Chapter 2

_The Judge States His First Case_

May it please your authority [began the judge in his best legal
manner as he turned over the pages of the minute-book and placed his
finger on a page] the case I am about to put before you is one of
quite recent occurrence. It deals with one of the most brutal, one
of the most indefensible, murders that have ever come under my
observation.

Furthermore, it was characterized by an entire absence on the part of
the public at large of that misguided, but often quite honest,
sympathy for murderers which leads people to sign futile petitions
for a reprieve or a stay of execution. Of the petitions on behalf of
convicted murderers in America I cannot speak, nor can I say how many
persons are sentenced to death in the United States on an average
during a year; but an official return lately furnished by the Home
Office of the British Government states that the average annual
number of persons sentenced to death in England and Wales is about
twenty-five. Of that number about fourteen are actually hanged.

The reasons for reprieving the others are various. It may be that
the petitions so diligently, but so thoughtlessly, issued for public
signature have some slight influence. It may be that the generosity
of the Home Secretary, or the pusillanimity of some other official,
is at work in favor of those who escape the scaffold. It is not my
prerogative in the present circumstances to inquire into, or to
explain, this. I merely mention these figures in order to emphasize
that not a single petition was issued, not a solitary protest was
made, not a word was uttered, so far as I am aware, to stay the hand
of the law's sentence on Ammar Baddan.

There was no question about his guilt. It is true his counsel
formally entered a plea of "not guilty," but from the very beginning
of the case to the very end that plea never had a leg to stand on.
It was, indeed, negatived by the prisoner himself, and his words when
he was asked (as is always done) if he had anything to say before
sentence was passed on him, indicated the casual attitude he adopted
to the end. These are his words, written in this minute-book:

"I do not care for your sentence. I do not care for your law. It
was my wife who got the lawyer. I despise him and his tricks. It is
true I killed John Hamlin. Why do I say this? You are fools who do
not understand. But I know what the Book of Wisdom says and by that
Book I have ruled my life. I say I killed Hamlin. By saying so I am
doing what I was taught, and that is to always tell the truth, even
to you people when we witness before God, although it be against
ourselves or our parents or our relatives, whether the party be rich
or poor; for God is more worthy than both."

The jury listened to this statement. In two minutes they brought in
a verdict of guilty and I pronounced sentence. I called his crime,
and still call it,

THE UNREASONABLE MURDER

Ammar Baddan was a Tamil, a native of southern India, one of the
Dravidian races who are admitted to possess many good qualities such
as frugality, patience, endurance, politeness. They have astounding
memories. They are pronouncedly commercial. All these facts came
out at the trial of Ammar Baddan.

But Ammar Baddan had left London one evening by train, had journeyed
down to a Surrey country town, and had deliberately cut the throat of
John Hamlin, the proprietor of an inn. And the most amazing element
of that brutal murder was that Ammar Baddan had never in all his life
seen Hamlin before that evening, had never had any dealings with him,
and until a few days previously was not aware of his existence.

On the other hand, it was proved that John Hamlin, the innocent
victim of this savage attack, knew nothing of Ammar Baddan. It was a
case of the unexplained frenzy of an Eastern nature--the sudden
madness for killing, the lust for blood, that stirs up in some
natures without reason and without provocation. It was the savagery
of the tiger that must be suppressed wherever it is observed and
dealt with wherever it comes to the surface.

The unfortunate victim of this outrage had done Ammar Baddan no harm
whatever. Can society continue if it allows people of the jungle to
perpetrate a crime of inexcusable violence for which there is no
reason and which is callously admitted? We would be lacking in our
duty to our fellows were we not to administer the final judgment in
cases where the whole fabric of the social order is menaced.

The counsel for the prosecution of Ammar Baddan confessed that he had
some difficulty in finding a motive for the crime. Let us take his
statement first. Baddan was a native of India. He was born in the
south of that vast country, but his father, who was a humble
merchant, traveled up to Calcutta and there established a business
that grew with the years. He prospered so well that he was known as
one of the greatest buyers of antiques and bric-à-brac in that part
of India. His son, at the age of sixteen, as is the custom of the
race, took upon himself the status of a man and became his father's
partner. The father died only a few months before his son was
arrested for the appalling crime of murder.

