Schopenhauer maintained the theory of “responsibility for character,” and not for actions, which are simply the outgrowth and expression of character. The same act may be good or bad according to the motives from which it springs. This distinction is constantly made both in ethics and in jurisprudence, and determines our moral judgments and judicial decisions. Yet the chief elements, which enter into a person’s character and contribute to its formation, lie beyond his control or even his consciousness, and in many cases have done their work before his birth. Responsibility for character is equivalent to responsibility for all the inherited tendencies and prenatal influences, of which character is the resultant, and leads at last to the theological dogma of the imputation of sin all the way back to Adam as the federal head of the race, a doctrine which Schopenhauer would be the first to repudiate. Besides, evil propensities and criminal designs are recognizable and punishable only when embodied in overt acts. The law cannot deprive a man of life or liberty because he is known to be vicious and depraved, although the police in the exercise of its protective and preventive functions and as a means of providing for the general security, may feel in duty bound to keep a watchful eye on him and to make an occasional raid on the dens and “dives” haunted by him and his kind. There are also instances on record, in which it is impossible to trace the culpable act to any marked corruption of character.
A rather remarkable illustration of this fact is furnished by the trial of Marie Jeanneret, which took place at Geneva in Switzerland in 1868 and which deservedly ranks high among the causes célèbres of the present century, both as a legal question and a problem of psycho-pathology. [At the time when this trial occurred, the writer directed attention to the peculiar and perplexing features of the case in The Nation for January 7, 1869, p. 11.] Dumas in his novel Le Comte de Monte Christo, describes the character and career of a young, refined and beautiful woman, moving in the best circles of Parisian society, and yet poisoning successively six or seven members of her own family; but even the most imaginative and audacious of French romancers did not dare to delineate such criminality without ascribing it to some apparently adequate motive. Madame de Villefort administered deadly potions to her relatives under the impulse of a morbidly intense maternal love, which centred all her moral and intellectual faculties on the idea of making her son the sole heir to a large estate. Affection and social ambition for her offspring incited her to the murder of her kin. But the invention, which created such a monster of sentimental depravity, has been far surpassed in real life by the exploits of Marie Jeanneret, a Swiss nurse, who took advantage of her professional position to give doses of poison to the sick persons confided to her care, from the effects of which seven of them died.
In the commission of this monotonous series of diabolical crimes, the culprit does not seem to have been animated either by animosity or cupidity. On the contrary, she always showed the warmest affection for her victims, and nursed them with the tenderest care and the most untiring devotion, as she watched the distressful workings of the fatal draught; nor did she derive the slightest material benefit from her course of conduct, but rather suffered considerable pecuniary loss by the death of her patients. The testimony of physicians and alienists furnished no evidence of insanity, nor did she show any signs of atavistic reversion, physiological abnormity or hereditary homicidal bent. Monomaniacs usually act fitfully and impulsively; but Marie Jeanneret always manifested the coolest premeditation and self-possession, never exhibiting the least hesitation or confusion, or the faintest trace of hallucination, but answered with the greatest clearness and calmness every question put by the president of the court. Even M. Turrettini, the prosecuting attorney, in presenting the case to the jury, was unable to discover any rational principle on which to explain the conduct and urge the conviction of the accused; and after exhausting the common category of hypotheses and showing the inadequacy of each, he was driven by sheer stress of inexplicability to seek a motive in “l’espèce de volupté qu’elle éprouverait à commettre un crime,” or what, in less elegant, but more vigorous Western vernacular, would be called “pure cussedness.” Not only was such an explanation merely a circumlocutory confession of ignorance, but it was wholly inconsistent with the general character of the indictee.
Indeed, the persistent and pitiless perpetration of this one sort of crime by this woman, under circumstances which should have excited compassion in the hardest human heart, seems more like the working of some baneful and irrepressible force in nature, or the relentless operation of a destructive machine, than like the voluntary action of a free and responsible moral agent. M. Zurlinden, the counsel for the defendant, dwelt with emphasis upon this mysterious phase of the case and thus saved his client from the scaffold. The jury, after five hours’ deliberation, rendered a verdict of “Guilty, with extenuating circumstances,” as the result of which the accused was sentenced to twenty years’ hard labour. As a matter of fact, there were no circumstances of an extenuating character except the utter inability of the jurors to discover any motive for the commission of such a succession of cold-blooded atrocities.
After fifteen years’ imprisonment the convict died. During this whole period of incarceration she not only showed great intelligence and strict integrity, but was also remarkably kind and helpful to all with whom she came in contact. She instructed her fellow-convicts in needle-work and fine embroidery, loved to attend them in sickness, and by her general influence raised very perceptibly the tone of morals in the workhouse. If it be true, as asserted by Mynheer Heymanns, one of the latest expounders of Schopenhauer’s ethics, that “a man is responsible for his actions only so far as his character finds expression in them, and is to be judged solely by his character,” what shall be done in cases like the afore-mentioned, in which the criminal conduct is exceptional, and so far from being symptomatic of the general character stands out as an isolated and ugly excrescence and appalling abnormity? According to this theory crime is to be punished only when it is the natural outgrowth and legitimate fruit of the criminal’s individuality and society is to be left unprotected against all maleficence not traceable to such an origin.
