‘Well, he wouldn’t be. He envies the professor’s success and has been trying to halt his work ever since he took over. He thinks it’s frivolous at best and, at worst, positively blasphemous.’
‘That’s interesting,’ James said. ‘I can understand if people are sceptical, that is part of any scientific endeavour. But blasphemous? That’s going too far, surely.’
Ottolenghi grinned at his reaction. ‘Gemelli is a Catholic – his cousin is a cardinal who is well known for his opposition to criminal anthropology. Welcome to the new kingdom of Italy, my friend! Here the Church is everything – or thinks it is at least.’
James was going to ask him to expand when the crowd started to fall silent and people made their way to the seating area. Ottolenghi motioned towards him to sit. The debate was about to begin. He saw Lombroso and DeClichy walk onto the stage and take their places and felt as nervous as if he was about to speak himself. He could feel the tension coming from Lombroso who looked pale and strained.
‘Is the professor all right?’ he asked Ottolenghi.
Ottolenghi nodded. ‘Don’t worry. He’s usually like this before he starts speaking. He’s used to it. He always plays to packed houses.’
‘Aren’t some of his critics in the audience, though?’
‘Yes, but that won’t trouble him. The professor is famous for his showmanship, so a little heckling won’t faze him.’
‘Heckling?’
‘Passions run high here. We’ve even had one or two fist fights among the younger crowd.’
James thought back to Dr Bell’s lectures and considered the similarities between the two men. Both, it seemed to him, had a sense of drama, although proceedings were more subdued at home. No fist fights there, just a few raised voices. He looked around him. The sense of eager anticipation was palpable. The audience continued to murmur and whisper among themselves until finally Professor Gemelli held up his hands to quieten them.
‘Gentlemen, honoured guests – welcome to Turin. This afternoon we are to hear from Professor Lombroso and Dr DeClichy on the subject of the born criminal.’ Gemelli paused and frowned. There was some urgent sounding coughing coming from behind a velvet curtain at the side of the platform. Lombroso got up and whispered in Gemelli’s ear. Gemelli scowled back at him. ‘Apparently the debate is to be chaired by a special delegate.’ He spat out the last two words as if they were morsels of food that disagreed with him. His face was a study of resentment as he turned and flounced off the stage. The murmuring began again. Suddenly a tall, imposing figure with an untidy dark beard and intense dark eyes emerged from behind the curtain. Ottolenghi looked surprised and leant over to whisper in James ear. ‘Borelli didn’t say that he would be chairing.’
James looked at Borelli with renewed interest. He wondered why he had not mentioned his participation.
‘Gentlemen – and Madame,’ Borelli began, nodding briefly at Madame Tarnovsky, the only woman in the room, ‘let us begin the debate. The motion is a simple one: “Criminals are born not made.” To speak in favour of the motion we will hear from the distinguished gentleman on my right, Professor Cesare Lombroso, and to speak against, an equally distinguished delegate, Dr DeClichy.’
Lombroso rose and bowed slightly before going over to a lectern in the centre of the platform. ‘The first thing I must tell you is that I cannot speak in favour of this motion.’ This was met with a stunned silence. James looked at Ottolenghi who had put his hand over his lower face. Horton, sitting near them, was frowning.
Lombroso smiled slowly. ‘Well, not entirely . . .’
‘About time,’ shouted a voice from the back of the room. ‘Hear, hear! What about poverty?’ said another. James saw DeClichy nodding vigorously. Ottolenghi nudged him. ‘What did I tell you?’
Lombroso stood and stared at them, stroking his beard and nodding, as if contemplating what they had said. ‘Of course one cannot rule out such matters but to my mind they are not as potent as heredity.’
Some chattering began from the floor. It seemed as if Lombroso had lost his audience. James looked around him and noticed Horton beaming. Then Borelli got up and held up his arms to hush them. The room became quiet as if he had cast a spell over it.
‘Gentlemen, gentlemen – this is a serious debate, not a fairground.’
