<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2>
<h3>THE CROSS-EXAMINATION OF DR. —— IN THE CARLYLE W. HARRIS CASE</h3>
<p>The records of the criminal courts in this country
contain few cases that have excited so much human interest
among all classes of the community as the prosecution
and conviction of Carlyle W. Harris.</p>
<p>Even to this day—ten years after the trial—there is
a widespread belief among men, perhaps more especially
among women, who did not attend the trial, but simply
listened to the current gossip of the day and followed
the newspaper accounts of the court proceedings, that
Harris was innocent of the crime for the commission of
which his life was forfeited to the state.</p>
<p>It is proposed in this chapter to discuss some of the
facts that led up to the testimony of one of the most distinguished
toxicologists in the country, who was called for
the defence on the crucial point in the case; and to give
extracts from his cross-examination, his failure to withstand
which was the turning-point in the entire trial.
He returned to his home in Philadelphia after he left the
witness-stand, and openly declared in public, when asked<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</SPAN></span>
to describe his experiences in New York, that he had
"gone to New York only to make a fool of himself and
return home again."</p>
<p>It is also proposed to give some of the <i>inside</i> history
of the case—facts that never came out at the trial, not
because they were unknown at the time to the district
attorney, nor unsusceptible of proof, but because the
strict rules of evidence in such cases often, as it seems
to the writer, withhold from the ears of the jury certain
facts, the mere recital of which seems to conclude the
question of guilt. For example, the rule forbidding the
presentation to the jury of anything that was said by
the victim of a homicide, even to witnesses surrounding
the death-bed, unless the victim in express terms makes
known his own belief that he cannot live, and that he has
abandoned all <i>hope</i> or expectation of recovery before he
tells the tale of the manner in which he was slain, or the
causes that led up to it, has allowed many a guilty
prisoner, if not to escape entirely, at least to avoid the
full penalty for the crime he had undoubtedly committed.</p>
<p>Carlyle Harris was a gentleman's son, with all the
advantages of education and breeding. In his twenty-second
year, and just after graduating with honors from
the College of Physicians and Surgeons in New York
City, he was indicted and tried for the murder of Miss
Helen Potts, a young, pretty, intelligent, and talented
school girl in attendance at Miss Day's Ladies' Boarding
School, on 40th Street, New York City.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Harris had made the acquaintance of Miss Potts in
the summer of 1889, and all during the winter paid
marked attention to her. The following spring, while
visiting her uncle, who was a doctor, she was delivered
of a four months' child, and was obliged to confess to
her mother that she was secretly married to Harris under
assumed names, and that her student husband had himself
performed an abortion upon her.</p>
<p>Harris was sent for. He acknowledged the truth of
his wife's statements, but refused to make the marriage
public. From this time on, till the day of her daughter's
death, the wretched mother made every effort to induce
Harris to acknowledge his wife publicly. She finally
wrote him on the 20th of January, 1891, "You must go
on the 8th of February, the anniversary of your secret
marriage, before a minister of the gospel, and there have
a Christian marriage performed—no other course than
this will any longer be satisfactory to me or keep me quiet."</p>
<p>That very day Harris ordered at an apothecary store
six capsules, each containing 4-1/2 grains of quinine and
1/6 of a grain of morphine, and had the box marked:
"C. W. H. Student. One before retiring." Miss Potts
had been complaining of sick headaches, and Harris
gave her four of these capsules as an ostensible remedy.
He then wrote to Mrs. Potts that he would agree to her
terms "unless some other way could be found of satisfying
her scruples," and went hurriedly to Old Point Comfort.
Upon hearing from his wife that the capsules<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</SPAN></span>
made her worse instead of better, he still persuaded her
to continue taking them. On the day of her death she
complained to her mother about the medicine Carlyle
had given her, and threatened to throw the box with the
remaining capsule out of the window. Her mother persuaded
her to try this last one, which she promised to do.
Miss Potts slept in a room with three classmates who,
on this particular night, had gone to a symphony concert.
Upon their return they found Helen asleep, but woke
her up and learned from her that she had been having
"such beautiful dreams," she "had been dreaming of
Carl." Then she complained of feeling numb, and
becoming frightened, begged the girls not to let her go
to sleep. She repeated that she had taken the medicine
Harris had given her, and asked them if they thought it
possible that he would give her anything to harm her.
