etiquette of its own; almost a vocation, calling for a special aptitude, moral and intellectual. Have we not here a great pathological phenomenon, a disease to be cured, not punished? But we cannot carry out the pathological idea. It is only an analogy or metaphor after all, and, like all metaphors, may easily prove misleading, if taken as a literal description of the facts. We distinguish cases of criminal insanity from cases of crime proper. In the former, the man is treated as a patient, is confined or restrained, is managed by others. But he is, by acknowledgment, so much the less a man because he may be treated in this way: he is excused for that which, in another, would be punished as a crime; he is not held accountable for his actions. The kleptomaniac, for example, is not punished, but excused. Are we to say that the difference between these actions and crimes proper is only one of degree, and that the criminal is always a pathological or abnormal specimen of humanity? Do all criminals border close on insanity? Even if so, we must recognise, among bad as well as among good men, a border-line between the sane and the insane; to resolve all badness into insanity does not conduce to clear thinking. A point may indeed be reached in the life of crime, as in the life of vice generally, after which a man ceases to be himself,' and may therefore be treated as a thing rather than as a person; a point after which, self-control being lost, external control must take its place. But normal crime, if it has anything to do with insanity, is rather its cause than its result. To reduce crime to a pathological phenomenon, is to sap the very foundations of our moral judgments; merit as well as demerit, reward as well as punishment, are thereby undermined. Such a view may be scientific; it is not ethical, for it refuses to recognise the commonest moral distinctions. After all these explanations have been given, there is always an unexplained residuum, the man himself. A man knows himself from the inside, as it were; and a man does not excuse himself on such grounds. Nor would the majority of men, however criminal, be willing to have their crimes put down to the account of insanity; most men would resent such a rehabilitation of their morals at the expense of their 'intellects.' This leads us to remark a second impossibility in the theorynamely, that the ordinary criminal, whether he be a pathological specimen or not, will not submit to be treated as a patient or a case. For he, like yourself, is a person, and insists on being respected as such; he is not a thing, to be passively moulded by society according to its ideas either of its own convenience or of his good. Even the criminal man will not give up his self-control, or put himself in your hands and let you cure him. His will is his own, and he alone can reform himself. He will not become the patient of society, to be operated upon by it. The appeal, in all attempts at reformation, must be to the man himself; his sanction must be obtained, and his co-operation secured, before reformation can begin. He is not an automaton, to be regulated from without. The State cannot annex the individual; be he criminal or saint, his life is his own, and its springs are deep within. It is a truism, but it has to be repeated in the present connection, that all moral control is ultimately selfcontrol. In virtue of his manhood or personality, then, the criminal must be convinced of the righteousness of the punishment. Possessing, as he does, the universal human right of private judgment, the right to question and criticise according to his own inner light, he must be made to see that the act of society is a punishment, and to accept it as such; he must see the righteousness of the punishment, before it can work out in him its peaceable fruits of righteousness. Here, in the force of this inner appeal, in such an awakening of the man's slumbering conscience, lies the ethical value of punishment. Without this element, we have only a superficial view of it as an external force operating upon the man. Such a violent procedure may be necessary, especially in the earlier measures of society for its own protection; but it is not to be taken as the type of penal procedure, nor is it effective beyond a very narrow range. A man may be restrained in this way from a particular act of crime on a particular occasion; but the criminal nature in him is not touched, the criminal instincts are not extirpated-they will bloom again in some other deed of crime. The deepest warrant for the effectiveness of punishment as a deterrent and reformative agent is found in its ethical basis as an act of retribution. True reformation comes only with the acceptance of the punishment, by mind and heart, as the inevitable fruit of the act. For punishment thus becomes a kind of revelation to the man of the true significance of his character and life. A man may thus be shocked into a better life. For accidental calamity, or for suffering which he has not brought upon himself, a man does not condemn himself. Such self-condemnation comes only with insight into the retributive nature of the calamity. It is just this element of retribution that converts calamity or misfortune into punishment. The judgment of society upon the man must become the judgment of the man upon himself, if it is to be effective as an agent in his reformation. This private re-enactment of the social judgment comes with the perception of retribution or desert. Punishment is, in its essence, a rectification of the moral order of which crime is the notorious breach. Yet it is not a