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Jan 11, 2015 - This commentary examines MacDonald's 1912 paper, “Assassins of Rulers,” from a critical perspective, avoiding the tendency to treat 'classic' ...

Journal of Threat Assessment and Management 2014, Vol. 1, No. 4, 228 –240

© 2015 American Psychological Association 2169-4842/14/$12.00 http://dx.doi.org/10.1037/tam0000027

COMMENTARY

Another Helping of “Intellectual Hash”: Commentary on “Assassins of Rulers” (MacDonald, 1912) David V. James This document is copyrighted by the American Psychological Association or one of its allied publishers. This article is intended solely for the personal use of the individual user and is not to be disseminated broadly.

Fixated Threat Assessment Centre, London, United Kingdom This commentary examines MacDonald’s 1912 paper, “Assassins of Rulers,” from a critical perspective, avoiding the tendency to treat ‘classic’ papers with deference simply because of their age. The paper’s contents are examined in terms of their author’s expertise, his academic allegiances, his career and his sources. The substance of MacDonald’s paper proves largely to be taken from Régis’ 1890 monograph on the same subject, but in the transposition this has been stripped of analysis and meaning, which it is necessary in any commentary to explain and restore. This process enables an illuminating exploration of pioneering observations about attackers of the prominent, many of which have arguably needed to be rediscovered in the modern day, given the failure of most current researchers to consult historical works or those written in languages other than English. Consideration of the paper touches on important themes such as changing conceptualizations of dangerousness and their association with ideas about punishment. The case histories set out by MacDonald serve to illustrate the notion of “warning behaviors” that have attracted the interest of contemporary researchers. MacDonald’s paper serves as a cautionary tale that research on threat assessment should be informed by the careful observations of practitioners, rather than the theories and prejudices of armchair ‘experts.’ Keywords: assassination, attack, public figure, lone actor, mattoid

Arthur MacDonald was a disciple of the Italian polymath and intellectual heavy-weight, Cesare Lombroso. Although MacDonald had supporters in the early part of his career, his work has been subject to considerable criticism, both by contemporaries and in recent analyses. In terms of his written output, one reviewer stated at the time of the publication of his best-known book, Criminology (MacDonald, 1893), that a major part was “a recapitulation of the doctrines and facts found in Lombroso’s works, the recapitulation being, however, so much less extensive than the original work that the convincing force of the figures is necessarily much diminished” (Schwartz, 1893, p. 567). Another reviewer stated that, if MacDonald chose to make his book an uncritical account of the views of a

Correspondence concerning this article should be addressed to David V. James, Fixated Threat Assessment Centre, 4-5 Buckingham Gate, London SW1 United Kingdom. E-mail: [email protected]

particular school, “we might reasonably ask that the subject should be so digested and assimilated in his mind as to furnish an orderly and logical account of the opinions he adopts. We do not think such is the case in this work” (American Journal of Psychiatry, 1893, p. 473). Modern analyses of MacDonald’s Criminology have been even more scathing. While acknowledging that the book is noteworthy for being the first in the United States to bear that name, Rafter (2009) describes it as “an intellectual hash” (p. xv). “He himself did no research on the causes of crime and so he has to repeat what others have said. He leans especially heavily on Lombroso, whose sentences he repeats frequently and almost verbatim . . . . MacDonald could not write very well . . . . The overall impression is of an author who is out of his depth and foundering, trying to produce a work on a topic he does not understand” (p. 188). Nineteen years passed between the appearance of Criminology and the publication of his article, “Assassins of Rulers” (MacDonald, 1912).

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COMMENTARY ON MACDONALD (1912)

However, as we shall see below, the observations made about the former could apply equally well to the latter. The article extracts its initial sections from Régis (1890), appending six case histories of attacks on politicians in the United States, also taken from other sources. Along the way, any organization of the ideas or categorization of the phenomena under consideration in a way that might have contributed to their understanding has been lost. If there is any reason to read MacDonald’s article today, it is that it sends us back to the original literature on which he relied. In fact, it is not possible to achieve an understanding of the article without examining the background to, and ideas to be found in, the works that MacDonald was drawing upon. Lombroso was the first to conceive of criminology as a separate academic discipline and, in the 1870s, he became leader of an international movement known as the positivist school of criminology. This fiercely challenged the then current, conservative ideas in penology, which could be traced back to Cesare Beccaria’s Dei Delitti e delle Pene (On Crimes and Punishments; Beccaria, 1764). Whereas Beccaria had emphasized the free will of criminals and the dictum that the punishment should fit the crime, Lombroso’s view was that the punishment should instead be determined by the dangerousness of the criminal, whose actions were not the result of free will, but were determined by biological, psychological, and social factors (Lombroso, 1876). In the 1896 –1897 edition of L’uomo deliquente (Criminal Man), Lombroso likens this to a disease model: Once we stop thinking of punishment as retaliation or as a sort of civil excommunication, we can see that it must change direction completely. The purpose of punishment should not be the infliction of pain on the criminal, but the well-being of society and restitution to the victim. Punishment should be proportional, less to the gravity of crime than to the dangerousness of the criminal . . . . Crime is like an illness that requires a specific remedy for each patient. It is the job of criminal anthropology to establish the relationship between criminals and their punishment. Punishment should vary according to the type of offender: the born criminal, the insane criminal, the habitual criminal, the occasional criminal, and the criminal of passion. (extracted by Rafter, 2009, pp. 218 –219)

Lombroso wrote 30 books and more than one thousand papers, remarkably few of which have been translated into English. He emphasized the use of scientific method, measurement and sta-

