Chapter X · (continued 2)

Mr. Williams.—“Pardon me, my Lord, but Mr. Bedbrook, I think, never said he destroyed the box; he said he had destroyed the pills.”

The Judge.—“ I think he said he threw them away.” His Lordship referred to his notes, and said that Mr. Bedbrook in his evidence stated that he took the box downstairs, and was under the impression he threw it away. When he saw the box, however, it appeared to him exactly like that which came from America, and the pills were also exactly like them.

Mr. Williams.—“Mr. Bedbrook said he never gave the pills back to the deceased boy.”

The Judge.—“That is so. He said he was under the impression he had thrown them away. It was said that the boy could not get aconitia himself, but though he could not do so the prisoner could. Next they heard what had occurred at Shanklin in October, 1881. The prisoner was going to America, and sailed on the 30th August. On the 27th of that month Mr. and Mrs. Chapman, with the boy, went to Shanklin, and found on the platform to meet them the prisoner and his wife. They had some conversation, and prisoner promised to call on Monday, 29th, to say ‘Good-bye.’ On the night of Sunday, the 28th, they had it on the testimony of Mr. Smith, a chemist, that the prisoner called on him and bought, amongst other things, three grains of atropia and one grain of aconitia. It was endeavoured to be shown on the part of the prosecution that he had called pursuant to his promise on the 29th, and in evidence of that it was sought to produce the cloak-room book of the railway station. On the 29th, however, the boy was unquestionably unwell. It was clear that on the 27th the prisoner saw him, and said he would call again on the Monday, but there was no direct evidence that he did, although he bought aconitia on the 28th, which Mr. Williams said might have been bought with an innocent motive, as the prisoner at the time was suffering from neuralgia.”

Reviewing then the prisoner’s conduct in London, and the story invented by him about his pretended visit to the boy on the 2nd of December, “which,” he said, “did not amount to much, but must be taken, with the other circumstances of the case, to show that the prisoner’s word was not to be relied on,” the learned judge then referred to the incidents of the fatal night. As to the two boxes of capsules, he continued:—

“The prosecution suggested that these two boxes of capsules were brought by the prisoner, but they did not suggest there was poison in any of them. They were clearly innocent capsules, as two of them did no harm either to Mr. Bedbrook or to the lad Banbury, each of whom swallowed one. What the prosecution suggested, however, was that whilst Mr. Bedbrook was examining the capsule he had taken from the box, the prisoner took another, in which there was aconitia, from another box, and that over that aconitia he put in the sugar, and then administered it to the boy. That was the suggestion made. They asked for those facts to be put together—the boy was in as good health as he ordinarily was, in as good spirits as usual, having neither eaten nor partaken of anything in which there was a suggestion of poison during the day, and yet within half-an-hour, or less, of seeing the prisoner and swallowing the capsule he was taken ill. The cake, the sweets, and the capsule were all three given him by the prisoner, and within a short time he showed the first symptoms described, viz., heartburn, which was followed rapidly by painful sensations, and the contraction of the throat, retching, vomiting, agony, and raving to the time of death. On these facts the prosecution asked them to come to the conclusion that he not only died by aconitia, but by aconitia administered to him by the prisoner, it being clear that no other person administered anything to him during the prisoner’s visit. The prosecution contended farther that they had shown the prisoner to be possessed of aconitia, upon the evidence of two purchases of aconitia by him, one from the chemist at Ventnor on the 28th August, and the other about the 20th November at Allen and Hanbury’s, in Plough Court.

Then again placing before the jury the two questions he had referred to in the opening of his charge, and warning them not to allow sympathy either for the poor boy or the prisoner to bias their decision, Sir Henry Hawkins left the case in their hands.

In less than three-quarters of an hour the jury returned a verdict of “Guilty.” When called upon as usual to say why judgment should not be passed upon him, the prisoner, standing with arms folded, in a loud voice, “protested his innocence before God,” and with very few words, the learned judge pronounced sentence of death.

EVIDENCE OF LAMSON’S STATE OF MIND.

Within a short time after the conviction of the prisoner, Mr. Lowell, the American Minister, by the instruction of President Arthur, requested the Home Secretary to suspend the execution, on the faith of a statement from the United States Attorney-General that evidence bearing on the state of mind of the prisoner, was preparing in America, and would be shortly forwarded to England. To this novel application Sir William Harcourt acceded, in courtesy to the applicant. The promised affidavits arrived, and were considered by the Home Secretary as insufficient. Again a further application for delay was made, on the promise of further evidence, and acceded to for the term of a fortnight, with clear notice to Lamson that if the promised affidavits were not more satisfactory than the preceding ones, the sentence would be carried out. Such they proved in the opinion of Sir William Harcourt, and Lamson was at length executed on the 28th of April.