mere barren vindication of that order; it has an effect on character, and moulds that to order. Christianity has so brought home to us this brighter side of punishment, this beneficent possibility in all suffering, that it seems artificial to separate the retributive from the reformative purpose of punishment. The question is not whether, apart from its effects, there would be any moral propriety in the mere infliction of pain for pain's sake."1 Why separate the act from its effects in this way? In reality they are inseparable. The punishment need not be "for the sake of punishment, and for no other reason"; it need not be "modified for utilitarian reasons. The total conception of punishment may contain various elements indissolubly united. The question is, Which is the fundamental; out of which do the others grow? Nor do I see that such a theory of punishment is open to the charge of syncretism. I should rather call it synthetic and concrete, as taking account of all the elements, and exhibiting their correlation. Might we not sum up these elements in the word 'discipline,' meaning thereby that the end of punishment is to bring home to a man such a sense of guilt as shall work in him a deep repentance for the evil past, and a new obedience for the time to come? Whether, or how far, such a conception of punishment can be realised by the State, is another question. Its realisation would mean that the State should stand to the individual, in some measure, in loco parentis-that the State is a great moral educator. Such a paternal function is, at any rate, no less practicable for the State than the therapeutic function assigned to it by the theory we have been considering; for the latter function, to be effectively discharged, would imply an exhaustive diagnosis of each criminal case. And we have seen that the State has a moral end, that its function is not the merely negative or police one of the protection of individual from individual, but the moral education and development of the individual himself. It is, indeed, mainly to the external and inadequate modern conception of the State that we must trace the external and, I have sought to show, inadequate view of punishment as primarily deterrent, and, even when reformative, undertaken for the protection of society from the individual, rather than in the 1 H. Rashdall, International Journal of Ethics, vol. ii. p. 22 interests of the individual himself. Civil punishment is, or ought to be, undertaken in the interests of the moral individual; it is one of the arrangements of the State, which is the individual's moral sphere. But even if we refuse to go beyond the protective or deterrent point of view, we have seen that this standpoint coincides with both the reformative and the retributive. In proceeding from the one to the other of these views of punishment, we are only proceeding from an external to an internal view of the same thing. To be permanently deterrent, punishment must be educative or reformative as well; there must be an inner as well as an outer reformation. To the social prevention must be added self-prevention, and this comes only with inner reformation. Such a reformation, again, implies the acceptance, by the criminal, of the punishment as just, his recognition in it of the ethical completion of his own act; and this is the element of retribution or desert, which is thus seen to be the basis of the other elements in punishment. LITERATURE. Plato, Republic (Davies and Vaughan's or Jowett's trans.) Hegel, Philosophy of Right (Dyde's trans.), part iii. J. Hutchison Stirling, Philosophy of Law. J. S. Mackenzie, Manual of Ethics (3rd ed.), bk. iii. ch. i., ii. ; Introduction to Social Philosophy. D. G. Ritchie, Principles of State Interference; Natural Rights. J. H. Muirhead, Elements of Ethics, bk. iv. S. S. Laurie, Ethica, or The Ethics of Reason (2nd ed.), ch. xix.-XXX. H. Spencer, Principles of Ethics, parts iv.-vi. J. C. Lorimer, Institutes of Law. F. M. Taylor, The Right of the State to Bc. J. MacCunn, Ethics of Citizenship. Wundt, Ethik, pp. 529-577. Paulsen, System der Ethik, vol. ii. pp. 467-861. Höffding, Ethik, pp. 182-484. Ludwig Stein, Die Sociale Frage im Lichte der Philosophie, esp. pp. 511. 548, 598-749. 317 CHAPTER III. MORAL PROGRESS. 1. The nature of moral progress. The fact of moral progress is, from an ethical point of view, indubitable. The very nature of an ideal implies the possibility and the fact of a gradual approach toward its realisation; an ideal which did not thus reveal itself in the process of the moral life would be no ideal. Moreover, if the moral ideal is the key to the individual life, it is no less the key to the larger life of the race of moral beings. The history of the race becomes intelligible, as we shall see later, only on the presupposition of the presence and operation in it of such an ideal principle. The verification of any interpretation of the moral ideal remains incomplete until it is shown to explain the history of evolving moral life, the process of moral experience as a whole. The ideal must be the unifying principle of the successive historical manifestations of morality, as well as of its various present forms. Not that we are to find any theoretic or reflective view of the ideal consciously and explicitly present at every stage of moral evolution, or that such an explicit and reflective consciousness of it is needed to explain that evolution. The ideal may work unconsciously as well as consciously, and may disguise itself under many strange forms. But the recognition of the presence and operation, from the beginning, of |