Perhaps it would be as well to state here what the prosecuting
counsel thought fit to mention, namely, that while the Tamils as a
race are the possessors of the good qualities that have been
indicated, they are also, it seems, as a race, handicapped by the
drawbacks of lying and lasciviousness. One merely repeats what
counsel stated.

As a youth Ammar Baddan had an excellent training. He knew the
_Kural_ by heart and was known to propound its teaching on the
subjects of virtue, wealth and enjoyment. By religion he was a
Brahman and knew the whole of the text-books called Brahmanas.
Shortly after he was sixteen years of age he was conducted to a
spiritual teacher and received the sacred cord which is worn over the
left shoulder and under the right arm, one of the signs of initiation
into the study of the Vedas, the management of the sacred fire, and
the knowledge of the rites of purification. By caste he was a
_Kshatriya_.

As a young man he knew Calcutta well and traveled considerably. He
learned the English tongue and spoke as well as an Englishman. Thus,
it will be seen that he was not ignorant of what is right and what is
wrong. His grounding in moral training was as comprehensive as it
was severe. Did not this make his crime all the more heinous?

It is well known that the Tamils are the most enterprising of all the
peoples of south India. They are born merchants. Wherever there is
an opportunity for commerce they are to be found. As Ammar Baddan
grew older he was respected and his commercial ability was even
greater than that of his father. The prayers which had been said
before and at his birth were being answered. He was a force in the
city of Bengal.

His education and politeness brought him many friends, among them
many white men who were in business in Calcutta. One man especially
was his friend, an Englishman named Taylor. Business had brought
them together and, as is often the case, it was often the cause of
social meetings. On one occasion they both attended a party which
some Englishmen were giving to a theatrical company that had arrived
in Calcutta and it was at that party that Ammar Baddan met the girl
who soon afterward became his wife.

He had seen this girl in the chorus of the show at the theater and
had been attracted by her, and when his friend Taylor, who was
friendly with the company, gave him the opportunity of meeting them
off the stage, Ammar Baddan's delight was boundless. His ardent
nature had already focused on this girl.

The supper party took place in a hotel after the theater performance
was over. Doubtless most people are aware that there are men who
make a point of inviting actresses--and especially chorus girls--to
supper parties because of the lack of restraint that is, rightly or
wrongly, said to be connected with the theatrical temperament. It
was Taylor who introduced the girl to Ammar Baddan. She was very
pretty, with golden hair and all the attractions of a blonde. One
can imagine that the wine flowed freely. There was an incident
during the evening when one of the white men made some sort of
proposal that every man should kiss every girl present. To Ammar
Baddan's great relief the blonde girl refused to comply with the
vulgar and insulting proposal. This incident confirmed his estimate
of the girl and made him all the more determined to pursue his
attentions to her, for she had demonstrated that she was above the
rather low level on which his white friends had, by insinuation,
placed their guests.

From that moment Ammar Baddan saw as much of the ladies of the
theatrical company as possible. He had a shop in the Chowringhee,
the most important thoroughfare of the city, and he invited them to
look on his treasures and presented them all with mementoes of their
visit. He visited the race course with them, always being near the
blonde girl, showed to her and explained the monuments on the Maidan,
and took her and some of her friends, with Taylor and a few men, on
several trips up the Hugli. He made himself extremely agreeable,
once taking the ladies to the Zoölogical Gardens, and on every
occasion his friend Taylor accompanied the party.

His politeness never forsook him, and a short time before the company
left Calcutta for Madras he came to Taylor and asked him if he would
advise making a declaration of his love for the girl with the golden
hair. Taylor asked for some time to consider the matter, and finally
told him that there was no reason why he should not at least tell
her. One supposes that the question of caste and the problem of
marriage between two people of different races had to be considered.
In the end Ammar Baddan boldly made the opportunity and asked the
girl to marry him. She consented, and Ammar Baddan went in
transports of happiness to his friend Taylor and thanked him for
bringing this joy into his life. They were married shortly afterward.