The proffered evidence not only covered the whole of Lamson’s life from the days of his medical pupilage at Paris till his trial, but sought to establish “a marked hereditary tendency to insanity,” from the fact that his grandmother had been in the New York Bloomingdale Asylum from the age of seventy-six till her death four years after, and had been previously suffering from “senile dementia,” the apparent cause of which was entered in the Hospital Register as “predisposing;”—that her brother, a sea captain, at the age of eighty, was in the same asylum, having been suffering for two years from “dementia,” also entered as “predisposing;” and that her daughter, a Mrs. McGregor, at the age of thirty-one, was a patient until her death about three years after—her mania “puerperal,” and also entered as “predisposing.”[215] No evidence, however, was offered of the mental condition of any less remote ancestors.

As a Medical Student in Paris in 1869-70, Lamson is described as suffering from cerebral anæmia with a tendency to melancholia, given to imaginary complaints about the surgical theatre, apt to take offence, with a passion for chemical experiments of a morbid character, generally genial in manner, and taciturn of speech. When employed in the American Ambulance during the siege of Paris in 1870-71, “his behaviour was so wild, erratic, and bad, that his associate aids were not prepared to say whether it was that of an idiot or the result of special wickedness—his mind so disordered that he could not be entrusted to administer medicines, as to the effects of which he seemed to be utterly destitute of judgment and common sense—just as likely to give a large and dangerous dose as a smaller and safe one, no matter how particularly instructed, and seemed to be utterly reckless of results.”[216]

From this date to the year 1877, no evidence was offered of his conduct or state of mind. In that year he acted as a surgeon for the Red Cross Society at Bucharest, in the Servian War. Whilst there “he exhibited a mania for the administration of aconitia in almost every case, using it in season and out of season, and in such quantities as to alarm the medical staff and render his recall to England necessary. Here, too, he appears to have commenced on himself the extravagant use of hypodermic injections of morphia, to which he subsequently became so notoriously addicted, on the plea that he was in constant pain and misery,” and to have been constantly under the influence of some anæsthetic. He was also habitually incoherent and inconsistent in his way of talking, boasting of adventures in the American Civil War, when he could have been only twelve years of age. His father, who was with him, seemed to keep a constant watch over his son, and frequently expressed his wish that some other surgeon should be associated with him.[217]

In 1879 Lamson purchased a medical practice at Bournemouth, and during the two years that he remained there, according to the testimony of friends and servants, behaved in a most erratic and strange manner. Whilst there his habit of injecting morphia under his skin increased in a most extraordinary degree, one witness saying that “he was hardly ever in his company for more than an hour that he did not use the hypodermic syringe.” When visiting patients he seemed not to know why he had come, or what he ought to do, behaving so strangely that his services were eventually dispensed with. His habit of telling extravagant stories grew rapidly upon him. His eyes had a fitful and nervous look as if afraid of phantoms. He seemed to be perpetually trying to look sane, and the witness (Warren, an artist) who spoke to these symptoms said “he had frequently seen him walking along quickly, his head hanging down, when he would stop suddenly, turn back, and branch off in some other direction, crossing backwards and forwards over the road without rhyme or reason.” Mr. Radcliffe Hall, of Welbeck-street, to whom Lamson had made in writing a perfectly baseless statement about Mrs. Hall’s antecedents, and afterwards could remember nothing about it, had seen him inject morphia twenty times a day. His servants thought him mad, and humoured him accordingly, and the patients who attended at the dispensary which with another medical man he managed, with only one or two exceptions, refused to be attended by him.[218]

From April to May, 1881, Lamson was staying at Rouse’s Point, New York, with the Rev. Irving McElroy, the rector of Christ Church, during which period his habit of injecting morphia was continued, and, according to the testimony of the rector and his wife, Dr. Winston, the Medical Director of the New York Mutual Life Assurance Company, Dr. Murray, Physician of Rouse’s Point, Dr. Hall, and others who knew him, it was seriously affecting his brain. On one occasion he was found in the public street with no coat on, and his left arm bared. He had a syringe in one hand, and with the thumb of the other was pressing down the place where the injection had been made.[219] At his friend’s house he passed the greater part of the day on the lounge, either dozing or attempting to read. He was then using a mixture apparently of morphia and atropine, but told them he preferred aconitine, but could not procure it in that section of the county. To one of the witnesses he admitted that his whole existence depended on the constant use of morphia. The marks of these repeated injections were detected by Dr. Williamson of Edinburgh whom Lamson consulted in New York in October, 1881, who marked the serious change that had taken place in his health, and urged his discontinuance of this baneful practice. Dr. Hall considered Lamson “not a perfectly sane man,” Dr. Winston considered that he “had become a helpless victim of the habit (of injecting morphia) which had seriously impaired his mental powers and destroyed his moral responsibility,” and in Dr. Murray’s opinion “he was utterly irresponsible for his acts.” It is admitted, however, that at intervals his conversation was perfectly clear and lucid, and to none of the medical men appears to have been put the legal test question, “did he know the difference between right and wrong, at the time wherein he committed the crime?”[220]