Lombroso began to speak again.
‘It is always interesting to hear critiques even when they are . . . well, let us just say: misguided. However, they cannot be ignored. And that is why I have altered my view slightly . . . very slightly.’
There was muted laughter from the audience and some people began to clap. Ottolenghi removed his hand. He was grinning behind it and had been all along. Presumably he had been forewarned.
Lombroso held up his hand and the audience fell silent again. ‘Allow me to explain. Had the motion said some criminals are born not made then I could agree most heartily.’ This was greeted by murmurings of comprehension. Lombroso continued, ‘Therefore, for the purposes of this afternoon, and in order to give Dr DeClichy something to shout about, I will assume that the motion says just that.’ DeClichy smiled thinly. James could see that he had been taken by surprise and was less than happy.
‘It is quite true that, when I began my researches into the nature of the criminal, I firmly believed all were born that way and could be detected by physical abnormalities or anomalies. But what kind of scientist would I be if my mind could not be changed by the evidence of my own eyes?’
There were noises of approval coming from the audience. The one or two voices of dissent were immediately hushed. Lombroso seemed to have everyone in the palm of his hand.
‘My adversaries, and there are many, usually from elsewhere,’ he looked sternly towards DeClichy, ‘often complain that the rates of anomalies vary too much to advance a claim that all criminals are born so.’ He paused for effect. ‘And may I say that I quite agree. But we must remember that real life, in all of its glorious confusion, has a habit of producing complex data which, in turn, directly reflects the multiformity of nature.’
Lombroso looked round at them all sitting there, faces turned up towards him, bathing in the glow of his knowledge. Any strain had disappeared. This, James realised, was the real Lombroso: crafty, and manipulative, but inspiring and brilliant too. He was tricking his audience with his apparent humility and they were completely taken in by him.
‘Critics also object that no criminal is a complete throwback to early man. But I do not claim that they are. According to Signor Darwin it is rare to find an anomaly that is completely isolated. Any anomaly may be associated with others, but total atavistic regression is impossible. But still when one considers the indications of the criminal type – asymmetry of the face, large ears, eye defects, fleshy lips, cheek pouches, abundant wrinkles, excessive arm length and so on, at least some of these are visible in the born criminal. The evidence is clear from my own work.’
On Lombroso went, tackling each and every complaint about his theories and in the process sounding every inch the rational and reasonable man he wanted them all to believe him to be. He gave the audience anecdotes to illustrate and entertain them; he smiled, laughed and cajoled until each and every one of them, including the hecklers, with the exception perhaps of Walter B. Horton, was completely under his spell. Even DeClichy was listening intently though he flinched occasionally whenever heredity or atavism were mentioned. It all sounded so convincing, James thought. That is, until you started to analyse Lombroso’s words more closely. Then he was not so sure. He looked at the stage. Lombroso was building to his climax, working the audience like a true showman.
‘Gentlemen, we are privileged to live in these times when science can take us to places that a few years ago were beyond our wildest dreams. Let us not then deny possibilities by scorn or derision; let us not turn away from the purity of scientific knowledge and replace it with limp social theories. We are at the dawn of a new age of discovery – let us embrace it as scientists and bring a new
world where logic rather than emotion is paramount. Once we have identified a criminal we will be harsh, not cruel. We will no longer treat the guilty with anger and disdain but with understanding. All of this can be achieved – but only if we rely on science.’
The response was immediate. Each and every member of the audience rose to his feet and applauded. There were cheers and whistles and cries of bravo. Some people even stamped their feet. Lombroso stood before them smiling beatifically as if they were all his children and he was their teacher. James thought about what the professor had said and he was puzzled. It didn’t appear to make complete sense. His arguments seemed to have strayed far from the motion he was meant to be supporting. But then he thought back to that moment when he was as captivated by Lombroso as everyone else in the room – and he understood. It didn’t really matter what the man said to them. They wanted to believe him because at that moment they loved him, no matter what. That was his power, not his experiments or his theories, but his personality. And it held them all in his thrall. James could also see then why he might have enemies. Envy can produce hatred like no other emotion, except perhaps revenge.