Such, then, was Ammar Baddan's life up to the time he remained in
India. All these particulars were known during his trial, though
they did not all come out; but they are stated in some detail to show
how fair our law is, and how thorough, before it takes upon itself
the grave responsibility of passing sentence.

Ammar Baddan had been married for less than a year when he came to
England, bringing his wife with him. His reason for coming may be
stated briefly.

His father had, in the course of his business, secured a very rare
and valuable carpet. It was, apparently, more a praying rug than a
carpet, and it had a duplicate that Ammar Baddan and his father also
wished to possess. Remember that, as has been stated, the Tamils are
wonderfully keen business men. Having secured the one carpet, Ammar
Baddan and his father set out to trace its duplicate. They searched
India; their agents went as far as Persia and Egypt. How these
things are known is part of the secrets of the trade, but Ammar's
father came to him one day with the information that the duplicate of
the carpet which they wanted had been in a bazaar in Madras and had
been sold to an Englishman.

Ammar's wife was in the apartment when this news was given to her
husband, and after her father-in-law had gone his wife added to the
information. She told him that she believed that the duplicate of
his carpet was in the possession of the Englishman, Taylor. She had
seen it in his flat, but had not understood that it was so valuable
as Ammar estimated; and had, indeed, not known that the search was
being made until that moment.

Ammar was overjoyed at the news. He loved his wife very much and
promised her that for the information he would give her any present
she asked for. But first he made a journey over to Howrah, on the
opposite side of the Hugli, where Taylor lived, to make inquiries.
On his return he told his wife, with mortification, that Taylor had
left India and had gone to England, having made his fortune and
having no reason for remaining in a country that was trying to the
health of even the strongest white man.

He questioned his wife thoroughly about the carpet she had seen in
Taylor's house, in order to make sure that she was not mistaken. But
his wife held to her statement, and, with the carpet already in their
possession on the floor for comparison she proved that Taylor had the
duplicate. It had been on the wall of Taylor's bedroom and she had
seen it in detail. In haste Ammar went off to his father. The
result was that as soon as they could make the necessary arrangements
Ammar and his wife came to England.

They took a flat in the West End of London and Ammar's wife spent
most of her time enjoying the life of the metropolis and renewing old
acquaintances. She was gay, beautiful, happy. She had plenty of
money and went about without a care, while Ammar visited some of his
Indian friends who had business quarters in the city and were likely
to help him in his quest.

It was not very difficult to trace Taylor. The latter had taken a
house in the country, but still within touch of London, had married,
and was taking life leisurely. But when Ammar Baddan made the short
journey to meet Taylor he experienced a sense of disappointment. He
had expected that Taylor, having been his friend in India and having
introduced him to his wife when she was a chorus girl, would preserve
the friendship and welcome them to his house. He found that Taylor
did nothing of the kind. One can understand this attitude on the
part of Taylor. In India social customs are on a somewhat different
footing from the social customs here. It may have been that Taylor's
attitude was influenced by his wife, who did not care to meet a white
woman who had married a Tamil. At any rate, the old barriers seemed
to arise and Ammar Baddan saw the change.

With his Tamil politeness he accepted the situation and proceeded to
work round to the object of his visit, which, after all, was the
buying of the carpet. He managed this so adeptly that Taylor had
already admitted that he did possess such a carpet and also that he
held it in small financial esteem. The Tamil asked all sorts of
questions about it--how Taylor had come to possess it, who saw him
buy it, who carried it to his flat in Howrah, who hung it on the wall
of his bedroom. Taylor answered that nobody but himself and his
manservant had handled it from the time it was bought in the Indian
bazaar to the time it was in his flat. And then Ammar Baddan asked
to see the carpet and was shown it. He offered a price that Taylor
thought was good and the bargain was made.

As they concluded the business matter and after Ammar Baddan had paid
the check over he thanked Taylor once more for proving his friend.
"Twice," he said, "you have given me my desires. First, it was
because of you that I have my beautiful wife. Second, it is through
you that I have the beautiful carpet. A Tamil does not forget."

That visit was the first and the last that Ammar Baddan made to the
house of Taylor. In spite of the polite, if not very friendly, way
he had been met, Ammar Baddan, having the outlook of a Tamil, almost
succeeded in making Taylor a little uncomfortable in front of his
wife. They began to talk of Calcutta and the old days. Ammar Baddan
wanted to know everything. He was so anxious for the safety of the
carpet he had bought that he wished Taylor's manservant to carry it
to the station for him so that no new hands would touch it. To this
Taylor replied that he no longer employed the servant, who had
started life anew in England as the proprietor of a small inn in
Surrey. Ammar Baddan asked how a manservant could have obtained the
money to buy an inn, and Taylor laughingly answered that he supposed
John Hamlin--the name of his manservant--had fleeced him of enough
money in India to make this possible. At any rate, Hamlin seemed to
be making a good living in the town of Whitchurch. And then, with
Tamil simplicity, Ammar Baddan asked Taylor if he too had obtained
his wife from a theatrical company, and if the theatrical company
they had known in Calcutta had supplied her. This was asked in front
of Mrs. Taylor, who happened to be a lady of strict views, and one
can imagine that Taylor had to use considerable diplomacy in his
answers.

He managed to hint, indeed, before Ammar left and when they were
alone, that it was not always discreet to refer to matters of that
kind in front of wives; and then they parted. Only after he had made
inquiries a day or two later did Taylor realize that Ammar Baddan had
obtained his carpet at a mere fraction of its actual value.

All these incidents show the tortuous workings of the mind of a man
whose instincts and racial traditions differ so greatly from our own.
Taylor never saw Ammar Baddan again and was probably glad to get rid
of him. He related the facts of Baddan's visit to him when the
police called in order to gather evidence of motive. But it was from
one of the servants of the flat where Ammar Baddan and his wife lived
in the West End of London that some peculiar information was obtained.

Baddan was a fanatical Brahman. We need not trouble to inquire
whether his wife had adopted his faith. A wife may not give evidence
against her husband in any case according to our wise law. But in
the sitting-room of the flat Baddan had placed one of the Brahman
gods, a small figure of Kala Bhairava as he is known in Hindu
religion, Bhairon as he is known among the Dravidian peoples.

This god--it was brought into court but was not exhibited--represents
a man standing with one hand holding a trident and in the other a
drum shaped like an hour-glass. Encircling him is a serpent to show
his chthonic origin. In the chest of this figure are two small
holes, and into these holes Ammar Baddan would put two betel nuts,
then begin the long religious exercises of his caste. The servants
heard him every night at these devotions. Sometimes he spoke in an
Indian dialect, sometimes in English; but his object seemed to be the
same on every occasion. So far as the servant could make out, if the
nut on the right dropped out of the hole first, Ammar Baddan would
exclaim that his undertaking would prosper. If the nut on the left
dropped first, he would declare to the god that he would abandon his
project for the time being. Just before he set out to commit the
heinous crime of murdering John Hamlin he was heard at his devotions.
He had bought a hunting-knife a few days previously and this weapon
was seen in his possession by a servant.

But if the nut in the right cavity in the figure of the god Bhairon
indicated to Ammar Baddan that his crime would be hidden, the god
played him false.

The crime itself was as swift as it was staggering. Ammar Baddan
arrived that evening in the quiet Surrey town just after the inns
closed. He walked up the main street, looking at the names of the
inns.

Less than an hour later John Hamlin was found lying in his parlor
with his throat slit from ear to ear. By the time the police were on
the spot Ammar Baddan was seated in a first-class compartment of a
train bearing him back to London.

To the village police it looked at first to be a case of suicide.
Hamlin's business was not going too well. He had debts. He had been
heard to complain about malaria, of which he was a victim. And to
make it more like suicide there was held in his stiffening fingers,
as he lay beside his chair, a murderous hunting-knife.

But when inquiries were started a barmaid stated that just before she
retired she heard the front-door bell ring. She heard Hamlin go to
the door. It seemed to her that he brought some one into the inn.
She did not hear any struggle, but she heard Hamlin call out the
words, "Hindu swine!"

It was the local policeman who found Hamlin dead. He had flashed his
lamp on the door of the inn and had observed that it was not closed.
He knocked and received no reply. He stepped inside and saw a
trickle of blood coming from the parlor threshold.

A few days later, when the police had made their inquiries, an
officer called on Ammar Baddan when he was preparing, with his wife,
to return to India. When Ammar Baddan saw that he was to be arrested
he evinced no surprise and did not deny his crime. But he was
interested to know how the police had tracked him.

"The local constable," he was told, frankly, "happened to see you
walking up the street that night, looking at the inn signs. He noted
that you were a colored man. We found out the firm that made the
hunting-knife, and from them we traced it to you. But we knew it
could not have been suicide after we considered the nature of the
wound. John Hamlin's throat was slit from left to right. But John
Hamlin was left-handed."

What, then, was the motive of the brutal murder? The prosecuting
counsel suggested one. It was that Ammar Baddan had gone to see John
Hamlin, not perhaps with the intention of murdering him, but possibly
with the object of getting some information about the buying of the
carpet, for in the purchase of these rare articles every detail is
recorded. Hamlin was known to have a contempt for all Indians. He
may have said a word--"Hindu swine," as the barmaid heard--and in a
moment the blaze of the Eastern hot blood flew to Ammar Baddan's
head. This was the theory of the prosecution.

But when the defense was called the counsel who had entered a plea of
"not guilty" found himself in an unheard-of position. He placed
Ammar Baddan in the box.

"Did you," he asked, "go down to see John Hamlin with the intention
of killing him?"

"I did," replied Baddan, firmly.

Fearing lest the question had been misunderstood, it was repeated.
Again the reply was the same.

The defending counsel saw his case dwindling before his eyes. He
seemed to appeal to the bench, and I took upon myself the task of
asking Ammar Baddan a few questions.

The replies I received were deliberate, calm, without fear, without
repentance. He had decided to kill John Hamlin. He had schemed to
do so. He had taken counsel with his god and had been led to think
that all would be well.

I asked him what was his motive. His reply left much to be desired.
These were his words:

"No Brahman may recite a Vedic text where a man of a servile caste
may overhear him, nor must he teach him the laws of expiation for
sin."

I asked him if John Hamlin had committed any sin against Brahmanism
or against him. He replied, "No."

It was impossible to get more out of him. His defending counsel
threw in his brief in despair. And to make matters worse, when I
asked Ammar Baddan if he understood the crime he had committed, he
answered angrily that he would repeat it, were it possible. He
admitted that he had received no words from Hamlin that had been the
cause of the murder. But he was glad he had murdered.

In face of this there was but one thing to do. I donned the black
cap.

He died, I understand, on the scaffold, fiercely cursing the white
law that put him to death, but entirely without penitence.

My own theory is that somewhere in his mentality, somewhere deep down
in his nature, there was a blood-lust, a streak of barbarity, a whiff
of the jungle, that he never tried to control. How else is it
possible for a human being to take satisfaction in murder? Is not
society to be protected from such natures? Are innocent people to be
butchered by such savages? By taking the life of Ammar Baddan the
penal code was acting with entire justice for the sake of everybody
concerned. One cannot argue with a mad dog. One just destroys it.
Criminal characteristics must be extirpated.

The judge sat back in his chair and looked at the waiter, who had not
moved during the recital.

"I think," said the judge, "that there can be no two opinions in
regard to that murder. You must allow me credit for having presented
a case that demands the retention of the judgment of death, if
unbridled barbarism is to be held in check at all. I claim the
return to consciousness of the secretary."

The waiter stirred himself and looked up.

"Your claim is premature," he said, quietly. "Ammar Baddan was
justified in killing John Hamlin."

The judge could hardly believe his ears.

"I am speaking according to the code of honor that ruled Ammar
Baddan," went on the waiter. "Let me place that code before you and
also give you the real reason that the murder took place. It is
perhaps more than was to be expected that Ammar Baddan would give
that reason. It would have meant his own humiliation."

"Humiliation cannot be compared to murder," cried the judge. "We all
bear humiliation, but we do not murder the people who humiliate us!"

"That is true," smiled the waiter, "else you would be making an
attempt to kill me this very moment. But I speak of two different
codes of honor. Has it struck you that the Tamil god you have
mentioned has functions other than telling his followers when to
undertake a venture? Among his attributes--according to his
believers--are those of being able to destroy the foes of his
worshipers, through the worshipers themselves. They strike and the
god protects their souls, if not their bodies. One of the highest
aims of any good Brahman is to raise himself in the universal
gradation, and to do this he must subject the senses and life itself
if necessary. Ammar Baddan was but following out the sacrificial
system in the _kalpa-sutras_."

"I do not follow you," said the judge, huskily.

"I will explain more fully, and shortly. The Tamil Book of Wisdom is
called the _Naladiyar_. It enjoins rigid adherence to its teaching.
There are four hundred quatrains in it. The rules of life are as
severe as the Christian teaching--but I beg your pardon, white
civilization does not know much about Christianity. Among the
injunctions given the high-caste Indians are those to see that no
gossip, no humiliation, besmirches the honor of their fathers' names.
Poor Ammar Baddan was betwixt two terrible alternatives. If he
allowed his father's, and his own, name to be sullied, he might
escape a penalty here, but he would endure countless years of
retarded development in the hereafter. Which was he to choose?"

"He must not murder!"

"But one of his codes distinctly told him that it was better to
sacrifice than to endure humiliation from his deities! Would the
gods not make up to him any pain he endured here, even if he died?"

"But what was his humiliation?"

"Answer me first this: are not most religious systems based on the
theory that it is better to suffer here in order to obtain
advancement in the next world?"

"Yes, I agree to that."

"Supposing such a choice were given you, which would you take?"

"I would keep the laws of my land."

"But supposing you were in a land where the laws were opposed to all
you had been taught as sacred and right? Would you keep the laws of
that land?"

"It is a hypothetical question. I do not see what point you are
making."

"No, you say so, but you do. And you do not care to make a brave
answer. But Ammar Baddan was a brave man. He saw according to his
light, and he chose. It is the eternal clash between one's ideas of
justice and the thing we call life. Listen to me. I shall tell you
why Ammar Baddan killed John Hamlin, and despised your law though
that law slew him."

"I have been waiting to hear."

"Hear, then. There is a code in Ammar Baddan's ethics that says that
if a wife proves unfaithful it is better that the mouths of gossipers
be stopped than that her husband's name be dragged in the mire, and
his father's name, too. Ammar Baddan visited the merchant Taylor for
two purposes. One was to get the carpet. But it was not the main
one. It was to see if Taylor was likely to do any gossiping. He
saw, according to your own words, that Taylor, being married, would
be glad to see no more of Ammar Baddan and Ammar Baddan's wife. That
is to say, Taylor, for his own sake, would not gossip. The secret
that was eating at Ammar Baddan's heart was safe so far as Taylor was
concerned."

"You mean to say----"

"That from the moment Ammar Baddan heard from his wife that the
carpet had hung in Taylor's bedroom there arose in Ammar Baddan's
mind a terrible fear and agony. I do not know whether Taylor was
guilty of what Ammar Baddan suspected. It may have been that Ammar
Baddan received a confession from his wife. Who shall ever know?
And yet, I do not think so, or she would have told the defending
counsel. A Tamil does not expect such a confession. He would never
ask for one. But his mind brooded on the fact that she knew the
carpet hung in Taylor's bedroom. How could she know that? Ammar
Baddan's Tamil mind formed its own conclusion.

"There were only four people who could know the dreadful truth. Thus
Ammar Baddan would argue. Taylor had shown that the past was better
unspoken. Therefore Taylor would never voice it. Of these four
people only one might gossip. Are not servants given to gossip?
Ammar Baddan probably asked John Hamlin a question and, on the
answer, killed him for his father's good name, for his own good name,
and for his wife's future. Thus there would be no gossip in the
market place and the house of Baddan would be unsullied. Quaint,
perhaps. All things in this world are quaint when looked at from
unusual angles.

"Has the judgment-of-death code a right to supersede a religious
code? Who are you to say that your law is more just in the ultimate
end than an accepted sacred law? How do you know that Ammar Baddan
is not now far advanced in the scheme of things in the other world?
You made a felon of a religious enthusiast."

The waiter lifted the glass that was near the elbow of the
unconscious secretary and placed it near the bludgeon on the table.

"One point to me," he said in a tone of grim finality.