Lastly, we are offered testimony as to the condition of Lamson’s mind for a few days immediately preceding the fatal occurrence, and that of his father and wife as to his strange conduct for some time previous. All, however, that this evidence amounts to is, that he was so strange and extravagant in his manner and conduct, that he was spoken of by friends and acquaintance as a lunatic, that “for a year past his wife’s fears and anxieties had been greatly and increasingly aroused for the soundness of his mind—that his brain, predisposed to weakness, or constitutionally liable to disturbance, was unsettled by ill-health and trouble, and its disease aggravated by the use of morphia.” His father spoke to the wild and fanciful delusions in which his son indulged—the whole being myths, and believed “that for at least eighteen months he had been in an unsound state of mind, steadily increasing in its character and blinding him to the natural and inevitable effects of his acts; and that the balance of his mind had been quite destroyed.” His solicitor deposed that “he could obtain no assistance from him in the preparation of his defence—that he appeared to have no memory and to be incapable of appreciating the bearing of any of the facts of his case, or the gravity of his position; that he laboured under extravagant hallucination, whilst his statements were either incoherent, inconsistent, or manifestly the creations of a disordered brain.”

Three medical men of experience speak to the effects almost certain to be produced by such an habitually excessive use of morphia or opium, as that of which Dr. Lamson was the victim. Dr. Coghill, of the Ventnor Consumptive Hospital, and for eight years municipal medical officer and consulting physician to a general hospital in China, where he had unusual facilities for becoming familiar with the effects of opium smoking and eating, has no hesitation in saying that “anyone in the habit of using opium to such an extent would be incapable of self-control, and have his moral senses and powers of judgment deteriorated to a degree rendering him incapable of resisting morbid influences.” Dr. H. H. Kane, of Fort Washington, New York, who had written on the effects of “these drugs that enslave,” and on the “Hypodermic Injection of Morphia,” and was then in charge of a hospital devoted to the treatment of opium smokers and eaters and the like habits, admits that “as regards the question of insanity from the habitual use of opium or its alkaloids, more especially morphia, but little definite is known. Insane Asylum reports,” he adds, “record every year from six to eight cases of insanity attributed to the prolonged use of opiates; and physicians in general practice recognise it as a rare, though well-established, form of insanity. A person with an hereditary tendency to insanity, or with a mind weakened from any combination of circumstances, or from bodily disease, using this drug in large amount for a considerable time, could hardly escape some unsettling of his mental and moral powers. Actual mania, melancholia, and dementia are probably rare, but have undoubtedly occurred from this cause. Of all the forms of the opium habit that by hypodermic injection, as a rule, works the most harm in the shortest time.”

Dr. R. M. Miller, of Norwood, who saw Lamson professionally in July, 1881, when his friends were alarmed at his condition, is of opinion “that morphia and atropia, taken in such quantities, would gradually ruin the powers of the nervous system and also the powers of self-control.”

Such is the substance of the testimony of the cloud of witnesses proffered in support of the appeal for a scientific investigation into the mental state of Lamson at the time when he committed the act for which he was arraigned. To what does it amount? Even if it goes beyond proof that he was occasionally nervous, disconnected in his ideas, aimlessly untruthful, and with a hobby for the administration of aconitia as a panacea for all diseases, and a loss of vital nerve and energy, there is no evidence to suggest that these eccentricities were dangerous or ever assumed the form of homicidal mania. “If,” said a contemporary writer, “Lamson could appreciate the pecuniary benefit he would derive from Percy John’s death—and why else should he have selected his victim?—he could realise the wickedness of his act. A symptom of dangerous madness is that it acts without apparent motive—the immediate circumstances of the murder pointed to the exercise of a crafty deliberation, which, though not in itself inconsistent with homicidal mania, was not as aimless as homicidal mania.” Is it not a parallel case to that of Dove, a weak and erratic mind, in that case further weakened and unhinged by drink, in this case by the vicious use of morphia? Are not the words of Baron Bramwell in Dove’s case strictly applicable to this? “The rules of law,” said that judge, “are that it must be clearly proved that, at the time of committing the act, the party accused was labouring under such a defect of reason, from disease of the mind, as not to know the nature and quality of the act he was doing; and if he did know it, that he did not know he was doing wrong.” Until the law is altered it is impossible to doubt that the Home Secretary was right, “that he could find in the affidavits and statutory declarations no sufficient grounds for advising an interference with the sentence of the law.”