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tistics, and his scope was extraordinarily wide. His work has been derided over the last century by concentration on his category of what his closest colleague, Ferri, later termed the ‘born criminal’ and his associated theory of atavism, the possession by individuals of evolutionary throw-back features which were evidenced by physical characteristics that could be measured and which were associated with ‘primitive’ criminal behavior. With modern research into the genetic and biological associations of violence, this idea perhaps begins to look a little less bizarre. Raine, after summarizing some recent studies on the associations of relative digit length in his Anatomy of Violence (Raine, 2013, p. 194), is able to conclude that “Lombroso was at least partially on the mark with his theory for . . . atavistic stigmata for criminal offending.” Ideas such as born criminality were pleasing to right-wing politicians, just as Lombroso’s emphasis on social conditions as generators of crime pleased those on the left. The later misuse of Lombroso’s ideas by fascist propagandists has given them a disreputable flavor, but Lombroso was, in fact, born into a Jewish family in Lombardy and, like Ferri, became a prominent member of the Socialist Party. Those interested in a modern take on the evolution of his ideas are referred to Gibson (2002). Lombroso’s categorization of criminality is absorbing, but there is only one term that needs pause for detailed explanation here, because MacDonald uses it in his article. The term mattoid was coined by Lombroso from the Italian word for mad, matte, and the suffix -oid, which we might render as –ish. Therefore, mattoid meant mad-ish, half-mad, or on the cusp of madness. Lombroso originally used it to describe individuals who styled themselves prophets or revolutionaries and who attacked political leaders. Mattoids were mentally unbalanced, but not atavistic and did not show features of degenerative insanity. In other words, they were outwardly normal in the way they led their lives, they could be intelligent and well-organized, show affection, sensibilities and a strong sense of civic responsibility, while pursuing their personal quests. They did not exhibit periods of psychotic delirium and their social and cognitive state did not deteriorate as a result of their mental unbalance. They were lone actors, whose view of the world was characterized by

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egotism and idiosyncratic grandiose ideas or grievances, and who often engaged in voluminous writings characterized by “absurdity, contradictions, prolixity, mad trivialities and, above all, vanity” (Lombroso, 2006, p. 285.). The concept in Political Crime and Revolutions extends to include some cases of religious mania, persecution mania and erotic delirium (Lombroso & Laschi, 1892, pp. 112– 137). By the fourth edition of Criminal Man in 1889, the concept of mattoidism also includes “litigious maniacs” (Lombroso/Gibson & Rafter, p. 284), in other words querulants. It is entirely possible that Lombroso’s views were influenced by developing ideas on the classification of mental disorders, particularly those of Kraepelin, the first edition of whose Psychiatrie, ein Lehrbuch für Studierende und A¨rtze (Clinical Psychiatry, a textbook for students and physicians; Kraepelin, 1883) appeared in 1883. Kraepelin’s classification is worth considering here, because it gives some modern meaning to Lombroso’s concept of the mattoid. He came to split mental illness into four main groups: dementia praecox (later recast as schizophrenia by Bleuler, reflecting the observation that neither part of the original term was necessarily true), manicdepressive illnesses, paranoia, and paraphrenia (a term still found useful by many clinicians for late-onset paranoid psychosis). Paranoia differed from dementia praecox in that the delusions in paranoia were systematized, tended to be consistent over time, were nonbizarre and were often related to real-life events. There was no thought disorder and, at least by the eighth edition (1909), auditory hallucinations were considered to be absent. The personality was well preserved and the mood normal when the patient was not thinking about his delusional beliefs, in which circumstances the mood was very intense, but appropriate to the delusional context. The only behavioral changes were those relating to the delusional beliefs, and the individual’s behavior was socially acceptable in all other circumstances, in contrast to the generally disturbed behavior of those with dementia praecox. Persecutory delusions were the most common, followed by the jealous, grandiose, and erotomanic (Munro, 1999). Lombroso’s concept of mattoidism would appear to fit well into Kraepelin’s definition of paranoia.

The Kraepelinian concept is incorporated into the modern nomenclature as delusional disorder, defined under F22 in International Classification of Diseases, tenth revision (ICD-10; World Health Organization, 1992) and 297.1 in Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, fifth edition (DSM-5; American Psychiatric Association, 2013). The difficulty that modern psychiatrists seem to have in dealing with the concept, both in general and in relation to attackers of prominent persons, will be returned to below. MacDonald was 56 at the time “Assassins of Rulers” was published. He was one of eight or so “neophyte criminologists, amateurs who overnight became specialists in the field” who “had few qualifications other than an ability to digest source materials and speak authoritatively” (Rafter, 2006, p. 170 and p. 168). He listed in his qualifications an A.M. from the University of Rochester in 1883, and it is stated in Criminology that he pursued studies in Europe between 1885 and 1892: Medicine and Science at the University of Berlin; Psycho-physics at the University of Leipzig; Clinical and Experimental Medicine at the University of Paris; and Psychiatry, Hypnotism, and Criminology at the Universities of Zürich and Vienna. He also states among his qualifications that he attended the International Congress of Criminal Anthropology in Brussels in 1892, the congresses playing an important part in the exchange of criminological ideas between 1885 and 1911 (Kaluszynski, 2006). However, his travels do not appear to have produced any original work or further academic qualifications. We shall return later to a consideration of MacDonald’s subsequent career and fall from grace. For the moment, we shall simply observe that it is likely that MacDonald may have known Lombroso personally, because he claims to have attended lectures by Lombroso in Turin, and the introduction to his Criminology was written by Lombroso himself. The book has various extensive bibliographies and, although some were “lifted from other books” (Rafter, 2009, p. 188), this indicates that MacDonald had access to a considerable library of European books and papers on criminal anthropology and criminology. Criminology was a European development, and assassination was one of the wide range

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COMMENTARY ON MACDONALD (1912)

of issues that many criminologists dealt with in their writings. Two books in particular would potentially have been available to MacDonald as sources from which to take ideas for “Assassins of Rulers,” those of Régis in France (1890) and of Lombroso and Laschi in Italy (1890). The work cited by MacDonald in his article is Les Régicides dans l’Histoire et dans le Présent (Regicides, From History and the Present Day), a 97-page monograph by Emmanuel Régis, a senior psychiatrist who had been in charge of services in Paris and then Bordeaux.1 He used the term regicides “for want of a better word” to mean “fanatics who assassinate or attempt to assassinate a monarch or person in power” (p. 7). Régis spent three years gathering documents and accounts on 80 regicide cases, aided in this endeavor by friends, colleagues, and associates, both in France and further afield. There was, incidentally, a very rich literature on which to draw. Régis states that he aimed to limit his focus to medical and psychological considerations and, through the study of cases, to “reach general conclusions about the mental state of regicides which might be of interest both medico-legally and in terms of nosology” (p. 8). As we shall come on to see, much of MacDonald’s article (other than the case histories) is lifted from Régis, so it is important to set out an outline of the latter’s ideas, to see what MacDonald has taken from them and, indeed, what he has failed to take or has misunderstood. Régis refers to Laschi and Lombroso’s contribution on the subject at the 1885 First International Congress of Biological and Social Criminal Anthropology, held in Rome (Laschi & Lombroso, 1886), summarizing their classification of regicides as comprising three categories: insane regicides, mattoid regicides, and criminals of passion. (He ignores Lombroso and Laschi’s other categories of ‘born criminal’ and ‘occasional criminal’.) His view is that, whereas this classification may have face validity, it is insufficient to capture the range of different types of psychopathology bundled together in the term ‘regicide.’ Régis then proposes a categorization of his own, based on the clinical study of case histories. He begins by splitting cases into two fundamental types: false regicides and true regicides. True regicides are those where the attempt on a prominent person is the direct

