Within the aged pages of a book, nestled between chapters, lies a short piece by the inimitable Mark Twain titled "A New Crime." This isn't a tale spun from pure fancy, but rather a sharp, satirical commentary on a particular instance of perceived injustice, offering a fascinating, albeit perhaps embellished, glimpse into the legal and social landscape of a bygone era.
The excerpt begins with a stark statement, dripping with Twain's characteristic wit and cynicism: "...this spiteful, bad-hearted villain had caused grief enough in his time, and now he should satisfy the law..." This sets the stage for a narrative rooted in a tangible event, a crime that had evidently stirred public sentiment and demanded legal reckoning.

The subsequent section, titled "Legislation Needed," delves into the specifics of the case. Twain recounts a situation involving a man named Baldwin, described as "vindictive, malignant, quarrelsome." Baldwin's history was apparently marred by unpleasant incidents, culminating in a particularly egregious act: entering a house, shooting a man, and then, days later, fatally shooting the occupant. The community's reaction was one of outrage, deeming Baldwin's actions "spiteful, bad-hearted," and demanding the full force of the law.

However, the narrative takes a sharp turn, highlighting a perceived flaw in the legal system of the time. Despite the seemingly clear-cut nature of Baldwin's crimes and the community's desire for justice, the legal counsel argued successfully that Baldwin was insane when he committed the deed. This argument, apparently accepted by the court, resulted in Baldwin's confinement for a mere eleven hours before his release.

Twain's indignation is palpable. He underscores the absurdity of the situation, emphasizing the "forty years of insanity" that seemingly preceded this brief moment of clarity in the courtroom. The author paints a picture of a legal system that, in this instance, appeared to prioritize a narrow interpretation of mental state over the gravity of the crime and the community's sense of justice.

The narrative then shifts to another, equally unsettling case involving a German butcher named Bemis Feldner. Feldner, armed with a cane, attacked and killed a "violent, gentleman" who had apparently provoked him with insults. Despite the fatal outcome, the narrative suggests a degree of sympathy for Feldner, portraying the victim as deserving of some retribution for his arrogance and the weeks of torment he inflicted. The description of Feldner's actions - waiting with a knife concealed on his arm and then fatally stabbing the retreating man - is chillingly matter-of-fact.

These two seemingly disparate cases, presented in close proximity, invite the reader to consider the inconsistencies and potential failings of the legal system as Twain perceived them. One man, seemingly guilty of a cold-blooded killing, evades significant punishment through a plea of temporary insanity. Another, perhaps acting in the heat of prolonged provocation, faces the full weight of the law.

While presented within a literary work, these accounts likely draw inspiration from real events or at least reflect common anxieties and criticisms of the legal processes of Twain's time. They serve as a potent reminder that the application of law is rarely simple and is often subject to interpretation, societal biases, and the prevailing legal frameworks.
"A New Crime," therefore, transcends mere storytelling. It acts as a historical snapshot, offering a glimpse into the complexities of crime, justice, and public perception in the 19th century, all filtered through the sharp and insightful lens of Mark Twain. It prompts us to consider the enduring questions surrounding legal accountability, the definition of justice, and the potential for the legal system to both uphold and, in the eyes of some, fail to deliver it.

These passages, seemingly plucked from a historical account, paint stark pictures of two separate criminal cases, each leaving a disturbing residue of violence and raising unsettling questions about justice and accountability.

The first narrative centres around a man named Hackett, whose actions are described with a chilling detachment. His butchering of his wife is presented as a calculated act, seemingly driven by a possessive rage and a desire to prevent her remarriage. The community, witnessing this brutal crime, understandably demanded justice. Yet, the defense invoked the familiar and perhaps convenient shield of insanity, arguing that Hackett's mind was not sound at the time of the murder.

The text highlights the unsettling paradox: while Hackett's sanity was questioned during the trial, his seemingly methodical planning and execution of the crime suggest a disturbing level of intent. The narrative implies a societal unease, a feeling that the legal system might be too easily swayed by pleas of insanity, potentially shielding the guilty from the full consequences of their horrific acts.

