nable or otherwise, were criminal.

These are some of many cases in which Fitzjames has to give a side of
history generally left in comparative obscurity. Upon some matters, as,
for example, upon the history of impeachments, he thought that he had
been able to correct or clear up previous statements. I have only wished
to show how many interesting topics come into his plan; and to me, I
confess, the most interesting of all is the illustration of the amazing
nature of the so-called intellectual process involved. People seem to
begin by making the most cumbrous and unreasonable hypotheses possible,
and slowly and reluctantly wriggling out of them under actual
compulsion. That is not peculiar to lawyers, and may have a meaning even
in philosophy.

Fitzjames's comments upon the actual state of the law brings him to many
important ethical problems. The discussion of the conditions of legal
responsibility is connected with that of moral responsibility. Fitzjames
once more insists upon the close connection between morality and law.
'The sentence of the law,' he says, 'is to the moral sentiment of the
public what a seal is to hot wax. It converts into a permanent final
judgment what might otherwise be a transient sentiment.' The criminal
law assumes that 'it is right to hate criminals.' He regards this hatred
as a 'healthy natural feeling'; for which he again quotes the authority
of Butler and Bentham. The legal mode of expressing resentment directs
it to proper applications in the same way as the law of marriage gives
the right direction to the passion of love. From his point of view, as I
have already indicated, this represents the necessary complement to the
purely utilitarian view, which would make deterrence the sole legitimate
end of punishment. The other, though generally consistent, end is the
gratification of the passion of moral indignation.[179]

Hence arise some difficult questions. Fitzjames insists, in agreement
with Bentham, and especially with James Mill, that the criminal law is
concerned with 'intentions,' not with 'motives.' All manner of
ambiguities result from neglecting this consideration. The question for
the lawyer is, did the prisoner mean to kill?--not, what were his
motives for killing? The motives may, in a sense, have been good; as,
for example, when a persecutor acts from a sincere desire to save souls.
But the motive makes no difference to the sufferer. I am burnt equally,
whether I am burnt fro