University of Virginia Library

Topic I. GENERAL DIFFERENCES.
(a) Woman.

Section 63. (I) General Considerations.[1]

One of the most difficult tasks of the criminalist who is engaged in psychological investigation is the judgment of woman. Woman is not only somatically and psychically rather different from man; man never is able wholly and completely to put himself in her place. In judging a male the criminalist is dealing with his like, made of the same elements as he, even though age, conditions of life, education, and morality are as different as possible. When the criminalist is to judge a gray-beard whose years far outnumber his own, he still sees before him something that he may himself become, built as he, but only in a more advanced stage. When he is studying a boy, he knows what he himself felt and thought as boy. For we

never completely forget attitudes and judgments, no matter how much time has elapsed—we no longer grasp them en masse, but we do not easily fail to recall how they were constructed. Even when the criminalist is dealing with a girl before puberty he is not without some point of approach for his judgment, since boys and girls are at that period not so essentially different as to prevent the drawing of analogous inferences by the comparison of his own childhood with that of the girl.

But to the nature of woman, we men totally lack avenues of approach. We can find no parallel between women and ourselves, and the greatest mistakes in criminal law were made where the conclusions would have been correct if the woman had been a man.[2] We have always estimated the deeds and statements of women by the same standards as those of men, and we have always been wrong. That woman is different from man is testified to by the anatomist, the physician, the historian, the theologian, the philosopher; every layman sees it for himself. Woman is different in appearance, in manner of observation, of judgment, of sensation, of desire, of efficacy,—but we lawyers punish the crimes of woman as we do those of man, and we count her testimony as we do that of man. The present age is trying to set aside the differences in sex and to level them, but it forgets that the law of causation is valid here also. Woman and man have different bodies, hence they must have different minds. But even when we understand this, we proceed wrongly in the valuation of woman. We can not attain proper knowledge of her because we men were never women, and women can never tell us the truth because they were never men.

Just as a man is unable to discover whether he and his neighbor call the same color red, so, eternally, will the source of the indubitably existent differences in the psychic life of male and female be undiscovered. But if we can not learn to understand the essence of the problem of the eternal feminine, we may at least study its manifestations and hope to find as much clearness as the difficulty of the subject will permit. An essential, I might say, unscientific experience seems to come to our aid here. In this matter, we trust the real researches, the determinations of scholars, much less than the conviction of the people, which is expressed in maxims, legal differences, usage, and proverbs. We instinctively feel that the popular conception presents the experience of many hundreds of years, experiences of both men and women. So that we may assume that the mistakes of the

observations of individuals have corrected each other as far as has been possible, and yield a kind of average result. Now, even if averages are almost always wrong, either because they appear too high or too low, the mistake is not more than half a mistake. If in a series of numbers the lowest was 4, the highest 12, and the average 8, and if I take the latter for the individual problem, I can at most have been mistaken about four, never about eight, as would have been the case if I had taken 4 or 12 for each other. The attitude of the people gives us an average and we may at least assume that it would not have maintained itself, either as common law or as proverb, if centuries had not shown that the mistake involved was not a very great one.

In any event, the popular method was comparatively simple. No delicate distinctions were developed. A general norm of valuation was applied to woman and the result showed that woman is simply a less worthy creature. This conception we find very early in the history of the most civilized peoples, as well as among contemporary backward nations and tribes. If, now, we generally assume that the culture of a people and the position of its women have the same measure, it follows only that increasing education revealed that the simple assumption of the inferiority of woman was not correct, that the essential difference in psyche between man and woman could not be determined, and that even today, the old conception half unconsciously exercises an influence on our valuation of woman, when in any respect we are required to judge her. Hence, we are in no wise interested in the degree of subordination of woman among savage and half-savage peoples, but, on the other hand, it is not indifferent for us to know what the situation was among peoples and times who have influenced our own culture. Let us review the situation hastily.

A number of classical instances which are brought together by Fink[3] and Smith, [4] show how little the classic Greek thought of woman, and W. Becker[5] estimates as most important the fact that the Greek always gave precedence to children and said, "τεχνα χαι γυναιχας." The Greek naturalists, Hippocrates and Aristotle, modestly held woman to be half human, and even the poet Homer is not free from this point of view (cf. the advice of Agamemnon to Odysseus). Moreover, he speaks mostly concerning the scandalmongering

and lying of women, while later, Euripides directly reduces the status of women to the minimum (cf. Iphigenia).

The attention of ancient Rome is always directed upon the puzzling, sphinx-like, unharmonious qualities in woman. Horace gives it the clearest expression, e. g., "Desinite in piscem mulier formosa superne."

The Orientals have not done any better for us. The Chinese assert that women have no souls. The Mohammedan believes that women are denied entrance to paradise, and the Koran (xliii, 17) defines the woman as a creature which grows up on a soil of finery and baubles, and is always ready to nag. How well such an opinion has sustained itself, is shown by the Ottomanic Codex 355, according to which the testimony of two women is worth as much as the testimony of one man. But even so, the Koran has a higher opinion of women than the early church fathers. The problem, "An mulier habeas animam," was often debated at the councils. One of them, that of Macon, dealt earnestly with the MS. of Acidalius, "Mulieres homines non esse." At another, women were forbidden to touch the Eucharist with bare hands. This attitude is implied by the content of countless numbers of evil proverbs which deal with the inferior character of woman, and certainly by the circumstance that so great a number of women were held to be witches, of whom about 100,000 were burned in Germany alone. The statutes dealt with women only in so far as their trustworthiness as witnesses could be depreciated. The Bambergensis (Art. 76), for example, permits the admission of young persons and women only in special cases, and the quarrels of the older lawyers concerning the value of feminine testimony is shown by Mittermaier.[6]

If we discount Tacitus' testimony concerning the high status of women among the Germanic tribes on the basis that he aimed at shaming and reforming his countrymen, we have a long series of assertions, beginning with that of the Norseman Havamál,—which progressively speaks of women in depreciatory fashion, and calls them inconstant, deceitful, and stupefying,—to the very modern maxim which brings together the extreme elevation and extreme degradation of woman: "Give the woman wings and she is either an angel or a beast." Terse as this expression is, it ought to imply the proper point of view—women are either superior or inferior to us, and may be both at the same time. There are women who are superior and there are women who are inferior, and further, a single

woman may be superior to us in some qualities and inferior in others, but she is not like us in any. The statement that woman is as complete in her own right as man is in his, agrees with the attitude above-mentioned if we correlate the superiority and inferiority of women with "purposefulness." We judge a higher or lower organism from our standpoint of power to know, feel, and do, but we judge without considering whether these organisms imply or not the purposes we assume for them. Thus a uniform, monotonous task which is easy but requires uninterrupted attention can be better performed by an average, patient, unthinking individual, than by a genial fiery intellect. The former is much more to the purpose of this work than the latter, but he does not stand higher. The case is so with woman. For many of the purposes assigned to her, she is better constructed. But whether this construction, from our standpoint of knowing and feeling, is to be regarded as higher or lower is another question.

Hence, we are only in a sense correct, when calling some feminine trait which does not coincide with our own a poorer, inferior quality. We are likely to overlook the fact that this quality taken in itself, is the right one for the nature and the tasks of woman, whereas we ought with the modern naturalist assume that every animal has developed correctly for its own purposes. If this were not the case with woman she would be the first exception to the laws of natural evolution. Hence, our task is not to seek out peculiarities and rarities in woman, but to study her status and function as given her by nature. Then we shall see that what we would otherwise have called extraordinary appears as natural necessity. Of course many of the feminine qualities will not bring us back to the position which has required them. Then we may or may not be able to infer it according to the laws of general co-existence, but whether we establish anything directly or indirectly must be for the time, indifferent; we do know the fact before us. If we find only the pelvis of a human skeleton we should be able to infer from its broad form that it belonged to a woman and should be able to ground this inference on the business of reproduction which is woman's. But we shall also be able, although we have only the pelvis before us, to make reliable statements concerning the position of the bones of the lower extremities of this individual. And we shall be able to say just what the form of the thorax and the curve of the vertebral column were. This, also, we shall have in our power, more or less, to ground on the child-bearing function of woman. But we might go still further

and say that this individual, who, according to its pelvic cavity, was a woman, must have had a comparatively smaller skull, and although we can not correlate the present mark with the child-bearing function or any other special characteristic of woman, we may yet infer it safely, because we know that this smaller skull capacity stands in regular relation to the broad pelvis, etc. In a like manner it will be possible to bring together collectively various psychical differences of woman, to define a number of them as directly necessary, and to deduce another number from their regular co-existence. The certainty here will be the same as in the former case, and once it is attained we shall be able satisfactorily to interpret the conduct, etc., of woman.

Before turning to feminine psychology I should like briefly to touch upon the use of the literature in our question and indicate that the poets' results are not good for us so long as we are trying to satisfy our particular legal needs. We might, of course, refer to the poet for information concerning the feminine heart,—woman's most important property,—but the historically famous knowers of the woman's heart leave us in the lurch and even lead us into decided errors. We are not here concerned with the history of literature, nor with the solution of the "dear riddle of woman;" we are dry-soured lawyers who seek to avoid mistakes at the expense of the honor and liberty of others, and if we do not want to believe the poets it is only because of many costly mistakes. Once we were all young and had ideals. What the poets told us we supposed to be the wisdom of life—nobody else ever offers any—and we wanted compulsorily to solve the most urgent of human problems with our poetical views. Illusions, mistakes, and guiltless remorse, were the consequence of this topsy-turvy work.

Of course I do not mean to drag our poets to court and accuse them of seducing our youth with false gods—I am convinced that if the poets were asked they would tell us that their poetry was intended for all save for physicians and criminalists. But it is conceivable that they have introduced points of view that do not imply real life. Poetical forms do not grow up naturally, and then suddenly come. together in a self-originated idea. The poet creates the idea first, and in order that this may be so the individual form must evolve according to sense. The more natural and inevitable this process becomes the better the poem, but it does not follow that since we do not doubt it because it seems so natural, it mirrors the process of life. Not one of us criminalists has ever seen a form

as described in a poem—least of all a woman. Obviously, in our serious and dry work, we may be able to interpret many an observation and assertion of the poet as a golden truth, but only when we have tested its correctness for the daily life. But it must be understood that I am not saying here, that we ourselves might have been able to make the observation, or to abstract a truth from the flux of appearances, or at least to set it in beautiful, terse, and I might say convincing, form. I merely assert, that we must be permitted to examine whether what has been beautifully said may be generalized, and whether we then have found the same, or a similar thing, in the daily life. Paradoxical as it sounds, we must never forget that there is a kind of evidentiality in the form of beauty itself. One of Blopstock's remarkable psalms begins: "Moons wander round the earth, earths round suns, the whole host of suns wander round a greater sun, Our Father, that art thou." In this inexpressibly lofty verse there is essentially, and only in an extremely intensified fashion, evidence of the existence of God, and if the convinced atheist should read this verse he would, at least for the moment, believe in his existence. At the same time, a real development of evidence is neither presented nor intended. There are magnificent images, unassailable true propositions: the moon goes round about the earth, the earth about the sun, the whole system around a central sun—and now without anything else, the fourth proposition concerning the identity of the central sun with our heavenly Father is added as true. And the reader is captivated for at least a minute! What I have tried here to show by means of a drastic example occurs many times in poems, and is especially evident where woman is the subject, so that we may unite in believing that the poet can not teach us that subject, that he may only lead us into errors.

To learn about the nature of woman and its difference from that of man we must drop everything poetical. Most conscientiously we must drop all cynicism and seek to find illumination only in serious disciplines. These disciplines may be universal history and the history of culture, but certainly not memoirs, which always represent subjective experience and one-sided views. Anatomy, physiology, anthropology, and serious special literature, presupposed, may give us an unprejudiced outlook, and then with much effort we may observe, compare, and renew our tests of what has been established, sine ire et studio, sine odio et gratia.

I subjoin a list of sources and of especial literature which also contains additional references.[7]

Section 64. 2. Difference between Man and Women

There are many attempts to determine the difference between the feminine and masculine psyche. Volkmar in his "Textbook of Psychology" has attempted to review these experiments. But the individual instances show how impossible is clear and definite statement concerning the matter. Much is too broad, much too narrow; much is unintelligible, much at least remotely correct only if one knows the outlook of the discoverer in question, and is inclined to agree with him. Consider the following series of contrasts.

 

Male Individuality Activity Leadership Vigor Conscious activity Conscious deduction Will Independence Particularity Negation

Female Receptivity (Burdach, Berthold) Passivity (Daub, Ulrici, Hagemann) Imitativeness (Schleiermacher) Sensitivity to stimulation (Beneke) Unconscious activity (Hartmann) Unconscious induction (Wundt) Consciousness (Fischer) Completeness (Krause, Lindemann) Generally generic (Volkmann) Affirmation (Hegel and his school)

None of these contrasts are satisfactory, many are unintelligible. Burdach's is correct only within limits and Hartmann's is approximately true if you accept his point of view. I do not believe that these explanations would help anybody or make it easier for him to understand woman. Indeed, to many a man they will appear to be saying merely that the psyche of the male is masculine, that of the female feminine. The thing is not to be done with epigrams however spirited. Epigrams merely tend to increase the already great confusion.

Hardly more help toward understanding the subject is to be derived from certain expressions which deal with a determinate

and also with a determining trait of woman. For example, the saying, "On forbidden ground woman is cautious and man keen," may, under some circumstances, be of great importance in a criminal case, particularly when it is necessary to fix the sex of the criminal. If the crime was cautiously committed a woman may be inferred, and if swiftly, a man. But that maxim is deficient in two respects. Man and woman deal in the way described, not only in forbidden fields, but generally. Again, such characteristics may be said to be ordinary but in no wise regulative: there are enough cases in which the woman was much keener than the man and the man much more cautious than the woman.

The greatest danger of false conceptions lies in the attribution of an unproved peculiarity to woman, by means of some beautifully expressed, and hence, apparently true, proverb. Consider the well known maxim: Man forgives a beautiful woman everything, woman nothing. Taken in itself the thing is true; we find it in the gossip of the ball-room, and in the most dreadful of criminal cases. Men are inclined to reduce the conduct of a beautiful sinner to the mildest and least offensive terms, while her own sex judge her the more harshly in the degree of her beauty and the number of its partisans. Now it might be easy in an attempt to draw the following consequences from the correctness of this proposition: Men are generally inclined to forgive in kindness, women are the unforgiving creatures. This inference would be altogether unjustified, for the maxim only incidentally has woman for its subject; it might as well read: Woman forgives a handsome man everything, man nothing. What we have at work here is the not particularly remarkable fact that envy plays a great rôle in life.

Another difficulty in making use of popular truths in our own observations, lies in their being expressed in more or less definite images. If you say, for example, "Man begs with words, woman with glances," you have a proposition that might be of use in many criminal cases, inasmuch as things frequently depend on the demonstration that there was or was not an amour between two people (murder of a husband, relation of the widow with a suspect).

Now, of course, the judge could not see how they conversed together, how he spoke stormily and she turned her eyes away. But suppose that the judge has gotten hold of some letters—then if he makes use of the maxim, he will observe that the man becomes more explicit than the woman, who, up to a certain limit, remains ashamed. So if the man speaks very definitely in his letters, there

is no evidence contradictory to the inference of their relationship, even though nothing similar is to be found in her letters. The thing may be expressed in another maxim: What he wants is in the lines; what she wants between the lines.

The great difficulty of distinguishing between man and woman is mentioned in "Levana oder Erziehungslehre," by Jean Paul, who says, "A woman can not love her child and the four continents of the world at the same time. A man can." But who has ever seen a man love four continents? "He loves the concept, she the appearance, the particular." What lawyer understands this? And this? "So long as woman loves, she loves continuously, but man has lucid intervals." This fact has been otherwise expressed by Grabbe, who says: "For man the world is his heart, for woman her heart is the world." And what are we to learn from this? That the love of woman is greater and fills her life more? Certainly not. We only see that man has more to do than woman, and this prevents him from depending on his impressions, so that he can not allow himself to be completely captured by even his intense inclinations. Hence the old proverb: Every new affection makes man more foolish and woman wiser, meaning that man is held back from his work and effectiveness by every inclination, while woman, each time, gathers new experiences in life. Of course, man also gets a few of these, but he has other and more valuable opportunities of getting them, while woman, who has not his position in the midst of life, must gather her experiences where she may.

Hence, it remains best to stick to simple, sober discoveries which may be described without literary glamour, and which admit of no exception. Such is the statement by Friedreich[1]: "Woman is more excitable, more volatile and movable spiritually, than man; the mind dominates the latter, the emotions the former. Man thinks more, woman senses more." These ungarnished, clear words, which offer nothing new, still contain as much as may be said and explained. We may perhaps supplement them with an expression of Heusinger's, "Women have much reproductive but little productive imaginative power. Hence, there are good landscape and portrait painters among women, but as long as women have painted there has not been any great woman-painter of history. They make poems, romances, and sonnets, but not one of them has written a good tragedy." This expression shows that the imaginative power of woman is really more reproductive than productive,

and it may be so observed in crimes and in the testimony of witnesses.

In crimes, this fact will not be easy to observe in the deed itself, or in the manner of its execution; it will be observable in the nature of the plan used. To say that the plan indicates productive creation would not be to call it original. Originality can not be indicated, without danger of misunderstanding, by means of even a single example; we have simply to cling to the paradigm of Heusinger, and to say, that when the plan of a criminal act appears more independent and more completely worked out, it may be assumed to be of masculine origin; if it seeks support, however, if it is an imitation of what has already happened, if it aims to find outside assistance during its execution, its originator was a woman. This truth goes so far that in the latter case the woman must be fixed upon as the intellectual source of the plan, even though the criminal actually was a man. The converse inference could hardly be held with justice. If a man has thought out a plan which a woman is to execute, its fundamental lines are wiped out and the woman permits the productive aspect of the matter to disappear, or to become so indefinite that any sure conclusion on the subject is impossible.

Our phenomenon is equally important in statements by witnesses. In many a case in which we suppose the whole or a portion of a witness's testimony to be incorrect, intentionally invented, or involuntarily imagined, we may succeed in extracting a part of the testimony as independent construction, and thus determining what might be incorrect in it. If, when this happens, the witness is a man and his lies show themselves in productive form, and if the witness is a woman and her lies appear to be reproduced, it is possible, at least, that we are being told untruths. The procedure obviously does not in itself contain anything evidential, but it may at least excite suspicion and thus caution, and that, in many cases, is enough. I may say of my own work that I have often gained much advantage from this method. If there were any suspicion that the testimony of a witness, especially the conception of some committed crime, was untrue, I recalled Heusinger, and asked myself "If the thing is untrue, is it a sonnet or a tragedy?" If the answer was "tragedy" and the witness a man, or, if the answer was "sonnet" and the witness a woman, I concluded that everything was possibly invented, and grew quite cautious. If I could come to no conclusion, I was considerably helped by Heusinger's other proposition, asking myself, "Flower-pictures or historical subjects?"

And here again I found something to go by, and the need to be suspicious. I repeat, no evidence is to be attained in this way, but we frequently win when we are warned beforehand.

(3) Sexual Peculiarities.
Section 65. (a) General Considerations.

Even if we know that hunger and love are not the only things that sustain impulse, we also know the profound influence that love and all that depends upon it exercise from time immemorial on the course of events. This being generally true, the question of the influence of sex on woman is more important than that of its influence on man, for a large number of profound conditions are at work in the former which are absent in the latter. Hence, it is in no way sufficient to consider only the physiological traits of the somatic life of woman, i. e., menstruation, pregnancy, child-birth, the suckling period, and finally the climacterium. We must study also the possibly still more important psychical conditions which spring from the feminine nature and are developed by the demands of civilization and custom. We must ask what it means to character when an individual is required from the moment puberty begins, to conceal something for a few days every month; what it means when this secrecy is maintained for a long time during pregnancy, at least toward children and the younger people. Nor can it be denied that the custom which demands more self-control in women must exercise a formative influence on their natures. Our views do not permit the woman to show without great indirection whom she hates or whom she likes; nor may she indicate clearly whom she loves, nor must she appear solicitous. Everything must happen indirectly, secretly, and approximately, and if this need is inherited for centuries, it must, as a characteristic, impart a definite expression to the sex. This expression is of great importance to the criminalist; it is often enough to recall these circumstances in order to find explanation for a whole series of phenomena. What differences the modern point of view and modern tendencies will make remains to be seen. Let us now consider particular characteristics.

Section 66. (b) Menstruation.

We men, in our own life, have no analogy, not even a remote one, to this essentially feminine process. In the mental life of woman it is of greater importance than we are accustomed to suppose. In

most cases in which it may be felt that the fact of menstruation influences a crime or a statement of facts, it will be necessary to make use of the court physician, who must report to the judge. The latter absolutely must understand the fact and influence of menstruation. Of course he must also have general knowledge of the whole matter, but he must require the court physician definitely to tell him when the event began and whether any diseased conditions were apparent. Then it is the business of the judge to interpret the physician's report psychologically—and the judge knows neither more nor less psychology, according to his training, than the physician. Any text-book on physiology will give the important facts about menstruation. It is important for us to know that menses begin, in our climate, from the thirteenth to the fifteenth year, and end between the forty-fifth and the fiftieth year. The periods are normally a solar month—from twenty-seven to twenty-eight days, and the menstruation lasts from three to five days. After its conclusion the sexual impulse, even in otherwise frigid women, is in most cases intensified. It is important, moreover, to note the fact that most women, during their periods, show a not insignificant alteration of their mental lives, often exhibiting states of mind that are otherwise foreign to them.

As in many cases it is impossible without other justification to ask whether menses have begun, it is worth while knowing that most women menstruate, according to some authorities, during the first quarter of the moon, and that only a few menstruate during the new or full moon. The facts are very questionable, but we have no other cues for determining that menstruation is taking place. Either the popularly credited signs of it (e. g., a particular appearance, a significant shining of the eyes, bad odor from the mouth, or susceptibility to perspiration) are unreliable, or there are such signs as feeling unwell, tension in the back, fatigue in the bones, etc., which are much more simply and better discovered by direct interrogation, or examination by a physician.

If there is any suspicion that menstruation has influenced testimony or a crime, and if the other, especially the above-mentioned facts, are not against it, we are called upon to decide whether we are considering a mental event, due to the influence of menstruation. Icard[1] has written the best monograph on this subject.

Considering the matter in detail, our attention is first called to the importance of the beginning of menstruation. Never is a girl

more tender or quiet, never more spiritual and attractive, nor more inclined to good sense, than in the beginning of puberty, generally a little before the menstrual periods have begun, or have become properly ordered. At this time, then, the danger that the young girl may commit a crime is very small, perhaps smaller then at any other time. And hence, it is the more to be feared that such a creature may become the victim of the passions of a roué, or may cause herself the greatest harm by mistaken conduct. This is the more possible when the circumstances are such that the child has little to do, though naturally gifted. Unused spiritual qualities, ennui, waking sensitivity and charm, make a dangerous mixture, which is expressed as a form of interest in exciting experiences, in the romantic, or at least the unusual. Sexual things are perhaps wholly, or partly not understood, but their excitation is present and the results are the harmless dreams of extraordinary experiences. The danger is in these, for from them may arise fantasies, insufficiently justified principles, and inclination to deceit. Then all the prerequirements are present which give rise to those well-known cases of unjust complaints, false testimony about seduction, rape, attempts at rape and even arson, accusing letters, and slander.[2] Every one of us is sufficiently familiar with such accusations, every one of us knows how frequently we can not sufficiently marvel how such and such an otherwise quiet, honest, and peaceful girl could perform things so incomprehensible. If an investigation had been made to see whether the feat did not occur at the time of her first mensis; if the girl had been watched during her next mensis to determine whether some fresh significant alteration occurred, the police physician might possibly have been able to explain the event. I know many cases of crimes committed by half-grown girls who would under no circumstances have been accused of them; among them arson, lese majeste, the writing of numerous anonymous letters, and a slander by way of complaining of a completely fanciful seduction. In one of these cases we succeeded in showing that the girl in question had committed her crime at the time of her first mensis; that she was otherwise quiet and well conducted, and that she showed at her next mensis some degree of significant unrest and excitement. As soon as the menses got their proper adjustment not one of the earlier phenomena could be observed, and the child exhibited no further inclination to commit crimes.[3]

Creatures like her undergo similar danger when they have to make statements about perceptions which are either interesting in themselves, or have occurred in an interesting way. Here caution must be exercised in two directions. First: Discover whether the child in question was passing through her monthly period at the time when she saw the event under discussion, or when she was telling about it. In the former case, she has told of more than could have been perceived; in the second case she develops the delusion that she had seen more than she really had. How unreliable the testimony of youthful girls is, and what mistakes it has caused, are familiar facts, but too little attention is paid to the fact that this unreliability is not permanent with the individuals, and in most cases changes into complete trustworthiness. As a rule, the criminal judge is almost never in a position to determine the inconsistencies in the testimony of a menstruating girl, inasmuch as he sees her, at most, just a few times, and can not at those times observe differences in her love for truth. Fortunately the statements of newly menstruating girls, when untrue, are very characteristic, and present themselves in the form of something essentially romantic, extraordinary, and interesting. If we find this tendency of transforming simple daily events into extraordinary experiences, then, if the testimony of the girl does not agree with that of other witnesses, etc., we are warned. Still greater assurance is easy to gain, by examining persons who know the girl well on her trustworthiness and love of truth before this time. If their statements intensify the suspicion that menses have been an influence, it is not too much to ask directly, to re-examine, and, if necessary, to call in medical aid in order to ascertain the truth. The direct question is in a characteristically great number of cases answered falsely. If in such cases we learn that the observation was made or the testimony given at the menstrual period, we may assume it probably justifiable to suspect great exaggeration, if not pure invention.