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consequence of a particular state of mind. False regicides are where “the attempt on the person, often more apparent than real, is purely and simply a matter of chance, without any immediate connection with the core of their ideas, whether delusional or not” (p. 9). In true regicides, Régis asserts, assassination is, in and of itself, the aim: in false regicides, it is the means to an end. True regicides may believe that, through the act of killing someone, their aims will have been achieved. False regicides may simply be using the attack to bring attention to their particular grievance as part of their effort to obtain a justice that they have often been pursuing in vain for years through complaints to official bodies and tribunals. Or they may be cases of ‘indirect suicide’ (a concept close to that of ‘death by cop’), whether undertaken simply to bring an end to their lives or in a quest for some form of martyrdom. The attacks of false regicides do not necessarily need to succeed to accomplish their aim, so accounting for cases where individuals fire blanks or point their weapons at the ground. Régis states that his focus from this point on is true regicides. However, he states that he will exclude one subcategory, that of insane regicides, such as Margaret Nicholson or Roderick Maclean: It’s true that these are regicides, but simple, ‘chance regicides’, more madman than regicide. . . . Whatever their type of mental illness may happen to be, it does not vary from its usual presentation and there is nothing that distinguishes it. These are run-of-the-mill delusionals whose pathological act is accidentally directed toward a monarch or person of prominence of the day, but who are following the same sort of reasoning processes as their fellows. Apart from the fact of their attack, which suddenly gives them notoriety, they offer nothing, as patients, of special interest. (Régis, p. 16)

Régis pays lip-service to other groups of the criminal anthropology categorization, but has no great interest in using them in his consideration of assassins. He provides line drawings of 20 of his illustrative cases, but does not comment extensively on physical traits, stating that bodily measurements of historical cases are generally unavailable. 1

Régis’ work has yet to be translated into English. The passages quoted below are our own renderings.

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Turning to his study of his core group, he begins with their general characteristics, first of all their general make-up and their age: “The first thing that strikes one about regicides is that they are neither completely healthy mentally, nor completely mad. Although placed at slightly different points on the pathological ladder, they all belong to the border or cross-over zone. In earlier times, they would have been considered lucid or reasoning lunatics” (p. 17). The next section concerns their general temperament. Régis finds their dominant characteristic to be a tendency to “mysticism,” which he characterizes as “not simply an exaggeration of religious feelings, but a so-to-say instinctive tendency to glorify religious or political matters, these feeding an already sick mind, until the point is eventually reached where notions and the decisions based upon them become truly pathological” (p. 26). He expands on the form taken by that mystical delirium in the following section on “Mental State,” noting the central role of a sense of mission. He points out the absence of the persistent hallucinations found in generalized insanity, and also a difference in form, with few auditory hallucinations, but occasional visions, which tend to occur at night and sometimes may be confused with dreams (p. 38). The next sections cover premeditation and planning, the carrying out of the deed, the issue of suicide, and behavior after the event, at trial and on the scaffold. He considers the tendency of some regicides to produce voluminous writings in self-justification. His extensive case material is tied in to his account, illustrating the ideas presented. Most, but not all, of his cases will be familiar, at least in name, to modern readers with some grasp of European history. He summarizes his findings toward the end of the book: As we can see, attacks by regicides are not sudden and unconsidered acts, as is the case in certain forms of madness. On the contrary, they are logical acts, conceived in full lucidity, long premeditated and prepared, rejected at first, then accepted or submitted to, then finally executed, often after doubts, rebellion and internal struggles, which only the delusional belief in a divine mission or the saving of homeland or religion is able to bring to an end. But despite the lucidity of mind and the appearance of reason, despite this long and slow process of premeditation which often makes regicides seem like straightforward fanatics, fully responsible for their actions, it is no less true that these are ill

people, unstable, weak of will, slaves to their obsession, driven by a blind and inexorable force, which they have no freedom to resist. (pp. 54 –55)

Régis emphasizes that regicide concerns the actions of a lone individual, preoccupied with their own idiosyncratic and often ‘mystical’ concerns. He decries the tendency of officialdom to try and see in the loner an agent of some particular group or party and to engage in a hunt for accomplices. He considers whether the regicides of today differ at all from those of the past. He concludes that they are as if the same people, the only change being in the form their preoccupations take which is influenced by the times. He comments that some of the writings of different individuals from different periods are virtually interchangeable. He finishes with a discussion on “Medicolegal Conclusions,” asking “What should be done with regicides?” He relates the tendency of some of the intended victims to wish to give clemency, citing in particular Napoleon Bonaparte (whose notes on the matter he quotes), Louis-Phillipe, and Napoleon III, and observing that they were sometimes overruled by their advisers. Noting that some recent cases had been given the most severe punishments, despite their mental problems, he states: It is true that the doctors themselves, misled by the apparent lucidity of the individuals and influenced, it has to be said, by the nature of the attack, found themselves each time in disagreement on their assessments and hesitated to declare them insane. . . . It is hardly surprising, in these circumstances, that the judges should apply the harshest penalties to these unfortunates, despite the eloquent protests of their defenders. . . . Science and humanity having abdicated their role, there was nothing left but ‘reasons of state,’ blind and implacable. (pp. 92–93)

Régis argues that many of these cases should not have been considered responsible for their actions. To those that still hesitate to adopt this conclusion, he states that all doubt should be removed by a consideration of those cases that escaped death and were imprisoned. He details three such, with their descent into obvious madness, finishing by quoting a description of Passanante in his cell, seemingly devoid of thought or will and oblivious to his surroundings, eating his own excrement, while the director of the prison “scrupulously following the letter of the law, carried on the ridiculous performance of having him guarded day and night by two gaol-

