If this was the condition of human judgments, no man could be condemned. CHAPTER XI THE MEASURE OF PUNISHMENT But admitting the right to punish, where is there a man with the wisdom to inflict punishment? By what magical scales can he weigh the guilt of a human being, and by what standard can he determine the judgment that is proportionate to his guilt? It must be evident that the wit of man never did invent or can invent a measure that shall determine the just amount of punishment for any human act. The punishment administered does not in any way indicate the extent of the culprit’s transgression, but simply shows the degree of brutality of the law, and of those who are given the power of fixing the extent of punishment to be imposed. The victim whom the law catches in its net is at the mercy of the judge. His fate depends not upon his life, not upon what society has done for him, nor upon how he has repaid the debt. Nor does it depend upon the intrinsic value of his soul, for no human judgment can reach this. Neither does it depend upon the ratio between the brain he had, and the temptation he resisted, or the ratio between the overpowering force he met and the weak will and intellect which heredity had bequeathed to him. His fate rests with the humanity or inhumanity displayed, the point of view, the experience, the prejudice, the social surroundings, the physical condition, the appetite or the breakfast of the judge, whose light and easy duty it is to pronounce judgment on the life or liberty of a fellow man. Given the best equipment and the greatest knowledge and sense of responsibility on the part of the judge, how then will stand the case? A prisoner is arraigned for forcibly taking a pocketbook on the public street. The instinct to do the act may have come upon him in a moment’s time, as the opportunity seemed suddenly present and the need seemed great. Under the peculiar circumstances of the time and place, he may have been impelled to act when a moment’s reflection would have stayed his hand. In a hundred cases the opportunity for the reflection was present, and he passed through unscathed, and then there came a time when the judgment had no chance to speak and he was lost. The crime even at its worst differs only in degree, perhaps not in that, from the actions of our daily lives. We look at another’s pocketbook and covet it, or covet his home or coat or wealth—the case presents the same evil heart. Our action, however, is tempered and controlled by judgment and the power of will.