The menstrual period tends, at all ages from the youngest child to the full-grown woman, to modify the quality of perception and the truth of description. Von Reichenbach[4] writes that sensitivity is intensified during the menstrual period, and even if this famous discoverer has said a number of crazy things on the subject, his record is such that he must be regarded as a clever man and an excellent observer. There is no doubt that his sensitive people were simply very nervous individuals who reacted vigorously to all external

stimulations, and inasmuch as his views agree with others, we may assume that his observation shows at least how emotional, excitable, and inclined to fine perceptions menstruating women are. It is well-known how sharpened sense-perception becomes under certain conditions of ill-health. Before you get a cold in the head, the sense of smell is regularly intensified; certain headaches are accompanied with an intensification of hearing so that we are disturbed by sounds that otherwise we should not hear at all; every bruised place on the body is very sensitive to touch. All in all, we must believe that the senses of woman, especially her skin sensations, the sensations of touch, are intensified during the menstrual period, for at that time her body is in a "state of alarm." This fact is important in many ways. It is not improbable that one menstruating woman shall have heard, seen, felt, and smelt, things which others, and she herself, would not have perceived at another time. Again, if we trace back many a conception of menstruating women we learn that the boundary between more delicate sensating and sensibility can not be easily drawn. Here we may see the universal transition from sensibility to acute excitability which is a source of many quarrels. The witness, the wounded, or accused are all, to a considerable degree, under its influence. It is a generally familiar fact that the incomparably larger number of complaints of attacks on women's honor, fall through. It would be interesting to know just how such complaints of menstruating women occur. Of course, nobody can determine this statistically, but it is a fact that such trials are best conducted, never exactly four weeks after the crime, nor four weeks after the accusation. For if most of the complaints of menstruating women are made at the period of their menses, they are just as excited four weeks later, and opposed to every attempt at adjustment. This is the much-verified fundamental principle! I once succeeded by its use in helping a respectable, peace-loving citizen of a small town, whose wife made uninterrupted complaints of inuriam causa, and got the answer that his wife was an excellent soul, but, "gets the devil in her during her monthlies, and tries to find occasions for quarrels with everybody and finds herself immediately much insulted."

A still more suspicious quality than the empty capacity for anger is pointed out by Lombroso,[5] who says that woman during menstruation is inclined to anger and to falsification. In this regard Lombroso may be correct, inasmuch as the lie may be combined

with the other qualities here observed. We often note that most honorable women lie in the most shameless fashion. If we find no other motive and we know that the woman periodically gets into an abnormal condition, we are at least justified in the presupposition that the two are coordinate, and that the periodic condition is cause of the otherwise rare feminine lie. Here also, we are required to be cautious, and if we hear significant and not otherwise confirmed assertions from women, we must bear in mind that they may be due to menstruation.

But we may go still further. Du Saulle[6] asserts on the basis of far-reaching investigations, that a significant number of thefts in Parisian shops are committed frequently by the most elegant ladies during their menstrual period, and this in no fewer than 35 cases out of 36, while 10 more cases occurred at the beginning of the period.

Other authorities[7] who have studied this matter have shown how the presentation of objects women much desire leads to theft. Grant that during her mensis the woman is in a more excitable and less actively resisting condition, and it may follow she might be easily overpowered by the seductive quality of pretty jewelry and other knickknacks. This possibility leads us, however, to remoter conclusions. Women desire more than merely pretty things, and are less able to resist their desires during their periods. If they are less able to resist in such things, they are equally less able to resist in other things. In handling those thefts which were formerly called kleptomaniac, and which, in spite of the refusal to use this term, are undeniable, it is customary, if they recur repeatedly, to see whether pregnancy is not the cause. It is well to consider also the influence of menstruation.

Menstruation may bring women even to the most terrible crimes. Various authors cite numerous examples in which otherwise sensible women have been driven to the most inconceivable things—in many cases to murder. Certainly such crimes will be much more numerous if the abnormal tendency is unknown to the friends of the woman, who should watch her carefully during this short, dangerous period.

The fact is familiar that the disturbances of menstruation lead to abnormal psychoses. This type of mental disease develops

so quietly that in numerous cases the maladies are overlooked, and hence it is more easily possible, since they are transitive, to interpret them commonly as "nervous excitement," or to pay no attention to them, although they need it.[8]

Section 67. (c) Pregnancy.

We may speak of the conditions and effects of pregnancy very briefly. The doubt of pregnancy will be much less frequent than that of menstruation, for the powerful influence of pregnancy on the psychic life of woman is well-known, and it is hence the more important to call in the physician in cases of crimes committed by pregnant women, or in cases of important testimony to be given by such women. But, indeed, the frequently obvious remarkable desires, the significant conduct, and the extraordinary, often cruel, impulses, which influence pregnant women, and for the appearance of which the physician is to be called in, are not the only thing. The most difficult and most far-reaching conditions of pregnancy are the purely psychical ones which manifest themselves in the sometimes slight, sometimes more obvious alterations in the woman's point of view and capacity for producing an event. In themselves they seem of little importance, but they occasion such a change in the attitude of an individual toward a happening which she must describe to the judge, that the change may cause a change in the judgment. I repeat here also, that it may be theoretically said, "The witness must tell us facts, and only facts," but this is not really so. Quite apart from the fact that the statement of any perception contains a judgment, it depends also and always on the point of view, and this varies with the emotional state. If, then, we have never experienced any of the emotional alteration to which a pregnant woman is subject, we must be able to interpret it logically in order to hit on the correct thing. We set aside the altered somatic conditions of the mother, the disturbance of the conditions of nutrition and circulation; we need clearly to understand what it means to have assumed care about a developing creature, to know that a future life is growing up fortunately or unfortunately, and is capable of bringing joy or sorrow, weal or woe to its parents. The woman knows that her condition is an endangerment of her own life, that

it brings at least pains, sufferings, and difficulties (as a rule, overestimated by the pregnant woman). Involuntarily she feels, whether she be educated or uneducated, the secrecy, the elusiveness of the growing life she bears, the life which is to come out into the world, and to bring its mother's into jeopardy thereby. She feels nearer death, and the various tendencies which are attached to this feeling are determined by the nature and the conditions of each particular future mother's sensations. How different may be the feeling of a poor abandoned bride who is expecting a child, from that of a young woman who knows that she is to bring into the world the eagerly-desired heir of name and fortune. Consider the difference between the feeling of a sickly proletarian, richly blessed with children, who knows that the new child is an unwelcome superfluity whose birth may perhaps rob the other helpless children of their mother, with the feeling of a comfortable, thoroughly healthy woman, who finds no difference between having three or having four children.

And if these feelings are various, must they not be so intense and so far-reaching as to influence the attitude of the woman toward some event she has observed? It may be objected that the subjective attitude of a witness will never influence a judge, who can easily discover the objective truth in the one-sided observation of an event. But let us not deceive ourselves, let us take things as they are. Subjective attitude may become objective falsehood in spite of the best endeavor of the witness, and the examiner may fail altogether to distinguish between what is truth and what poetry. Further, in many instances the witness must be questioned with regard to the impression the event made on her. Particularly, if the event can not be described in words.

We must ask whether the witness's impression was that an attack was dangerous, a threat serious, a blackmail conceivable, a brawl intentional, a gesture insulting, an assault premeditated. In these, and thousands of other cases, we must know the point of view, and are compelled to draw our deductions from it. And finally, who of us believes himself to be altogether immune to emotional induction? The witness describes us the event in definite tones which are echoed to us. If there are other witnesses the incomplete view may be corrected, but if there is only one witness, or one whom for some reason we believe more than others, or if there are several, but equally-trusted witnesses, the condition, view-point, and "fact," remain inadequate in us. Whoever has before him a pregnant woman with

her impressions altered in a thousand ways, may therefore well be "up in the air!"[1]

The older literature which develops an elaborate casuistic concerning cases in which pregnant women exhibited especial desires, or abnormal changes in their perceptions and expressions, is in many directions of considerable importance. We must, however, remember that the old observations are rarely exact and were always made with less knowledge than we nowadays possess.

Section 68. (d) Erotic.

A question which is as frequent as it is idle, concerns the degree of sexual impulse in woman. It is important for the lawyer to know something about this, of course, for many a sexual crime may be more properly judged if it is known how far the woman encouraged the man; and in similar cases the knowledge might help us to presume what attitude feminine witnesses might take toward the matter. First of all, the needs of individual women are as different as those of individual men, and as varied as the need for food, drink, warmth, rest, and a hundred other animal requirements. We shall be unable to find any standard by determining even an average. It is useless to say that sexual sensibility is less in woman than in man; because specialists contradict each other on this matter. We are not aided either by Sergi's[1] assertion, that the sensibility is less than the irritability in woman, or by Mantegazza's statement, that women rarely have such powerful sexual desire that it causes them pain. We can learn here, also, only by means of the interpretation of good particular observations. When, for example, the Italian positivists repeatedly assert that woman is less erotic and more sexual, they mean that man cares more about the satisfaction of the sexual impulse, woman about the maternal instinct. This piece of information may help us to explain some cases; at least we shall understand many a girl's mistake without needing immediately to presuppose rape, seduction by means of promises of marriage, etc. Once we have in mind soberly what fruits dishonor brings to a girl,—scorn and shame, the difficulties of pregnancy, alienation from relatives, perhaps even banishment

from the paternal home, perhaps the loss of a good position, then the pains and sorrows of child-birth, care of the child, reduction of earnings, difficulties and troubles with the child, difficulties in going about, less prospect of care through wedlock,— these are of such extraordinary weight, that it is impossible to adduce so elementary a force to the sexual impulse as to enable it to veil the outlook upon this outcome of its satisfaction.

The well-known Viennese gynaecologist, Braun, said, "If it were naturally so arranged that in every wedlock man must bear the second child, there would be no more than three children in any family." His intention is, that even if the woman agrees to have the third child, the man would be so frightened at the pains of the first child-birth that he never again would permit himself to bear another. As we can hardly say that we have any reason for asserting that the sexual needs of woman are essentially greater, or that woman is better able to bear more pain than man, we are compelled to believe that there must be in woman an impulse lacking in man. This impulse must be supposed to be so powerful that it subdues, let us say briefly, all the fear of an illegitimate or otherwise undesirable child-birth, and this is the impulse we mean by sexuality, by the maternal instinct.

It would seem as if nature, at least in isolated cases, desires to confirm this view. According to Icard there are women who have children simply for the pleasure of suckling them, the suckling being a pleasant sensation. If, now, nature has produced a sexual impulse purely for the sake of preserving the species, she has given fuller expression to sexuality and the maternal instinct when she has endowed it with an especial impulse in at least a few definite cases. This impulse will explain to the criminalist a large number of phenomena, especially the accommodation of woman to man's desires; and from this along he may deduce a number of otherwise difficultly explainable psychical phenomena.

There is, of course, a series of facts which deny the existence of this impulse—but they only seem to. Child-murder, the very frequent cruelty of mothers to their children, the opposition of very young women to bearing and bringing up children (cf. the educated among French and American women), and similar phenomena seem to speak against the maternal instinct. We must not forget, however, that all impulses come to an end where the opposed impulse becomes stronger, and that under given circumstances even the most powerful impulse, that of self-preservation, may be opposed. All actions of

despair, tearing the beard, beating hands and feet together, rage at one's own health, and finally suicide may ensue. If the mother kills her own child, this action belongs to the same series as self-damage through despair. The more orderly and numerous actions and feelings in this direction, e. g., the disinclination of women toward bearing children, may be explained also by the fact that it is the consequence of definite conditions of civilization. If we recall what unnatural, senseless, and half crazy habits with regard to nutrition, dressing, social adjustments, etc., civilization and fashion have forced upon us, we do not need to adduce real perversity in order to understand how desire for comfort, how laziness and the scramble for wealth lead to suppression of the maternal instinct. This may also be called degeneration. There are still other less important circumstances that seem to speak against the maternal instinct. These consist primarily in the fact that the sexual impulse endures to a time when the mother is no longer young enough to bear a child. We know that the first gray hair in no sense indicates the last lover, and according to Tait, a period of powerful sex-impulsion ensues directly after the climacterium. Now of what use, so far as child-birth is concerned, can such an impulse be?

But because natural instincts endure beyond their period of purposive efficiency, it does not follow that they are unconnected with that efficiency; we eat and drink also when the food is superfluous as nourishment. Wonderfully as nature has adjusted the instincts and functions to definite purposes, she still has at no point drawn fixed boundaries and actually destroyed her instrument where the need for it ceased. Just because nature is elsewhere parsimonious, she seems frequently extravagant; yet that extravagance is the cheapest means of attaining the necessary end. Thus, when woman's passion is no longer required for the function of motherhood, its impulsion may yet be counted on for the psychological explanation of more than one criminal event.

What is important, is to count the maternal instinct as a factor in criminal situations. If we have done so, we find explanations not only of sexual impropriety, but of the more subtle questions of the more or less pure relation between husband and wife. What attitude the woman takes toward her husband and children, what she demands of them, what she sacrifices for them, what makes it possible for her to endure an apparently unendurable situation; what, again, undermines directly and suddenly, in spite of seemingly small value, her courage in life;—these are all conditions which

appear in countless processes as the distinguishing and explaining elements, and they are to be understood in the single term, "maternal instinct." For a long time the inexplicability of love and sexual impulse were offered as excuses, but these otherwise mighty factors had to be assigned such remarkable and self-contradictory aspects that only one confusion was added to another and called explanation. Now suppose we try to explain them by means of the maternal instinct.

Section 69. (e) Submerged Sexual Factors.

The criminal psychologist finds difficulties where hidden impulses are at work without seeming to have any relation to their results. In such cases the starting-point for explanation is sought in the wrong direction. I say starting-point, because "motive" must be conscious, and "ground" might be misunderstood. We know of countless criminal cases which we face powerless because we do indeed know the criminal but are unable to explain the causal connection between him and the crime, or because, again, we do not know the criminal, and judge from the facts that we might have gotten a clew if we had understood the psychological development of the crime. If we seek for "grounds," we may possibly think of so many of them as never to approach the right one; if we seek motives, we may be far misled because we are able only to bring the criminal into connection with his success, a matter which he must have had in mind from the beginning. It is ever easy for us when motive and crime are in open connection: greed, theft; revenge, arson; jealousy, murder; etc. In these cases the whole business of examination is an example in arithmetic, possibly difficult, but fundamental. When, however, from the deed to its last traceable grounds, even to the attitude of the criminal, a connected series may be discovered and yet no explanation is forthcoming, then the business of interpretation has reached its end; we begin to feel about in the dark. If we find nothing, the situation is comparatively good, but it is exceedingly bad in the numerous cases in which we believe ourselves to have sighted and pursued the proper solution.

Such a hidden source or starting-point of very numerous crimes is sex. That it often works invisibly is due to the sense of shame. Therefore it is more frequent in women. The hidden sexual starting-point plays its part in the little insignificant lie of an unimportant woman witness, as well as in the poisoning of a husband for the sake of a paramour still to be won. It sails everywhere under a

false flag; nobody permits the passion to show in itself; it must receive another name, even in the mind of the woman whom it dominates.

The first of the forms which the sexual impulse takes is false piety, religiosity. This is something ancient. Friedreich points to the connection between religious activity and the sexual organization, and cites many stories about saints, like that of the nun Blanbekin, of whom it was said, "eam scire desiderasse cum lacrimis, et moerore maximo, ubinam esset praeputium Christi." The holy Veronica Juliani, in memory of the lamb of God, took a lamb to bed with her and nursed it at her breast. Similarly suggestive things are told of St. Catherine of Genoa, of St. Armela, of St. Elizabeth, of the Child Jesus, etc. Reinhard says correctly that sweet memories are frequently nothing more or less than outbursts of hidden passion and attacks of sensual love. Seume is mistaken in his assertion that mysticism lies mainly in weakness of the nerves and colic—it lies a span deeper.

The use of this fact is simple. We must discover whether a woman is morally pure or sensual, etc. This is important, not only in violations of morality, but in every violation of law. The answers we receive to questions on this matter are almost without exception worthless or untrue, because the object of the question is not open to view, is difficult to observe, and is kept hidden from even the nearest. Our purpose is, therefore, best attained by directing the question to religious activity, religiosity, and similar traits. These are not only easy to perceive, but are openly exhibited because of their nature. Whoever assumes piety, does so for the sake of other people, therefore does not hide it. If religious extravagance can be reliably confirmed by witnesses, it will rarely be a mistake to assume inclination to more or less stifled sexual pleasure.

Examples of the relationship are known to every one of us, but I want to cite two out of my own experience as types. In one of them the question turned on the fact that a somewhat old, unmarried woman had appropriated certain rather large trust sums and had presented them to her servant. At first every suspicion of the influence of sex was set aside. Only the discovery of the fact that in her ostentatious piety she had set up an altar in her house, and compelled her servant to pray at it in her company, called attention to the deep interest of this very moral maiden in her servant.

The second case dealt with the poisoning of an old, impotent

husband by his young wife. The latter was not suspected by anybody, but at her examination drew suspicion to herself by her unctuous, pious appearance. She was permitted to express herself at length on religious themes and showed so very great a love of saints and religious secrets that it was impossible to doubt that a glowing sensuality must be concealed underneath this religious ash. Adultery could not be proved, she must have for one reason or another avoided it, and that her impotent husband was unsatisfactory was now indubitable. The supposition that she wanted to get rid of him in order to marry somebody else was now inevitable; and as this somebody else was looked for and discovered, the adduction of evidence of her guilt was no longer difficult.

How captious it is to prove direct passion and to attach reasonable suspicion thereto, and how necessary it is, first of all, to establish what the concealing material is, is shown in a remark of Kraus,[1] who asserts that the wife never affects to be passionate with her husband; her desire is to seduce him and she could not desire that if she were not passionate. This assertion is only correct in general. It is not, however, true that woman has no reason for affectation, for there are enough cases in which some woman, rendered with child by a poor man, desires to seduce a man of wealth in order to get a wealthy father for her child. In such and similar cases, the woman could make use of every trick of seduction without needing to be in the least passionately disposed.

Another important form of submerged sexuality is ennui. Nobody can say what ennui is, and everybody knows it most accurately. Nobody would say that it is burdensome, and yet everybody knows, again, that a large group of evil deeds spring from ennui. It is not the same as idleness; I may be idle without being bored, and I may be bored although I am busy. At best, boredom may be called an attitude which the mind is thrown into because of an unsatisfied desire for different things. We speak of a tedious region, a tedious lecture, and tedious company only by way of metonymy—we always mean the emotional state they put us into. The internal condition is determinative, for things that are boresome to one may be very interesting to another. A collection, a library, a lecture, are all tedious and boresome by transposition of the emotional state to the objective content, and in this way the ides of boredom gets a wide scope. We, however, shall speak of boredom as an emotional state. We find it most frequently among girls, young women, and among

undeveloped or feminine men as a very significant phenomenon. So found, it is that particular dreamful, happy, or unhappy attitude expressed in desire for something absent, in quiet reproaches concerning the lack of the satisfaction of that desire, with the continually recurring wish for filling out an inner void. The basis of all this is mainly sex. It can not be proved as such mathematically, but experience shows that the emotional attitude occurs only in the presence of sexual energy, that it is lacking when the desires are satisfied, but that otherwise, even the richest and best substitution can offer no satisfaction. It is not daring, therefore, to infer the erotic starting-point. Again we see how the moralizing and training influence of rigidly-required work suppresses all superfluous states which themselves make express demands and might want complete satisfaction.

But everything has its limits, and frequently the gentle, still power of sweet ennui is stronger than the pressure and compulsion of work. When this power is present, it never results in good, rarely in anything indifferent, and frequently forbidden fruit ripens slowly in its shadow. Nobody will assert that ennui is the cause of illicit relations, of seduction, of adultery and all the many sins that depend on it—from petty misappropriations for the sake of the beloved, to the murder of the unloved husband. But ennui is for the criminal psychologist a sign that the woman was unsatisfied with what she had and wanted something else. From wishing to willing, from willing to asking, is not such a great distance. But if we ask the repentant sinner when she began to think of her criminal action we always learn that she suffered from incurable ennui, in which wicked thoughts came and still more wicked plans were hatched. Any experienced criminal psychologist will tell you, when you ask him, whether he has been much subject to mistakes in trying to explain women's crimes from the starting-point of their ennui. The neighborhood knows of the periods of this ennui, and the sinner thinks that they are almost discovered if she is asked about them. Cherchez la femme, cherchez l'amour; cherchez l'ennui; and hundreds of times you find the solution.

Conceit, too, may be caused by hidden sexuality. We need only to use the word denotatively, for when we speak of the conceit of a scholar, an official, or a soldier, we mean properly the desire for fame, the activity of getting oneself praised and recognized. Conceit proper is only womanish or a property of feminine men, and just as, according to Darwin, the coloration of birds, insects, and even

plants serves only the purposes of sexual selection and has, therefore, sexual grounds, so also the conceit of woman has only sexual purpose. She is conceited for men alone even though through the medium of other women. As Lotze wrote in his "Mikrokosmus," "Everything that calls attention to her person without doing her any harm is instinctively used by women as a means in sexual conflict." There is much truth in the terms "means" and "sexual conflict." The man takes the battle up directly, and if we deal with this subject without frills we may not deny that animals behave just as men do. The males battle directly with each other for the sake of the females, who are compelled to study how to arouse this struggle for their person, and thus hit upon the use of conceit in sexual conflict. That women are conceited does not much matter to us criminal psychologists; we know it and do not need to be told. But the forms in which their conceit expresses itself are important; its consequences and its relation to other conditions are important.

To make use of feminine conceit in the court-room is not an art but an unpermissible trick which might lead too far. Whoever wants to succeed with women, as Madame de Rieux says, "must bring their self-love into play." And St. Prospère: "Women are to be sought not through their senses—their weakness is in their heart and conceit." These properties are, however, so powerful that they may easily lead to deception. If the judge does not understand how to follow this prescription it does no good, but if he does understand it he has a weapon with which woman may be driven too far, and then wounded pride, anger, and even suggestion work in far too vigorous a manner. For example, a woman wants to defend her lover before the judge. Now, if the latter succeeds by the demonstration of natural true facts in wounding her conceit, in convincing her that she is betrayed, harmed, or forgotten by her protected lover, or if she is merely made to believe this, she goes, in most cases, farther than she can excuse, and accuses and harms him as much as possible; tries, if she is able, to destroy him—whether rightly or wrongly she does not care. She has lost her lover and nobody else shall have him. "Feminine conceit," says Lombroso, "explains itself especially in the fact that the most important thing in the life of woman is the struggle for men." This assertion is strengthened by a long series of examples and historical considerations and can serve as a guiding thread in many labyrinthine cases. First of all, it is important to know in many trials whether a woman has already taken up this struggle for men, i. e., whether she has a lover,

or wishes to have a lover. If it can be shown that she has suddenly become conceited, or her conceit has been really intensified, the question has an unconditionally affirmative answer. Frequently enough one may succeed even in determining the particular man, by ascertaining with certainty the time at which this conceit first began, and whether it had closer or more distant reference to some man. If these conditions, once discovered, are otherwise at all confirmed, and there are no mistakes in observation, the inference is inevitably certain.

We learn much concerning feminine conceit when we ask how a man could have altered the inclination of a woman whose equal he in no sense was. It is not necessary in such cases to fuss about the insoluble riddle of the female heart and about the ever-dark secrets of the feminine soul. Vulpes vult fraudem, lupus agnum, femina laudem—this illuminates every profundity. The man in question knew how to make use of laudem—he knew how to excite feminine conceit, and so vanquished others who were worth much more than he.