She soon fell into a profound coma, breathing only twice
to the minute. The doctors worked over her for eleven
hours without restoring her to consciousness, when she
stopped breathing entirely.</p>
<p>The autopsy, fifty-six days afterward, disclosed an
apparently healthy body, and the chemical analysis of
the contents of the stomach disclosed the presence of
morphine but <i>not</i> of quinine, though the capsules as
originally compounded by the druggist contained twenty-seven
times as much quinine as morphine.</p>
<p>This astounding discovery led to the theory of the
prosecution: that Harris had emptied the contents of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</SPAN></span>
<i>one</i> of the capsules, had substituted morphine in sufficient
quantities to kill, <i>in place of</i> the 4-1/2 grains of quinine
(to the eye, powdered quinine and morphine are
identical), and had placed this fatal capsule in the box
with the other three harmless ones, one to be taken each
night. He had then fled from the city, not knowing
which day would brand him a murderer.</p>
<p>Immediately after his wife's death Harris went to one
of his medical friends and said: "I only gave her four
capsules of the six I had made up; <i>the two I kept out
will show that they are perfectly harmless. No jury can
convict me with those in my possession; they can be analyzed
and proved to be harmless.</i>"</p>
<p>They <i>were</i> analyzed and it was proved that the prescription
had been correctly compounded. But oftentimes
the means a criminal uses in order to conceal his
deed are the very means that Providence employs to
reveal the sin that lies hidden in his soul. Harris failed
to foresee that it was the preservation of these capsules
that would really convict him. Miss Potts had taken
<i>all</i> that he had given her, and no one could ever have
been certain that it was not the druggist's awful mistake,
had not these retained capsules been analyzed. When
Harris emptied one capsule and reloaded it with morphine,
<i>he had himself become the druggist</i>.</p>
<p>It was contended that Harris never intended to recognize
Helen Potts as his wife. He married her in secret,
it appeared at the trial,—as it were from his own lips<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</SPAN></span>
through the medium of conversation with a friend,—"because
he could not accomplish her ruin in any
other way." He brought her to New York, was married
to her before an alderman under assumed names,
and then having accomplished his purpose, burned the
evidence of their marriage, the false certificate. Finally,
when the day was set upon which he <i>must</i> acknowledge
her as his wife, he planned her death.</p>
<p>The late recorder, Frederick Smyth, presided at the
trial with great dignity and fairness. The prisoner was
ably represented by John A. Taylor, Esq., and William
Travers Jerome, Esq., the present district attorney of
New York.</p>
<p>Mr. Jerome's cross-examination of Professor Witthaus,
the leading chemist for the prosecution, was an extremely
able piece of work, and during its eight hours
disclosed an amount of technical information and research
such as is seldom seen in our courts. Had it
not been for the witness's impregnable position, he certainly
would have succumbed before the attack. The
length and technicality of the examination render its use
impracticable in this connection; but it is recommended
to all students of cross-examination who find themselves
confronted with the task of examination in so remote a
branch of the advocate's equipment as a knowledge of
chemistry.</p>
<p>The defence consisted entirely of medical testimony,
directed toward creating a doubt as to our theory that<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</SPAN></span>
morphine was the cause of death. Their cross-examination
of our witnesses was suggestive of death from
natural causes: from heart disease, a brain tumor, apoplexy,
epilepsy, uremia. In fact, the multiplicity of their
defences was a great weakness. Gradually they were
forced to abandon all but two possible causes of death,—that
by morphine poisoning and that by uremic poisoning.
This narrowed the issue down to the question,
Was it a large dose of morphine that caused death, or
was it a latent kidney disease that was superinduced
and brought to light in the form of uremic coma by
small doses of morphine, such as the one-sixth of a grain
admittedly contained in the capsules Harris administered?
