(Photo Credit: Matt Reinbold)

Article Originally Published in 1935

This article forms part of an initiative to make important, insightful andengaging public domain works freely available. See following links toaccess material that has already been published under this initiative.

http://www.all-about-psychology.com/psychology-ebook.html http://www.all-about-psychology.com/psychology-journal-articles.html http://www.all-about-forensic-psychology.com/forensic-psychology-ebook.html

A similar initiative relating to forensic science publications has also beenlaunched.

http://www.all-about-forensic-science.com/forensic-science-ebook.html

On a windy night a number of years ago, residents of the National Capital were startledby the breaking out, almost simultaneously, of several dangerous fires in thedowntown business district. Gongs clanged Sirens shrieked. The white dome of theCapitol reflected the ruddy glare. Ever piece of apparatus and every man of the city'sfire department was hurried into action, but, in spite of the firemen s effort, the flamesspread. Hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of property was destroyed and manylives were endangered.In the large crowds that gathered, there were, of course, many people who werehighly excited. But the strange, half-repressed emotion of one man in particulararoused the suspicion of a sharp-witted police man. After watching this man forseveral minutes, the policeman walked toward him. The man saw him coming, leapedinto a car parked at the curb, and started to drive away. The policeman blew hiswhistle. The man stepped on the gas, bumped recklessly over several lines of fire hose,and speeded down the street until his way was blocked by another car, and he wasarrested by a motorcycle policeman.At police headquarters, he gave proof that he had a good job as a painter, and that hewas a veteran of the World War who had served creditably in France. He had nocriminal record. But his manner was so strange that the police continued theirquestioning and before long he confessed that he had started all that night's fires, inaddition to several minor blazes of the recent past. The only explanation that he wouldgive was that he "had to do it". Alienists pronounced him insane and he wascommitted to St. Elizabeth's, the Federal Government's hospital for the insane nearWashington.There he came under the observation and care of Dr. John E. Lind, who for almosttwenty years has been senior medical officer in charge of Howard Hall, where arelodged the criminal insane who are in the government's care. Soft-voiced and kindly,and yet obviously no sentimentalist, Dr. Lind won the confidence of the fire-setter -we'll call him "Jones." And having won his confidence, Dr. Lind soon learned why hehad started those fires.

It all went back to a night of battle in France. Standing in a muddy trench, Private Jonesstared over the parapet. A heavy bombardment was shaking the earth, and low-lyingclouds sullenly reflected the flash of guns and the glare of bursting shells. Varicoloredsignal rockets were going up from the German trenches. The merciless white light of star-shells brought out in sharp relief the grim details of No Man's Land. Somewherebehind the enemy lines a burning ammunition dump blazed fiercely.Private Jones' eyes were on this luridly illuminated sector of man-made hell, but histhoughts were far away from it. He was thinking about his sister, who had died sincehe had landed in France, and of whom he had been very fond. And he was thinkingabout another girl - a French girl who looked much like his sister, and to whom he hadbecome engaged.A runner who had been back to battalion headquarters handed him a letter. It wasfrom the French girl. As soon as he could, he went into a dugout where there was acandle burning, and read it. The French girl was very sorry - but she had decided tomarry another man. Private Jones went back to his trench - back to the night of fire. Hewent on doing his duty, and he went on thinking about those two girls. At last the warended, but whenever he thought of the girls he remembered that night of fire when hehad received the French girl's letter.That memory did something to his mind. He began to feel that be must see anothernight like that. The desire became so strong that one night he started a small fire. Hewas not suspected. Other small fires followed. Then he set fire to an ammunitiondump; again he escaped detection. On his return to America be was discharged fromthe army, and got a job in Washington. But his "compulsion" to start fires persisted,until in the end he set the series of big blazes that was his undoing.At St. Elizabeth's he has been a model patient. He has shown no signs of beingmentally abnormal. A psychologist has treated him, and thinks that he has rooted outhis compulsion to start fires. The hospital medical officers also think that he has beencured. Before long a court of law will be asked to decide whether or not it is safe toallow him to return to everyday life. The chances seem to be in favor of his being givena chance to make a fresh start.