This goes so far that by knowing the degree of feminine conceit we know also the vivacity of feminine sexuality, and the latter is criminologically important. Heinroth[2] says, "The feminine individual, so long as it has demands to make, or believes itself to have them, has utmost self-confidence. Conceit is the sexual characteristic." And we may add, "and the standard of sexuality." As soon as the child has the first ribbon woven into its hair, sexuality has been excited. It increases with the love of tinsel and glitter and dies when the aging female begins to neglect herself and to go about unwashed. Woman lies when she asserts that everything is dead in her heart, and sits before you neatly and decoratively dressed; she lies when she says that she still loves her husband, and at the same time shows considerable carelessness about her body and clothes; she lies when she assures you that she has always been the same and her conceit has come or gone. These statements constitute unexceptionable rules. The use of them involves no possible error.

We have now the opportunity to understand what feminine knowledge is worth and in what degree it is reliable. This is no place to discuss the capacity of the feminine brain, and to venture into the dangerous field which Schopenhauer and his disciples and modern anthropologists have entered merely to quarrel in. The judge's business is the concrete case in which he must test the expressions

of a woman when they depend upon real or apparent knowledge, either just as he must test the testimony of any other witness, or by means of experts. We shall therefore indicate only the symptomatic value of feminine knowledge with regard to feminine conceit. According to Lotze, women go to theater and to church only to show their clothes and to appear artistic and pious; while M. d'Arconville says, that women learn only that it may be said of them, "They are scholars," but for knowledge they care not at all.

This is important because we are likely, with regard to knowledge in the deepest sense of the word, to be frequently unjust to women. We are accustomed to suppose that the accumulation of some form of knowledge must have some definite, hence causally related, connection with purpose. We ask why the scholar is interested in his subject, why he has sought this knowledge? And in most cases we find the right reason when we have found the logical connection and have sought it logically. This might have explained difficult cases, but not where the knowledge of women is concerned. Women are interested in art, literature, and science, mainly out of conceit, but they care also for hundreds of other little things in order, by the knowledge of them, to show off as scholars. Conceit and curiosity are closely related. Women therefore often attain information that might cause them to be listed as suspects if it could not be harmlessly explained by conceit. Conceit, however, has itself to be explained by the struggle for men, because woman knows instinctively that she can use knowledge in this struggle. And this struggle for the other sex frequently betrays woman's own crime, or the crime of others. Somebody said that Eve's first thought after eating the apple was: "How does my fig-leaf fit?" It is a tasteful notion, that Eve, who needed only to please her Adam, thought only of this after all the sorrow of the first sin! But it is true, and we may imagine Eve's state of mind to be as follows: "Shall I now please him more or less?" It is characteristic that the question about dress is said to have been the first question. It shows the power of conceit, the swiftness with which it presses to the front. Indeed, of all crimes against property half would have remained undiscovered if the criminals had been self-controlled enough to keep their unjustly acquired gains dark for a while. That they have not, constitutes the hope of every judge for the discovery of the criminal, and the hope is greater with the extent of the theft. It may be assumed that the criminal exhibits the fruits of his crime, but that it is difficult to discover when there is not much of it. This general

rule is much more efficacious among women than among men, for which reason a criminalist who suspects some person thinks rather of arresting this person's wife or mistress than himself. When the apprentice steals something from his master, his girl gets a new shawl, and that is not kept in the chest but immediately decorates the shoulders of the girl. Indeed, women of the profoundest culture can not wait a moment to decorate themselves with their new gauds, and we hear that gypsies, who have been caught in some fresh crime, are betrayed mainly by the fact that the women who had watched the house to be robbed had been trying on bits of clothing while the men were still inside cleaning the place up. What was most important for the women was to meet the men already decorated anew when the men would finally come back.

The old maid is, from the sexual standpoint, legally important because she is in herself rather different from other women, and hence must be differently understood. The properties assigned to these very pitiful creatures are well-known. Many of the almost exclusively unpleasant peculiarities assigned to them they may be said really to possess. The old maid has failed in her natural function and thus exhibits all that is implied in this accident; bitterness, envy, unpleasantness, hard judgment of others' qualities and deeds, difficulty in forming new relationships, exaggerated fear and prudery, the latter mainly as simulation of innocence. It is a well-known fact that every experienced judge may confirm that old maids (we mean here, always, childless, unmarried women of considerable age— not maids in the anatomical sense) as witnesses, always bring something new. If you have heard ten mutually-corroborating statements and the eleventh is made by an old maid, it will be different. The latter, according to her nature, has observed differently, introduces a collection of doubts and suggestions, introduces nasty implications into harmless things, and if possible, connects her own self with the matter. This is as significant as explicable. The poor creature has not gotten much good out of life, has never had a male protector, was frequently enough defenseless against scorn and teasing, the amenities of social life and friendship were rarely her portion. It is, therefore, almost inevitable that she should see evil everywhere. If she has observed some quarrel from her window she will testify that the thing was provoked in order to disturb her; if a coachman has run over a child, she suggests that he had been driving at her in order to frighten her; the thief who broke into her neighbor's house really wanted to break into hers because she is

without protection and therefore open to all attacks, so that it is conceivable that he should want to hurt her. As a rule there will be other witnesses, or the old maid will be so energetic in her testimonies that her "perceptions" will not do much damage, but it is always wise to be cautious.

Of course, there are exceptions, and it is well-known that exceptions occur by way of extreme contrast. If an old maid does not possess the unpleasant characteristics of her breed, she is extraordinarily kind and lovable, in such a way generally, that her all too mild and rather blind conceptions of an event make her a dangerous witness. It is also true that old maids frequently are better educated and more civilized than other women, as De Quincey shows. They are so because, without the care of husband and children, they have time for all kinds of excellences, especially when they are inclined thereto. It is notable that the founders of women's charitable societies are generally old maids or childless widows, who have not had the joys and tasks of motherhood. We must take care, therefore, in judging the kindness of a woman, against being blinded by her philanthropic activity. That may be kindness, but as a rule it may have its source in the lack of occupation, and in striving for some form of motherhood. In judging old maids we deceive ourselves still more easily because, as Darwin keenly noted, they always have some masculine quality in their external appearance as well as in their activity and feeling. Now that kind of woman is generally strange to us. We start wrong when we judge her by customary standards and miss the point when, in the cases of such old maids, we presuppose only feminine qualities and overlook the very virile additions. We may add to these qualities the intrinsic productivity of old maids. Benneke, in his "Pragmatische Psychologie," compares the activity of a very busy housewife with that of an unmarried virgin, and thinks the worth of the former to be higher, while the latter accomplishes more by way of "erotic fancies, intrigues, inheritances, winnings in the lottery, and hypochondriac complaints." This is very instructive from the criminological point of view. For the criminalist can not be too cautious when he has an old maid to examine. Therefore, when a case occurs containing characteristic intrigues, fanciful inheritances, and winnings in the lottery, it will be well to seek out the old maid behind these things. She may considerably help the explanation.

Both professional and popular judgment agree that the largest majority of women have great fear of becoming old maids. We are

told how this fear expresses itself in foreign countries. In Spain e. g., it is said that a Spanish woman who has passed her first bloom takes the first available candidate for her hand in order to avoid old-maidenhood; and in Russia every mature girl who is able to do so, goes abroad for a couple of years in order to return as "widow." Everybody knows the event, nobody asks for particulars about it. Some such process is universal, and many an unfortunate marriage and allied crime may be explained by it. Girls who at seventeen or eighteen were very particular and had a right to be, are modest at twenty, and at twenty-six marry at any price, in order not to remain old maids. That this is not love-marriage and is often contrary to intelligence, is clear, and when neither heart nor head rule, the devil laughs, and it is out of such marriages that adultery, the flight of the wife, cruelty, robbery from the spouse, and worse things, arise. Therefore it will be worth while to study the history of the marriage in question. Was it a marriage in the name of God, i. e., the marriage of an old maid? Then double caution must be used in the study of the case.

There is some advantage in knowing the popular conception of when a girl becomes an old maid, for old-maidenhood is a matter of a point of view; it depends on the opinion of other people. Belles-lettres deals considerably with this question, for it can itself determine the popular attitude to the unmarried state. So Brandes discovers that the heroines of classical novelists, of Racine, Shakespeare, Moliere, Voltaire, Ariosto, Byron, Lesage, Scott, are almost always sixteen years of age. In modern times, women in novels have their great love-adventure in the thirties. How this advance in years took place we need not bother to find out, but that it has occurred, we must keep in mind.

Before concluding the chapter on sexual conditions, we must say a word about hysteria, which so very frequently has deceived the judge. Hysteria was named by the ancients, as is known, from η υστερα, the womb,—and properly—for most of the causes of evil are there hidden. The hysterics are legally significant in various ways. Their fixed ideas often cause elaborate unreasonable explanations; they want to attract attention, they are always concerned with themselves, are always wildly enthusiastic about somebody else; often they persecute others with unwarranted hatred and they are the source of the coarsest denunciations, particularly with regard to sexual crimes. Incidentally, most of them are smart and have a diseased acuity of the senses. Hearing and smell in

particular, are sometimes remarkably alert, although not always reliable, for hysterics frequently discover more than is there. On the other hand, they often are useful because of their delicate senses, and it is never necessary to show the correctness of their perception out of hand. Bianchi rightly calls attention to the fact, that hysterics like to write anonymous letters. Writers of these are generally women, and mainly hysterical women; if a man writes them, he is indubitably feminine in nature.

Most difficulties with hysterics occur when they suffer some damage,[3] for they not only add a number of dishonest phenomena, but also actually feel them. I might recall by way of example Domrich's story, that hysterics regularly get cramps laughing, when their feet get cold. If this is true it is easy to conceive what else may happen.

All this, clearly, is a matter for the court physician, who alone should be the proper authority when a hysteric is before the court. We lawyers have only to know what significant dangers hysterics threaten, and further, that the physician is to be called whenever one of them is before us. Unfortunately there are no specific symptoms of hysteria which the layman can make use of. We must be satisfied with the little that has just been mentioned. Hysteria, I had almost said fortunately, is nowadays so widespread that everybody has some approximate knowledge of how it affects its victims.

(4) Particular Feminine Qualities.
Section 70. (a) Intelligence.

Feminine intelligence properly deserves a separate section. Intelligence is a function that has in both sexes some basis and purpose and proceeds according to the same rules, but the meaning of intelligence must be abandoned if we are to suppose it so rigid and so difficult to hold, that the age-long differences between man and woman could have had no influence on it. The fundamentally distinct bodies, the very different occupations of both sexes, their different destinies, must have had profound mutative influence on their intelligence. Moreover, we must always start with a difference of attitude in the two sexes, in which the purely positive belongs to one only, and we must see whether it is not intensified by the negative of the other. When one body presses on another the resulting impression is due, not only to the hardness of the first, but

also to the softness of the second, and when we hear about the extraordinary wit of a woman we must blame the considerable idiocy of the men she associates with. How many women are to be trusted for intelligence, is a question of great importance for the criminalist, inasmuch as right judgment depends on the attitude and good sense of the witnesses, and must determine the value of the material presented us.

We wish to make no detailed sub-divisions in what follows. We shall merely consider in their general aspects those functions which we are accustomed to find in our own work.

Section 71. I. Conception.

Concerning feminine sense-perception we have already spoken. There is no significant difference between the two sexes, although in conceptual power we find differences very distinct.

It may be generally said, as the daily life shows, that women conceive differently from men. Whatever a dozen men may agree on conceptually, will be differently thought of by any one woman. Now what is significant in this fact is, that generally the woman is correct, that she has a better conception,—and still under the same circumstances we continue to conceive in the same way, even for the tenth time. This fact demonstrates that a different form of organization, i. e., an essential difference in nature, determines the character of conception in the two sexes. If we compare values, the result will be different according to sex, even with regard to the very material compared, or to the manner in which it has been discovered. In the apprehension of situations, the perception of attitudes, the judgment of people in certain relations, in all that is called tact, i. e., in all that involves some abstraction or clarification of confused and twisted material, and finally, in all that involves human volitions, women are superior, and more reliable individually, then ten men together. But the manner in which the woman obtains her conception is less valuable, being the manner of pure instinct. Or suppose that we call it more delicate feeling—the name does not matter—the process is mainly unconscious, and is hence of less value only, if I may say so, as requiring less thought. In consequence, there is not only not a decrease in the utility of feminine testimony; also its reliability is very great. There may be hundreds of errors in the dialectical procedure of a man, while there is much more certainty in the instinctive conception and the direct reproduction of a woman. Hence, her statements are more reliable.

We need not call the source of this instinct God's restitution for feminine deficiency in other matters; we can show that it is due to natural selection, and that the position and task of woman requires her to observe her environment very closely. This need sharpened the inner sense until it became unconscious conception. Feminine interest in the environment is what gives female intuition a swiftness and certainty unattainable in the meditations of the profoundest philosophers. The swiftness of the intuition, which excludes all reflection, and which merely solves problems, is the important thing. Woman perceives clearly, as Spencer says somewhere, the mental status of her personal environment; while Schopenhauer has incorrectly suggested that women differ from men intellectually because they are lazy and want short-cuts to attain their purpose. In point of fact, they do not want short-cuts—they simply avoid complicated inference and depend upon intuition, as they very safely may. Vision is possible only where perception is possible, i. e., when things are near. The distant and the veiled can not be seen, but must be inferred; hence, women let inference alone and do what they can do better. This suggests the value of these different interpretations of the feminine mode of conception. As lawyers we may believe women where intuition is involved; where inference is a factor we must be very careful. Sensory conception is to be understood in the same way as intellectual conception. According to Mantegazza,[1] woman has a particularly good eye for the delicate aspects of things but has no capacity for seeing things on the horizon. A remote, big object does not much excite her interest. This is explained by the supposed fact that women as a rule can not see so far as men, and are unable to distinguish the distant object so well. This is no explanation because it would be as valid of all short-sighted people. The truth is, that the definition of distant objects requires more or less reason and inference. Woman does not reason and infer, and if things miss her intuition, they do not exist for her.

Objectivity is another property that women lack. They tend always to think in personalities, and they conceive objects in terms of personal sympathies. Tell a woman about a case so that her interest will be excited without your naming the individuals save as A and B, and it will be impossible to get her to take a stand or to make a judgment. Who are the people, what are they, how old are they, etc.? These questions must be answered first. Hence the divergent feminine conceptions of a case before and after the

names are discovered. The personalizing tendency results in some extraordinary things. Suppose a woman is describing a brawl between two persons, or two groups. If the sides were equally matched in strength and weapons, and if the witness in question did not know any of the fighters before, she will nevertheless redistribute sun and wind in her description if one of the brawlers happens accidentally to have interested her, or has behaved in a "knightly" fashion, though under other circumstances he might have earned only her dislike. In such cases the fairy tale about telling mere facts recurs, and I have to repeat that nobody tells mere facts—that judgment and inference always enter into statements and that women use them more than men. Of course real facts and inferred ones can be distinguished,—infrequently however, and never with certainty. It is best, therefore, to determine whether the witness bears any relation to one of the parties, and what it is. And this relation will be an element in most cases inasmuch as one rarely is present at a quarrel without some share in it. But even if the latter case should occur, it is necessary, first of all, to hear every detail so as to get the woman's attitude clearly in mind. The evidence of the woman's mode of conception is of more importance than the evidence concerning the fact itself. And finding the former is easy enough if the woman is for a short time allowed to speak generally. When her attitude is known, the standard for adjusting her excuses of one and accusations of another, is easily discovered.

The same is true in purely individual cases. In the eyes of woman the same crime committed by one man is black as hell; committed by another, it is in all respects excusable. All that is necessary for this attitude is the play of sympathies and antipathies generated from whatever source. Just as the woman reader of romances favors one hero and hates another, so the woman witness behaves toward her figures. And it may happen that she finds one of them to have murdered with such "exciting excellence," and the victim to have been "such a boresome Philistine," that she excuses the crime. Caution is here the most necessary thing. Of course women are not alone in taking such attitudes, but they are never so clear, so typical, nor so determined as when taken by women.

Section 72. 2. Judgment.

Avenarius tells of an English couple who were speaking about angels' wings. It was the man's opinion that this angelic possession was doubtful, the woman's that it could not be. Many a woman

witness has reminded me of this story, and I have been able to explain by use of it many an event. Woman says, "that must be" when she knows of no reason; "that must be" when her own arguments bore her; "that must be" when she is confused; when she does not understand the evidence of her opponent, and particularly when she desires something. Unfortunately, she hides this attitude under many words, and one often wishes for the simple assertion of the English woman, "that must be." In consequence, when we want to learn their ratio sciendi from women, we get into difficulties. They offer us a collection of frequently astonishing and important things, but when we ask for the source of this collection we get "that must be," in variations, from a shrug of the shoulders to a flood of words. The inexperienced judge may be deceived by the positiveness of such expressions and believe that such certainty must be based on something which the witness can not utter through lack of skill. If, now, the judge is going to help the "unaided" witness with "of course you mean because," or "perhaps because," etc., the witness, if she is not a fool, will say "yes." Thus we get apparently well-founded assertions which are really founded on nothing more than "that must be."

Cases dealing with divisions, distinctions and analysis rarely contain ungrounded assertions by women. Women are well able to analyse and explain data, and what one is capable of and understands, one succeeds in justifying. Their difficulty is in synthetic work, in progressive movement, and there they simply assert. The few observations of this characteristic confirm this statement. For example, Lafitte says that at medical examinations women are unable to do anything which requires synthetic power. Women's judgments of men further confirm this position, for they are said to be more impressed with a minimal success, than with a most magnificent effort. Now there is no injustice, no superficiality in this observation; its object is simply parallel to their incapacity for synthesis. Inasmuch as they are able to follow particular things they will understand a single success, but the growth of efficiency toward the future requires composition and wide horizon, hence they can not understand it. Hence, also, the curious contradictions in women's statements as suspicion rises and falls. A woman, who to-day knows of a hundred reasons for the guilt of some much-compromised prisoner, tries to turn everything the other way when she later learns that the prisoner has succeeded in producing some apparent alibi. So again, if the prosecution seems to be successful,

the women witnesses for the defence often become the most dangerous for the defenders.

But here, also, women find a limit, perhaps because like all weaklings they are afraid to draw the ultimate conclusions. As Leroux says in "De l'Humanité," "If criminals were left to women they would kill them all in the first burst of anger, and if one waited until this burst had subsided they would release them all." The killing points to the easy excitability, the passionateness, and the instinctive sense of justice in women which demands immediate revenge for evil deeds. The liberation points to the fact that women are afraid of every energetic deduction of ultimate consequences, i. e., they have no knowledge of real justice. "Men look for reasons, women judge by love; women can love and hate, but they can not be just without loving, nor can they ever learn to value justice." So says Schiller, and how frequently do we not hear the woman's question whether the accused's fate is going to depend on her evidence. If we say yes, there is as a rule a restriction of testimony, a titillation and twisting of consequences, and this circumstance must always be remembered. If you want to get truth from a woman you must know the proper time to begin, and what is more important, when to stop. As the old proverb says, and it is one to take to heart: "Women are wise when they act unconsciously; fools when they reflect."

It is a familiar fact that women, committing crimes, go to extremes. It may be correct to adduce, as modern writers do, the weakness of feminine intelligence to social conditions, and it may, perhaps, be for this reason that the future of woman lies in changing the feminine milieu. But also with regard to environment she is an extremist. The most pious woman, as Richelieu says, will not hesitate to kill a troublesome witness. The most complicated crimes are characteristically planned by women, and are frequently swelled with a number of absolutely purposeless criminal deeds.

In this circumstance we sometimes find the explanation for an otherwise unintelligible crime which, perhaps, indicates also, that the first crime was committed by woman. It is as if she has in turpitude a certain pleasure to which she abandons herself as soon as she has passed the limit in her first crime.

Section 73. 3. Quarrels with Women.

This little matter is intended only for very young and inexperienced criminal justices. There is nothing more exciting or instructive than

a quarrel with clever and trained women concerning worthy subjects; but this does not happen in court, and ninety per cent. of our woman witnesses are not to be quarrelled with. There are two occasions on which a quarrel may arise. The first, when we are trying to show a denying prisoner that her crime has already been proved and that her denials are silly, and the second, when we are trying to show a witness that she must know something although she refuses to know it, or when we want to show her the incorrectness of her conclusion, or when we want to lead her to a point where her testimony can have further value. Now a verbal quarrel will hurt the case. This is a matter of ancient experience, for whoever quarrels with women is, as Börne says, in the condition of a man who must unceasingly polish lights.[1]

Women have an obstinacy, and it is no easy matter to be passive against it. But in the interest of justice, the part of the wise is not to lose any time by making an exhibition of himself through verbal quarrels with women witnesses. The judge may be thoroughly convinced that his success with the woman may help the case, but such success is very rare, and when he thinks he has it, it is only apparent and momentary, or is merely naive self-deception. For women do like, for the sake of a momentary advantage, to please men and to appear convinced, but the judge for whom a woman does this is in a state that requires consideration.

A few more particulars concerning feminine intelligence. They are, however, only indirectly connected with it, and are as unintelligible as the fact that left-handedness is more frequent and color-blindness less frequent among women than among men. If, however, we are to explain feminine intelligence at all we must do so by conceiving that women's intellectual functioning stops at a definite point and can not pass beyond it.

Consider their attitude toward money. However distasteful Mammon may be in himself, money is so important a factor in life itself that it is not unintelligibly spoken of as the "majesty of cold cash." But to make incorrect use of an important thing is to be unintelligent. Whoever wastes money is not intelligent enough to understand what important pleasures he may provide for himself and whoever hoards it does not know its proper use. Now single women are either hoarders or wasters; they rarely take the middle way and assume the prudence of the housewife, which generally develops into miserliness. This is best observable in the foolish

bargaining of women at markets, in their supposing that they have done great things by having reduced the price of their purchase a few cents. Every dealer confirms the fact that the first price he quotes a woman is increased in order to give her a chance to bargain. But she does not bargain down to the proper price, she bargains down to a sum above the proper price, and she frequently buys unnecessary, or inferior things, simply because the dealer was smart enough to captivate her by allowing reductions. This is indicated in a certain criminal case,[2] in which the huckster-woman asserted that she immediately suspected a customer of passing counterfeit coins because she did not bargain.

Now this tendency to hoard is not essentially miserliness, for the chief purpose of miserliness is to bring together and to own money; to enjoy merely the look of it. This tendency is an unintelligent attitude toward money, a failure to judge its value and properties. Now this failure is one of the principal reasons for numerous crimes. A woman needing money for her thousand several objects, demands it from her husband, and the latter has to provide it without her asking whether he honestly can or not. A wife is said to be uncurious only with regard to the source of her husband's money. She knows his income, she knows the necessary annual expenses; she can immediately count up the fact that the two are equal—but she calmly asks for more.

Of course, I am not referring to the courageous helpmeet who stands by her husband in bearing the burdens of life. With her the criminalist has nothing to do. I mean only those light-headed, pleasure-loving women, who nowadays make the great majority, and that army of "lovers," who have cost the country a countless number of not unworthy men. The love of women is the key to many a crime, even murder, theft, swindling, and treachery. First, there is the woman's unintelligible arithmetic, then her ceaseless requirements, finally the man's surrender to the limit of his powers; then fresh demands, a long period of opposition, then surrender, and finally one unlawful action. From that it is only a step to a great crime. This is the simple theme of the countless variations that are played in the criminal court. There are proverbs enough to show how thoroughly the public understands this connection between love and money.[3]

An apparently insignificant feminine quality which is connected with her intelligence is her notorious, "never quite ready." The criminalist meets this when he is looking for an explanation of the failure of some probably extraordinarily intelligent plan of crime. Or when a crime occurs which might have been prevented by a step at the right minute, women are always ten minutes behind the time. But these minutes would not be gained if things were begun ten minutes earlier, and once a woman suffers real damage through tardiness, she resolves to be ten minutes ahead of time. But when she does so she fails in her resolution and this failure is to be explained by lack of intelligence. The little fact that women are never quite on time explains many a difficulty.

Feminine conservatism is as insignificant as feminine punctuality. Lombroso shows how attached women are to old things. Ideas, jewelry, verses, superstitions, and proverbs are better retained by women than by men. Nobody would venture to assert that a conservative man must be less intelligent than a liberal. Yet feminine conservatism indicates a certain stupidity, less excitability and smaller capacity for accepting new impressions. Women have a certain difficulty in assimilating and reconstructing things, and because of this difficulty they do not like to surrender an object after having received it. Hence, it is well not to be too free with the more honorable attributes such as piety, love, loyalty, respect to what they have already learned; closer investigation discovers altogether too many instances of intellectual rigidity.

