnote 109:

Nichols’ ed. p. 35.

Footnote 110:

See illustration given in Besant, _Mediæval London_, p. 349. 1906.

Footnote 111:

“If, however, they refused to plead, they would be pinioned down on
the bare ground and fed upon bread and dirty water; but they were not
to eat on the day they drank, or drink on the day they ate,
etc.”—Nichols’ ed. p. 26.

Footnote 112:

“Vix permittitur heredibus quod vivant.”—_De Legibus_, lib. iii. f.
118.

Footnote 113:

_Temp._ Henry I., see W. Dugdale, _Origines Juridiciales_. London,
1680.

Richard, see J. F. Stephen, _Hist. Crim. Law_, i. p. 458. London,
1883.

Henry III., see W. Page, _Early Assize Rolls_, p. xviii. etc.

Footnote 114:

By the Assize of Northampton. See Stubbs, _Const. Hist._ i. p. 545.

Footnote 115:

2 Hen. III., Carta de Foresta; and also 9 Hen. III. c. 10: “No man
henceforth shall lose either life or member for killing our deer.”

Footnote 116:

_Sax. Chron._, Ingram’s ed. p. 266.

_Ibid._ p. 295.

_Mirror of Justice_, Whittaker’s ed. p. 141.

Footnote 117:

J. C. Robertson, _Materials for the History of Thomas Becket_, vol. i.
p. 156. London, 1875. Referred to by Stephen, _Hist. Crim. Law_, i. p.
79.

Footnote 118:

_Hist. Eng. Law_, ii. p. 515.

Footnote 119:

_Ibid._ ii. p. 516.

Footnote 120:

For example, a fine of one mark (13_s._ 4_d._) for rape.

Footnote 121:

See _Mirror of Justice_, Whittaker’s ed., Introduction, pp. xxiv.,
xxxv., and 1st ed. iii. c. 7.

Holdsworth, _Hist. Eng. Law_, p. 39.

W. Page, _Early Assize Rolls_, p. xx.

Footnote 122:

Of robbery by the judges, see Lingard, _Hist._ ii. p. 217.

Footnote 123:

For instance, at Northampton in 1323; see Coulton, _Chaucer and his
England_, p. 284.

Footnote 124:

Pike, _Hist. Crime_, i. p. 288.

Footnote 125:

Riley’s ed. p. 448.

Footnote 126:

See Pike, _Hist. Crime_, i. p. 427.

Footnote 127:

Maitland, _Const. Hist._ p. 221, ed. 1908.

Footnote 128:

22 Hen. VIII. c. 9.

Footnote 129:

W. Besant, _Tudors_, p. 380. London, 1904; and see 25 Hen. VIII. c.
14.

Footnote 130:

J. F. Stephen, _Hist. Crim. Law_, p. 477.

Footnote 131:

A man was boiled to death in 1531; a woman was burnt in 1571, and in
1575.—Holinshed, _Chron._ pp. 926, 1226, 1262.

Footnote 132:

Besant, _Tudors_, p. 379.

Footnote 133:

J. F. Stephen, _Hist. Crim. Law_, p. 468.

Footnote 134:

Besant, _Tudors_, p. 380.

Footnote 135:

W. Andrews, _Old-Time Punishments_, p. 92.

Footnote 136:

Henry Brinklow’s _Complaynt of Roderwyck Mors_, J. M. Cowper’s ed.
London, E. E. T. Society, 1874.

Footnote 137:

See Holinshed, _Chronicles_, pp. 1081, 1082.

J. Wilkes, _Enc. Londinensis_, iii. p. 891. London, 1810.

E. C. S. Gibson, _Life of John Howard_, p. 47. London, 1901.

Footnote 138:

See Besant, _Tudors_, p. 387.

Footnote 139:

39 Eliz. 4 and 5.

Footnote 140:

7 Jac. I. c. 4.

Footnote 141:

Departmental Committee on Prisons. _Minutes of Evidence_, Appendix ii.
p. 457. London, 1895.