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COMMENTARY ON MACDONALD (1912)

ers” (pp. 94 –95). Returning to his theme of what to do with regicides, he states that offering people the martyrdom they so desire is counterproductive, and quotes the saying that “ideas are watered with blood” (p. 95). Science “shows us that these individuals are abnormal, mostly mattoids or the half-mad, and that, if they become criminals, it is only because they are ill” (p. 96). He advocates that those who are clearly deluded and hallucinated should be placed in lunatic asyla: “This incidentally, is what the regicide dreads most: such treatment shatters their pride, because they consider it shameful that they, heroes and martyrs, should be treated as madmen. If one wished to make an example of them, this would surely be the best way” (p. 96). For those whose illnesses are of a lesser degree, Régis advocates their incarceration for as long as is necessary for public safety in forensic psychiatric hospitals of the sort found in Scotland and England, which he sees as sitting halfway between prisons and asyla. Lombroso and Rudolfo Laschi set out the early bones of their analysis at the Rome Congress referred to by Régis, but within five years they had extended their consideration into a lengthy book, Il delitto politico e le rivoluzioni in rapporto al diritto, all’antropologia criminale ed alla scienza di governo (Political Crime and Revolutions) (Lombroso & Laschi, 1890), which runs to 724 pages in Bouchard’s French translation (Lombroso & Laschi, 1892), through which the work is most easily accessed by those who do not have Italian. Their account is marked by the extraordinarily broad sweep and kaleidoscopic mixtures of detail that characterized Lombroso’s approach. The first half of this work deals specifically with revolts and revolutions, and encompasses a detailed consideration of geographical and social influences, including climate, season, geology, race, poverty, diet, alcohol use, local tradition and even phases of the moon (no association found). The second half contains 200 pages directly relevant to the consideration of individual attackers and their characteristics. It concludes with a lengthy section on prevention and punishment. Much of the content overlaps with Régis, although the analysis is less clinically oriented than that of the Frenchman, the material is squeezed into Lombroso’s standard classification system, and it is subject to all his usual preoccupations and extravagant presentational style. There is no need

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to describe the book further here, as MacDonald does not use it in his article and may not in fact have read it. Before approaching the article itself, it is necessary to remark that, on its penultimate page (p. 519), MacDonald proposes the idea that it is necessary for the protection of prominent people that the names of their attackers should not be published in newspapers, magazines, or books, as this would encourage potential attackers desirous of notoriety. This is an idea that MacDonald had advocated, in his Criminology (MacDonald, 1893, p. 272), not just for assassins, but for all criminal cases. Lombroso and Laschi thought the press important in revolts and uprisings (Lombroso & Laschi, 1892, Vol. 1, pp. 168 –169), but ignore the issue with respect to individuals. Régis, characteristically thoughtful, remarks that the influence of books and newspapers “is real, but should not be accorded more importance than it merits. Fanatical publications only act on minds that are already predisposed to them: they do not create delusions, they simply serve to feed them and reinforce an already determined direction of travel” (p. 77). He comments that prime among the reading material that inspires regicides is the Bible, which he calls “the mystical fanatic’s vade mecum.” MacDonald continues by stating that, “as far as scientific study is concerned, names of persons are not necessary.” He puts his idea into practice in his article by studiously avoiding to mention the names of any of the assassins and attackers that he writes about. With his vignettes of U.S. cases, this simply appears pointless, as the attackers were by then household names. With his references to historical European cases, the omission of names is a serious hindrance to the reader, as without access to the works of the European authors whose sentences MacDonald is copying and paraphrasing, the reader has no means to check on the accuracy of his assertions and generalizations. One of the first tasks of a modern reviewer of his article is therefore to add the names back in. Examining the sections of MacDonald’s article that precede the U.S. case histories (pp. 505–507), most of the text is taken directly from Régis. An exception would appear to be the first paragraph. This begins with the assertion that “The most dangerous criminals are the assassins of rulers.” This sensationalist tone is at variance

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with MacDonald’s faithful adherence in Criminology to the fundamental, positivist doctrine that dangerousness depends on underlying criminal type, rather than the crime, this varying from case to case. The remainder of the first paragraph appears to be an amalgam of MacDonald’s reading, ending by his citing Régis. The second paragraph in the article is taken from Régis, pages 19 –20, in which he is considering personal histories. MacDonald quotes verbatim selected sentences from Régis’ account, concerning, in order (but without MacDonald including the names or details): Jacques Clément, a monk killed on the spot on August 1, 1589 after stabbing Henri III to death; Jean Châtel, the 19-year-old son of a cloth merchant, who was executed on December 28, 1594 after trying to stab Henri IV; François Ravaillac, a religiously obsessed court factotum, who was executed on May 14, 1610 for stabbing Henri IV to death; and Robert-François Damiens, a domestic servant at a Jesuit college, who was executed on March 28, 1757 after trying to knife Louis XV. The next section, on “Mental State Before Assassination,” is lifted almost word-for-word from passages of Régis on pages 49 and 55. A line-by-line textual analysis of the article is beyond the scope of this commentary. However, the real objection to MacDonald’s article is not that he copies parts of it from others, but that he does so in the form of a careless and hasty précis, which loses the shape and meaning of the original. The following, taken from this section, is illustrative. MacDonald writes: “One had premeditated his crime six years.” Régis at this point specifies that he is referring to Balthazar Gérard, the solder who shot dead Guillaume de Nassau in 1584, and who he had earlier typed as belonging to the category of religious mysticism, in explaining the evolution of his actions. MacDonald continues: “Another had struggled against his desire to kill a king.” Régis here specifies Pierre Barrière, who planned to assassinate Henry IV and who was denounced by a Dominican priest to whom he had confessed, being apprehended on his way to carry out his mission on 27th August 1593. (Barrière was the third of the 17 attempted assassins of Henri IV, before Ravaillac finally succeeded, Henri IV holding something of a record as a target). Barrière was a Catholic soldier in the wars of religion and had taken against the Hu-