In one case Harris was guilty; in the other
he was innocent.</p>
<p>Helen Potts died in a profound coma. Was it the
coma of morphine, or that of kidney disease? Many of
the leading authorities in this city had given their convictions
in favor of the morphine theory. In reply to
those, the defence was able to call a number of young
doctors, who have since made famous names for themselves,
but who at the time were almost useless as
witnesses with the jury because of their comparative
inexperience. Mr. Jerome had, however, secured the
services of one physician who, of all the others in the
country, had perhaps apparently best qualified himself
by his writings and thirty years of hospital experience to
speak authoritatively upon the subject.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>His direct testimony was to the effect that—basing
his opinion partly upon wide reading of the literature of
the subject, and what seemed to him to be the general
consensus of professional opinion about it, and "<i>very
largely on his own experience</i>"—no living doctor can distinguish
the coma of morphine from that of kidney disease;
and as the theory of the criminal law is that, if the
death can be equally as well attributed to natural causes
as to the use of poison, the jury would be bound to give
the prisoner the benefit of the doubt and acquit him.</p>
<p>It was the turning-point in the trial. If any of the
jurors credited this testimony,—the witness gave the
reasons for his opinion in a very quiet, conscientious,
and impressive manner,—there certainly could be no
conviction in the case, nothing better than a disagreement
of the jury. It was certain Harris had given the
capsules, but unless his wife had died of morphine poisoning,
he was innocent of her death.</p>
<p>The cross-examination that follows is much abbreviated
and given partly from memory. It was apparent that the
witness would withstand any amount of technical examination
and easily get the better of the cross-examiner if
such matters were gone into. He had made a profound
impression. The court had listened to him with breathless
interest. He must be dealt with gently and, if
possible, led into self-contradictions where he was least
prepared for them.</p>
<p>The cross-examiner sparred for an opening with the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</SPAN></span>
determination to strike quickly and to sit down if he got
in one telling blow. The first one missed aim a little,
but the second brought a peal of laughter from the jury
and the audience, and the witness retired in great confusion.
Even the lawyers for the defence seemed to lose
heart, and although two hours before time of adjournment,
begged the court for a recess till the following
day.</p>
<p><i>Counsel</i> (quietly). "Do you wish the jury to understand,
doctor, that Miss Helen Potts did not die of
morphine poisoning?"</p>
<p><i>Witness.</i> "I do not swear to that."</p>
<p><i>Counsel.</i> "What did she die of?"</p>
<p><i>Witness.</i> "I don't swear what she died of."</p>
<p><i>Counsel.</i> "I understood you to say that in your opinion
the symptoms of morphine could not be sworn to
with positiveness. Is that correct?"</p>
<p><i>Witness.</i> "I don't think they can, with positiveness."</p>
<p><i>Counsel.</i> "Do you wish to go out to the world as
saying that you have never diagnosed a case of morphine
poisoning excepting when you had an autopsy to exclude
kidney disease?"</p>
<p><i>Witness.</i> "I do not. I have not said so."</p>
<p><i>Counsel.</i> "Then you have diagnosed a case on the
symptoms alone, yes? or no? I want a categorical
answer."</p>
<p><i>Witness</i> (sparring). "I would refuse to answer that
question categorically; the word 'diagnosed' is used<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</SPAN></span>
with two different meanings. One has to make what is
known as a 'working diagnosis' when he is called to a
case, not a positive diagnosis."</p>
<p><i>Counsel.</i> "When was your last case of opium or morphine
poisoning?"</p>
<p><i>Witness.</i> "I can't remember which was the last."</p>
<p><i>Counsel</i> (seeing an opening). "I don't want the name
of the patient. Give me the date approximately, that is,
the year—but under oath."</p>
<p><i>Witness.</i> "I think the last was some years ago."</p>
<p><i>Counsel.</i> "How many years ago?"</p>
<p><i>Witness</i> (hesitating). "It may be eight or ten years
ago."</p>
<p><i>Counsel.</i> "Was it a case of death from morphine
poisoning?"</p>
<p><i>Witness.</i> "Yes, sir."</p>
<p><i>Counsel.</i> "Was there an autopsy?"</p>
<p><i>Witness.</i> "No, sir."</p>
<p><i>Counsel.</i> "How did you know it was a death from
morphine, if, as you said before, such symptoms cannot
be distinguished?"</p>
<p><i>Witness.</i> "I found out from a druggist that the woman
had taken seven grains of morphine."</p>
<p><i>Counsel.</i> "You made no diagnosis at all until you
heard from the druggist?"</p>
<p><i>Witness.</i> "I began to give artificial respiration."</p>
<p><i>Counsel.</i> "But that is just what you would do in a
case of morphine poisoning?"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><i>Witness</i> (hesitating). "Yes, sir. I made, of course, a
working diagnosis."</p>
<p><i>Counsel.</i> "Do you remember the case you had before
that?"</p>
<p><i>Witness.</i> "I remember another case."</p>
<p><i>Counsel.</i> "When was that?"</p>
<p><i>Witness.</i> "It was a still longer time ago. I don't
know the date."</p>
<p><i>Counsel.</i> "How many years ago, on your oath?"</p>
<p><i>Witness.</i> "Fifteen, probably."</p>
<p><i>Counsel.</i> "Any others?"</p>
<p><i>Witness.</i> "Yes, one other."</p>
<p><i>Counsel.</i> "When?"</p>
<p><i>Witness.</i> "Twenty years ago."</p>
<p><i>Counsel.</i> "Are these three cases all you can remember
in your experience?"</p>
<p><i>Witness.</i> "Yes, sir."</p>
<p><i>Counsel</i> (chancing it). "Were more than one of them
deaths from morphine?"</p>
<p><i>Witness.</i> "No, sir, only one."</p>
<p><i>Counsel</i> (looking at the jury somewhat triumphantly).
