Criminal Psychology, Hans Gross [jenna bush book club .txt] 📗

the use of his organs, but also uses them with comparative correctness in undressing, folding his clothes, and in running away. If now somebody should pass the drunkard’s lair and if he should think that a burglar is in his house and should wound the passer-by, who would believe the drunkard when he tells this story?

 

In the street there is frequent opportunity of observing some of the arrests of drunkards who fight with fists and feet and teeth, and often have to be taken to the police station in a wheel-barrow. Now if the man has had the misfortune of recognizing the policeman in his first opposition, and of giving his own name properly, we say that he has “shown definite signs of responsibility,” and we sentence him. But in most cases it was merely the instantaneous illumination of his cindery mind (which was, perhaps, stimulated to the recognition of the policeman and the pronunciation of his name by the latter’s rather bearish remarks) which then dies away as swiftly as it rose, and is followed by instinctive self-defense. Anybody who has frequently observed how utterly senseless is the battle of a drunkard with the overwhelming power of three or four or more people, and how he continues to struggle, even when wholly or completely conquered, must feel convinced that such a man is no longer responsible.

 

In the same way we must never forget that the prosecution of some very habitual activity is in no sense evidence of responsibility.

Especially when some action has very fine-drawn limits, and the actor knows that a false grip will result in questionable consequences, the habitual movement will be made instinctively. The soldier will properly carry out his obligations of service, the coachman drive home, unharness, and look after the horses, even the locomotive engineer will complete his difficult task without a break—then, however, they fall and sleep their drunkenness off. Now, if something intervenes unexpectedly during the performance of this ha-

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bitual activity, especially some opposition, some superfluous cajolement, correction, or similar thing, the intoxicated actor is thrown completely out of gear, and can not be restored to it, nor is he able properly to oppose this obstacle. Hence he acts against it reflexly, and in most cases explosively.

 

It may be perceived that such a drunkard works unconsciously having been thrown out of gear by some sudden remark, he is unable to complete what he is trying to do, and this develops a despairing expression of emotion for which he is decidedly not responsible.

A countless number of popular maxims indicate the popular opinion that it is best to get out of the way of a drunkard, never to help him, because he can best look after himself. The public seems to know this very well, theoretically, but in practice no wife applies this theory when her drunken husband comes home; in practice the policeman looks after the drunkard, in practice the peasant and the master quarrel with the drunken servant and the apprentice,—and then everybody wonders when suddenly superiors are hurt, maimed, and otherwise opposed.

 

The best evidence for the certain but very definite routine in which the drunkard moves, is the example cited by Combe[1] concerning the porter who, while drunk, had wrongly delivered a packet.

Later on he could not think where he had brought it, but as by chance he got drunk again, he fetched the packet, and brought it to its proper destination. This process indicates that the “in vino veritas”

depends not merely on speech, but on action, and that this coming to the surface of what is really thought is the reason for so many insults offered during intoxication. Such phenomena are best studied at the beginning of narcosis, in which all the conditions of intoxication come together in a much briefer period of time, and hence appear much more clearly. How involuntarily the inmost thought breaks through under such circumstances, is shown by an occurrence in a surgical clinic. An old peasant was to have been subjected to a not dangerous but rare operation. The famous surgeon of the University had one student after another make a diagnosis, and asked one student after another what kind of an operation he would perform. The peasant misunderstood it altogether, and as he was half stupefied he cried out involuntarily: “The old donkey is asking one loafer after another what to do.

Nobody knows anything, and yet they are going to operate on me.”

 

[1] Andrew Combe: Observations on Mental Derangement. Edinburgh 1841.

 

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Things that are thought are expressed just as involuntarily during intoxication, and thus the insults, etc., are accomplished.

 

What is never believed, but yet may be true, is the defence of a prisoner that intoxication led him to steal. I know of a talented, kindly, and thoroughly honorable young man, who during slight intoxication steals everything he can lay his hands on. His drunkenness is so light that he can remove with complete skill his comrades’

cigarette cases, pocket handkerchiefs, and worst of all, their latchkeys.

At the same time, he is still drunk enough to have great difficulty in remembering, the next day, who the owners of these things are. Now suppose a thief told such a story in court!

 

I cite from the excellent account of Hoffbauer,[1] the development of intoxication: “At first the consumption of liquor intensifies the feeling of physical health, or increases that health. It appears to have a proportionately similar effect upon the powers of the mind. Ideas move easily, expression is smoother and more adequate. The condition and emotional attitude are such that one might very well always wish for one’s self and one’s friends. Until this point no intoxication is visible. The flow of ideas only increases and becomes more intense. Excellent, appropriate notions occur to one, but there is effort to restrain the irregular flow of thought. This state is visible in the effort which must be used to carry on any rather involved story. The ideas flow too rapidly to be easily ordered according to the requirements of the story. At this point the beginning of intoxication is already perceptible. In its development the flow of ideas becomes continually stronger, the senses lose their ordinary sharpness, and as these fail the imagination grows stronger.