guenot Henri’s conversion to Catholicism, its nominal nature being captured in Henri’s wellknown remark: “Paris is worth a mass.” In fact, as Régis relates, Barrière had seen Henri taking mass at Saint Denis, and Régis quotes his later statement that he had refrained from looking at the king in case it put him off his purpose. This is somewhat different to what is suggested by MacDonald’s ‘struggle.’ MacDonald continues: “Another said, ‘I feel myself compelled by a colossal and invincible force.’” Régis, at this point, is describing the case of Friedrich Staps, the son of a pastor, who went to Schönbrunn to attempt to assassinate Napoleon at a military parade. One of Napoleon’s aides became suspicious of Staps approaching the Emperor, recognizing him as someone previously refused an audience, and had him arrested. MacDonald’s quote is, in fact, taken from Stabs’ letter to his father before the attack, rather than something he said. It might make more sense if MacDonald had also copied Régis’ earlier description of Staps’ auditory hallucinations, God having appeared to him saying: “Go ahead. You will succeed in your endeavor, but you will die in doing so.” MacDonald’s next section, “Modern Forms of Disequilibrium,” is constructed in similar fashion. Here, he is addressing Régis’ concept of “political mysticism.” MacDonald begins by lifting a few sentences from Régis’ section on “The Regicides of Today” (p. 78). He continues with a brief summary of a case, again not naming the individual. For once, this might be appropriate, in that the passages, taken from Régis (pp. 79 – 81), concern a case which Régis called simply ‘X’ as it had still not been concluded, while quoting at length from a medico-legal report. MacDonald leaves out all mention of X’s hallucinations and his writings, as described by Régis, the inclusion of which might have allowed a broader interpretation of the case. The case is evidently that of Clément Duval (it is doubtful whether, 25 years later, MacDonald bothered to identify it) which, given that it involved a socialite, rather than a political leader, is slightly off the point. The case is, however, not without interest and an English translation of Duval’s memoirs, concentrating on his 20 attempts to escape from Devil’s Island, is available to those who are interested (Duval, 1929).

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COMMENTARY ON MACDONALD (1912)

The attacks on Emperor Wilhelm, to which MacDonald then refers, were those of Hödel and Nobiling, both in 1878, and that on King Humbert was Passanante’s knife attack in 1879 on King Umberto in Naples. MacDonald states that both those who fired at Wilhelm did so “in the interest of Germany and socialism.” Hödel had in fact been expelled by the Social Democratic Party, and Nobiling was not known to the Party. This did not stop Bismarck using the two incidents as a pretext to ban it. As for Passanante, MacDonald contends that he carried out the attack with a socialist banner in his hand. This is taken from Régis (p. 11), but appears unsupported by contemporary accounts. Passanante, in his examination after his arrest, said that he was neither an internationalist not a socialist and did not know the meaning of these words. He died in a lunatic asylum at the age of 60. Turning to the section on the “Crank or Mattoid Type of Assassin,” MacDonald here seems to go way off-piste, somehow conflating all insanity with mattoidism. He gives as examples of mattoids a male attacker of George III who “smote” the King “because he (the assassin) said he was entitled to the crown and, if it were given to him, England would be buried in blood for centuries to come.” Here, MacDonald has changed the sex of Margaret Nicholson, who Régis gives as his primary example of a “mad regicide.” MacDonald has here mistranslated Régis (on p. 15), which should read that she “struck George III in 1786, because the crown was hers and, if her due rights were not returned to her, England would be drowned in blood for five generations.” MacDonald then goes on to cite Roderick Maclean, from the next paragraph in Régis’ account. MacDonald writes that Maclean “shot at Queen Victoria because he believed the English people were his enemy, since he had been refused admission to a hospital.” The correct translation of Régis’ original is “because the English people were his enemy, they kept on wearing the color blue to annoy him and he had been refused a letter of admission to a mental home.” The dangers of copying someone else’s account is illustrated here, in that it involves copying the original author’s errors. Régis appears to have misunderstood some of the English in a letter from Maclean to his sister the year before the attack on the Queen (or had

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copied the account of someone else who had made the error), in which Maclean had written: I can hardly contain myself in fact. I mean, if they don’t cease wearing blue, I will commit murder. In fact, I could not prevent myself committing murder about them not assisting me to get a letter from the Sanatorium, and yet they have the audacity to wear blue . . . I really think I cannot prevent myself having revenge on the English people . . . I fear it will be just as bad in Boulogne or elsewhere. What chances have I to cope with the millions of people who are against me? (quoted by White, 2000, p. 23)

Maclean’s psychosis involved odd paranoid beliefs about the color blue. However, his main grievance concerned the lack of financial support being offered him, and this is his issue with the sanatorium. After his attack on the Queen, which occurred on March 2, 1882, he was found not guilty on the grounds of insanity and sent to Broadmoor Hospital where he remained until his death on June 11, 1921. It is necessary to remark at this point that poor translation is a characteristic of MacDonald’s work, commented on and illustrated, somewhat gratuitously, in an earlier review of his Criminology (American Journal of Psychiatry, 1893, pp. 474 – 475). MacDonald then goes on to cite a French case, quoting, with some unwarranted transposition of tenses, the man’s explanation of his actions, to no particular purpose. The case is that of Jean Baffier, the sculptor, who attacked the member of parliament, Germain Casse, with a sword-stick in December 1886; it is taken from Régis, page 81. Régis’ point here in quoting Baffier’s words from a medico-legal report by Brouardel and Motet, is that this sort of language is typical of cases of political mysticism, and he states that, in reading the then contemporary words of Baffier, one might think one were reading one of the letters of Charlotte Corday, who stabbed Marat to death a century earlier in 1793. A detailed account of the Baffier case is to be found in McWilliam (2000). MacDonald tags on to this section of his article an assertion that the “assassins” of Jackson, Garfield, and Harrison were mattoids. MacDonald here uses the term assassins to include attempted assassins, without stating this in advance, presumably choosing to translate Régis’ ‘régicides’ as ‘assassins,’ and keeping a similar definition. He continues, “the assassins of McKinley and Lincoln were neither insane not

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mattoids nor cranks in the proper sense of the words. The assassin of Mayor Gaynor was what might be called a potential type.” It would be easy to miss, but this is in fact the introduction to the case histories he presents and is all that he provides by way of classification. Other than later talking about the ‘potential’ type, nothing further is said about the meaning of the terms. MacDonald then presents his six cases from the United States. He follows Régis in providing portraits of the ‘assassins,’ although he appears to be have been unable to provide one of Richard Lawrence, the attempted assassin of President Jackson. In all the other cases, he provides either descriptions of their physiognomy or detailed physical measurements. He gets these where he can, from postmortem or other sources. The reference to Bertillon measurements (p. 517) may need some explanation for the modern reader. Alphonse Bertillon was a French police officer who in 1879 created an identification system of criminals through physical measurements. This was translated into English (Bertillon, 1887) and introduced into the United States in 1887 and used by police and penitentiaries, with the creation of archives of records of known criminals, containing anthropometric measurements as well as full-face and profile photographs. The system survived into the first decades of the 20th century, before being gradually eclipsed by the use of fingerprints. Bertillon’s reputation has suffered in modern times as a result of his ‘expert’ handwriting evidence in the Dreyfus affair (for a novelistic account of which, see Harris, 2013). Curiously, although MacDonald includes detailed accounts of physical measurements and peculiarities, he does nothing with them. Rather, he has a short section on ‘Physical Anomalies,’ in which he explains, “knowledge of exact relations is as yet very inadequate” and therefore “conclusions drawn from physical defects as to mental and moral character are untrustworthy.” This is a rowing back from the original Lombrosan position, but reflects the mainstream of positive criminological thought, particularly encouraged by Ferri, who wished to give greater emphasis to the social, psychological, and environmental determinants of crime. MacDonald concludes, with his European colleagues, that physical factors are less reliable, the more intelligent the individual. He includes them, though, because he is unable to relinquish