DeClichy had grown paler as Lombroso’s speech went on, his lips narrowing until they were barely visible. James almost felt sorry for him. How could he possibly follow this? The doctor stood and moved over to the lectern. The room fell silent but for a few bouts of coughing and throat clearing. There was some shuffling as people began to leave.
Borelli stood up and looked sternly at them but to no avail. In a moment the room seemed no more than half full. ‘Dr DeClichy will now speak against the motion,’ he said.
DeClichy took a deep breath and began.
‘I would like to thank Professor Lombroso for his concessions, although I am bound to say they do not go far enough.’ His voice was quiet and faltering, a complete contrast to Lombroso’s booming oratory.
The audience began to mumble and whisper. DeClichy cleared his throat. ‘I may not be able to speak with the eloquence of our previous speaker but I still have plenty to say.’
‘Well say it then!’ cried a voice from the floor.
‘Yes, get on with it!’ said another.
DeClichy stared at them and drew himself up to his full height. ‘It may be comforting to believe that criminals are different from you and I, that they are atavistic throwbacks to more primitive times and that they have differing physical characteristics. But I am afraid that they are not. The sad truth is that they are just like us.’
‘Speak for yourself, DeClichy!’
‘Oh I do, Monsieur, I do. I came from a poor background but my parents saw to it that I was educated. Others I grew up with were not so lucky. My best friend when I was a child is now languishing in prison – a thief and a murderer brought to crime by circumstances, not biology.’
The audience was attentive now as DeClichy went on explaining his case, with quiet dignity. As James listened he felt torn. On the one hand Lombroso was so sure of his theories and such a compelling speaker that it was hard to disagree. And yet on the other, DeClichy also spoke eloquently, albeit in a different style. The stories he was telling about his upbringing were moving and had an authenticity that Lombroso could not match, even with his tales of criminals he had examined over the years.
Finally the speech came to a close with a dignified summary of his ideas and how they differed from those of Lombroso. He sat down and Borelli got to his feet, presumably to ask Lombroso if he wished to reply. Before he could speak Horton rose and turned to face the audience.
Ottolenghi looked at James, a puzzled expression on his face. No one had expected this. Was Horton going to speak in support of Lombroso or DeClichy? It occurred to James that despite his conversations with the man he had no idea what, if anything, Horton actually believed in. James looked over to DeClichy who was leaning forward intently, almost as if he was urging Horton on.
Borelli looked irritated. ‘Dr Horton, the speakers have a right to reply before we hear from the floor!’
Lombroso got up. ‘I don’t mind, if DeClichy doesn’t.’
DeClichy nodded his agreement, as did Borelli.
‘Very well, Dr Horton?’
Horton smiled slyly. ‘Professor Lombroso is not the only one who wishes to depart from the motion. You see, I believe that criminals are indeed born not made. When we know this as certainly as the professor has us believe, then surely it is our duty to act on this knowledge – this pure, scientific, sure knowledge.’
Horton seemed to be spitting out the words with such venom it was hard to know if he was sincere or simply being sarcastic. DeClichy was frowning, apparently as confused as the rest of them.
‘Our duty then is to catch these born criminals, lock them up and throw away the key. That or to execute them, publicly and in all kinds of unpleasant ways in order to deter their brothers.’ Horton paused and smiled as if savouring the possibility. ‘Alternatively, the incarcerated can still be useful. Medical science always needs subjects, after all. Even we surgeons need practice. They could be experimented on for the furtherance of science. But they must all be exterminated eventually, let us make no mistake about that. We must purify ourselves by extinguishing the impure. For, after all, that is what the criminal race is – is it not? Impure, dirty, filthy even. Something we need to expunge from our ranks.’ He paused for effect. The room was completely silent.
