The Psychology Of The Murderer.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 19134, 29 July 1930, Page 8

The Psychology Of The Murderer.

(Defined by Dr Dearden.) '"J' IIERE HAVE BEEN MANY definitions of the crime of murder, but none perhaps so startling as that of Dr Harold Dearden in “The Mind of the Murderer.” “A murder,” he calmly declares, “is, in fact, merely an unwise and undesirable performance of that task which is imposed upon all of us—the adaptation of ourselves to that environment in which we live.” Dr Dearden also contends that it is “not only proper but essential that the general public should interest themselves in the subject.” The Limelight Attracts. What prompts ordinary human beings, apparently without criminal instincts, to commit murder? In many cases, answers Dr Dearden, the murderer is the victim of hysteria. They take refuge in day-dreams, wherein they may find all those joys denied them in real life. They have an insatiable desire to make others believe in these day-dreams; to this end they will manufacture evidence; a hysterical woman will buy herself flowers which are exhibited as having come from some m3-sterious lover;— Now, the whole trouble about the hysteric is that the material which he manufactures to support his day-dreams is apt to become after a time indistinguishable in his mind from fact. He starts out, just like an ordinary humdrum person, with a flat lie to bolster up his vanity; but after a while h himself believes it, and it is here that the trouble begins. And further;— They must be in the limelight or perish. If they cannot get into that desirable situation by some legitimate activity, they will do anything, no matter how outrageous, to get there none the less. Take, for instance, the case of Marie Lafarge, who was convicted of the murder of her husband in 1840. In August, 1839, they were married and set out for his chateau. Lafarge commenced the journey by devouring a chicken, tearing the bird to pieces with his fingers. He then snored for the rest of the journey. On arrival at the “chateau,” Marie’s disillusionment was complete. . Her fertile imagination soon devised a dramatic method of escape. Hysterical Lies. Locking herself in her bedroom on arrival, she sent her bewildered husband an amazing note by the maid; — “On my knees I ask your forgiveness. I have deceived 3'ou terribty. I don’t love 3 r ou. I love another. God knows how I have suffered. Let me die. His name is Charles; he is handsome; he is noble; we have loved each other since we were able to love anything. . . . Let me have two horses. I will take the Bordeaux coach and embark for Smyrna. . . . Slip a letter under m3’ door to-night; otherwise to-morrow I shall be dead.” All this was, of course, pure fiction. Unhappily for him, Lafarge was not angr\’, but heart-broken, and only sought a reconciliation. So Marie decided to free herself in another way, choosing arsenic as the medium. It was a long (and for Lafarge, a painful) process; finally he succumbed. Marie was sentenced to exhibition in public to be followed by perpetual hard labour. Even in prison her passion for day-dream-ing did not desert her. She announced that she was about to become a mother; but this, like all Marie’s romances, proved untrue. Six years later she was released, and in 1552 received a pardon. A few months afterwards she was dead.