his adherence to the fundamental idea of atavistic stigmata. The case histories that MacDonald presents, in terms of attacker/victim, are those of Richard Lawrence/President Andrew Jackson on January 30, 1830 (unsuccessful); John Wilkes Booth/President Abraham Lincoln on April 15, 1865; Charles J. Guiteau/President James Garfield on July 2, 1881; Patrick Eugene Prendergast/Carter Harrison, Mayor of Chicago on October 28, 1893; Leon Czolgosz/President William McKinley, the attack being on September 6, 1901 (McKinley died from his wounds on the 14th); and James J. Gallagher/William J. Gaynor, Mayor of New York on August 9, 1910 (unsuccessful). The reader will have access to academic papers and well-researched books detailing these cases and there is no space here to compare MacDonald’s accounts with the historical record. In passing, it is worth noting that Lombroso & Laschi considered the Guiteau case in detail in Political Crime and Revolutions (1892, vol. 2, pp. 131–137), seeing him as a prime example of the mattoid, and Guiteau is also one of the cases considered by Régis. Two U.S. cases where MacDonald appears to be expressing his own ideas require consideration. The first is that of Richard Lawrence, who was found to be insane by the psychiatrists who examined him. MacDonald refers to Lawrence’s belief that he was Richard the Third, King of England, and questions the findings of the psychiatrists of the time, saying: “His claim to the throne of England through heredity, and to a large fortune, is not so exceptional among the ignorant . . . There are some men of his class in every community, with little or no education, who have very simple ideas about many matters outside their own calling or occupation” (p. 509). To try and rationalize delusions in this manner is likely to have sounded as absurd to most contemporary readers as it does today. We shall turn to MacDonald’s ideas on heredity and education later in this article; they probably influenced his views here. However, it also seems likely that MacDonald is letting his judgment be clouded by popular sentiment, which sought to displace scientific analysis of illness by a demand for retribution. In other words, politics may have interfered with scientific objectivity, something against which Régis had cautioned (see above). Such sentiment is well

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described in a paper on the Czolgosz case by Carlos MacDonald in 1902, which Arthur MacDonald cites, his namesake commenting that the assassination of McKinley by Czolgosz “engendered in the public a mingled feeling of horror, vindictiveness and revenge.” While he decried it, he noted that “there are many who, in view of the magnitude of the crime, would oppose the granting of exemption from the ordinary consequences of capital offenses, even though the offender were a raving lunatic” (MacDonald, 1902, p. 179 and p. 180). The second case on which it is necessary to comment is the attack on Mayor Gaynor of New York by James Gallagher. MacDonald’s account of the circumstances is not very clear. The mayor was, in fact, about to sail for Europe on a liner when he was shot in the neck by Gallagher. The mayor did not have much luck with liners. When he tried to go to Europe again three years later, on a different boat, he died of a heart attack 400 miles west of Ireland. In the article, MacDonald gives two photos of Gallagher, commenting in the caption below the photo that he had a gray beard and that “he was born in Ireland in 1852: his age was 58 and his appearance would suggest that age.” Yet, in his vignette of the case, he states that Gallagher was born on May 5, 1865 (p. 517). MacDonald pontificates about the case, stating, “there is no doubt that the cause of the shooting was the loss of his position and the resulting fear of poverty or of want of food.” He explains that what was different about Gallagher from others in the same position was his “dormant criminality.” MacDonald is here trying to fit him into the category of someone born with criminal traits— “the criminal element in him, which, when awakened, is sufficiently strong to pass into an overt act” (p. 518). In other words, dogma is ousting scientific analysis. The inaccuracy of MacDonald’s formulation is shown by subsequent events. Gallagher was not charged with the attack on Gaynor, but rather with the accompanying assault on Commissioner Edwards. He was sentenced in 1911 to 12 years imprisonment and initially sent to the state penitentiary in Trenton. However, he was soon deemed insane by a commission and transferred to the New Jersey State Hospital for the Insane, where he died from paresis in 1913 (New York Times, 1913).

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Turning to MacDonald’s account of the Carter Harrison case (p. 512), he misses a trick by leaving out fascinating and relevant detail. Within 20 minutes of Prendergast’s arrest, the chief of the Chicago Police Department announced to the press that he was “as crazy as a bed-bug” (Burke, 2003, p. 793). However: “At his 3-week trial, ‘expert’ witnesses testified that, although he was a ‘crank,’ he was in fact sane when he pulled the trigger and murdered Harrison. They paid little attention to the report that he suffered a severe head trauma as a child that had left him impaired, or the fact that his grandfather had died in Ireland in a lunatic asylum” (Burke, p. 794). The day before the date set for his execution, an appeal was heard and a new sanity trial was ordered, at which Prendergast was represented by Clarence Darrow, this being the latter’s first murder case. Burke summarizes some of the evidence Darrow introduced about Prendergast’s mental state, and in addition, Darrow’s characterization of the state’s medical experts: “One doctor, over 80 years of age, he characterized as a ‘relic of a forgotten age.’ And another doctor who had stopped practicing medicine had all the skills, he insisted, of a ‘butcher.’ A third expert, he pointed out, had been dismissed by the state when he found correctly that the accused was insane” (Burke, p. 794). The jury, however, found Prendergast sane, capitulating in their verdict to popular sentiment and political pressure. After the recounting of the six U.S. case histories, MacDonald’s article does not have any form of summary or ending. It simply comes to a stop. Before doing so, it gives a table showing the proportion of attempted attacks on rulers that had been successful in various countries between 1789 and 1902 (p. 520). The proportion is greatest in the United States. MacDonald makes no comment on the table, though a further column specifying the proportion that used firearms in each country might have been illuminating. Overall, “Assassins of Rulers” is a poor study, by the standards of any age. It is poorly written, derivative and misleading, and manages to copy large chunks of Régis’ work while stripping it of analysis or meaning. Its only attraction is that it collects together a few good yarns, albeit not necessarily accurately told. There are, however, a number of points about it and the ideas underlying it that remain relevant