In our profession we meet the fact frequently that men pass much more easily from honesty to dishonesty, and vice versa, that they more easily change their habits, begin new plans, etc. Generalizations, of course, can not be made; each case has to be studied on its merits. Yet, even when questions of fact arise, e. g., in searching houses, it is well to remember the distinction. Old letters, real corpora delicti, are much more likely to be found in the woman's box than in the man's. The latter has destroyed the thing long ago, but the former may "out of piety" have preserved for years even the poison she once used to commit murder with.

Section 74. (b) Honesty.

We shall speak here only of the honesty of the sort of women the courts have most to do with, and in this regard there is little to give us joy. Not to be honest, and to lie, are two different things; the latter is positive, the former negative, the dishonest person

does not tell the truth, the liar tells the untruth. It is dishonest to suppress a portion of the truth, to lead others into mistakes, to fail to justify appearances, and to make use of appearances. The dishonest person may not have said a single untrue word and still have introduced many more difficulties, confusions and deceptions than the liar. He is for this reason more dangerous than the latter. Also, because his conduct is more difficult to uncover and because he is more difficult to conquer than the liar. Dishonesty is, however, a specially feminine characteristic, and in men occurs only when they are effeminate. Real manliness and dishonesty are concepts which can not be united. Hence, the popular proverb says, "Women always tell the truth, but not the whole truth." And this is more accurate than the accusation of many writers, that women lie. I do not believe that the criminal courts can verify the latter accusation. I do not mean that women never lie—they lie enough— but they do not lie more than men do, and none of us would attribute lying to women as a sexual trait. To do so, would be to confuse dishonesty with lying.

It would be a mistake to deal too sternly in court with the dishonesty of women, for we ourselves and social conditions are responsible for much of it. We dislike to use the right names of things and choose rather to suggest, to remain in embarrassed silence, or to blush. Hence, it is too much to ask that this round-aboutness should be set aside in the courtroom, where circumstances make straight talking even more difficult. According to Lombroso,[1] women lie because of their weaknesses, and because of menstruation and pregnancy, for which they have in conversation to substitute other illnesses; because of the feeling of shame, because of the sexual selection which compels them to conceal age, defects, diseases; because finally of their desire to be interesting, their suggestibility, and their small powers of judgment. All these things tend to make them lie, and then as mothers they have to deceive their children about many things. Indeed, they are themselves no more than children, Lombroso concludes. But it is a mistake to suppose that these conditions lead to lying, for women generally acquire silence, some other form of action, or the negative propagation of error. But this is essentially dishonesty. To assert that deception, lying, have become physiological properties of women is, therefore, wrong. According to Lotze, women hate analysis and hence can not distinguish between the true and the false, but then women hate analysis

only when it is applied to themselves. A woman does not want to be analyzed herself simply because analysis would reveal a great deal of dishonesty; she is therefore a stranger to thorough-going honest activity. But for this men are to blame. Nobody, as Flaubert says, tells women the truth. And when once they hear it they fight it as something extraordinary. They are not even honest with themselves. But this is not only true in general; it is true also in particular cases which the court room sees. We ourselves make honesty difficult to women before the court. Of course, I do not mean that to avoid this we are to be rude and shameless in our conversation with women, but it is certain that we compel them to be dishonest by our round-about handling of every ticklish subject. Any half-experienced criminal justice knows that much more progress can be made by simple and absolutely open discussion. A highly educated woman with whom I had a frank talk about such a matter, said at the end of this very painful sitting, "Thank God, that you spoke frankly and without prudery—I was very much afraid that by foolish questions you might compel me to prudish answers and hence, to complete dishonesty."

We have led women so far by our indirection that according to Stendthal, to be honest, is to them identical with appearing naked in public. Balzac asks, "Have you ever observed a lie in the attitude and manner of woman? Deceit is as easy to them as falling snow in heaven." But this is true only if he means dishonesty. It is not true that it is easy for women really to lie. I do not know whether this fact can be proven, but I am sure the feminine malease in lying can be observed. The play of features, the eyes, the breast, the attitude, betrays almost always even the experienced female offender. Now, nothing can reveal the play of her essential dishonesty. If a man once confesses, he confesses with less constraint than a woman, and he is less likely, even if he is very bad, to take advantage of false favorable appearances, while woman accepts them with the semblance of innocence. If a man has not altogether given a complete version, his failure is easy to recognize by his hesitation, but the opinions of woman always have a definite goal, even though she should tell us only a tenth of what she might know and say.

Even her simplest affirmation or denial is not honest. Her "no" is not definite; e. g., her "no" to a man's demands. Still further, when a man affirms or denies and there is some limitation to his assertion. He either announces it expressly or the more trained ear

recognizes its presence in the failure to conclude, in a hesitation of the tone. But the woman says "yes" and "no," even when only a small portion of one or the other asserts a truth behind which she can hide herself, and this is a matter to keep in mind in the courtroom.

Also the art of deception or concealment depends on dishonesty rather than on pure deceit, because it consists much more in the use of whatever is at hand, and in suppression of material, than on direct lies. So, when the proverb says that a woman was ill only three times during the course of the year, but each time for four months, it will be unjust to say that she intentionally denies a year-long illness. She does not, but as a matter of fact, she is ill at least thirteen times a year, and besides, her weak physique causes her to feel frequently unwell. So she does not lie about her illness. But then she does not immediately announce her recovery and permits people to nurse and protect her even when she has no need of it. Perhaps she does so because, in the course of the centuries, she found it necessary to magnify her little troubles in order to protect herself against brutal men, and had, therefore, to forge the weapon of dishonesty. So Schopenhauer agrees: "Nature has given women only one means of protection and defence—hypocrisy; this is congenital with them, and the use of it is as natural as the animal's use of its claws. Women feel they have a certain degree of justification for their hypocrisy."

With this hypocrisy we have, as lawyers, to wage a constant battle. Quite apart from the various ills and diseases which women assume before the judge, everything else is pretended; innocence, love of children, spouses, and parents; pain at loss and despair at reproaches; a breaking heart at separation; and piety,—in short, whatever may be useful. This subjects the examining justice to the dangers and difficulties of being either too harsh, or being fooled. He can save himself much trouble by remembering that in this simulation there is much dishonesty and few lies. The simulation is rarely thorough-going, it is an intensification of something actually there.

And now think of the tears which are wept before every man, and not least, before the criminal judge. Popular proverbs tend to undervalue, often to distrust tearful women. Mantegazza[2] points out that every man over thirty can recall scenes in which it was difficult to determine how much of a woman's tears meant real

pain, and how much was voluntarily shed. In the notion that tears represent a mixture of poetry and truth, we shall find the correct solution. It would be interesting to question female virtuosos in tears (when women see that they can really teach they are quite often honest) about the matter. The questioner would inevitably learn that it is impossible to weep at will and without reason. Only a child can do that. Tears require a definite reason and a certain amount of time which may be reduced by great practice to a minimum, but even that minimum requires some duration. Stories in novels and comic papers in which women weep bitterly about a denied new coat, are fairy tales; in point of fact the lady begins by feeling hurt because her husband refused to buy her the thing, then she thinks that he has recently refused to buy her a dress, and to take her to the theatre; that at the same time he looks unfriendly and walks away to the window; that indeed, she is really a pitiful, misunderstood, immeasurably unhappy woman, and after this crescendo, which often occurs presto prestissimo, the stream of tears breaks through. Some tiny reason, a little time, a little auto-suggestion, and a little imagination,—these can keep every woman weeping eternally, and these tears can always leave us cold. Beware, however, of the silent tears of real pain, especially of hurt innocence. These must not be mistaken for the first. If they are, much harm may be done, for these tears, if they do not represent penitence for guilt, are real evidences of innocence. I once believed that the surest mark of such tears was the deceiving attempt to beat down and suppress them; an attempt which is made with elementary vigor. But even this attempt to fight them off is frequently not quite real.

As with tears, so with fainting. The greater number of fainting fits are either altogether false, or something between fainting and wakefulness. Women certainly, whether as prisoners or witnesses, are often very uncomfortable in court, and if the discomfort is followed immediately by illness, dizziness, and great fear, fainting is natural. If only a little exaggeration, auto-suggestion, relaxation, and the attempt to dodge the unpleasant circumstance are added, then the fainting fit is ready to order, and the effect is generally in favor of the fainter. Although it is wrong to assume beforehand that fainting is a comedy, it is necessary to beware of deception.

An interesting question, which, thank heaven, does not concern the criminal justice, is whether women can keep their word. When a criminalist permits a woman to promise not to tell anybody else

of her testimony, or some similar naïveté, he may settle his account with his conscience. The criminalist must not accept promises at all, and he is only getting his reward when women fool him. The fact is, that woman does not know the definite line between right and wrong. Or better, she draws the line in a different way; sometimes more sharply, but in the main more broadly than man, and in many cases she does not at all understand that certain distinctions are not permitted. This occurs chiefly where the boundaries are really unstable, or where it is not easy to understand the personality of the sufferer. Hence, it is always difficult to make woman understand that state, community, or other public weal, must in and for themselves be sacred against all harm. The most honest and pious woman is not only without conscience with regard to dodging her taxes, she also finds great pleasure in having done so successfully. It does not matter what it is she smuggles, she is glad to smuggle successfully, but smuggling is not, as might be supposed, a sport for women, though women need more nervous excitement and sport than men. Their attitude shows that they are really unable to see that they are running into danger because they are violating the law. When you tell them that the state is justified in forbidding smuggling, they always answer that they have smuggled such a very little, that nobody would miss the duties. Then the interest in smugglers and smuggling-stories is exceedingly great. We once had a girl who was born on the boundary between Italy and Austria. Her father was a notorious smuggler, the chief of a band that brought coffee and silk across the border. He grew rich in the trade, but he lost everything in an especially great venture, and was finally shot by the customs-officers at the boundary. If you could see with what interest, spirit, and keenness the girl described her father's dubious courses you would recognize that she had not the slightest idea that there was anything wrong in what he was doing.

Women, moreover, do not understand the least regulation. I frequently have had cases in which even intelligent women could not see why it was wrong to make a "small" change in a public register; why it was wrong to give, in a foreign city, a false name at the hotel; or why the police might forbid the shaking of dust-cloths over the heads of pedestrians, even from her "own" house; why the dog must be kept chained; and what good such "vexations" could do, anyway.

Again, tiny bits of private property are not safe from women. Note how impossible it is to make women understand that private

property is despoiled when flowers or fruit are plucked from a private garden. The point is so small, and as a rule, the property owner makes no objections, but it must be granted that he has the right to do so. Then their tendency to steal, in the country, bits of ground and boundaries is well known. Most of the boundary cases we have, involved the activity of some woman.

Even in their own homes women do not conceive property too rigidly. They appropriate pen, paper, pencils, clothes, etc., without having any idea of replacing what they have taken away. This may be confirmed by anybody whose desk is not habitually sacrosanct, and he will agree that it is not slovenliness, but defective sense of property that causes women to do this, for even the most consummate housekeepers do so. This defective property-sense is most clearly shown in the notorious fact that women cheat at cards. According to Lombroso, an educated, much experienced woman told him in confidence that it is difficult for her sex not to cheat at cards. Croupiers in gambling halls know things much worse. They say that they must watch women much more than men because they are not only more frequent cheaters, but more expert. Even at croquet and lawn-tennis girls are unspeakably smart about cheating if they can thereby put their masculine opponents impudently at a disadvantage.

We find many women among swindlers, gamblers, and counterfeiters; and moreover, we have the evidence of experienced housewives, that the cleverest and most useful servants are frequently thievish. What is instructive in all these facts is the indefiniteness of the boundary between honesty and dishonesty, even in the most petty cases. The defect in the sense of property with regard to little things explains how many a woman became a criminal— the road she wandered on grew, step by step, more extended. There being no definite boundary, it was inevitable that women should go very far, and when the educated woman does nothing more than to steal a pencil from her husband and to cheat at whist, her sole fortune is that she does not get opportunities or needs for more serious mistakes. The uneducated, poverty-stricken woman has, however, both opportunity and need, and crime becomes very easy to her. Our life is rich in experiment and our will too weak not to fail under the exigencies of existence, if, at the outset, a slightest deviation from the straight and narrow road is not avoided. If the justice is in doubt whether a woman has committed a great crime against property, his study will concern, not the deed, but

the time when the woman was in different circumstances and had no other opportunity to do wrong than mere nibbling at and otherwise foolish abstractions from other people's property. If this inclination can be proved, then there is justification for at least suspecting her of the greater crime.

The relation of women to such devilment becomes more instructive when it has to be discovered through woman witnesses. As a rule, there is no justification for the assumption that people are inclined to excuse whatever they find themselves guilty of. On the contrary, we are inclined to punish others most harshly where we ourselves are most guilty. And there is still another side to the matter. When an honest, well-conducted woman commits petty crimes, she does not consider them as crimes, she is unaware of their immorality, and it would be illogical for her to see as a crime in others that which she does not recognize as a crime in herself. It is for this reason that she tends to excuse her neighbor's derelictions. Now, when we try to find out from feminine witnesses facts concerning the objects on which we properly lay stress, they do not answer and cause us to make mistakes. What woman thinks is mere "sweet-tooth" in her servant girl, is larceny in criminal law; what she calls "pin-money," we call deceit, or violation of trust; for the man whom the woman calls "the dragon," we find in many cases quite different terms. And this feminine attitude is not Christian charity, but ignorance of the law, and with this ignorance we have to count when we examine witnesses. Of course, not only concerning some theft by a servant girl, but always when we are trying to understand some human weakness.

From honesty to loyalty is but a step. Often these traits lie side by side or overlap each other. Now, the criminal justice has, more frequently than appears, to deal with feminine loyalty. Problems of adultery are generally of subordinate significance only, but this loyalty or disloyalty often plays the most important rôle in trials of all conceivable crimes, and the whole problem of evidence takes a different form according to the assumption that this loyalty does, or does not, exist. Whether it is the murder of a husband, doubtful suicide, physical mutilation, theft, perversion of trust, arson, the case takes a different form if feminine disloyalty can be proved. The rare reference to this important premise in the presentation of evidence is due to the fact that we are ignorant of its significance, that its determinative factors are hidden, and finally that its presentation is as a rule difficult.

Public opinion on feminine loyalty is not flattering. Diderot asserts that there is no loyal woman who has not ceased being so, at least, in her imagination. Of course this does not mean much, for all of us have ideally committed many sins, but if Diderot is right, one may assume a feminine inclination to disloyalty. Most responsible for this is, of course, the purely sexual character of woman, but we must not do her the injustice, and ourselves the harm, of supposing that this character is the sole regulative principle; the illimitable feminine need for change is also responsible to a great degree. I doubt whether it could be proved in any collection of cases worth naming that a woman grew disloyal although her sexual needs were small; but that her sex does so is certain, and thence we must seek other reasons for their disloyalty. The love of change is fundamental and may be observed in recorded criminal cases. "Even educated women," says Goltz,[3] "can not bear continuous and uniform good fortune, and feel an inconceivable impulse to devilment and foolishness in order to get some variety in life." Now it will be much easier for the judge to determine whether the woman in the case had at the critical time an especial inclination to this "devilment," than to discover whether her own husband was sexually insufficient, or whatever similar secrets might be involved.

If woman, however, once has the impulse to seek variety, and the harmless and permissible changes she may provide herself are no longer sufficient or are lacking, the movement of her daily life takes a questionable direction. Then there is a certain tendency to deceit which is able to bring its particular consequences to bear. A woman has married, let us say, for love, or for money, for spite, to please her parents, etc., etc. Now come moments in her life in which she reflects concerning "her" reason for marriage, and the cause of these moments will almost always be her husband, i. e., he may have been ill-mannered, have demanded too much, have refused something, have neglected her, etc., and thus have wounded her so that her mood, when thinking of the reason of her marriage, is decidedly bad, and she begins to doubt whether her love was really so strong, whether the money was worth the trouble, whether she ought not to have opposed her parents, etc. And suppose she had waited, might she not have done better? Had she not deserved better? Every step in her musing takes her farther

from her husband. A man is nothing to a woman to whom he is not everything, and if he is nothing he deserves no especial consideration, and if he is undeserving, a little disloyalty is not so terrible, and finally, the little disloyalty gradually and naturally and smoothly leads to adultery, and adultery to a chain of crimes. That this process is not a thousand times more frequent, is merely due to the accident that the right man is not at hand during these so-called weak moments. Millions of women who boast of their virtue, and scorn others most nobly, have to thank their boasted virtue only to this accident. If the right man had been present at the right time they would have had no more ground for pride. There is only a simple and safe method for discovering whether a woman is loyal to her husband—lead her to say whether her husband neglects her. Every woman who complains that her husband neglects her is an adulteress or in the way of becoming one, for she seeks the most thrifty, the really sound reason which would justify adultery. How close she has come to this sin is easily discoverable from the degree of intensity with which she accuses her husband.

Besides adultery, the disloyalty of widow and of bride, there is also another sense in which disloyalty may be important. The first is important only when we have to infer some earlier condition, and we are likely to commit injustice if we judge the conduct of the wife by the conduct of the widow. As a rule there are no means of comparison. In numerous cases the wife loves her husband and is loyal to him even beyond the grave, but these cases always involve older women whom lust no longer affects. If the widow is at all young, pretty, and comparatively rich, she forgets her husband. If she has forgotten him, if after a very short time she has again found a lover and a husband, whether for "the sake of the poor children," or because "my first one, of blessed memory, desired it," or because "the second and the first look so much alike," or whatever other reason she might give, there is still no ground for supposing that she did not love her first husband, was disloyal to him, robbed and murdered him. She might have borne the happiest relations with him; but he is dead, and a dead man is no man. There are, again, cases in which the almost immediate marriage of a new-made widow implies all kinds of things, and often reveals in the person of the second husband the murderer of the first. When suspicions of such a situation occur, it is obviously necessary to go very slowly, but the first thing of importance is to keep tabs carefully on the

second husband. It is exceedingly self-contradictory in a man to marry a woman he knows to have murdered her first husband— but if he had cared only about being her lover there would not have been the necessity of murdering the first.

The opposite of this type is anticipatory disloyalty of a woman who marries a man in order to carry on undisturbed her love-affair with another. That there are evil consequences in most cases is easy to see. Such marriages occur very frequently among peasants. The woman, e. g., is in love with the son of a wealthy widower. The son owns nothing, or the father refuses his permission, so the woman makes a fool of the father by marrying him and carries on her amour with the son, doubly sinful. Instead of a son, the lover may be only a servant, and then the couple rob the husband thoroughly —especially if the second wife has no expectations of inheritance, there being children of a former marriage. Variations on this central theme occur as the person of the lover changes to neighbor, cousin, friend, etc., but the type is obvious, and it is necessary to consider its possibilities whenever suspicion arises.

The disloyalty of a bride—well, we will not bother with this poetical subject. Everybody knows how merciless a girl can be, how she leaves her lover for practical, or otherwise ignoble reasons, and everybody knows the consequences of such things.[4]

Section 75. (c) Love, Hate and Friendship.

If Emerson is right and love is no more than the deification of persons, the criminalist does not need to bother about this very rare paroxysm of the human soul. We might translate, at most, a girl's description of her lover who is possibly accused of some crime, from deified into human, but that is all. However, we do not find that sort of love in the law courts. The love we do find has to be translated into a simpler and more common form than that of the poet. The sense of self-sacrifice, with which Wagner endows his heroines, is not altogether foreign in our work; we find it among the lowest proletarian women, who immolate themselves for their husbands, follow them through the most tremendous distress, nurse and sustain them with hungry heroism. This is more remarkable than poetical self-sacrifice, but it is also different and is to be differently explained. The conditions which cause love can be understood in terms of the effects and forces of the daily life. And where we can not see it

differently we shall be compelled to speak of it as if it were a disease. If disease is not sufficient explanation, we shall have to say with the Italians, "l'amore é une castigo di Dio."

Love is of greater importance in the criminal court than the statutes allow, and we frequently make great mistakes because we do not count it in. We have first of all to do our duty properly, to distinguish the biological difference between the human criminal and the normal human being, rather than to subsume every criminal case under its proper statute. When a woman commits a crime because of jealousy, when in spite of herself she throws herself away on a good-for-nothing; when she fights her rival with unconquerable hatred; when she bears unbelievable maltreatment; when she has done hundreds of other things—who counts her love? She is guilty of crime; she is granted to have had a motive; and she is punished. Has enough been done when the jury acquits a jealous murderess, or a thrower of vitriol? Such cases are spectacular, but no attention is paid to the love of the woman in the millions of little cases where love, and love only, was the impulse, and the statute sentencing her to so and so much punishment was the outcome.

Now, study the maniacally-clever force of jealousy and then ask who is guilty of the crime. Augustine says, that whoever is not jealous is not in love, and if love and jealousy are correlate, one may be inferred from the other. What is at work is jealousy, what is to to be shown is love. That is, the evil in the world is due to jealousy, but this cause would be more difficult to prove than its correlate, love. And we know how difficult it is to conceal love,—so difficult that it has become a popular proverb that when a woman has a paramour, everybody knows it but her husband. Now, if a crime has been committed through jealousy it would be simply naïve to ask whether the woman was jealous. Jealousy is rare to discover and unreliable, while her love-affair is known to everybody. Once this becomes an established fact, we can determine also the degree of her jealousy.

Woman gives the expression of her jealousy characteristic direction. Man attempts to possess his wife solely and without trouble, and hence is naturally jealous. The deceived woman turns all her hatred on her rival and she excuses the husband if only she believes that she still possesses, or has regained his love. It will therefore be a mistake to suppose that because a woman has again begun to love her husband, perhaps after a long-enduring jealousy, that

no such jealousy preceded or that she had forgiven her rival. It may be that she has come to an understanding with her husband and no longer cares about the rival, but this is only either mere semblance or temporary, for the first suspicion of danger turns loose the old jealousy with all its consequences. Here again her husband is safe and all her rage is directed upon her rival. The typical cases are those of the attacks by abandoned mistresses at the weddings of their lovers. They always tear the wreath and veil from the bride's head, but it never is said that they knock the groom's top-hat off.

Another characteristic of feminine love which often causes difficulties is the passion with which the wife often gives herself to her husband. Two such different authors as Kuno Fischer and George Sand agree to this almost verbatim. The first says: "What nature demands of woman is complete surrender to man," and the second: "Love is a voluntary slavery for which woman craves by nature." Here we find the explanation of all those phenomena in which the will of the wife seems dead beside that of the husband. If a woman once depends on a man she follows him everywhere, and even if he commits the most disgusting crimes she helps him and is his loyalest comrade. We simply catalogue the situation as complicity, but we have no statutes for the fact that the woman naturally could do nothing else. We do not find it easy to discover the accomplices of a man guilty of a crime, but if there is a woman who really loves him we may be sure that she is one of them.

For the same reason women often bear interminably long maltreatment at the hands of their husbands or lovers. We think of extraordinary motives, but the whole thing is explained if the motive was really feminine love. It will be more difficult for us to believe in this love when the man is physically and mentally not an object of love. But the motives of causes of love of woman for man, though much discussed, have never been satisfactorily determined. Some authorities make strength and courage the motives, but there are innumerable objections, for historic lovers have been weak and cowardly, intellectual rather than foolish, though Schopenhauer says, that intelligence and genius are distasteful to women. No fixed reasons can be assigned. We have to accept the fact that a most disgusting man is often loved by a most lovely woman. We have to believe that love of man turns women from their romantic ideals. There has been the mistaken notion that only a common crime compels a woman to remain loyally with a thoroughly worthless

man, and again, it has been erroneously supposed that a certain woman who refused a most desirable heirloom left her by a man, must have known of some great crime committed by him. But we need no other motive for this action than her infinite love, and the reason of that infinity we find in the nature of that love. It is, in fact, woman's life, whereas it is an episode in the life of man. Of course, we are not here speaking of transitory inclinations, or flirtations, but of that great and profound love which all women of all classes know, and this love is overmastering; it conquers everything, it forgives everything, it endures everything.