The drinker’s language is now, at least in particular expressions and turns of speech, more voluminous and poetical, and rather louder than is natural. The former indicates an intensification of imaginative power, and the latter a dulling of the senses which becomes more and more obvious in the development of the intoxication.

For the drinker speaks louder because he hears his words less clearly than before, and judges the hearing of his auditors by his own, although the vividness and the more rapid flow of ideas induced by intoxication have a share in this. Soon the dulling of the senses becomes still more obvious. For example, it is seen that a person who is so drunk that he confuses otherwise well-known companions, even if only for a minute, thinks he puts his glass softly on the table, [1] J. C. Hoffbauer: Die Psychologie in ihren Hauptanwendungen auf die Rechtspflege. Halle 1823.

 

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although it falls to the ground. And then there are still other forms of physical helplessness to be perceived. From his speech it may be judged that the connection between his ideas has significantly decreased: although still very vivid, they are now like luminous sparks that appear and disappear. This vividness of ideas, or their rapid flow, gives the inebriate’s desires an unmanageable intensity which reason can no longer control. He follows them instantaneously if some accident does not turn him aside. His physical helplessness becomes now obvious in stammering, in a wabbly gait, etc., until finally he falls into a deep sleep in which physical and intellectual repair begin.

 

“If the conditions of intoxication were to be divided into periods, we should have the following: In the first period of intoxication ideas have only an extraordinary degree of vividness. The rule of the understanding over actions is not altogether suppressed, so that the drunken fellow is fully conscious of his external relations and is aware of what is going on within and about him. But the rapid flow of ideas hinders careful reflection and leads to an intensified excitability, particularly to those emotional expressions which are characterized by the more rapid flow; This is due to the familiar psychological law according to which one emotional condition leads into another as it is more like that other in tone. Anger and merriment, hence, show themselves more and more among uneducated people who are not habituated to the limitation of their emotional expression by reference to the forms of the world of fashion. Without this control, every stimulation intensifies the emotion, since every natural expression adds to its vividness. The irritability taken in itself is at this stage less dominant, inasmuch as the drinker is at the same time satisfied with himself, and the self-satisfaction makes the irritability endurable. Only some accidental circumstance can intensify and spread this irritability. Such circumstances intensify the drunkard s liveliness and lead to the outbreak of merriment approximating upon hilarity, then to a verbal quarrel, which need not yet be a real quarrel and may be conducted in all friendship.

It seems that in most cases the irritability is excited through the fact that the drunkard’s self-satisfaction speedily lapses, or that he is disturbed in doing things about which he is conceited. Now so long as the intoxication does not exceed this stage, its effects and the outbreaks of its passions may be suppressed. The drinker is here still self-possessed and is not likely to lose control of himself unless he is progressively excited thereto.

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“In the next period of intoxication, the drunkard still has his senses, although, all in all, they are considerably weaker than usual, and he is somewhat beside himself. Memory and understanding have quite left him. Hence, he acts as if the present moment were the only one, the idea of the consequences of his actions having no effect upon him because he no longer sees the connection between the two. And since his whole past has disappeared from his mind he can not consider his more remote circumstances. He acts, therefore, as he might if the memories of his circumstances and ideas of the consequences of his actions did not control his conduct, and lead him to rule himself. The slightest excitation may awaken all his strongest passion which then carry him away. Again, the slightest excuse may turn him from what he has in mind. In this condition he is much more dangerous to himself and others because he is impelled not only by the irresistible force of his passions, but because, also, he rarely knows what he is doing and must be considered a pure fool.

 

“In the last period, the drunkard has so lost his senses that he has no more idea of his external environment.”

 

With regard to particular conditions, it may be held that the quantity of drink is indifferent. Apart from the fact that we know nothing about the quantity of alcohol a man has taken when we hear merely about so and so many liters of wine or so and so much brandy, the influence of quantities is individual, and no general rule whatever can be laid down. As a matter of fact, there are young and powerful men who may become quite foolish on half a glass of wine, especially when they are angry, frightened, or otherwise excited, and there are weak old people who can carry unbelievable quantities. In short, the question of quantity is altogether foolish. The appearance and constitution of an individual offers as little ground for inference as quantity. The knowledge of a man’s