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for discussion today. First, it is interesting to appreciate more about the history of the concept of dangerousness and of its influence on ideas about punishment. Second, the cases set out by MacDonald are interesting in terms of the ‘warning behaviors’ described (although not commented on) in five of the six cases, this being a topic that has attracted recent interest (James et al., 2007, 2008; Meloy et al., 2012). There is then the whole question of diagnosis, criminal responsibility, and the effects of social and political pressure on issues of scientific judgment. In scientific terms, as far as assassins of U.S. political figures are concerned, the jury is no longer out, and the position is summarized by Dietz and Martell (2010, p. 344) in a commentary on the work of the Fixated Research Group (e.g., James et al., 2014): “Every instance of an attack on a public figure in the United States for which adequate information has been made publicly available has been the work of a mentally disordered person who issued one or more preattack signals in the form of inappropriate letters, visits or statements.” However, within the United States and some other jurisdictions, matters concerning illness and responsibility are confused by legal issues, in particular the legal concept of insanity. Although this is now a rarely used concept in the United Kingdom, where offenders with mental illness are simply sent to hospitals for treatment in lieu of sentence, insanity remains the bar to be crossed in the United States. Ironically, it has no medical significance and is an artificial legal mechanism, created by the House of Lords in 1843 in response to public outrage following the McNaughten case, specifically to prevent similar mentally ill defendants being found not guilty by reason of insanity in the future (see James et al., 2014, p. 300). Nonclinicians are prone to confusing the legal concept of insanity with mental illness; the issue of public outrage influencing judgment is arguably as alive and well today as it was in 1912, and both become confused with issues of responsibility, whether moral or legal. As regards diagnosis, the tendency to attempt to portray mentally ill people with delusional disorder as normal is still found in the courts in jurisdictions where psychiatric disposals are seen as a soft option, and also among psychiatrists in systems where diagnosis is heavily influenced by bed availability.

But what of MacDonald’s ideas and their effect on his career? These matters are explored in detail in a hostile but well-researched article by Gilbert (1977). He traces the promising start to MacDonald’s career in the United States Bureau of Education in 1892, when he was appointed as a specialist in education “as preventive of pauperism and crime.” Gilbert shows how it eventually became apparent to MacDonald’s superior that his interest was “to reorient education from its traditional emphasis on development to considerations of hygiene” (p. 169). In other words, he wished, while selectively taking ideas from Lombroso and Bertillon, to determine the educability of children and their likely propensities from physical measurements of their bodies, coupled with other considerations such as race and class. Gilbert describes MacDonald’s work in educational theory and criminology as “extraordinarily naive and simple-minded” (p. 170). He notes that “Lombroso’s theories were a good deal more complicated and subject to modification than was apparent in MacDonald’s presentation of them” (p. 179). He attributes MacDonald’s initial success to his striking a nerve of the times, with widespread public concern about high crime rates, violence, immigration, and labor organization. Matters began to turn, however, with the publication of MacDonald’s book Abnormal Woman in 1895, which in particular explored women on the border between purity and degeneracy (MacDonald, 1895). It was based substantially on a process of correspondence between MacDonald and women he had found through newspaper advertisements, which Gilbert types as a “kind of ritualized courtship in which the women . . . revealed more and more about their identities and interests.” (p. 182), culminating in a few cases where MacDonald met them and took measurements, data which he published without any apparent attempt at analysis. From this point, he was pursued by the New York Sun with increasingly scurrilous articles. Eventually, MacDonald, seeing little future for his ambitions within the Bureau, set out trying to gain funding for the establishment of a ‘Laboratory’ to undertake the study of abnormality and criminality through anthropometrics. This eventually led to a breakdown in his relations with his superior and he was fired from his post in 1902, which was abolished on the recommendation of

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his superior because the “so-called scientific study of criminals has not advanced far enough to be of use for education” (quoted by Gilbert, p. 184). Gilbert notes that it had taken 10 years for MacDonald’s senior at the Bureau “to discover that MacDonald’s writings were useless, his pretended doctor’s degree nonexistent and his science a confusing but dangerous blend of social prejudice and half-digested anthropology” (p. 191). Gilbert summarizes MacDonald’s subsequent career as follows: “MacDonald spent the next 30 years in Washington, vainly organizing support for his laboratory in Congress, publishing occasional pieces on criminology and mental testing, and searching for a job. When he died in the mid-1930s, he had long since been dismissed as a crank and a hopeless failure.” The degree of enmity he faced from some quarters is illustrated by a piece from the New York Sun in 1903, which was still attacking MacDonald and his reliance on anthropometrics, in the context of his attempts to gain funding from a Senate Committee for a “laboratory for the study of the abnormal classes.” It called the conclusions to his writings “the laughing stock of competent scientific authority.” MacDonald is derided for calling himself ‘doctor’—“he is not a Doctor of Medicine, or Law or Philosophy or Divinity.” The article intimates sexual reasons for his wanting to measure children and notes that, in his previous studies, he chose to measure more girls than boys over the age of 16 (New York Sun, 1903). MacDonald sued the newspaper and engaged in written attacks on his former superior at the Bureau of Education, while spending the rest of his life in a relentless campaign for funds for his “laboratory.” Of interest in terms of the article here under consideration is that MacDonald could adapt his calls to circumstance. Soon after the publication of “Assassins of Rulers” came the attack on Theodore Roosevelt by John Shrank, who was found insane and sent to a lunatic asylum. Within three days of the attack, the New York Times was reporting MacDonald’s call for the establishment of his “Laboratory” so that it could better prevent attacks on Executives and other prominent people through the study of this “dangerous species of abnormal people who are popularly labeled ‘cranks’” (New York Times, 1912). The fundamental observations to be drawn from an examination of MacDonald’s article are