There is still another inexplicable thing. Eager as man is to find his woman virgin, woman cares little about the similar thing in man. Only the very young, pure, inexperienced girl feels an instinctive revulsion from the real roué, but other women, according to Rochebrune, love a man in proportion to the number of other women who love or have loved him. This is difficult to understand, but it is a fact that a man has an easy task with women if he has a reputation of being a great hand with them. Perhaps this ease is only an expression of the conceit and envy of women, who can not bear the idea that a man is interested in so many others and not in themselves. As Balzac says, "women prefer most to win a man who already belongs to another." The inconceivable ease with which certain types of men seduce women, and at whose heads women throw themselves in spite of the fact that these men have no praiseworthy qualities whatever, can only be so explained. Perhaps it is true, as is sometimes said, that here is a case of sexuality expressing itself in an inexplicable manner.

Of course there are friendships between men and women, although such friendships are very rare. There is no doubt that sexual interests tend easily to dominate such relations. We suppose them to be rare just because their existence requires that sexual motives be spontaneously excluded. There are three types of such friendships. 1. When the age of the friends is such as to make the suspicion of passion impossible. 2. When from earliest childhood, for one reason or another, a purely fraternal relationship has developed. 3. When both are of such nature that the famous divine spark can not set them afire. Whether there is an electrical influence between couples, as some scientists say, or not, we frequently see two people irrationally select each other, as if compelled by some evil force. Now this selection may result in nothing more than a friendship. Such friendships are frequently claimed in trials, and

of course, they are never altogether believed in. The necessary thing in treating these cases is caution, for it will be impossible to prove these friendships unlikely, and hence unjust to deny them without further evidence. It will be necessary to discover whether the sexual interest is or can be excluded. If not, the friendship is purely a nominal one.

Friendship between women is popularly little valued. Comedies, comic papers, and criticisms make fun of it, and we have heard all too often that the news of the first gray hair, or the disloyalty of a husband, has its starting-point in a woman friend, and that women decorate themselves and improve themselves in order to worry their friends. One author wanted to show that friendships between two women were only conspiracies against a third, and Diderot said that there is a secret union among women as among priests of one and the same religion—they hate each other, but they protect each other. The latter fact we see frequently enough in the examination of women witnesses. Envy, dislike, jealousy, and egoism play up vividly, and he is a successful judge who can discover how much of the evidence is born of these motives. But beyond a certain point, women co-operate. This point is easy to find, for it is placed wherever feminine qualities are to be generalized. So long as we stick, during an examination, to a concrete instance, and so long as the witness observes no combination of her conduct and opinions with that of the object of her testimony, she will allow herself to be guided partly by the truth, partly by her opinions of the woman in question. But just as soon as we expressly or tacitly suggest common feminine qualities, or start to speak of some matter in which the witness herself feels guilty, she turns about and defends where before she had been attacking. In these cases we must try to find out whether we have become, "general." If we have, we know why the witness is defending the accused.

We may say the same things of feminine hate that we have said of feminine love. Love and hate are only the positive and negative aspects of the same relation. When a woman hates you she has loved you, does love you, or will love you,—this is a reliable rule for the many cases in which feminine hatred gives the criminalist work. Feminine hatred is much intenser than masculine hatred. St. Gregory says that it is worse than the devil's, for the devil acts alone while woman gets the devil to help her, and Stolle believes that a woman seeking revenge is capable of anything. We have here to remember that among women of the lower classes, hate,

anger, and revenge are only different stages of the same emotion. Moreover, nobody finds greater joy in revenge than a woman. Indeed I might say that revenge and the pursuit of revenge are specifically feminine. The real, vigorous man is not easily turned thereto. In woman, it is connected with her greater sensibility which causes anger, rage, and revenge to go further than in men. Lombroso has done most to show this, and Mantegazza cites numberless examples of the superior ease with which woman falls into paroxysms of rage. Hence, when some crime with revenge as motive is before us, and we have no way of getting at the criminal, our first suspicion should be directed toward a woman or an effeminate man. Further, when we have to make an orderly series of inferences, we will start from this proposition into the past, present, and future, and shall not have much to wonder at if the successful vengeance far exceeds its actual or fanciful occasion, and if, perhaps, a very long time has elapsed before its accomplishment. Nulla irae super iram mulieris.

Feminine cruelty is directly connected with feminine anger and hatred. Lombroso has already indicated how fundamental woman's inclination to cruelty is. The cases are well known, together with the frequent and remarkable combination of real kindness of heart with real bestiality. Perhaps it would be proper to conceive this cruelty as a form of defence, or the expression of defence, for we often find cruelty and weakness paired elsewhere, as among children, idiots, etc. It is particularly noticeable among cretins in the Alps. The great danger of the cretin's anger is well known there. Once, one of these unfortunates was tortured to death by another because he thought that his victim had received from the charitable monks a larger piece of bread than he. Another was killed because he had received a gift of two trousers buttons. These instances, I should think, indicate the real connection between cruelty and weakness. Cruelty is a means of defence, and hence is characteristic of the weaker sex. Moreover, many a curious bit of feminine cruelty is due to feminine traits misunderstood, suppressed, but in themselves good. Just as we know that frugality and a tendency to save in housekeeping may often lead to dishonesty, so we perceive that these qualities cause cruelty to servants, and even the desire to put out of the way old and troublesome relatives who are eating the bread that belongs to husband and children.

These facts serve not only to explain the crime, but to reveal the criminal. If we succeed, other things being equal, in adducing

a number of feminine characteristics with one of which the cruelty of the crime may be connected and explained, we have a clew to the criminal. The instances mentioned,—the motherly care of house and family, frugality, miserliness, hardness to servants, cruelty to aged parents,—seem rare and not altogether rational, yet they occur frequently and give the right clew to the criminal. There are still other similar combinations. Everybody knows feminine love for trials at court, for the daily paper's reports of them, and for public executions. While the last were still common in Austria, newspapers concluded regularly with the statement that the "tender" sex was the great majority of the crowd that witnessed them. At public executions women of the lower class; at great trials, women of the higher classes, make up the auditors and spectators. Here the movement from eagerness, curiosity, through the desire for vigorous nervous stimulation, to hard-heartedness and undeniable cruelty, is clear enough.

There would be nothing for us to do with this fact if we had not to deal with the final expression of cruelty, i. e., murder; especially the specifically feminine forms of murder,—child-murder and poisoning. These, of course, in particular the former, involve abnormal conditions which are subjects for the physician. At the same time it is the judge who examines and sentences, and he is required to understand these conditions and to consider every detail that may help him in drawing his conclusion.

That poisoning is mainly a feminine crime is a familiar fact of which modern medico-legal writers have spoken much; even the ancient authors, not medical, like Livy, Tacitus, etc., have mentioned it. It is necessary, therefore, carefully to study the feminine character in order to understand how and why women are given to this form of murder. To do so we need consider, however, only the ordinary factors of the daily life; the extraordinary conditions, etc., are generally superfluous.

Every crime that is committed is committed when the reasons for doing it outweigh the reasons for not doing it. This is true even of passional crimes, for a pro and contra must have presented themselves in spite of the lightninglike swiftness of the act. One appeared and then the other, the pro won and the deed was done. In other crimes this conflict lasts at least so long as to be definitely observable, and in the greater crimes it will, as a rule, take more time and more motive. The principles of good and of evil will really battle with each other, and when the individual is so depraved as no longer to

have good principles, their place is taken by fear of discovery and punishment, and by the question whether the advantage to be gained is worth the effort, etc. The commission of the crime is itself evidence that the reasons for it were all-powerful. Now suppose that a woman gets the idea of killing somebody. Here for a time pro and contra will balance each other, and when the latter are outweighed she will think that she must commit murder. If she does not think so she will not do so. Now, every murder, save that by poison, requires courage, the power to do, and physical strength. As woman does not possess these qualities, she spontaneously makes use of poison. Hence, there is nothing extraordinary or significant in this fact, it is due to the familiar traits of woman. For this reason, when there is any doubt as to the murderer in a case of poisoning, it is well to think first of a woman or of a weak, effeminate man.

The weakness of woman will help us in still another direction. It is easily conceivable that all forms of weakness will seek support and assistance, whether physical or moral. The latter is inclined in cases of need to make use, also, of such assistance as may be rendered by personal inward reflection. Now this reflection may be on the one hand, dissuasion, on the other hand persuasion, self-persuasion; the first subduing self-reproach, the latter, fear of discovery. Hence, a woman will try to persuade not only herself, but others also that she was justified in her course and will assign as reason, bad treatment. Now there might have been some bad treatment, but it will have been altered and twisted so utterly as to lose its original form and to become imaginatively unbearable. Thus, a series of conclusions from the reactions of the suspect to her environment may be easily found, and these are the more convincing if they have occurred within a rather long period of time, in which they may be chronologically arranged, and from which a slow and definite intensification, usque ad ultimum, can be proved. Such an analysis is, of course, troublesome, but if done systematically, almost always rich in results.

The tricks of persuasion which are to suppress the fears of discovery are always helps of another sort. As a rule they are general, and point to the fact that the crime contemplated had occurred before without danger, that everything was intelligently provided for, etc. Now these circumstances are less dangerous, but they require consideration when they count on certain popular views, especially superstitions and certain customs and assumptions. Suppose, for example, that a young wife wants to get rid of her

old husband whom she had married for the sake of his money. Now certain proverbs point to the fact that old men who marry young women die soon after marriage. This popular view may be entirely justified in the fact that the complete alteration in the mode of life, the experience of uncustomary things, the excitement, the extreme tension, then the effort in venere, finally, perhaps also the use of popularly well-known stimulants, etc., may easily cause weakening, sickening, and as conclusion the death of the old man. But the public does not draw this kind of inference, it simply assumes, without asking the reason, that when an old man marries a young woman, he dies. Therefore a young wife may easily think, "If I make use of poison nobody will wonder, nobody will see anything suspicious about the death. It is only an event which is universally supposed to happen. The old man died because he married me." Such ideas may easily seduce an uneducated woman and determine her conduct. Of course, they are not subject to observation, but they are not beyond control, if the popular views concerning certain matters are known as the views which determine standards. Therefore their introduction into the plot of the suspect may help us in drawing some useful inference.[1]

With regard to child-murder the consideration of psychopathic conditions need not absolutely be undertaken. Whether they are present must, of course, be determined, and therefore it is first of all necessary to learn the character of the suspect's conduct. The opportunity for this is given in any text-book on legal medicine, forensic psychopathology, and criminal psychology. There are a good many older authors.[2] Most of the cases cited by authorities show that women in the best of circumstances have behaved innumerable times in such a way that if they had been poor girls child-murder would immediately have been assumed. Again, they have shown that the sweetest and most harmless creatures become real beasts at the time of accouchement, or shortly after it develop an unbelievable hatred toward child and husband. Many a child-murder may possibly be explained by the habit of some animals of consuming their young immediately after giving birth to them. Such cases bind us in every trial for child-murder to have the mental state of the mother thoroughly examined by a psychiatrist, and to

interpret everything connected with the matter as psychologist and humanitarian. At the same time it must not be forgotten that one of the most dangerous results is due to this attitude. Lawmakers have without further consideration kept in mind the mental condition of the mother and have made child-murder much less punishable than ordinary murder. It is inferred, therefore, that it is unnecessary to study the conditions which cause it. This is dangerous, because it implies the belief that the case is settled by giving a minimum sentence, where really an infinity of grades and differences may enter. The situation that the law-maker has studied is one among many, the majority of which we have yet to apprehend and to examine.

Section 76. (d) Emotional Disposition and Related Subjects.

Madame de Krüdener writes in a letter to Bernardin de St. Pierre: "Je voulais être sentie." These laconic words of this wise pietist give us an insight into the significance of emotional life of woman. Man wants to be understood, woman felt. With this emotion she spoils much that man might do because of his sense of justice. Indeed, a number of qualities which the woman uses to make herself noted are bound up with her emotional life, more or less. Compassion, self-sacrifice, religion, superstition,—all these depend on the highly developed, almost diseased formation of her emotional life. Feminine charity, feminine activity as a nurse, feminine petitions for the pardon of criminals, infinite other samples of women's kindly dispositions must convince us that these activities are an integral part of their emotional life, and that women perform them only, perhaps, in a kind of dark perception of their own helplessness. On the one side an unconscious egoism impels them to the defence of those who find themselves in a similarcondition; on the other side, it is a feminine characteristic to apply anything she is to judge to herself first, and then to make her choice. That she does this, rests on the eminent overweight of emotion. So Schopenhauer says: "Women are very sympathetic, but they are behind man in all matters of justice, probity, and scrupulous conscientiousness. Injustice is the fundamental feminine defect."[1] Schopenhauer should have added, "because they are too sympathetic, because emotion takes up so much place in their minds that they have not enough left for justice." According to Proudhon, "The conscience of woman

is as much weaker than man's as her intelligence is smaller. Her morality is of a different sort, her ideas of right and wrong are different, being always on this or that side of justice, and never requiring any equivalence between rights and duties which are such a painful necessity to man." Spencer says,[2] briefly, that the feminine mind shows a definite lack with regard to the sense of justice.

These assertions show that women are deficient in justice, but do not show why. The deficiency is to be explained only in the super-abundance of emotional life. This superabundance clarifies a number of facts of their daily routine. We have, of course, to make a distinction between the feeling of a gentlewoman, of a peasant woman, and of the innumerable grades between the two, but this distinction is not essential. Both noble and proletarian are equally unjust, but the rich emotion restores a thousand times what may be missing in justice, and perhaps in many cases hits better upon what is absolutely right than the bare masculine sense of justice. We are, of course, frequently mistaken by relying on the testimony of women, but only when we assume that our rigorously judicial sentence is the only correct one, and when we do not know how women judge. Hence, we interpret women's testimonies with difficulty and rarely with correctness; we forget that almost every feminine statement contains in itself much more judgment than the testimony of men; we fail to examine how much real judgment it contains; and finally, we weigh this judgment in other scales than those used by the woman. We do best, therefore, when we take the testimony of man and woman together in order to find the right average. This is not easy, for we are unable to enter properly into the emotional life of woman, and can not therefore discount that tendency of hers to drag the objective truth in some biased direction. It might be theoretically supposed that a noble, kindly, feminine feeling would tend to reflect everything as better and gentler, and would tend to excuse and conceal. If that were so we might have a definite standard of valuation, and might be able to discount the feminine bias. But that is so in perhaps no more than half the cases that come before us. In all others woman has allowed herself to be moved to displeasure, and appears as the punishing avenger. Hence, she fights with all her strength on the side that seems to her to be oppressed and innocently persecuted, irrespective of whether it is

the side of the accused or of his enemy. In consequence, we must first of all, when judging her statements, determine the direction in which her emotion impels her, and this can not be done with a mere knowledge of human nature. Nothing will do except a careful study of the specific feminine witness at the time she gives her evidence. And this requires the expenditure of much time, for, to plunge directly into the middle of things without having any means of comparison or relation, is to make judgment impossible or very unsafe. If you are to do it at all you must discuss other things first and even permit yourself the dishonesty of asking about matters which you already know in order to find some measure of the degree of feminine obliqueness. Of course, one discovers here only the degree of obliqueness, not its direction—in the case selected for comparison the woman might have judged too kindly, in the case in hand she may just as well be too rigorous. But all things have a definite limit, and hence, much practice and much goodwill will help us to discover the direction of obliqueness.

When we inquire into the emotional life of the simple, uneducated women, we find it to be fundamentally the same as that of women of other classes, but different in expression, and it is the expression we have to observe. Its form is often raw, therefore difficult to discover. It may express itself in cursing and swearing, but it is still an expression of emotion, just as are the mother's curses or beatings of her child because it has fallen and hurt itself. But observe that the prevalence of emotion is so thoroughly a feminine condition that it is clearly noticeable only where femininity itself is explicit— therefore, always weaker among masculine women, and in the single individual most powerful when femininity is most fully developed. It grows in the child, remains at a constant level when woman becomes completely woman, and decreases when, in advanced age, the differences in sex begin to disappear. Very old men and very old women are also in this matter very close together.

Section 77. (e) Weakness.

"Frailty, thy name is woman," says Shakespeare, and Corvin explains this in teasing fashion: "Women pray every day, `Lead us not into temptation, for see, dear God, if you do so I can't resist it.' " Even Kant[1] takes feminine weakness as a distinguishing criterion: "In order to understand the whole of mankind we need

only to turn our attention to the feminine sex, for where the force is weaker the tool is so much the more artistic." Experienced criminalists explain the well-known fact that women are the chief sources of anonymous letters by their weakness. From the physical inferiority of woman her mental inferiority may be deduced, and though we learn a hundred times that small, weak men can be mentally stronger than great and strong ones, it is, of course, natural, that as a rule the outcome of a powerful body is also a powerful mind. The difficulty is to discover in what feminine weakness expresses itself. The frequently joked-about hen-pecking of men has been explained by Voltaire as the fulfilment of the divine purpose of taming men through the medium of the specially created instrument—woman. Victor Hugo calls men only woman's toys. "Oh, this lofty providence which gives each one its toy, the doll to the child, the child to the man, the man to the woman, the woman to the devil." The popular proverb also seems to assign them considerable strength, at least to aged women. For we hear in all kinds of variations the expression, "An old woman will venture where the devil does not dare to tread." Nor must we underestimate the daily experience of feminine capacity to bear pain. Midwives of experience unanimously assure us that no man would bear what a woman regularly has to, every time she gives birth to a child; and surgeons and dentists assure us similarly. Indeed the great surgeon, Billroth, is said to have asserted that he attempted new methods of operation on women first because they are less subject to pain, for like savages they are beings of a lower status and hence better able to resist than men. In the light of such expressions we have to doubt the assertion that women are distinguished by weakness, and yet that assertion is correct. The weakness must, however, not be sought where we expect to find it, but in the quite different feminine intelligence. Wherever intelligence is not taken into consideration, woman is likely to show herself stronger than man. She is better able to stand misfortune, to nurse patients, to bear pain, to bring up children, to carry out a plan, to persevere in a plan. It would be wrong to say that feminine weakness is a weakness of will, for most examples show that women's wills are strong. It is in matters of intelligence that they fail. When somebody has to be persuaded, we find that a normally-organized man may agree when he is shown a logically-combined series of reasons. But the feminine intelligence is incapable of logic; indeed, we should make a mistake in paying honor to the actual feminine in woman if she were capable of logic. She is rather to be persuaded with apparent reasons, with transitory and sparkling matters that have only the semblance of truth. We find her too ready to agree, and blame her will when it is only her different form of intelligence. She persuades herself in the same way. An epithet, a sparkling epigram, a pacifying reflection is enough for her; she does not need a whole construction of reason, and thus she proceeds to do things that we again call "weak." Take so thoroughly a feminine reflection as this. "The heart seems to beat—why shouldn't it beat for somebody?" and the woman throws herself on the breast of some adventurer The world that hears of this fact weeps over feminine "weakness," while it ought really to weep over defective intelligence and bad logic. That the physiological throb of the heart need not become significant of love, that the owner of a beating heart need not be interested in some man, and certainly not in that particular adventurer, she does not even consider possible. She is satisfied with this clean-cut, sparkling syllogism, and her understanding is calm. The judge in the criminal court must always first consider the weakness of the feminine intelligence, not of the feminine will.

It is supposed to be weakness of will which makes woman gossipy, unable to keep a secret. But here again it is her understanding that is at fault. This is shown by the fact, already thoroughly discussed by Kant, that women are good keepers of their own secrets, but never of the secrets of others. If this were not a defect of intelligence they would have been able to estimate the damage they do. Now, every one of us criminalists knows that the crime committed, and even the plan for it, has in most cases been betrayed by women. We can learn most about this matter from detectives. who always go to women for the discovery of facts, and rarely without success. Of course, the judge must not act like a detective, but he must know when something is already a matter of discussion and its source is sought, where to look. He is to look for the woman in the case.

Another consideration of importance is the fact that women who have told secrets have also altered them. This is due to the fact that because they are secrets the whole is not told them and they have had to infer much, or they have not properly understood what was told. Now, if we perceive that only a part of the revealed secret can be correct, the situation may be inferred with complete safety, but only by remembering this curious trait of feminine intelligence. We have only to ask what illogical elements does the matter contain? When these are discovered we have to ask, what

is their logical form? If the process is followed properly we get at the truth that what happens happens logically, but what is thought, is thought illogically even by women.

When we summarise all we know about woman we may say briefly: Woman is neither better nor worse, neither more nor less valuable than man, but she is different from him and inasmuch as nature has created every object correctly for its purpose, woman has also been so created. The reason of her existence is different from that of man's and hence, her nature is different.

Section 78. (b) Children.

The special character of the child has to be kept in mind both when it appears as witness and as accused. To treat it like an adult is always wrong. It would be wrong, moreover, to seek the differences in its immaturity and inexperience, in its small knowledge and narrower outlook. This is only a part of the difference. The fact is, that because the child is in the process of growth and development of its organs, because the relations of these to each other are different and their functions are different, it is actually a different kind of being from the adult. When we think how different the body and actions of the child are, how different its nourishment, how differently foreign influences affect it, and how different its physical qualities are, we must see that its mental character is also completely different. Hence, a difference in degree tells us nothing, we must look for a difference in kind. Observations made by individuals are not enough. We must undertake especial studies in the very rich literature.[1]

Section 79. (I) General Consideration.

One does not need to have much knowledge of children to know that as a rule, children are more honest and straightforward than adults. They are good observers, more disinterested and hence unbiased in giving evidence, but because of their weakness, more subject to the influence of other people. Apart from intentional influences

there is the tremendous influence of selected preconceptions. If a child is an important witness we can never get the truth from him until we discover what his ideals are. It is, of course, true that everybody who has ideals is influenced by them, but it is also true that children who have adventurous, imaginative tendencies are so steeped in them that everything they think or do gets color, tone, and significance from them. What the object of adventure does is good, what it does not do is bad, what it possesses is beautiful, and what it asserts is correct. Numerous unexplainable assertions and actions of children are cleared up by reference to their particular ideals, if they may be called ideals.

As a rule, we may hold that children have a certain sense of justice, and that they find it decidedly unpleasant to see anybody treated otherwise than he deserves. But in this connection it must be considered that the child has its own views as to what a person's deserts are, and that these views can rarely be judged by our own. In the same way it is certain that, lacking things to think or to trouble about, children are much interested in and remember well what occurs about them. But, again, we have to bear in mind that the interest itself develops from the child's standpoint and that his memory constructs new events in terms of his earlier experiences. As a rule, we may presuppose in his memory only what is found already in his occupations. What is new, altogether new, must first find a function, and that is difficult. If, now, a child remembers something, he will first try to fit it to some function of memory already present and this will then absorb the new fact, well or ill, as the case may be. The frequent oversight of this fact is the reason for many a false interpretation of what the child said; he is believed to have perceived falsely and to have made false restatements, when he has only perceived and restated in his own way.

As children have rarely a proper sense of the value of life, they observe an undubitable death closely without much fear. This explains many an unbelievable act of courage or clear observation in a child in cases where an adult, frightened, can see nothing. It is, hence, unjust to doubt many a statement of children, because you doubt their "courage." "Courage" was not in question at all.

Concerning the difference between boys and girls, Löbisch[1] says rightly, that girls remember persons better, and boys, things. He adds, moreover: "The more silent girl, who is given to observe

what is before her, shows herself more teachable than the spiteful and also more imaginative boy who understands with difficulty because he is intended to be better grounded and to go further in the business of knowing. The girl, all in all, is more curious; the boy, more eager to know. What he fails in, what he is not spurred to by love or talent, he throws obstinately aside. While the girl loyally and trustfully absorbs her teachings, the boy remains unsatisfied without some insight into the why or how, without some proof. The boy enters daily more and more into the world of concepts, while the girl thinks of objects not as members of a class, but as definite particular things."

Section 80. (2) Children as Witnesses.

Once, in an examination of the value of the testimony of children, I found it to be excellent in certain directions because not so much influenced by passion and special interest as that of adults, and because we may assume that children have classified too little rather than too much; that they frequently do not understand an event but perceive instinctively that it means disorder, and hence, become interested in it. Later the child gets a broader horizon and understands what he has not formerly understood, although, possibly, not altogether with correctness.

I have further found that the boy just growing out of childhood, in so far as he has been well brought up, is especially the best observer and witness there is. He observes everything that occurs with interest, synthesizes events without prejudice, and reproduces them accurately, while the girl of the same age is often an unreliable, even dangerous witness. This is almost always the case when the girl is in some degree talented, impulsive, dreamy, romantic, and adventurous,—she expresses a sort of weltschmerz connected with ennui. This comes early, and if a girl of that age is herself drawn into the circle of the events in question, we are never safe from extreme exaggeration. The merest larceny becomes a small robbery; a bare insult, a remarkable attack; a foolish quip, an interesting seduction; and a stupid, boyish conversation, an important conspiracy. Such causes of mistakes are well-known to all judges; at the same time they are again and again permitted to recur.