The second case shifts focus to a woman, identified as Mrs. H., and unfolds with a grim inevitability. Driven by a potent cocktail of jealousy and resentment towards her mistress, Bridget Durgin, Mrs. H. orchestrates a horrifying crime. The details are gruesome: luring Durgin to a secluded spot, striking her with a knife, dragging her body, and then, in a final act of chilling barbarity, setting the remains ablaze in the kitchen stove. The narrative underscores the calculated nature of Mrs. H.'s actions, her deliberate attempts to conceal the crime by scattering the victim's belongings and feigning ignorance.

However, the truth eventually surfaces, leading to Mrs. H.'s arrest and conviction. The text notes the public interest surrounding the case, highlighting the shocking nature of a servant girl committing such a heinous act. The narrative then shifts to the aftermath, detailing Mrs. H.'s confession, driven perhaps by a belated sense of remorse or the crushing weight of her guilt. Despite her confession, she ultimately faced the ultimate penalty, her execution serving as a stark reminder of the severe consequences for such brutal crimes.

These two accounts, though distinct, resonate with a shared undercurrent of human cruelty and the complexities of the legal and societal responses to violence. Hackett's case raises questions about the validity and application of the insanity plea, while Mrs. H.'s story serves as a chilling testament to the destructive power of jealousy and the unwavering pursuit of justice, even in the face of a seemingly ordinary individual capable of extraordinary violence. Together, they offer a glimpse into a past where the spectre of crime loomed large, and the search for understanding and accountability often proved to be a tangled and disturbing affair.

The narrative delves into the perplexing and often frustrating phenomenon of the insanity plea in criminal cases. It begins by highlighting a historical perspective where insanity was rarely, if ever, offered as a defense for murder. The prevailing logic was stark: if one committed the ultimate crime, their mental state was irrelevant - the act itself was evidence enough of a profound and punishable transgression.

However, the text notes a significant shift in this legal landscape. It observes the increasing prevalence of the insanity plea, particularly in cases involving individuals of a certain social standing or those who have committed crimes for apparent gain. The author points out the unsettling trend of labelling murderers as "lunatics," suggesting a societal inclination to explain away heinous acts through the lens of mental instability, especially when the perpetrator comes from a privileged background. The act of stealing is similarly categorized, with the label of "kleptomania" seemingly readily applied to those of higher social standing, while others might simply be deemed thieves.

The narrative then introduces the concept of "Temporary Aberration," a seemingly convenient legal loophole often invoked in cases of passion or sudden rage. The author questions the validity and frequency of this defense, suggesting that it has become a disturbingly common and often accepted explanation for violent acts. The reader is invited to consider how often this plea surfaces in courtrooms, often presented as a novel and complex issue, despite its seemingly repetitive nature.

The text further critiques the apparent ease with which an acquittal based on insanity can be secured. It sarcastically notes the predictable sequence of events: a seemingly normal individual commits a brutal murder, only to suddenly manifest signs of insanity after the crime. Nervousness, unease, talking to the stars - these are presented as flimsy indicators of a mind supposedly incapable of understanding the gravity of the act committed just hours prior. The author's scepticism is palpable as they describe friends and acquaintances readily attesting to the accused's "not right" state of mind, often based on superficial observations made after the violent act. Conversely, the narrative points out that genuine displays of agitation or excitement before the crime are conveniently labelled as unquestionable signs of insanity.

The author concludes with a powerful statement, asserting that the true evil lies not in the absence of laws against insanity, but in the manipulation and exploitation of these laws. The implication is clear: the legal system, in its application of the insanity defense, is potentially being gamed, allowing individuals who have committed terrible crimes to evade full accountability by feigning or conveniently manifesting mental instability. This critique serves as a potent reminder of the complexities and potential pitfalls in navigating the intersection of law, psychology, and the human capacity for both violence and deception.

Reference:

• 50 Greatest Crime Stories, Terry O' Brien.

Written By: Md.Imran Wahab, IPS, IGP, Provisioning, West Bengal
Email: [email protected], Ph no: 9836576565