‘Humanity needs to be cleansed,’ he went on. ‘Then we can truly engage with free will, for those who remain will be rational and able to consider the disadvantages of criminal behaviour, with the sure knowledge that any such act will be dealt with severely. Social factors are not the reason for the depravity of crime. It is heredity, race, atavism. Criminals are savages. We know this thanks to Professor Lombroso.’ Horton looked over to Lombroso who stared back, as if startled, as many others seemed to be, by what he was hearing.
‘His painstaking experiments have shown us the way. Not only that but now, due entirely to Professor Lombroso and his . . . admirable work . . . we know who to target. We know who is the criminal and who is not. We know then exactly, certainly, surely, scientifically, who we need to eliminate. We know who must die.’
Horton looked around, smiling his empty smile. James had felt a slight shiver go down his spine as he listened to him speak. The words seemed horribly familiar, for James had heard something similar uttered before, by his father in an unguarded moment and, indeed, by others in the scientific community. He was as appalled now as he had been then and it seemed that he was not alone. A sea of bemused faces looked up at Horton whose eyes glinted with satisfaction. James waited for him to laugh, to say it was all a joke and that it was the only way to get attention after Lombroso’s virtuoso performance. But Horton said nothing, and then James remembered his comment at the salon. He said it would not be dull and so it had proved. On and on the silence went. It felt as if it might go on forever for no one knew how to break it.
At last Borelli stood up and went over to the lectern. ‘Very interesting, Dr Horton. You have given me, given all of us who are engaged in scientific research, a salutary reminder of what our theories might persuade others to do in our name. We should be grateful for your words and never forget them.’ He glanced towards Lombroso who nodded sagely.
Borelli looked over to Lombroso. ‘You have the right of reply, Professor. I’m sure you wish to exercise it – and you, Dr DeClichy, of course.’ De Clichy shook his head. ‘I see,’ Borelli said. ‘So, Professor, it is for you to comment.’
Lombroso nodded. ‘I will address my comments to Dr Horton’s ideas as you all know my view on those of Dr DeClichy.’
There was a murmur of approval from the audience. James looked over to DeClichy who looked somewhat crestfallen. He had spoken so eloquently and yet Lombroso had managed to dismiss his ideas in a sentence. It seemed unnecessarily unpleasant, somehow, like kicking a sick dog.
Lombroso rose to general applause. ‘I must admit that Dr Horton’s addres
s has given me food for thought. It is of course important for us to consider not only the nature of criminals but what our conclusions mean for criminal justice and society generally. It has long been my view that for most offenders it is better to keep them out of our prisons.’
There were some mutterings of agreement. Lombroso raised his hand to quieten them and continued.
‘But for the atavistic born criminal, who, by his very nature, is completely resistant to reform, I can only suggest permanent incarceration. The natural result of that would be to reduce, albeit gradually, the not inconsiderable proportion of criminality that stems from heredity factors.’
A smattering of applause greeted this, although James found himself unable to join in. Lombroso inclined his head graciously to acknowledge it and then went on.
‘I did however find some of the good doctor’s points somewhat hard to swallow. I believe that he went too far with his apparent suggestions of wholesale extermination of the criminal classes. I was even a little shocked.’
Someone laughed inappropriately, perhaps overcome by the air of tension that was in the room. Lombroso looked puzzled for a moment, shook his head slightly and continued.
‘But Professor Borelli, as we have come to expect of him, has seen more clearly what the doctor has been trying to do for us. The good Dr Horton has made the most affecting and significant speech that I think I have ever heard in all my years of practice. For he has issued us with a warning that, as Borelli so rightly says, we must never forget. As scientists we work diligently on our theories trying to prove that such and such is the case and sometimes we become obsessive. It is true that I am as guilty of that as any of you here today. This can lead us to forget ourselves, our families and friends. But most disturbingly it can lead us to forget one thing that we should never, ever forget.’
He paused and looked round at all of them as if he was familiar with each and every one of his audience individually. Perhaps, thought James, he was. After all, his celebrity was such that everyone wanted to know him even if the feeling was not always reciprocated. He went on.
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