Footnote 142:

As very early in the sixteenth century; see 19 Hen. VII. c. 10.

Footnote 143:

See John Brown, _John Bunyan, His Life and Times_, pp. 169, 182, etc.

Footnote 144:

_The West answering the North: Relation of the Sufferings of George
Fox, Edw. Pyot, and William Salt_, p. 34. Printed 1657.

Footnote 145:

As to the pits and dungeons of an old English prison, see Charles
Creighton, _History of the Epidemics in Britain_, p. 386. Cambridge,
1891.

Footnote 146:

19 Car. II. c. 4.

Footnote 147:

_The State of the Prisons_, pp. 8 and 9. Warrington, 1780.

Footnote 148:

Many prisons had no yards or courts of any kind. See J. B. Bailey,
_The Condition of the Gaols as described by John Howard_, chap. ii.
London, 1884.

Footnote 149:

_Ibid._ p. 16.

Footnote 150:

See E. F. Du Cane, _Punishment and Prevention of Crime_, chap. iii. p.
43, etc. London, 1885.

Footnote 151:

_Hall’s Chronicle_, p. 632, ed. of 1809.

Footnote 152:

P. 353. London, 1730.

Footnote 153:

Creighton, _Epidemics_, chap. vii. p. 383.

Footnote 154:

Vol. ii. p. 48. London, 1827.

Footnote 155:

_State of the Prisons_, p. 10, ed. of 1780.

Footnote 156:

_Ibid._ p. 13.

Footnote 157:

_Ibid._ p. 12.

Footnote 158:

There were always a few poor creatures who, although sentenced to
transportation, were left behind to remain in prison, a fate worse
than exile and perhaps worse than death. See Dept. Com., 1895,
Appendix, p. 459.

Footnote 159:

“... Of the 160 offences referred to by Blackstone as punishable by
death, four-fifths had been made so during the reigns of the first
three Georges.”—J. A. M. Irvine, _Chambers’s Encyclopædia_, ii. p.
743, art. “Capital Punishment.” London, 1888.

Footnote 160:

James Mackintosh, _Miscellaneous Works_, p. 718. Speech on the state
of the Criminal Law, House of Commons, 2nd March 1819. London, 1851.

Footnote 161:

“The anecdotes which I have heard of this shameful and injurious
facility I am almost ashamed to repeat. Mr. Burke once told me that on
a certain occasion when he was leaving the House one of the messengers
called him back, and, on his saying that he was going on urgent
business, replied: ‘Oh, it will not keep you a single moment; it is
only a capital felony without benefit of clergy.’”—Mackintosh,
_Miscellaneous Works_, p. 718.

Footnote 162:

Mackintosh, _Miscellaneous Works_, p. 718.

Footnote 163:

There grew up, as an eminent judge of those days has declared, “a
general confederacy of prosecutors, witnesses, counsel, juries,
judges, and the advisers of the Crown, to prevent the execution of the
criminal law.”—Sir William Grant, quoted by Mackintosh, p. 719.

Footnote 164:

Irvine in _Chambers’s Encyclopædia_, ii. p. 743.

Footnote 165:

Mackintosh, p. 718.

Footnote 166:

Reprinted in the _Times_, 18th January 1901.

Footnote 167:

Du Cane, _Crime_, pp. 35, 36.

Footnote 168:

Howard, _State of the Prisons_, p. 22.

Footnote 169:

See 8 & 9 Will. III. c. 27, A.D. 1697.

Footnote 170:

See, for instance, the removal of Governor Bambridge by 2 Geo. II. c.
32.

T. Bird, _Letters from the Shades_. London, 1729.

_Re_ Governor Huggins, etc., see _Report of a Committee of the House
of Commons_, pp. 25, 26, 27. London, 1729.

Footnote 171: