The Mask of Sanity. Hervey M. Cleckley

to manipulate facts and even to devise rationalizations in such a field with skill comparable to that with which he now out-thinks an opponent at checkers. If, for the sake of theory and speculation, such changes were granted to him, my contention that he would still be without this sort of understanding is, of course, Impossible to prove. It is maintained, however, that this would be clear to all observers who have real interest in such aspects of life, however diverse might be their own formulated opinions on what is good, bad, true, or beautiful about art or about living.

      But let us abandon speculation and return to the patient’s conduct. He talked at length of his ability as a fencer, maintaining that he was the best swordsman, or one of the best, at Heidelberg during his student days, and also well-known and feared in Vienna. He spoke of the championship he had won at boxing while in the army, boasting often of a belt which he still possessed symbolizing this achievement. On hearing that I had had a slight experience in amateur boxing, he offered to demonstrate his skill and to give some points. Ostentatiously he insisted that I stand up and, pulling his punches, went through a number of sequences. He did this several times, always choosing a place on the ward where he could be observed by a large group of patients and attendants. He gave every indication of being a practiced boxer. This is borne out also by army records which indicate that he won some small prize as champion of his battalion or regiment.

      Even before his presentation at the staff he again became dissatisfied, making complaints against the nurses and attendants, demanding special foods and privileges, bullying other patients, and inciting them to make trouble. At staff meeting the diagnosis of psychopathic personality was reaffirmed.

      On failing to get his discharge at once he became even more fretful and unruly and threatened to break out of the hospital. It became difficult to care for him on the ward for well-adjusted patients in which he had been placed, so he was transferred to the closely supervised ward, where he found himself surrounded by actively disturbed and egregiously psychotic companions.

      He complained at once of this to his wife, who came to the hospital authorities in tears and with angry protestations, saying that it was an outrage to put her husband with all those crazy men who were violent and combative and who might hurt him. Earlier on the ward she had made the same protest to an attendant, who saltily remarked on the inconsistency of such worries about a husband so well-known for his boasts of might and ferocity and pugilistic skill. She made the matter so sharp an issue that Max, after promising to co-operate, was moved to a quieter ward.

      He was now, for a short while, more agreeably disposed. Boastfully he told me that he was, in addition to all his other parts, an artist of remarkable ability. He asked to be given a loaf of bread, stating that he would mold from it creations of great beauty and worth. On getting the bread he broke off a large chunk, placed it in his mouth and began to chew it assiduously, apparently relishing the confusion of his observers. After proceeding for a length of time and with thoroughness that once would have met with favor from advocates of Fletcherism, he at last disgorged the mess from his mouth and with considerable dexterity set about modeling it into the figure of a cross. Soon a human form was added in the customary representation. Rosettes, intertwining leaves, garlands, and an elaborate pedestal followed. The mixture of saliva and chewed bread rapidly hardened.

      He now requested a pass to go into town, saying that he must obtain shellac and appropriate paints to complete his creation. He made it plain that he was molding this statuette for me and it was clear that he regarded it as a most flattering favor. Since it was judged unwise to send him out alone he was allowed to go in company of an attendant. He returned with his materials but also with the strong odor of whiskey on his breath.

      The whiskey had been obtained in this manner: Pleading a call of nature which, judging by his frantic tone and impressive grimaces, the attendant deemed urgent, he hurriedly sequestered himself in a toilet. After waiting for what seemed like a most liberal interval the attendant went to inquire into the delay. On receiving no response he forced the door only to find that Max had made his escape through a small window near the top of the room, a feat which would have been extremely difficult for an ordinary man.

      Guided by a happy instinct, the attendant hurried to a nearby dive where bootleg whiskey was sold and surprised our hero in the midst of his second or third potation. He was drinking to his own cleverness at outwitting the attendant and in loud, imperious tones commanded all present to drink with him and at his expense.

      The attendant found him insolent and intractable at first but, with strong moral support from the proprietor and others, led him out, after settling charges for drinks to all, which Max had grandly assumed without a cent in his pockets.

      For the rest of the day he was surly and idle except for his efforts to promote quarrels, but on the morrow, extolling again his virtuosity as a sculptor, he settled down and finished his gift to me. It was indeed an uncommon production. The chewed bread had become as hard as baked clay. The whole piece was very skillfully and ingeniously shaped, dry, firm, and as neatly finished as if done by a machine. It was, furthermore, one of the most extravagant, florid, and unprepossessing articles that has ever met my glance. Max presented it with mixed pride and condescension, with an air of triumph and expectancy that seemed to demand expressions of wonder and gratitude beyond reach of the ordinary man. I did my best but felt none too satisfied with my efforts.

      Max now asked for daily bread and for a room to be set apart as an atelier where he proposed to work regularly and without distracting influences. In the hope that this activity would keep him out of trouble, all his requests were granted. He immediately demanded full parole also but agreed to wait a short while for this when it was denied.

      For a week he worked steadily, his mouth crammed with the doughy mass, his jaws chewing deliberately, his hands nimbly shaping spewed-out hunks of the mess into various neatly finished and exact, but always garish, forms. His coloring of the flowers and garlands and imitation jewels, vivid red, pale purple, sickly pink, always struck a high level of the tawdry blended with the pretentious. The most gaudy atrocities of the dime store must give ground before such art.

      He sent messages to the medical director of the hospital, to the supervisor of attendants and the chief nurse, and to many others whom he felt it well to ingratiate, that objets d’art awaited them in his studio. He was visited by these people and by various prominent ladies of the city interested in welfare work and active in helping disabled veterans. To most of these he made presentations as well as moving speeches about his misfortunes, his gifts, and his ambitions. His demands for parole now became more vehement. Many influential citizens begged that he be given this chance to rehabilitate himself. As a matter of fact, he had been reasonably cooperative while at his new work. Parole was granted.

      The police brought him back after a few hours. His left hand showed a painful laceration, the result of a severe bite inflicted in retreat by a barroom opponent who had resorted to this vaguely Parthian maneuver after finding Max’s pugilistic skill too great to cope with in the ordinary manner. He showed some evidence of drink but was by no means sodden. Nor did he in any way give the impression of a man sufficiently influenced by liquor to have his judgment appreciably altered or any violent and extraordinary impulses released. In contrast with some of the other patients discussed here, Max, though a ready drinker, never or very rarely drank to the point of confusion. There is no record in all the saga of his being brought in senseless from the highways or fields. At the worst he could scarcely be classed as more than a moderate drinker.

      He made no excuses for violating his parole but blamed others in full for the trouble he had started and felt grossly misused by the man he had attacked, by the police, and by the hospital which revoked his parole.

      His wife at once pled for restoration of his parole, and a number of other influences supported her. Max reiterated the familiar argument: why deny liberty to a man classed as sane? Parole was restored after a week. Surprisingly, Max got through two days without difficulty but on the third burst into the office of the supervisor of attendants and vehemently demanded that a former attendant, dismissed for incompetence, be reinstated at once. He had brought this man with him into the office. Inspired by a couple of highballs, but by no means drunk, he thundered and swaggered, threatening to use political influences to have the supervisor discharged if all his demands were not met forthwith. He named various