The sole means of safety from them is the clearest comprehension possible of the mental horizon of the child in question. We have very little general knowledge about it, and hence, are much indebted to the contemporary attempts of public-school teachers to supply

the information. We all know that we must make distinctions between city and country children, and must not be surprised at the country child who has not seen a gas-lamp, a railroad, or something similar. Stanley Hall tried to discover from six year old children whether they really knew the things, the names of which they used freely. It seemed, as a result, that 14% of them had never seen a star; 45% had never been in the country; 20% did not know that milk came from a cow; 50% that fire-wood comes from trees, 13% to 15% the difference between green, blue and yellow; and 4% had never made the acquaintance of a pig.

Karl Lange made experiments (reported in "Über Apperzeption," Plauen, 1889) on 500 pupils in 33 schools in small towns. The experiment showed that 82% had never seen sun-rise; 77% a sunset; 36% a corn field; 49% a river; 82% a pond; 80% a lock; 37% had never been in the woods, 62% never on the mountains, and 73% did not know how bread was made from grain. Involuntarily the question arises, what must be the position of the unfortunate children of large cities, and moreover, what may we expect to hear from children who do not know things like that, and at the same time speak of them easily? Adults are not free from this difficulty either. We have never yet seen a living whale, or a sandstorm in the Sahara, or an ancient Teuton, yet we speak of them confidently and profoundly, and never secure ourselves against the fact that we have never seen them. Now, as we of the ancient Teuton, so children of the woods; neither have seen them, but one description has as much or as little value as the other.

Concerning the integration of senses, Binet and Henri[1] have examined 7200 children, whom they had imitate the length of a model line, or pick out from a collection of lines those of similar length. The latter experiment was extraordinarily successful.

The senses of children are especially keen and properly developed. It is anatomically true that very young children do not hear well; but that is so at an age which can not be of interest to us. Their sense of smell is, according to Heusinger, very dull, and develops at the time of puberty, but later observers, in particular those who, like Hack, Cloquet and others, have studied the sense of smell, say nothing about this.

Concerning the accuracy of representation in children authorities are contradictory. Montaigne says that all children lie and are

obstinate. Bourdin corroborates him. Maudsley says that children often have illusions which seem to them indubitably real images, and Mittermaier says that they are superficial and have youthful fancies. Experience in practice does not confirm this judgment. The much experienced Herder repeatedly prizes children as born physiognomists, and Soden values the disinterestedness of children very highly. According to Löbisch, children tell untruths without lying. They say only what they have in mind, but they do not know and care very little whether their mental content is objective and exists outside of them, or whether only half real and the rest fanciful. This is confirmed by legal experience which shows us, also, that the subjective half of a child's story may be easily identified. It is characteristically different from the real event and a confusion of the two is impossible.

We must also not forget that there are lacunae in the child's comprehension of what it perceives. When it observes an event, it may, e. g., completely understand the first part, find the second part altogether new and unintelligible, the third part again comprehensible, etc. If the child is only half-interested, it will try to fill out these lacunae by reflection and synthesis, and may conceivably make serious blunders. The blunders and inaccuracies increase the further back the event goes into the child's youth. The real capacity for memory goes far back. Preyer[2] tells of cases in which children told of events that they had experienced at thirty-two, twenty-four, and even eighteen months, and told them correctly. Of course, adults do not recall experiences of such an early age, for they have long since forgotten them. But very small children can recall such experiences, though in most cases their recollection is worthless, their circle of ideas being so small that the commonest experiences are excluded from adequate description. But they are worth while considering when a mere fact is in question, or is to be doubted (Were you beaten? Was anybody there? Where did the man stand?).

Children's determinations of time are unreliable. Yesterday and to-day are easily confused by small children, and a considerably advanced intelligence is necessary to distinguish between yesterday and a week ago, or even a week and a month. That we need, in such cases, correct individualization of the witness is self-evident. The conditions of the child's bringing-up, the things he learned to know, are what we must first of all learn. If the question in hand

can fit into the notion the child possesses, he will answer better and more if quite unendowed, than if a very clever child who is foreign to the notions of the defined situation. I should take intelligence only to be of next importance in such cases, and advise giving up separating clever from stupid children in favor of separating practical and unpractical children. The latter makes an essential difference. Both the children of talent and stupid children may be practical or unpractical. If a child is talented and practical he will become a useful member of society who will be at home everywhere and will be able to help himself under any circumstances. If a child is talented and unpractical, it may grow up into a professor, as is customarily expected of it. If a child is untalented and practical, it will properly fill a definite place, and if it has luck and "pull" may even attain high station in life. If it is untalented and unpractical it becomes one of those poor creatures who never get anywhere. For the rôle of witness the child's practicality is the important thing. The practical child will see, observe, properly understand, and reproduce a group of things that the unpractical child has not even observed. Of course, it is well, also, to have the child talented, but I repeat: the least clever practical child is worth more as witness than the most clever unpractical child.

What the term "practical" stands for is difficult to say, but everybody knows it, and everybody has seen, who has cared about children at all, that there are practical children.

Section 81. (3) Juvenile Delinquency.

There have never lacked authors who have assigned to children a great group of defects. Ever since Lombroso it has been the custom in a certain circle to find the worst crimes already foreshadowed in children. If there are congenital criminals it must follow that there are criminals among children. It is shown that the most cruel and most unhuman men, like Nero, Caracalla, Caligula, Louis XI, Charles IX, Louis XIII, etc., showed signs of great cruelty, even in earliest childhood. Perez cites attacks of anger and rage in children; Moreau, early development of the sense of vengeance, Lafontaine, their lack of pity. Nasse also calls attention to the cruelty and savagery of large numbers of children, traits shown in their liking for horror-stories, in the topsy-turvy conclusion of the stories they tell themselves, in their cruelty to animals. Broussais[1]

says, "There is hardly a lad who will not intentionally abuse weaker boys. This is his first impulse. His victim's cries of pain restrain him for a moment from further maltreatment, if the love of bullying is not native with him. But at the first offered opportunity he again follows his instinctive impulse."

Even the power of training is reduced and is expressed in the proverb, that children and nations take note only of their last beating. The time about, and especially just before, the development of puberty seems to be an especially bad one, and according to Voisin[2] and Friedreich,[3] modern man sees in this beginning of masculinity the cause of the most extraordinary and doubtful impulses. Since Esquirol invented the doctrine of monomanias there has grown up a whole literature, especially concerning pyromania among girls who are just becoming marriageable, and Friedreich even asserts that all pubescent children suffer from pyromania, while Grohmann holds that scrofulous children are in the habit of stealing.

When this literature is tested the conclusion is inevitable that there has been overbold generalization. One may easily see how. Of course there are badly behaved children, and it is no agreement with the Italian positivists to add, also, that a large number of criminals were good for nothing even in their earliest youth. But we are here concerned with the specific endowment of childhood, and it is certainly an exaggeration to set this lower than that of maturity. If it be asked, what influence nurture and training have if children are good without it, we may answer at once, that these have done enough in having supplied a counterbalance to the depraving influences of life,—the awakening passions and the environment.

Children who are bad at an early age are easily noticeable. They make noise and trouble as thousands of well-behaved children do not, and a poor few of such bad ones are taken to be representative of all. What is silent and not significant, goes of itself, makes no impression, even though it is incomparably of greater magnitude. Individual and noisy cases require so much attention that their character is assigned to the whole class. Fortune-telling, dreams, forewarnings, and prophecies are similarly treated. If they do not succeed, they are forgotten, but if in one case they succeed, they make a great noise. They appear, therefore, to seduce the mind

into incorrectly interpreting them as typical. And generally, there is a tendency to make sweeping statements about children. "If you have understood this, you understand that also," children are often told, and most of the time unjustly. The child is treated like a grown man to whom this has occurred as often as that, and who has intelligence enough and experience enough to apply this to thatby way of identification. Consider an exaggerated example. The child, let us say, knows very well that stealing is dishonorable, sinful, criminal. But it does not know that counterfeiting, treachery, and arson are forbidden. These differences, however, may be reduced to a hair. It knows that stealing is forbidden, but considers it permissible to "rag" the neighbors' fruit. It knows that lying is a sin, but it does not know that certain lies become suddenly punishable, according to law, and are called frauds. When, therefore, a boy tells his uncle that father sent him for money because he does not happen to have any at home, and when the little rascal spends the money for sweets, he may perhaps believe that the lie is quite ugly, but that he had done anything objectively punishable, he may be totally unaware. It is just as difficult for the child to become subjective. The child is more of an egoist than the adult; on the one hand, because it is protected and watched in many directions by the adult; on the other, because, from the nature of things, it does not have to care for anybody, and would go ship-wreck if it were not itself cared for. The natural consequences are that it does not discover the limits between what is permissible, and what is not permissible. As Kraus says,[4] "Unripe youth shows a distinct quality in distinguishing good and evil. A child of this age, that is required to judge the action or relations of persons, will not keep one waiting for the proper solution, but if the action is brought into relation to its selfhood, to its own personality, there is a sudden disingenuity, a twisting of the judgment, an incapacity in the child to set itself at the objective point of view." Hence, it is wrong to ask a child: "Didn't you know that you should not have done this thing?" The child will answer, "Yes, I knew," but it does not dare to add, "I knew that other people ought not do it, but I might." It is not necessary that the spoiled, pampered pet should say this; any child has this prejudiced attitude. And how shall it know the limit between what is permitted it, and what is not? Adults must work, the child plays; the mother must cook, the child comes to the laden table; the mother must wash, the child wears the clean clothes; it gets the titbits; it is protected against cold; it is forgiven many a deed and many a word not permitted the adult. Now all of a sudden it is blamed because it has gone on making use of its recognized privileges. Whoever remembers this artificial, but nevertheless necessary, egoism in children will have to think more kindly of many a childish crime. Moreover, we must not overlook the fact that the child does many things simply as blind imitation. More accurate observation of this well known psychological fact will show how extensive childish imitation is. At a certain limit, of course, liability is here also present, but if a child is imitating an imitable person, a parent, a teacher, etc., its responsibility is at an end.

All in all, we may say that nobody has brought any evidence to show that children are any worse-behaved than adults. Experience teaches that hypocrisy, calculating evil, intentional selfishness, and purposeful lying are incomparably rarer among children than among adults, and that on the whole, they observe well and willingly. We may take children, with the exception of pubescent girls, to be good, reliable witnesses.

Section 82. (c) Senility.

It would seem that we lawyers have taken insufficient account of the characteristics of senility. These characteristics are as definitive as those of childhood or of sex, and to overlook them may lead to serious consequences. We shall not consider that degree of old age which is called second childhood. At that stage the question seriously arises whether we are not dealing with the idiocy of age, or at least with a weakness of perception and of memory so obvious that they can not be mistaken.

The important stage is the one which precedes this, and in which a definite decline in mental power is not yet perceivable. Just as we see the first stage of early youth come to an end when the distinction between boy and girl becomes altogether definite, so we may observe that the important activity of the process of life has run its course when this distinction begins to degenerate. It is essentially defined by the approximation to each other of the external appearance of the two sexes,—their voices, their inner character, and their attitude. What is typically masculine or feminine disappears. It is at this point that extreme old age begins. The number of years, the degree of intelligence, education, and other differences

are of small importance, and the ensuing particularities may be easily deduced by a consideration of the nature of extreme old age. The task of life is ended, because the physical powers have no longer any scope. For the same reason resistance to enemies has become lessened, courage has decreased, care about physical welfare increased, everything occurs more slowly and with greater difficulty, and all because of the newly-arrived weakness which, from now on, becomes the denotative trait of that whole bit of human nature. Hence, Lombroso[1] is not wrong in saying that the characteristic diseases of extreme old age are rarer among women than among men. This is so because the change in women is not so sudden, nor so powerful, since they are weak to begin with, while man becomes a weak graybeard suddenly and out of the fullness of his manly strength. The change is so great, the difference so significant and painful, that the consequence must be a series of unpleasant properties,—egoism, excitability, moroseness, cruelty, etc. It is significant that the very old man assumes all those unpleasant characteristics we note in eunuchs—they result from the consciousness of having lost power.

It is from this fact that Kraus (loc. cit.) deduces the crimes of extreme old age. "The excitable weakness of the old man brings him into great danger of becoming a criminal. The excitability is opposed to slowness and one-sidedness in thought; he is easily surprised by irrelevancies; he is torn from his drowse, and behaves like a somnolent drunkard.... The very old individual is a fanatic about rest—every disturbance of his rest troubles him. Hence, all his anger, all his teasing and quarreling, all his obstinacy and stiffness, have a single device: `Let me alone.' "

This somnolent drunkenness is variously valued. Henry Holland, in one of his "Fragmentary Papers," said that age approximates a condition of dreams in which illusion and reality are easily confused. But this can be true only of the last stages of extreme old age, when life has become a very weak, vegetative function, but hardly any crimes are committed by people in this stage.

It would be simpler to say that the old man's weakness gives the earlier tendencies of his youth a definite direction which may lead to crime. All diseases develop in the direction of the newly developing weakness. But selfishness or greed are not young. Hence we must assume that an aging man who has turned miser began by being prudent, but that he did not deny himself and his friends because he knew that he was able to restore, later, what they consumed.

Now he is old and weak, he knows that he can no longer do this easily, i. e., that his money and property are all that he has to depend on in his old age, and hence, he is very much afraid of losing or decreasing them, so that his prudence becomes miserliness, later mania for possession, and even worse; finally it may turn him into a criminal.

The situation is the same sexually. Too weak to satisfy natural instincts in adults, he attacks immature girls, and his fear of people he can no longer otherwise oppose turns him into a poisoner. Drobisch finds that by reason of the alteration of characteristics, definite elements of the self are distinguishable at every stage. The distinguishing element in extreme old age, in senility, is the loss of power, and if we keep this in mind we shall be able to explain every phenomenon characteristic of this period.

Senile individuals require especial treatment as witnesses. An accurate study of such people and of the not over-rich literature concerning them will, however, yield a sufficient basis to go on. What is most important can be found in any text-book on psychology. The individual cases are considerably helped by the assumption that the mental organization of senility is essentially simplified and narrowed to a few types. Its activities are lessened, its influences and aims are compressed, the present brings little and is little remembered, so that its collective character is determined by a resultant, composed of those forces that have influenced the man's past life. Accurate observation will reveal only two types of senility.[2] There is the embittered type, and there is the character expressed in the phrase, "to understand all is to forgive all." Senility rarely succeeds in presenting facts objectively. Everything it tells is bound up with its judgment, and its judgment is either negative or positive. The judgment's nature depends less on the old man's emotional character than on his experience in life. If he is one of the embittered, he will probably so describe a possibly harmful, but not bad event, as to be able to complain of the wickedness of the world, which brought it about, that at one time such and such an evil happened to him. The excusing senile will begin with "Good God, it wasn't so bad. The people were young and merry, and so one of them—." That the same event is presented in a fundamentally different light by each is obvious. Fortunately, the senile is easily seen through and his first words show how he looks at things. He makes difficulties mainly by introducing memories

which always color and modify the evidence. The familiar fact that very old men remember things long past better than immediate occurrences, is to be explained by the situation that the ancient brain retains only that which it has frequently experienced. Old experiences are recalled in memory hundreds and hundreds of times, and hence, may take deep root there, while the new could be repeated, only a few times, and hence had not time to find a place before being forgotten. If the old man tells of some recent event, some similar remote event is also alive in his mind. The latter has, however, if not more vivid at least equally vigorous color, so that the old man's story is frequently composed of things long past. I do not know how to eliminate these old memories from this story. There are always difficulties, particularly as personal experiences of evil generally dominate these memories. It is not unjust, that proverb which says "If youth is at all silly, old age remembers it well."

Section 83. (d) Differences in Conception.

I should like to add to what precedes, that senility presents fact and judgment together. In a certain sense every age and person does so and, as I have repeatedly said, it would be foolish to assert that we have the right to demand only facts from witnesses. Setting aside the presence of inferences in most sense-perceptions, every exposition contains, without exception, the judgment of its subject-matter, though only, perhaps, in a few dry words. It may lie in some choice expression, in the tone, in the gesture but it is there, open to careful observation. Consider any simple event, e. g., two drunkards quarreling in the street. And suppose we instruct any one of many witnesses to tell us only the facts. He will do so, but with the introductory words, "It was a very ordinary event," "altogether a joke," "completely harmless," "quite disgusting," "very funny," "a disgusting piece of the history of morals," "too sad," "unworthy of humanity," "frightfully dangerous," "very interesting," "a real study for hell," "just a picture of the future," etc. Now, is it possible to think that people who have so variously characterized the same event will give an identical description of the mere fact? They have seen the event in accordance with their attitude toward life. One has seen nothing; another this; another that; and, although the thing might have lasted only a very short time, it made such an impression that each has in mind a completely different picture which he now reproduces.[1] As Volkmar said, "One

nation hears in thunder the clangor of trumpets, the hoof-beats of divine steeds, the quarrels of the dragons of heaven; another hears the mooing of the cow, the chirp of the cricket, the complaint of the ancestors; still another hears the saints turn the vault of heaven, and the Greenlander, even the quarrel of bewitched women concerning a dried skin." And Voltaire says, "If you ask the devil what beauty is, he will tell you that beauty is a pair of horns, four hoofs, and a tail." Yet, when we ask a witness what is beautiful, we think that we are asking for a brute fact, and expect as reliable an answer as from a mathematician. We might as well ask for cleanliness from a person who thinks he has set his house in order by having swept the dirt from one corner to another.

To compare the varieties of intellectual attitude among men generally, we must start with sense-perception, which, combined with mental perception, makes a not insignificant difference in each individual. Astronomers first discovered the existence of this difference, in that they showed that various observers of contemporaneous events do not observe at the same time. This fact is called "the personal equation." Whether the difference in rate of sense-perception, or the difference of intellectual apprehension, or of both together, are here responsible, is not known, but the proved distinction (even to a second) is so much the more important, since events which succeed each other very rapidly may cause individual observers to have quite different images. And we know as little whether the slower or the quicker observer sees more correctly, as we little know what people perceive more quickly or more slowly. Now, inasmuch as we are unable to test individual differences with special instruments, we must satisfy ourselves with the fact that there are different varieties of conception, and that these may be of especial importance in doubtful cases, such as brawls, sudden attacks, cheating at cards, pocket-picking, etc.

The next degree of difference is in the difference of observation. Schiel says that the observer is not he who sees the thing, but who sees of what parts it is made. The talent for such vision is rare. One man overlooks half because he is inattentive or is looking at the wrong place; another substitutes his own inferences for objects, while another tends to observe the quality of objects, and neglects their quantity; and still another divides what is to be united, and unites what is to be separated. If we keep in mind what profound differences may result in this way, we must recogruze the source of the conflicting assertions by witnesses. And we shall have to

grant that these differences would become incomparably greater and more important if the witnesses were not required to talk of the event immediately, or later on, thus approximating their different conceptions to some average. Hence we often discover that when the witnesses really have had no chance to discuss the matter and have heard no account of it from a third person, or have not seen the consequences of the deed, their discussions of it showed distinct and essential differences merely through the lack of an opportunity or a standard of correction. And we then suppose that a part of what the witnesses have said is untrue, or assume that they were inattentive, or blind.

Views are of similar importance.[2] Fiesto exclaims, "It is scandalous to empty a full purse, it is impertinent to misappropriate a million, but it is unnamably great to steal a crown. The shame decreases with the increase of the sin." Exner holds that the ancients conceived Oedipus not as we do; they found his misfortune horrible; we find it unpleasant.

These are poetical criminal cases presented to us from different points of view; and we nowadays understand the same action still more differently, and not only in poetry, but in the daily life. Try, for example, to get various individuals to judge the same formation of clouds. You may hear the clouds called flower-stalks with spiritual blossoms, impoverished students, stormy sea, camel, monkey, battling giants, swarm of flies, prophet with a flowing beard, dunderhead, etc. We have coming to light, in this accidental interpretation of fact, the speaker's view of life, his intimacies, etc. This emergence is as observable in the interpretation also of the ordinary events of the daily life. There, even if the judgments do not vary very much, they are still different enough to indicate quite distinct points of view. The memory of the curious judgment of one cloud-formation has helped me many a time to explain testimonies that seemed to have no possible connection.

Attitude or feeling—this indefinable factor exercises a great influence on conception and interpretation. It is much more wonderful than even the march of events, or of fate itself. Everybody knows what attitude (stimmung) is. Everybody has suffered from it, everybody has made some use of it, but nobody can altogether define it. According to Fischer, attitude consists in the compounded feelings of all the inner conditions and changes of the organism,

expressed in consciousness. This would make attitude a sort of vital feeling, the resultant of the now favorable, now unfavorable functioning of our organs. The description is, however, not unexceptionable, inasmuch as single, apparently insignificant influences upon our senses may create or alter our attitudes for a long time without revealing its effect on any organ or its integration with the other mental states. I know how merely good or bad weather determines attitude, how it may be helped immediately by a good cigar, and how often we may pass a day, joyous or dejected, only to discover that the cause is a good or a bad dream of the foregoing night. Especially instructive in this regard was a little experience of mine during an official journey. The trouble which brought me out was an ordinary brawl between young peasants, one of whom was badly cut up and was to be examined. Half-way over, we had to wait at a wayside inn where I expected a relieving gendarme. A quarter of an hour after the stop, when we renewed the journey, I found myself overcome by unspeakable sadness, and this very customary brawl seemed to me especially unpleasant. I sympathized with the wounded boy, his parents, his opponents, all strangers to me, and I bewrayed the rawness of mankind, its love for liquor, etc. This attitude was so striking that I began to seek its cause. I found it, first of all, in the dreary region,—then in the cup of hot coffee that I had drunk in the restaurant, which might possibly have been poisonous;—finally, it occurred to me that the hoof-beats of the horses were tuned to a very saddening minor chord. The coachman in his hurry had forgotten to take bells with him, and in order to avoid violating police regulations he had borrowed at the inn another peal, and my sad state dated from the moment I heard it. I banished the sound and immediately I found myself enjoying the pretty scenery.

I am convinced that if I had been called to testify in my sad state, I would have told the story otherwise than normally. The influence of music upon attitude is very well known. The unknown influence of external conditions also makes a difference on attitude. "If you are absorbed in thought," says Fechner, "you notice neither sunshine nor the green of the meadows, etc., and still you are in a quite different emotional condition from that which would possess you in a dark room."

The attitude we call indifference is of particular import. It appears, especially, when the ego, because of powerful impressions, is concerned with itself; pain, sadness, important work, reflection,

disease, etc. In this condition we depreciate or undervalue the significance of everything that occurs about us. Everything is brought into relation to our personal, immediate condition, and is from the point of view of our egoism, more or less indifferent. It does not matter whether this attitude of indifference occurs at the time of perception or at the time of restatement during the examination. In either case, the fact is robbed of its hardness, its significance, and its importance; what was white or black, is described as gray.

There is another and similar attitude which is distinguished by the fact that we are never quite aware of it but are much subject to it. According to Lipps[3] and Lotze,[4] there is to be observed in neurotic attitudes a not rare and complete indifference to feeling, and in consciousness an essential lack of feeling-tone in perception. Our existence, our own being, seems to us, then, to be a foreign thing, having little concern with us—a story we need not earnestly consider. That in such condition little attention is paid to what is going on around us seems clear enough. The experiences are shadowy and superficial; they are indifferent and are represented as such only. This condition is very dangerous in the law court, because, where a conscientious witness will tell us that, e. g., at the time of the observation or the examination he was sick or troubled, and therefore was incorrect, a person utterly detached in the way described does not tell the judge of his condition, probably because he does not know anything about it.

There are certain closely-related mental and physical situations which lead to quite a different view. Those who are suffering physically, those who have deeply wounded feelings, and those who have been reduced by worry, are examined in the same way as normal people, yet they need to be measured by quite a different standard. Again, we are sometimes likely to suppose great passions that have long since passed their period, to be as influential as they were in their prime. We know that love and hate disappear in the distance, and that love long dead and a long-deferred hatred tend to express themselves as a feeling of mildness and forgiveness which is pretty much the same in spite of its diverse sources. If the examiner knows that a great passion, whether of hate or of love, exists, he thinks he is fooled when he finds a full, calm and objective judgment instead of it. It seems impossible to him, and he either does not believe the probably accurate witness, or colors his testimony with that knowledge.

Bodily conditions are still more remarkable in effecting differences in point of view. Here no sense-illusion is presented since no change occurs in sense-perception; the changes are such that arise after the perception, during the process of judgment and interpretation. We might like an idea when lying down that displeases us when we stand up. Examination shows that this attitude varies with the difference in the quantity of blood in the brain in these two positions, and this fact may explain a whole series of phenomena. First of all, it is related to plan-making and the execution of plans. Everybody knows how, while lying in bed, a great many plans occur that seem good. The moment you get up, new considerations arise, and the half-adopted plan is progressively abandoned. Now this does not mean anything so long as nothing was undertaken in the first situation which might be binding for the resolution then made. For example, when two, lying in bed, have made a definite plan, each is later ashamed before the other to withdraw from it. So we often hear from criminals that they were sorry about certain plans, but since they were once resolved upon, they were carried out. Numbers of such phenomena, many of them quite unbelievable in appearance, may be retroduced to similar sources.

A like thing occurs when a witness, e. g., reflects about some event while he is in bed. When he thinks of it again he is convinced, perhaps, that the matter really occurred in quite another way than he had newly supposed it to. Now he may convince himself that the time at which he made the reflections was nearer the event, and hence, those reflections must have been the more correct ones— in that case he sticks to his first story, although that might have been incorrect. Helmholtz[5] has pointed to something similar: "The colors of a landscape appear to be much more living and definite when they are looked at obliquely, or when they are looked at with the head upside down, than when they are looked at with the head in its ordinary position. With the head upside down we try correctly to judge objects and know that, e. g., green meadows, at a certain distance, have a rather altered coloration. We become used to that fact, discount the change and identify the green of distant objects with the shade of green belonging to near objects. Besides, we see the landscape from the new position as a flat image, and incidentally we see clouds in right perspective and the landscape flat, like clouds when we see them in the ordinary way." Of course, everybody knows this. And of course, in a criminal case such considerations will

hardly ever play any rôle. But, on the other hand, it is also a matter of course that the reason for these differences might likewise be the reason for a great many others not yet discovered, and yet of great significance to criminalists.

Such is the situation with regard to comparison. Schiel laid much emphasis on the fact that two lines of unequal length seem equal when they diverge, although their difference is recognized immediately if they are parallel, close together, and start from the same level. He says that the situation is similar in all comparison. If things may be juxtaposed they can be compared; if not, the comparison is bound to be bad. There is no question of illusion here, merely of convenience of manipulation. Juxtaposition is frequently important, not for the practical convenience of comparison, but because we must know whether the witness has discovered the right juxtaposition. Only if he has, can his comparison have been good. To discover whether he has, requires careful examination.

Conception and interpretation are considerably dependent on the interest which is brought to the object examined. There is a story of a child's memory of an old man, which was not a memory of the whole man, but only of a green sleeve and a wrinkled hand presenting a cake of chocolate. The child was interested only in the chocolate, and hence, understood it and its nearest environment —the hand and the sleeve. We may easily observe similar cases. In some great brawl the witness may have seen only what was happening to his brother. The numismatist may have observed only a bracelet with a rare coin in a heap of stolen valuables. In a long anarchistic speech the witness may have heard only what threatened his own welfare. And so on. The very thing looks different if, for whatever reason, it is uninteresting or intensely interesting. A color is quite different when it is in fashion, a flower different when we know it to be artificial, the sun is brighter at home, and home-grown fruit tastes better. But there is still another group of specific influences on our conceptions and interpretations, the examples of which have been increasing unbrokenly. One of these is the variety in the significance of words. Words have become symbols of concepts, and simple words have come to mean involved mathematical and philosophical ideas. It is conceivable that two men may connote quite different things by the word "symbol." And even in thinking and construing, in making use of perceived facts, different conceptions may arise through presenting the fact to another with symbols, that to him, signify different things. The

difference may perhaps not be great, but when it is taken in connection with the associations and suggestions of the word used, small mistakes multiply and the result is quite different from what it might have been if another meaning had been the starting-point. The use of foreign words, in a sense different from that used by us, may lead us far astray. It must be borne in mind that the meaning of the foreign word frequently does not coincide with the sense it has in the dictionary. Hence, it is dangerous in adducing evidence to use foreign expressions when it is important to adhere strictly to a single meaning. Taine says, correctly: "Love and amour, girl and jeune fille, song and chanson, are not identical although they are substituted for one another." It is, moreover, pointed out that children, especially, are glad to substitute and alter ideas for which one word stands, so that they expand or contract its meaning haphazard. Bow-wow may first mean a dog, then a horse, then all animals, and a child who was once shown a fir tree in the forest said it wasn't a fir tree, for fir trees come only at Christmas.

This process is not confined to children. At one time or another we hear a word. As soon as we hear it we connect it with an idea. This connection will rarely be correct, largely because we have heard the word for the first time. Later, we get our idea from events in which this word occurs, of course, in connection with the object we instantaneously understand the word to mean. In time we learn another word, and word and meaning have changed, correctly or incorrectly. A comparison of these changes in individuals would show how easy both approximations and diversifications in meaning are. It must follow that any number of misunderstandings can develop, and many an alteration in the conception of justice and decency, considered through a long period, may become very significant in indicating the changes in the meaning of words. Many a time, if we bear thoroughly in mind the mere changes in the meaning of the word standing for a doubtful fact, we put ourselves in possession of the history of morals. Even the most important quarrels would lapse if the quarreling persons could get emotionally at the intent of their opponent's words.

In this connection questions of honor offer a broad field of examples. It is well known that German is rich in words that show personal dislikes, and also, that the greater portion of these words are harmless in themselves. But one man understands this, the other that, when he hears the words, and finally, German is in the curious position of being the cause of the largest number of attacks on honor

and of cases of slander in the world. Where the Frenchman laughs and becomes witty, the German grows sullen, insulting, and looks for trouble. The French call sensitiveness to insignificant and worthless things, the German way of quarreling (faire querelle d'allemand). Many a slander case in court is easily settled by showing people the value of the word. Many who complained that they were called a creature, a person, etc., went away satisfied as soon as the whole meaning of the words had been explained to them.

In conclusion, just a word concerning the influence of time on conception. Not the length of past time, but the value of the time-span is what is important in determining an event. According to Herbart, there is a form of temporal repetition, and time is the form of repetition. If he is right it is inevitable that time, fast-moving or slow-moving, must influence the conception of events. It is well-known that monotony in the run of time makes it seem slow, while time full of events goes swiftly, but appears long in memory, because a large number of points have to be thought through. Münsterberg shows that we have to stop at every separate point, and so time seems, in memory, longer. But this is not universally valid. Aristotle had already pointed out that a familiar road appears to be shorter than an unfamiliar one, and this is contradictory to the first proposition. So, a series of days flies away if we spend them quietly and calmly in vacation in the country. Their swiftness is surprising. Then when something of importance occurs in our life and it is directly succeeded by a calm, eventless period, this seems very long in memory, although it should have seemed long when it occurred, and short in the past. These and similar phenomena are quite unexplained, and all that can be said after numerous experiments is, that we conceive short times as long, and long times as short. Now, we may add the remarkable fact that most people have no idea of the duration of very small times, especially of the minute. Ask any individual to sit absolutely quiet, without counting or doing anything else, and to indicate the passing of each minute up to five. He will say that the five minutes have passed at the end of never more than a minute and a half. So witnesses in estimating time will make mistakes also, and these mistakes, and other nonsense, are written into the protocols.

There are two means of correction. Either have the witness determine the time in terms of some familiar form, i. e., a paternoster, etc., or give him the watch and let him observe the second hand. In the latter case he will assert that his ten, or his five, or

his twenty minutes were, at most, no more than a half or a whole minute.

The problem of time is still more difficult when the examination has to be made with regard to the estimation of still longer periods— weeks, months, or years. There is no means of making any test. The only thing that experience definitely shows is, that the certainty of such estimates depends on their being fixed by distinct events. If anybody says that event A occurred four or five days before event B, we may believe him if, e. g., he adds, "For when A occurred we began to cut corn, and when B occurred we harvested it. And between these two events there were four or five days." If he can not adduce similar judgments, we must never depend upon him, for things may have occurred which have so influenced his conception of time that he judges altogether falsely.

It often happens in such cases that defective estimates, made in the course of lengthy explanations, suddenly become points of reference, and then, if wrong, are the cause of mistakes. Suppose that a witness once said that an event occurred four years ago. Much later an estimation of the time is undertaken which shows that the hasty statement sets the event in 1893. And then all the most important conclusions are merely argued from that. It is best, as is customary in such cases, to test the uncertainty and incorrectness of these estimates of time on oneself. It may be assumed that the witness, in the case in question, is likely to have made a better estimate, but it may equally be assumed that he has not done so. In short, the conception of periods of time can not be dealt with too cautiously.

Section 84. (e) Nature and Nurture.

Schopenhauer was the first to classify people according to nature and nurture. Just where he first used the categories I do not know, but I know that he is responsible for them. "Nature" is physical and mental character and disposition, taken most broadly; "nurture" is bringing up, environment, studies, scholarship, and experience, also in the broadest sense of those words. Both together present what a man is, what he is able to do, what he wants to do. A classification, then, according to nature and nurture is a classification according to essence and character. The influence of a man's nature on his face, we know, or try to know, but what criminal relationships his nurture may develop for us, we are altogether ignorant of. There are all sorts of intermediaries, connections and

differences between what the goddess of civilization finds to prize, and what can be justified only by a return to simplicity and nature.

Section 85. I. The Influence of Nurture.

Criminologically the influence of nurture on mankind is important if it can explain the development of morality, honorableness, and love of truth. The criminalist has to study relations, actions, and assertions, to value and to compare them when they are differentiable only in terms of the nurture of those who are responsible for them. The most instructive works on this problem are those of Tarde,[1] and Oelzelt-Newin.[2] Among the older writers Leibnitz had already said, "If you leave education to me I'll change Europe in a century." Descartes, Locke, Helvetius assign to nurture the highest possible value while Carlyle, e. g., insists that civilization is a cloak in which wild human nature may eternally burn with hellish fire. For moderns it is a half-way house. Ribot says that training has least effect at the two extremes of humanity—little and transitively on the idiot, much on the average man, not at all on the genius. I might add that the circle of idiots and geniuses must be made extremely large, for average people are very few in number, and the increase in intellectual training has made no statistical difference on the curve of crime. This is one of the conclusions arrived at by Adolf Wagner[3] which corroborates the experience of practicing lawyers and we who have had, during the growth of popular education, the opportunity to make observations from the criminalistic standpoint, know nothing favorable to its influence. If the general assertion is true that increased national education has reduced brawling, damages to property, etc., and has increased swindling, misappropriations, etc., we have made a great mistake. For the psychological estimation of a criminal, the crime itself is not definitive; there is always the question as to the damage this individual has done his own nature with his deed. If, then, a peasant lad hits his neighbor with the leg of a chair or destroys fences, or perhaps a whole village, he may still be the most honorable of youths, and later grow up into a universally respected man. Many of the best and most useful village mayors have been guilty in their youth of brawls, damages to property, resistance to authority, and similar things.

But if a man has once swindled or killed anybody, he has lost his honor, and, as a rule, remains a scoundrel for the rest of his life. If for criminals of the first kind we substitute the latter type we get a very bad outlook.

Individuals yield similar experiences. The most important characteristic of a somewhat cultivated man who not only is able to read and to write, but makes some use of his knowledge, is a loudly-expressed discontent with his existence. If he once has acquired the desire to read, the little time he has is not sufficient to satisfy it, and when he has more time he is always compelled to lay aside his volume of poetry to feed the pigs or to clean the stables. He learns, moreover, of a number of needs which he can not satisfy but which books have instilled in him, and finally, he seeks illegal means, as we criminalists know, for their satisfaction.

In many countries the law of such cases considers extenuating circumstances and defective bringing-up, but it has never yet occurred to a single criminalist that people might be likely to commit crime because they could not read or write. Nevertheless, we are frequently in touch with an old peasant as witness who gives the impression of absolute integrity, reliability, and wisdom, so much so that it is gain for anybody to talk to him. But though the black art of reading and writing has been foreign to him through the whole of his life, nobody will have any accusation to make against him about defective bringing-up.

The exhibition of unattainable goods to the mass of mankind is a question of conscience. We must, of course, assume that deficiency in education is not in itself a reason for doubting the witness, or for holding an individual inclined to crime. The mistakes in bringing-up like spoiling, rigor, neglect, and their consequences, laziness, deceit, and larceny, have a sufficiently evil outcome. And how far these are at fault, and how far the nature of the individual himself, can be determined only in each concrete case by itself. It will not occur to anybody to wish for a return to savagery and anarchy because of the low value we set on the training of the mind. There is still the business of moral training, and its importance can not be overestimated. Considering the subject generally, we may say that the aim of education is the capacity of sympathizing with the feeling, understanding, and willing of other minds. This might be supplemented, perhaps, also with the limitation that the sympathy must be correct, profound, and implicative, for external, approximate, or inverted sympathy will obviously not do. The servant girl knows

concerning her master only his manner of quarreling and his manner of spitting but is absolutely unaffected by, and strange to his inner life. The darker aspects of culture and civilization are most obvious in the external contacts of mankind.

When we begin to count an intelligent sympathy, it must follow that the sympathy is possible only with regard to commonly conceivable matters; that we must fundamentally exclude the essential inward construction of the mind and the field of scientific morality. Hence we have left only religion, which is the working morality of the populace.

According to Goethe, the great fundamental conflict of history is the conflict of belief with doubt. A discussion of this conflict is unnecessary here. It is mentioned only by way of indicating that the sole training on which the criminalist may rely is that of real religion. A really religious person is a reliable witness, and when he is behind the bar he permits at least the assumption that he is innocent. Of course it is difficult to determine whether he is genuinely religious or not, but if genuine religion can be established we have a safe starting point. Various authors have discussed the influence of education, pro and con. Statistically, it is shown that in Russia, only 10% of the population can read and write, and still of 36,868 condemned persons, no fewer than 26,944 were literate. In the seventies the percentage of criminals in Scotland was divided as follows, 21% absolutely illiterate, 52.7 half educated; 26.3% well educated.

The religious statistics are altogether worthless. A part of them have nothing to do with religion, e. g., the criminality of Jews. One part is worthless because it deals only with the criminality of baptized Protestants or Catholics, and the final section, which might be of great interest, i. e., the criminality of believers and unbelievers, is indeterminable. Statistics say that in the country A in the year n there were punished x% Protestants, y% Catholics, etc. Of what use is the statement? Both among the x and the y percentages there were many absolute unbelievers, and it is indifferent whether they were Protestant or Catholic unbelievers. It would be interesting to know what percentage of the Catholics and of the Protestants are really faithful, for if we rightly assume that a true believer rarely commits a crime, we should be able to say which religion from the view point of the criminalist should be encouraged. The one which counts the greater percentage of believers, of course, but we shall never know which one that is. The numbers of the

"Protestant" criminals, and those of the "Catholics," can not help us in the least in this matter.

Section 86. (2) The View, of the Uneducated.

"To discourse is nature, to assimilate discourse as it is given, is culture." With this statement, Goethe has shown where the deficiencies in culture begin, and observation verifies the fact that the uncultured person is unable to accept what is told him as it is told him. This does not mean that uncultured people are unable to remember statements as they are made, but that they are unable to assimilate any perception in its integrity and to reproduce it in its natural simplicity. This is the alpha and the omega of every thing observable in the examination of simple people. Various thinkers in different fields have noted this fact. Mill, e. g., observes that the inability to distinguish between perception and inference is most obvious in the attempt of some ignorant person to describe a natural phenomenon. Douglas Stewart notices that the village apothecary will rarely describe the simplest case without immediately making use of a terminology in which every word is a theory. The simple and true presentation of the phenomenon will reveal at once whether the mind is able to give an accurate interpretation of nature. This suggests why we are frequently engaged in some much-involved process of description of a fact, in itself simple. It has been presented to us in this complicated fashion because our informants did not know how to speak simply. So Kant: "The testimony of common people may frequently be intended honestly, but it is not often reliable because the witnesses have not the habit of prolonged attention, and so they mistake what they think themselves for what they hear from others. Hence, even though they take oaths, they can hardly be believed." Hume, again, says somewhere in the Essay, that most men are naturally inclined to differentiate their discourse, inasmuch as they see their object from one side only, do not think of the objections, and conceive its corroborative principles with such liveliness that they pay no attention to those which look another way. Now, whoever sees an object from one side only does not see it as it comes to him, and whoever refuses to think of objections, has already subjectively colored his objects and no longer sees them as they are.

In this regard it is interesting to note the tendency of uneducated people to define things. They are not interested in the immediate

perception, but in its abstract form. The best example of this is the famous barrack-room definition of honor: Honor is that thing belonging to the man who has it. The same fault is committed by anybody who fails to apprehend the whole as it comes, but perceives only what is most obvious and nearest. Mittermaier has pointed out that the light-minded, accidental witness sees only the nearest characteristics. Again, he says, "It is a well-known fact that uneducated people attend only to the question that was asked them last."[1] This fact is important. If a witness is unskilfully asked in one breath whether he murdered A, robbed B, and stole a pear from C, he will probably answer with calmness, "No, I have not stolen a pear," but he pays no attention to the other two portions of the question. This characteristic is frequently made use of by the defense. The lawyers ask some important witness for the prosecution: "Can you say that you have seen how the accused entered the room, looked around, approached the closet, and then drew the watch toward himself?" The uneducated witness then says dryly, "No, I can not say that," although he has seen everything except the concealment of the watch. He denies the whole thing solely because he has been able to attend to the last portion of the question only. It is very easy to look out for these characteristics, by simply not permitting a number of questions in one, by having questions put in the simplest and clearest possible form. Simple questions are thankfully received, and get better answers than long, or tricky ones.

For the same reason that prevents uneducated people from ever seeing a thing as it comes to them, their love of justice depends on their eagerness to avoid becoming themselves subjects of injustice. Hence, weak people can never be honest, and most uneducated people understand by duty that which others are to do. Duty is presented as required of all men, but it is more comfortable to require it of others, so that it is understood as only so required. It may be due to the fact that education develops quiet imperturbability, and that this is conducive to correcter vision and more adequate objectivity in both events and obligations.

There is another series of processes which are characteristic of the point of view of the uneducated. There is, e. g., a peculiar recurring mental process with regard to the careful use of life preservers, fire extinguishers, and other means of escape, which are to be used hastily in case of need. They are found always carefully

chained up, or hidden in closets by the ignorant. This is possible only if the idea of protecting oneself against sudden need does not make itself effective as such, but is forced out of the mind by the desire to protect oneself against theft.

Why must the uneducated carefully feel everything that is shown them, or that they otherwise find to be new? Children even smell such things, while educated people are satisfied with looking at them. The request in public places, "Do not touch," has very good reason. I believe that the level of culture of an individual may be determined without much mistake, by his inclination to touch or not to touch some new object presented him. The reason for this desire can hardly be established but it is certainly the wish of the uneducated to study the object more fundamentally and hence, to bring into play other senses than that of sight. It may be that the educated man sees more because he is better trained in careful observation, so that the uneducated man is really compelled to do more than merely to look. On the other hand, it may be that the uneducated man here again fails to perceive the object as it is, and when it appears to him as object A, or is indicated as that object, he is inclined to disbelieve, and must convince himself by careful feeling that it is really an A.[2] It may be, again, that "trains of association" can help to explain the matter.

That an understanding of the character of an object is dependent on training and educated observation has been verified many times, incidentally, also by the fact that the uneducated find it difficult to get on with representations. Now this can not be accounted for by only their defective practice. The old, but instructive story of the peasant-woman who asked her son what he was reading, the black or the white, repeats itself whenever uneducated people are shown images, photographs, etc. For a long time I had not noticed that they see the background as the thing to be attended to. When, for example, you show an uneducated man a bust photograph, it may happen that he perceives the upper surroundings of shoulder and head as the lower contours of the background which is to indicate some fact, and if these contours happen to be, e. g., those of a dog, the man sees "a white dog." This is more frequent than we think, and hence, we must pay little attention to failures to recognize people in photographs.[3] One more story by way of example— that of a photographer who snapped a dozen parading young dragoons,

and had gotten the addresses, but not the street numbers of their parents. He sent for that reason to the twelve parents, for inspection, a photograph each with the notice that if some mistake had occurred he would rectify it. But not a parent complained of the photographer's failure to have sent them the pictures of their own children. Each had received a soldier, and appeared to be quite satisfied with the correctness of his image. Hence it follows again, that denials of photographic identity by the uneducated are altogether without value.

In another direction images have a peculiar significance for children and ignorant people, because they show ineradicable ideas, particularly with regard to size. Nobody recalls any book so vividly as his first picture book and its contents. We remember it even though we are convinced that the people who made our picture book were quite mistaken. Now, as it frequently happens that the sizes are incorrectly reproduced, as when, e. g., a horse and a reindeer occur in the same picture, and the latter seems bigger than the former, the reindeer appears in imagination always bigger. It does not matter if we learn later how big a reindeer is, or how many times we have seen one, we still find the animal "altogether too small, it must be bigger than a horse." Educated adults do not make this mistake, but the uneducated do, and many false statements depend on ideas derived from pictures. If their derivation is known we may discover the source of the mistake, but if the mistake occurred unconsciously, then we have to combine the circumstances and study further to find the reason.

Finally, the general influence of the failure of ignorant people to see things as they are, upon their feeling-tone is shown in two characteristic stories. Bulwer tells of a servant whose master beat him and who was instigated to seek protection in court. He refused indignantly inasmuch as his master was too noble a person to be subject to law. And Gutberlet tells the story of the director of police, Serafini, in Ravenna, who had heard that a notorious murderer had threatened to shoot him. Serafini had the assassin brought to him, gave him a loaded pistol and invited him to shoot. The murderer grew pale and Serafini boxed his ears and kicked him out.

Section 87. (3) One-Sided Education.

Just a few words about the considerable danger in the testimony presented by persons of one-sided education. Altogether uneducated

people warn us in their own way, but people who have a certain amount of training, in at least one direction, impress us to such a degree that we assume them to be otherwise also educated and thus get involved in mistakes.

It is hard to say correctly what constitutes an educated man. We demand, of course, a certain amount of knowledge, but we do not know the magnitude of that amount of knowledge, and still less its subject matter. It is remarkable that our time, which has devoted itself more than all others to natural science, does not include knowledge of such science in its concept of the educated man. Some ignorance of history, or of the classics, or even of some modern novels, failure to visit the theaters and the picture exhibitions, neglect of French and English, etc., classifies a man at once as lacking essential "culture." But if he knows these things, and at the same time exhibits in the most naïve way an incredible ignorance of zoölogy, botany, physics, chemistry, astronomy, etc., he still remains "an educated man." The contradiction is inexplicable, but it exists, and because of it, nobody can definitely say what is meant by a one-sided education. The extent of one-sidedness is, however, illustrated by many examples. We mention only two. Linnaeus' own drawings with remarks by Afzelius show that in spite of his extraordinary knowledge of botany and his wonderful memory, he did not know a foreign language. He was in Holland for three years, and failed to understand even the Dutch language, so very similar to his own. It is told of Sir Humphrey Davy, that during the visit to the Louvre, in Paris, he admired the extraordinary carving of the frames of the pictures, and the splendid material of which the most famous of the Greek sculptures were made.

Now, how are we to meet people of this kind when they are on the witness stand? They offer no difficulty when they tell us that they know nothing about the subject in question. Suppose we have to interrogate a philologist on a subject which requires only that amount of knowledge of natural science which may be presupposed in any generally educated individual. If he declares honestly that he has forgotten everything he had learned about the matter in college, he is easily dealt with in the same way as "uneducated people." If, however, he is not honest enough immediately to confess his ignorance, nothing else will do except to make him see his position by means of questions, and even then to proceed carefully. It would be conscienceless to try to spare this man while another is shown up.

The same attitude must be taken toward autodidacts and dilettantes who always measure the value of their knowledge by the amount of effort they had to use in getting it, and hence, always overestimate their acquirements. It is to be observed that they assert no more than their information permits them to, and their personality is easily discoverable by the manner in which they present their knowledge. The self-taught man is in the end only the parvenu of knowledge, and just as the parvenu, as such, rarely conceals his character, so the autodidact rarely conceals his character.

There is an additional quality of which we must beware—that is the tendency of experts to take pride in some different, incidental, and less important little thing than their own subject. Frederick the Great with his miserable flute-playing is an example. Such people may easily cause mistakes. The knowledge of their attainment in one field causes us involuntarily to respect their assertions. Now, if their assertions deal with their hobbies many a silly thing is taken at its face value, and that value is counterfeit.

Section 88. (4) Inclination.