There can be hardly any doubt that the Swiss nurse was a toxicomaniac and that she had become infatuated with poisons, partly by watching their effects on her own system, and partly by reading about their properties in medical and botanical works, to the study of which she was passionately devoted. Did not Mithridates, if we may believe the statements of Galen, experiment with poisons on living persons? Why should she not follow such an illustrious example, especially as she never hesitated to take herself the potions she administered to others; the only difference being that habit had made her, like the famous King of Pontus, proof against their venom. She often attempted analyses of these substances, and in one instance was severely burned by the bursting of a crucible, in which she was endeavouring to obtain atropine from atropa belladonna or deadly nightshade. It was this terrible poison, which is endowed with exceedingly energetic qualities and is therefore used by physicians with extreme precaution, that seems to have had an irresistible fascination for her, growing into an insane desire to discover and test its occult virtues. She had read and heard of zealous scientists and illustrious physicians, who had experimented on themselves and on their disciples, and become the benefactors of mankind; why then should she not adopt the same method in the pursuit of truth and use for this purpose the physiological material which her profession placed in her hands?
However preposterous such reasoning on her part may appear to us and however vaguely and subconsciously the mental process may have been carried on, it offers the only theory adequate to explain all the facts and to account for the almost incredible union of contradictory traits in her character. The enthusiasm of the experimenter overbore in her the native sympathy of the woman. She observed the writhings of her poisoned victims with as “much delight” as Professor Mantegazza confesses he felt in studying the physiology of pain in the dumb animals “shrieking and groaning” on his tormentatore. “The physiologist,” says Claude Bernard, “is no ordinary man. He is a savant, seized and possessed by a scientific idea. He does not hear the cries of suffering wrung from racked and lacerated creatures, nor see the blood which flows. He has nothing before his eyes but his idea and the organisms, which are hiding the secrets he means to discover.” Marie Jeanneret was a fanatic of this kind. She, too, was a woman possessed with ideas as witches were once supposed to be possessed with devils. Had she prudently confined her experiments to the torture of helpless animals, she might perhaps have taken rank in the scientific world with Brachet, Magendie and other celebrated vivisectors, and been admitted with honour to the Academy, instead of being thrust ignominiously into a penitentiary.
The assertion as regards any supposed case of madness, that “there’s method in it,” is popularly assumed to be equivalent to a denial of the existence of the madness altogether. But psycho-pathology affords no warrant for such an assumption. An individual, who commits murder under the impulse of morbid jealousy, pecuniary distress, social rancour, political or scientific fanaticism, or any other form of monomania, is not the less the victim of a mind diseased because he shows rational forethought in planning and executing the deed. His mental faculties may be perfectly healthy and normal in their operation up to the point of derangement, from which the fatal act proceeds. No chain is stronger than its weakest link; and this is equally true of physical and psychical concatenations. Under such circumstances the sane powers of the mind are all at the mercy of the one fault and are made to minister to this single infirmity.
According to English law a man is irresponsibly insane, when he has “such defect of reason from disease of the mind as not to know the nature and quality of the act he was doing, or, if he did know it, that he did not know he was doing what was wrong.” This definition is very incomplete and covers only the most obvious forms of insanity; perhaps in the great majority of cases there is no “defect of reason” nor “disease of mind” in the proper sense of these terms, but only a disturbance of the emotions or perversion of the will originating in physical disorder. Besides, it is undeniable that animal intelligence is capable of distinguishing between right and wrong and of comprehending what is punishable and what is not punishable. In general when a dog does wrong, he knows that he is doing wrong; and a monkey often takes delight in doing what is wrong simply because he knows it is wrong. If a monkey gets angry and kills a child, he obeys the same vicious propensity that impels a brutal man to commit murder. There is no greater “defect of reason” in one case than in the other. Why then should the monkey be summarily shot or knocked on the head, and the man arrested, tried, convicted and hanged by the constituted authorities? Simply because such a public prosecution and execution would not exert any influence whatever in preventing infanticide on the part of other monkeys; if it could be shown that a formal trial of the monkey would produce this salutary effect, then it certainly ought not to be omitted. The recent attempt to modify the English law so as to render all “certifiably insane” persons irresponsible for their actions, would result in the abolition of all punishment for crime, since many physicians regard every criminal as insane and would not hesitate to certify their opinion to the proper tribunal.
It is no easy task now-a-days for penal legislation to keep pace with psychiatral investigation and to adjust itself to the wide range and nice distinctions of modern psycho-pathology; nor is it necessary to do so. Salus socialis suprema lex esto. Society is bound to protect itself against every criminal assault, no matter what its source or character may be. This is the ultimate object not only of the prison and the scaffold, but also of all reformatories for juvenile offenders and vagabonds, who by judicious correction and instruction may perhaps be brought to amend their ways and thus be prevented from becoming a social danger by swelling the disorderly ranks of the permanently criminal classes. If a person proves to be unamenable to moral or penitential measures and remains an incorrigible transgressor, it is the duty of the community to set him aside by death or by life-long durance. Penal legislation does not aim primarily at the betterment of the individual; laws are enacted not for the purpose of making men good and noble, but solely for the purpose of rendering them safe members of society. This is effected by depriving the irremediably vicious of their liberty and, if necessary, also of their life.