Science and human sympathy in combination may do much for such criminals, but compassionate men, though full of religious zeal, can of themselves do nothing. I wish to be plainly understood; I do not undervalue the power of religious influence. God forbid! I do not depreciate the power of religious conviction. But the Almighty works by human means, and it is His will that men be saved by men. If these men are to be saved from their crimes, some means of dealing with the cause of those crimes must be found. Is this too much to hope for? Twelve years ago I was noting this peculiar kind of insanity, for such it appears to me. One man I then knew was undoubtedly a deeply religious man, yet he was constantly in trouble for a peculiar kind of trumpery theft. His remorse was intense, and at every failure his agony and repentance was sincere. One day he called on me, and he seemed very happy and confident. ‘Thank God!’ he said, ‘it’s all right now. I have got full salvation, and I am simply trusting.’ He had joined another religious body, and was in constant attendance at prayer-meetings; but a month later he was in the cells again for a repetition of his old offence. He was no hypocrite, for it was not a matter of sin, but of disease in his case, and he is typical of many.
Numbers of people seem to be possessed of a strange kind of mania that only manifests itself in action when they have taken a little drink. It may be, and it frequently is, a very small drop of drink that does the mischief; but it leads to surprising results, for some weak spot, some peculiar trait, or some secret longing is operated upon at once. Poor old Cakebread used to say: ‘It is the argument that does it.’ Inordinately fond of talking when free from alcohol, a very small dose of it made her tongue-power ten times greater, and she became ‘argumentative,’ and the police were required.
_In vino veritas_ is often true, though more often the reverse holds good. Most people that are worth their salt have a hobby of some sort, and though ‘cranks’ are sneered at, yet the possession of a hobby is not to be despised, for it shows, at any rate, that the possessor is in earnest about some object, and is not the aimless, indifferent, and apathetic individual that lives like a vegetable, and goes through life without his pulses stirred, his heart warmed, or his brain-power excited. Don Quixotes are more estimable than cabbages, but they had best let drink alone, or they may share the fate of some I have seen and wish to tell of in this chapter.