Whether a scientific characterization of inclination is possible, whether the limits of this concept can be determined, and whether it is the result of nature, culture, or both together, are questions which can receive no certain answer. We shall not here speak of individual forms of inclination, i. e., to drink, to gamble, to steal, etc., for these are comparatively the most difficult of our modern problems. We shall consider them generally and briefly. Trees and men, says the old proverb, fall as they are inclined. Now, if we examine the inclination of the countless fallen ones we meet in our calling we shall have fewer difficulties in qualifying and judging their crimes. As a rule, it is difficult to separate inclination, on the one hand, from opportunity, need, desire, on the other. The capacity for evil is a seduction to its performance, as Alfieri says somewhere, and this idea clarifies the status of inclination. The ability may often be the opportune cause of the development of an evil tendency, and frequent success may lead to the assumption of the presence of an inclination.

Maudsley points out that feelings that have once been present leave their unconscious residue which modify the total character and even reconstruct the moral sense as a resultant of particular experiences. That an inclination or something similar thereto might

develop in this way is certain, for we may even inherit an inclination, —but only under certain conditions. This fact is substantiated by the characteristics of vagabonds. It may, perhaps, be said that the enforcement of the laws of vagabondage belongs to the most interesting of the psychological researches of the criminal judge. Even the difference between the real bona fide tramp, and the poor devil who, in spite of all his effort can get no work, requires the consideration of a good deal of psychological fact. There is no need of description in such cases; the difference must be determined by the study of thousands of details. Just as interesting are the results of procedure, especially certain statistical results. The course of long practice will show that among real tramps there is hardly ever an individual whose calling requires very hard or difficult work. Peasants, smiths, well-diggers, mountaineers, are rarely tramps. The largest numbers have trades which demand no real hard work and whose business is not uniform. Bakers, millers, waiters are hence more numerous. The first have comparatively even distribution of work and rest; the latter sometimes have much, sometimes little to do, without any possible evenness of distribution. Now, we should make a mistake if we inferred that because the former had hard work, and an equivalent distribution of work and rest, they do not become tramps, while the latter, lacking these, do become tramps. In truth, the former have naturally a need and inclination for hard work and uniform living, have, therefore, no inclination to tramping, and have for that reason chosen their difficult calling. The latter, on the other hand, felt an inclination for lighter, more irregular work, i. e., were already possessed of an inclination for vagabondage, and had, hence, chosen the business of baking, grinding, or waiting. The real tramp, therefore, is not a criminal. Vagabondage is no doubt the kindergarten of criminals, because there are many criminals among tramps, but the true vagabond is one only because of his inclination for tramping. He is a degenerate.

Possibly a similar account of other types may be rendered. If it is attained by means of a statistic developed on fundamental psychological principles, it would give us ground for a number of important assumptions. It would help us to make parallel inferences, inasmuch as it would permit us to determine the fundamental inclination of the person by considering his calling, his way of approaching his work, his environment, his choice of a wife, his preferred pleasures, etc. And then we should be able to connect this inclination with the deed in question. It is difficult to fix upon the

relation between inclination and character, and the agreement will be only general when a man's character is called all those things to which he is naturally, or by education, inclined. But it is certain that a good or bad character exists only then when its maxims of desire and action express themselves in fact. The emphasis must be on the fact; what is factual may be discovered, and these discoveries may be of use.

Section 89. (5) Other Differences.

The ancient classification of individuals according to temperaments is of little use. There were four of them, called humors, and a series of characteristics was assigned to each, but not one of them had all of its characteristics at once. Hence temperaments determined according to these four categories do not really exist, and the categorical distinction can have no practical value. If, however, we make use of the significant general meaning of temperament, the apparatus of circumstance which is connected with this distinction becomes superfluous. If you call every active person choleric, every truculent one sanguine, every thoughtful one phlegmatic, and every sad one melancholy, you simply add a technical expression to a few of the thousands of adjectives that describe these things. These four forms are not the only ones there are. Apart from countless medial and transitional forms, there are still large numbers that do not fit in any one of these categories. Moreover, temperament alters with age, health, experience, and other accidents, so that the differentiation is not even justified by the constancy of the phenomenon. Nevertheless, it is to some degree significant because any form of it indicates a certain authority, and because each one of these four categories serves to connect a series of phenomena and assumes this connection to be indubitable, although there is absolutely no necessity for it. When Machiavelli says that the world belongs to the phlegmatic, he certainly did not have in mind that complex of phenomena which are habitually understood as the characteristics of the phlegmatic humor. He wanted simply to say that extremes of conduct lead to as little in the daily life as in politics; that everything must be reflected upon and repeatedly tested before its realization is attempted; that only then can progress, even if slow, be made. If he had said, the world belongs to the cautious or reflective person, we should not have found his meaning to be different.

When we seek clearly to understand the nature and culture of

an individual, an investigation into his temperament does not help us in the least. Let us consider then, some other characteristic on which is based the judgment of individuals. The proverb says that laughter betrays a man. If in the theater, you know the subject of laughter, the manner of laughter, and the point at which laughter first occurred, you know where the most educated and the least educated people are. Schopenhauer says that the intelligent man finds everything funny, the logical man nothing; and according to Erdmann (in Über die Dummheit), the distressing or laughable characteristics of an object, shows not its nature, but the nature of the observer. It would seem that the criminalist might save himself much work by observing the laughter of his subjects. The embarrassed, foolish snickering of the badly observing witness; the painful smile of the innocent prisoner, or the convicted penitent; the cruel laughter of the witness glad of the damage he has done; the evil laughter of the condemning accomplice; the happy, weak laughter of the innocent who has adduced evidence of his innocence, and the countless other forms of laughter, all these vary so much with the character of the laugher, and are so significant, that hardly anything compares with them in value. When you remember, moreover, that concealment during laughter is not easy, at least at the moment when the laughter ceases, you see how very important laughter may be in determining a case.

Of equal importance with laughter are certain changes which may occur in people during a very short time. If we observe in the course of the daily life, that people, without any apparent reason, so change that we can hardly recognize them, the change becomes ten times more intense under the influence of guilt or even of imprisonment. Somebody said that isolation has revealed the greatest men, the greatest fools, and the greatest criminals. What, then, might be the influence of compulsory isolation, i. e., of imprisonment! We fortunately do not live in a time which permits imprisonment for months and years in even the simplest cases, but under certain circumstances even a few days' imprisonment may completely alter a person. Embitterment or wildness may exhibit itself, just as sorrow and softness, during the stay under arrest. And hence, the criminalist who does not frequently see and deal with his subjects does not perform his duty. I do not mean, of course, that he should see them for the purpose of getting a confession out of an attack of morbidity; I mean only, that this is the one way of getting a just and correct notion of the case. Every criminalist of experience will

grant that he sees the event, particularly the motives of the criminal, otherwise after the first examination than after the later ones, and that his later notions are mainly the more correct ones. If we set aside the unfortunate cases in which the individual held for examination is instructed by his prison-mates and becomes still more spoiled, I might permit myself the assertion that imprisonment tends to show the individual more correctly as he is; that the strange surroundings, the change from his former position, the opportunity to think over his situation may, if there are no opposing influences, help the criminalist a great deal, and this fact is confirmed in the superior results of later to earlier examinations.

In addition, the bodily condition and the health of the prisoner change almost always. The new mode of life, the different food and surroundings, the lack of movement, the moral effect, work directly on the body, and we must confess, unfortunately, on health. There are, however, cases in which health has been improved by imprisonment, especially the health of people who have led a wild, irregular, drunken life, or such who have had to worry and care too much. But these are exceptions, and as a rule the prisoner's physique suffers a great deal, but fortunately for a short time only. The influence of such effects on the mind is familiar. The bodily misfortune gives a wide opening for complete change in moral nature; health sustains the atheist in darkness. This fact, as mentioned by Bain, may serve to explain the origin of many a confession which has saved an innocent person at the last moment.

Nor must we forget that time—and for the prisoner, imprisonment is time endowed with power—effects many an adjustment of extremes. We know that utter evil is as rare as perfect virtue. We have nothing to do with the latter, but we almost as infrequently meet the former. The longer we deal with "bad men," the more inclined are we to see the very summit of devilment as the result of need and friendlessness, weakness, foolishness, flightiness, and just simple, real, human poorness of spirit. Now, what we find so redistributed in the course of years, we often find crushed together and fallen apart in a short time. Today the prisoner seems to us the most dreadful criminal; in a few days, we have calmed down, have learned to know the case from another side, the criminal has shown his real nature more clearly, and our whole notion of him has changed.

I frequently think of the simple story of Charles XII's sudden entry into Dresden. The city fathers immediately called an extraordinary

traordinary session for the next day in order to discuss, as the Swedish king supposed, what they should have done the day before. Every examined prisoner does the same thing. When he leaves the court he is already thinking of what he should have said differently, and he repeats his reflections until the next examination. Hence, his frequently almost inexplicable variety of statements, and hence, also, the need of frequent examination.

Finally, there is the fact Mittermaier has pointed to—the importance of the criminalist's own culture and character. "If a girl testifies for her lover and against her brother, the question in judgment arises, which voice is the more powerful? The judge will not easily be able to divorce this standard of judgment from himself and his own view of life." This is a frequent occurrence. You consider a difficult psychological case in all its aspects, and suddenly, without knowing how or why, you have found its solution: "It must have been so and not otherwise; he has acted so and so for this reason, etc." A close examination of such a definite inference will convince you that it is due to the pathetic fallacy, i. e., you have so inferred because you would have done so, thought and desired so, under similar circumstances. The commission of the pathetic fallacy is the judge's greatest danger.

Section 90. (6) Intelligence and Stupidity.

The three enemies of the criminalist are evil nature, untruth, and stupidity or foolishness. The last is not the least difficult. Nobody is safe from its attacks; it appears as the characteristic of mankind in general, in their prejudices, their preconceptions, their selfishness, and their high-riding nature. The criminalist has to fight it in witnesses, in jurymen, and frequently in the obstinacy, dunder-headedness, and amusing self-conceit of his superiors. It hinders him in the heads of his colleagues and of the defendant, and it is his enemy not least frequently in his own head. The greatest foolishness is to believe that you are not yourself guilty of foolishness. The cleverest people do the most idiotic things. He makes the most progress who keeps in mind the great series of his own stupidities, and tries to learn from them. One can only console oneself with the belief that nobody else is better off, and that every stupidity is a basis for knowledge. The world is such that every foolishness gets somebody to commit it.

Foolishness is an isolated property. It is not related to intelligence as cold to warmth, Cold is the absence of heat, but foolishness

is not the absence of intelligence. Both are properties that look in the same direction. Hence, it is never possible to speak of intelligence or stupidity by itself. Whoever deals with one deals with the other, but it would be a mistake to conceive them as a developing series at one end of which is intelligence, and at the other, stupidity. The transition is not only frequent, but there are many remarkable cases in which one passes into the other, gets mixed up with it, and covers it. Hence, a thing may often be at one and the same time intelligent and stupid, intelligent in one direction and stupid in another; and it is not incorrect, therefore, to speak of clever stupidities, and of clever deeds that are heartily foolish.

The importance of stupidity is due not only to the fact that it may lead to important consequences, but also to the difficulty of discovering it in certain cases. It is before all things correct, that foolish people often seem to be very wise, and that as a rule, much intercourse alone is able to reveal the complete profundity of a man's foolishness. But in our work we can have little intercourse with the people whom we are to know, and there are, indeed, persons whom we take to be foolish at the first encounter, and who really are so when we know them better. And even when we have learned the kind and degree of a man's foolishness, we have not learned his way of expressing it, and that discovery requires much wisdom. Moreover, an incredible amount of effort, persistence, and slyness is often made use of for the purpose of committing an immense act of foolishness. Every one of us knows of a number of criminal cases that remained unexplained for a long time simply because some one related event could be explained by a stupidity so great as to be unbelievable. Yet the knowledge that such stupidity actually exists could explain many a similar matter, simply and easily. This is especially true with regard to the much discussed "one great stupidity," which the criminal commits in almost every crime. Assume that such a stupidity is impossible, and the explanation of the case is also impossible. We must never forget that it is exactly the wise who refuse to think of the possibility of foolishness. Just as everything is clean to the cleanly, and everything is philosophic to the philosopher, everything is wise to the wise. Hence, he finds it unintelligible that a thing may be explained from the point of view of pure unreason. His duty therefore, is, to learn as much and as accurately as possible about the nature of foolishness.

There are, perhaps, few books on earth that contain so many clever things as Erdmann's little text "Concerning Foolishness "

(Über die Dummheit). Erdmann starts with small experiences. For example, he once came early to the Hamburg Railway Station and found in the waiting-room one family with many children, from whose conversation he learned that they were going to visit a grandfather in Kyritz. The station filled up, to the increasing fear of the smallest member of the family, a boy. When the station grew quite full he suddenly broke out: "Look here, what do all these people want of grandfather in Kyritz." The child supposed that because he himself was travelling to Kyritz all other people in the same place could have had no different intention. This narrowness of the point of view, the generalization of one's own petty standpoint into a rule of conduct for mankind is, according to Erdmann, the essence of foolishness. How far one may go in this process without appearing foolish may be seen from another example. When, in the sixties, a stranger in Paris spoke admiringly of the old trees on a certain avenue, it was the habit of the Parisians to answer, "Then you also do not agree with Haussmann?" because everybody knew about the attempt by the Parisian prefect, Baron Haussmann, to beautify Paris by killing trees. If, however, the trees in the churchyard of the little village are praised, and the native peasant replies, "So you know also that our Smith wants to have the trees chopped down," the remark is foolish, because the peasant had no right to assume that the world knows of the intentions of the village mayor.

Now, if you decrease the number of view-points, and narrow the horizon, you reach a point where the circumference of ideas is identical with their center, and this point is the kernel of stupidity, the idiot. Stupidity is the state of mind in which a man judges everything by himself. This again may be best illustrated by a figure of speech. If you go about a room and observe its contents you soon notice how the objects change place and appearance with the change in your point of view. If you look only through the key-hole, you do not, however, recognize that fact; everything seems equal. The idiot is he whose egoistic eye is the only key-hole through which he looks into the decorated parlor we call the world. Hence, the defective individual, l'homme borné, who has real narrowness of mind, possesses only a small number of ideas and points of view, and hence, his outlook is restricted and narrow. The narrower his outlook, the more foolish the man.

Foolishness and egoism are privileges of the child; we are all born foolish and raw. Only light sharpens our wits, but as the process is very slow, there is not one of us who has not some blunt edges.

To distinguish objects is to be clever; to confound them, to be foolish. What one first notices in defective minds is the unconditional universality of their remarks. The generalizations of stupid people are then unjustly called exaggerations. Where they say "always," the clever will say, "two or three times." The foolish man interrupts his fellow because he presses to the front as the only justified speaker. What is most characteristic of him is his attempt to set his ego in the foreground, "I do this always," "This is one of my traits," "I do this thing in quite another way." Indeed, every high grade of foolishness exhibits a certain amount of force which the fool in question uses to bring his personality forward. If he speaks about reaching the North Pole, he says, "Of course, I have never been at the North Pole, but I have been at Annotook," and when the subject of conversation is some great invention, he assures us that he has not invented anything, but that he is able to make brooms, and incidentally, he finds fault with the invention, and the more foolish he is, the more fault he finds.

These characteristics must, of course, be kept apart, and foolishness must not be confused with related qualities, although its extent or boundaries must not be fixed too absolutely. Kraus, e. g., distinguishes between the idiot, the fool, the weak-minded, the idea-less, etc., and assigns to each distinguishing character-marks. But as the notions for which these expressions stand vary very much, this classification is hardly justified. A fool in one country is different from a fool in another, an idiot in the South from an idiot in the North, and even when various individuals have to be classified at the same place and at the same time, each appears to be somewhat unique. If, for example, we take Kraus's definitions of the idiot as one who is least concerned with causal relations, who understands them least, and who can not even grasp the concept of causation, we may say the same thing about the weak-minded, the untalented, etc. Kant says, rightly, that inasmuch as fools are commonly puffed-up and deserve to be degraded, the word foolishness must be applied to a "swell-headed" simpleton, and not to a good and honest simpleton. But Kant is not here distinguishing between foolishness and simplicity, but between pretentiousness and kindly honesty, thus indicating the former as the necessary attribute of foolishness. Another mode of distinction is to observe that forgetfulness is a quality of the simpleton who is defective in attention, but not of the fool who has only a narrow outlook. Whether or not this is true, is hard to say. There is still another differentiation in which foolishness

and simplicity are distinguished by the lack of extent, or the intensity of attention.

It is just as difficult to determine what we mean by naïveté, and how to distinguish that from foolishness. That the concepts nowhere coincide is indubitable. The contact appears only where one is uncertain whether a thing is foolish or naïve. The real fool is never naïve, for foolishness has a certain laziness of thought which is never a characteristic of naïveté. The great difficulty of getting at the difference is most evident in the cases of real and artificial naïveté. Many people make use of the latter with great success. To do so requires the appearance of sufficient foolishness to make the real simpleton believe that he is the cleverer of the pair. If the simpleton believes, the mummer has won the game, but he has not simulated real foolishness; he has simulated naïveté. Kant defines naïveté as conduct which pays no attention to the possible judgment of other people. This is not the modern notion of naïveté, for nowadays we call naïveté an uncritical attitude toward one's environment, and its importance in our profession is, perhaps, due to the fact that—pardon me—many of us practice it. Naturalness, openness of heart, lovable simplicity, openness of mind, and whatever else the efflorescence of naïveté may be called, are fascinating qualities in children and girls, but they do not become the criminal judge. It is naïve honestly to accept the most obvious denials of defendant and witness; it is naïve not to know how the examinees correspond with each other; it is naïve to permit a criminal to talk thieves' patter with another in your own hearing; it is still more naïve to speak cordially with a criminal in this patter; it is naïve not to know the simplest expressions of this patter; and it is most naïve to believe that the criminal can discover his duty by means of the statutes, their exposition, and explanation; it is naïve to attempt to impose on a criminal by a bald exhibition of slyness; and it is most naïve of all not to recognize the naïveté of the criminal. A criminalist who studies himself will recognize how frequently he was naïve through ignorance of the importance of apparently insignificant circumstances. "The greatest wisdom," says La Rochefoucauld, "consists in knowing the values of things." But it would be a mistake to attempt always to bring out directly that alone which appears to be hidden behind the naïve moment. The will does not think, but it must turn the attention of the mind to knowledge. It can not will any particular result of knowledge. It can only will that the mind shall investigate without prejudice.

The proper use of this good will will consist in trying to find out the quantity of intelligence and stupidity which may be taken for granted in the interlocutor. I have once shown that it is a great mistake to suppose the criminal more foolish than oneself, but that one is not compelled to suppose him to be more intelligent than oneself. Until one can gain more definite knowledge of his nature, it is best to believe him to be just as intelligent as oneself. This will involve a mistake, but rarely a damaging one. Otherwise, one may hit on the correct solution by accident in some cases, and make great mistakes in all others.

Intelligence in the sense of wisdom is the important quality in our interlocutor. The witness helps us with it, and the defendant deceives and eludes us by its means. According to Kant, a man is wise when he has the power of practical judgment. According to Dörner, certain individuals have especial intuitive talents, others have capacity for empirical investigations, and still others for speculative synthesis. In the former, their capacity serves to render the object clearly, to observe it sharply, to analyze it into its elements. In the latter, there is the capacity for the synthesis, for the discovery of far-reaching relationships. Again, we hear that the wise head invents, the acute mind discovers, the deep mind seeks out. The first combines, the second analyzes, the third founds. Wit blends, sharpness clarifies, deepness illuminates. Wit persuades, sharpness instructs, deepness convinces.

In individual cases, a man is completely and suddenly understood, perhaps, in terms of the following proverb: "There are two kinds of silence, the silence of the fool and the silence of the wise man— both are clever." Kant says, somewhere, that the witty person is free and pert, the judicious person reflective, and unwilling to draw conclusions. In a certain direction we may be helped, also, by particular evidences. So, when, e. g., Hering[1] says, "One-sidedness is the mother of virtuosity. The work of the spider is wonderful, but the spider can do nothing else. Man makes a bow and arrow when he can get no prey in his net, the spider goes hungry." This distinguishes mechanical cleverness from conscious wisdom completely. Of the same illuminating character are such salse dicta as: "The fool never does what he says, the wise man never says what he does." "You can fool one man, but you can not fool all men." "Stupidity is natural, wisdom is a product of art." "To depend on accident is foolishness, to use accident is wisdom."

"There are stupidities which can be committed only by the wise." "Wisdom is as different from foolishness, as man from monkey." "Fools speak what wise men think." "Understanding is deficient, but stupidity never is." etc. These and countless other maxims help us considerably in individual cases, but give us no general characterization of the function of wisdom. We may, therefore, get some sort of pragmatic insight into the wisdom or unwisdom, of an action in the assertion: "To be wise is to be able to sacrifice an immediate petty advantage to a later and greater advantage." This proposition seems not to have sufficient scope, but on closer examination seems to fit all cases. The wise man lives according to law, and sacrifices the petty advantage of immediate sensual pleasure for the greater advantage of sustained health. He is prudent and sacrifices the immediate petty delights to the advantage of a carefree age. He is cautious in his speculation, and sacrifices momentary, doubtful, and hence, petty successes, to the greater later success of certain earning. He is silent, and sacrifices the petty advantage of appearing for the moment well-informed about all possible matters, to the greater advantage of not getting into trouble on account of this. He commits no punishable deeds, and sacrifices advantages that might be gained for the moment to the later greater advantage of not being punished. So the analysis might be continued, and in each case we should find that there was no wisdom which could not be explained in this way.

The use of our explanatory proposition is possible in all cases which require determining the real or apparent participation of some individual in a crime. If the degree of wisdom a man may be credited with can be determined by means of this analysis, it is not difficult afterwards to test by its use the probability of his having a share in the crime in question.

Finally, cases are again and again observed in which very foolish people—idiots and lunatics—either because of anxiety, terror, wounds in the head, or shortly before death, become intelligent for a brief period. It is conceivable that the improvement of mental activity in these cases arises when the defect has depended on the pathological dominance of an inhibitory center, the abnormally intensified activity of which has as its result an inhibition of other important centers (acute, curable dementia, paranoia). A light, transitory, actual increase of mental activity, might, possibly, be explained by the familiar fact that cerebral anemia, in its early stages, is exciting rather than dulling. Theoretically this might

be connected, perhaps, with the molecular cell-changes which are involved in the disintegration of the brain. The difference between the effects of these two causes will hardly be great, but testimony dependent on this altered character of mental activity will have little reliability. Hallucinations, false memories, melancholic accusations of self, particularly, may also be explained in terms of such excitement. We criminalists have frequently to deal with people in above-named conditions, and when we receive intelligent answers from them we must never set them aside, but must carefully make note of them and estimate them in the light of expert advice.

To this class belongs the interesting phenomenon that we very frequently meet fools who never do anything foolish. It is not true that these are simply misjudged, and only appear to be foolish. They are really foolish but they are helped by certain conditions in every instance of their conduct. To begin with, they are not so foolish as to deceive themselves; they are, therefore, in possession of a certain notion of their own weakness, and do not attempt things which are too much for them. Then, they must have a certain degree of luck in their undertakings. The proverb says that conceit is the force behind the fool, and if these fools apply their conceit to appropriate situations, they succeed. Then again, they sometimes fail to see dangers, and are therefore free from swindles which are dangerous, even to the cleverest persons. "The fool stumbles across the abyss into which the wise man regularly tumbles," says the proverb again. And if routine may properly be called the surrogate of talent, we must suppose that custom and practice may carry the biggest fool so far as to help him in many cases to success.

According to Esser, the fool thinks in terms of the following proposition: "Things that are alike in a few points are identical, and things that are unlike in a few points are altogether diverse." If this is true, the fool can fail only when he is drawing inferences of this kind; if, however, none of the important events in his life involve such inferences, he has no opportunity to exhibit his essential foolishness. The same thing is true of his interests. No fool has a real eagerness for knowledge. He has, instead, curiosity, and this can never be distinguished with certainty from knowledge. Now, if the fool is lucky, he seems to be moving forward, shows himself possessed of interests, and nobody proves that this possession is only idiotic curiosity. The fool must protect himself against one thing— action. Foolishness in action is rawness—true rawness is always foolish and can not be mistaken.

Here, again, we draw the extraordinary conclusion that we criminalists, as in all other cases, must not take man to be what he seems most of the time, but what he shows himself as, in exceptional cases. The worst man may have done something absolutely good, the greatest liar may today tell the truth, and the simpleton may today act wisely. We are not concerned with man as such; what is important for us is his immediate self-expression. The rest of his nature is a matter of judgment.