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twofold. First, those who have something authoritative to say in this field are almost always clinicians with wide personal experience of relevant cases. And second, nihil novi sub sole: much risks being lost when modern researchers fail adequately to acquaint themselves with what has been written in the past, or limit their researches to texts in the English language. References American Journal of Psychiatry. (1893). Review of MacDonald’s ‘Criminology.’ American Journal of Psychiatry, 49, 473– 475. American Psychiatric Association. (2013). Diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders (5th ed.). Washington, DC: Author. Beccaria, C. (1764). Dei Delitti e delle Pene. Milan, Italy: Feltrinelli. Reprinted 2003. Bertillon, A. (1887). Signaletic instructions including the theory and practice of anthropometrical identification (R. W. McClaughry, Trans.). Chicago, IL: Werner. Burke, E. M. (2003). Lunatics and anarchists: Political homicide in Chicago. The Journal of Criminal Law & Criminology, 92, 791– 804. http://dx.doi .org/10.2307/1144243 Dietz, P., & Martell, D. A. (2010). Commentary: Approaching and stalking public figures—A prerequisite to attack. Journal of the American Academy of Psychiatry and the Law, 38, 341–348. Duval, C. (2012). Outrage: An anarchist memoir of the penal colony (M. Shreve, Trans.). Oakland, CA: PM Press. (Original work published 1929) Gibson, M. (2002). Born to crime: Cesare Lombroso and the Origins of Biological Criminality. Westport, CT: Praeger. Gilbert, J. B. (1977). Anthropometrics in the U.S. Bureau of Education: The case of Arthur MacDonald’s ‘Laboratory.’ History of Education Quarterly, 17, 169 –195. http://dx.doi.org/10.2307/ 368125 Harris, R. (2013). An officer and a spy. London, UK: Hutchinson. James, D. V., Farnham, F. R., & Wilson, S. P. (2014). The Fixated Threat Assessment Centre: Implementing a joint policing and psychiatric approach to risk assessment and management in public figure threat cases. In J. Reid Meloy & J. Hoffman (Eds.), International handbook of threat assessment. New York, NY: Oxford University Press. James, D. V., Mullen, P. E., Meloy, J. R., Pathé, M. T., Farnham, F. R., Preston, L., & Darnley, B. (2007). The role of mental disorder in attacks on European politicians 1990 –2004. Acta Psychiatrica Scandinavica, 116, 334 –344. http://dx.doi .org/10.1111/j.1600-0447.2007.01077.x

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James, D. V., Mullen, P. E., Pathé, M. T., Meloy, J. R., Farnham, F. R., Preston, L., & Darnley, B. (2008). Attacks on the British Royal family: The role of psychotic illness. Journal of the American Academy of Psychiatry and the Law, 36, 59 – 67. Kaluszynski, M. (2006). The International Congresses of Criminal Anthropology: Shaping the French and international criminological movement, 1886 –1914. In P. Becker & R. F. Wetzell (Eds.), Criminals and their scientists: The history of criminology in international perspective. Washington, DC: Cambridge University Press. Kraepelin, E. (1883). Psychiatrie, ein Lehrbuch für Studierende und A¨rtze. Leipzig, Germany: Barth. Laschi, M., & Lombroso, C. (1886). Le délit politique. In: Actes du Premier Congrès International d’Anthropologie Criminelle, Rome 1885 (pp. 379 – 389). Turin, Florence & Rome, Italy: Bocca Frères. Lombroso, C. (1876). L’uomo deliquente studiato in rapport alla antropologia, alla medicina legale Ed. alle discipline carcerie. Milan, Italy: Hoepli. Lombroso, C., & Laschi, R. (1890). Il delitto politico e le rivoluzioni in rapporto al diritto, all’antropologia criminale Ed. alla scienza di governo. Turin, Italy: Fratelli Bocca. Lombroso, C., & Laschi, R. (1892). Le Crime Politique et les Révolutions par rapport au droit, a` l’anthropologie criminelle et a` la science du gouvernement (A. Bouchard, trans.). Paris, France: Ballière et Cie. Lombroso, C. (2006). Criminal man (M. Gibson & N. H. Rafter, trans.). Durham, NC: Duke University Press. MacDonald, A. (1893). Criminology. New York, NY: Funk & Wagnalls Company. MacDonald, A. (1895) Abnormal woman: A sociologic and scientific study of young women, including letters of American and European girls in answer to personal advertisements. Washington, DC: Nabu Press. MacDonald, A. (1912). Assassins of rulers. Journal of the American Institute of Criminal Law and Criminology, 2, 505–520. Macdonald, C. F. (1902). The trial, execution, autopsy and mental status of Leon F. Czolgosz, alias Fred Nieman, the assassin of President McKinley. Journal of Mental Pathology, 1(4 –5), 179 –194.

McWilliam, N. (2000). Monumental intolerance: Jean Baffier, a nationalist sculptor in fin-de-siècle France. University Park, PA: Pennsylvania University Press. Meloy, J., Hoffmann, J., Guldimann, A., & James, D. (2012). The role of warning behaviors in threat assessment: An exploration and suggested typology. Behavioral Sciences & the Law, 30, 256 –279. http://dx.doi.org/10.1002/bsl.999 Munro, A. (1999). Delusional disorder: Paranoia and related illnesses. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/ CBO9780511544095 New York Sun. (1903). The abnormal “doctor.” New York Sun, February 26. Retrieved November 7, 2014, from http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/ lccn/sn83030272/1903-02-26/ed.-1/seq-6/ New York Times. (1912). Wants a crank laboratory: Arthur MacDonald urges systematic study of Shrank Type. New York Times, October 17. New York Times. (1913). Mayor’s assailant dead of paresis. New York Times, February 4, p. 1. Rafter, N. C. (2006). Criminal anthropology: Its reception in the United States and the nature of its appeal. In P. Becker & R. F. Wetzell (Eds.), Criminals and their scientists: The history of criminology in international perspective. Washington, DC: Cambridge University Press. http://dx.doi.org/ 10.1017/CBO9781139052405.008 Rafter, N. (Ed.). (2009). The origins of criminality: A reader. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Raine, A. (2013). The anatomy of violence: The biological roots of crime. New York, NY: Random House. Régis, E. (1890). Les régicides dans l’histoire et dans le présent. Paris, France: Maloine. Schwartz, S. H. (1893). Criminology, by Arthur MacDonald. Political Science Quarterly, 8, 566 – 568. White, S. (2000). What Queen Victoria saw: Roderick Maclean and the Trial of Lunatics Act, 1883. Chichester, UK: Barry Rose. World Health Organization. (1992). The ICD-10 classification of mental and behavioural disorders: Clinical descriptions and diagnostic guidelines. Geneva, Switzerland: Author. Received January 11, 2015 Accepted January 12, 2015 䡲

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