"Then it all comes down to this: you have had the
experience of one case of morphine poisoning in the
last twenty years?"</p>
<p><i>Witness</i> (in a low voice). "Yes, sir, one that I can
remember."</p>
<p><i>Counsel</i> (excitedly). "And are you willing to come
here from Philadelphia, and state that the New York<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</SPAN></span>
doctors who have already testified against you, and who
swore they had had seventy-five similar cases in their
own practice, are mistaken in their diagnoses and
conclusions?"</p>
<p><i>Witness</i> (embarrassed and in a low tone). "Yes, sir,
I am."</p>
<p><i>Counsel.</i> "You never heard of Helen Potts until a
year after her death, did you?"</p>
<p><i>Witness.</i> "No, sir."</p>
<p><i>Counsel.</i> "You heard these New York physicians say
that they attended her and observed her symptoms for
eleven hours before death?"</p>
<p><i>Witness.</i> "Yes, sir."</p>
<p><i>Counsel.</i> "Are you willing to go on record, with your
one experience in twenty years, as coming here and
saying that you do not believe our doctors can tell
morphine poisoning when they see it?"</p>
<p><i>Witness</i> (sheepishly). "Yes, sir."</p>
<p><i>Counsel.</i> "You have stated, have you not, that the
symptoms of morphine poisoning cannot be told with
positiveness?"</p>
<p><i>Witness.</i> "Yes, sir."</p>
<p><i>Counsel.</i> "You said you based that opinion upon
your own experience, and it now turns out you have
seen but one case in twenty years."</p>
<p><i>Witness.</i> "I also base it upon my reading."</p>
<p><i>Counsel</i> (becoming almost contemptuous in manner).
"Is your reading confined to your own book?"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><i>Witness</i> (excitedly). "No, sir; I say no."</p>
<p><i>Counsel</i> (calmly). "But I presume you embodied in
your own book the results of your reading, did you
not?"</p>
<p><i>Witness</i> (a little apprehensively). "I tried to, sir."</p>
<p>It must be explained here that the attending physicians
had said that the pupils of the eyes of Helen
Potts were contracted to a pin-point, so much so as
to be practically unrecognizable, and <i>symmetrically</i>
contracted—that this symptom was the one <i>invariably</i>
present in coma from morphine poisoning, and distinguished
it from all other forms of death, whereas
in the coma of kidney disease one pupil would be
dilated and the other contracted; they would be unsymmetrical.</p>
<p><i>Counsel</i> (continuing). "Allow me to read to you from
your own book on page 166, where you say (reading),
'I have thought that inequality of the pupils'—that is,
where they are not symmetrically contracted—'is proof
that a case is not one of narcotism'—or morphine poisoning—'but
<i>Professor Taylor has recorded a case of
morphine poisoning in which it</i> [the unsymmetrical contraction
of the pupils] <i>occurred</i>.' Do I read it as you
intended it?"</p>
<p><i>Witness.</i> "Yes, sir."</p>
<p><i>Counsel.</i> "<i>So until you heard of the case that Professor
Taylor reported, you had always supposed symmetrical
contraction of the pupils of the eyes to be the distinguishing<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</SPAN></span>
symptom of morphine poisoning, and it is on
this that you base your statement that the New York doctors
could not tell morphine poisoning positively when
they see it?</i>"</p>
<p><i>Witness</i> (little realizing the point). "Yes, sir."</p>
<p><i>Counsel</i> (very loudly). "<i>Well, sir, did you investigate
that case far enough to discover that Professor Taylor's
patient had one glass eye?</i>"<SPAN name="FNanchor_25_25" id="FNanchor_25_25"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</SPAN></p>
<p><i>Witness</i> (in confusion). "I have no memory of it."</p>
<p><i>Counsel.</i> "That has been proved to be the case here.
You would better go back to Philadelphia, sir."</p>
<p>There were roars of laughter throughout the audience
as counsel resumed his seat and the witness walked out
of the court room. It is difficult to reproduce in print
the effect made by this occurrence, but with the retirement
of this witness the defendant's case suffered a
collapse from which it never recovered.</p>
<p class="tb">* * * * *<br/></p>
<p>It is interesting to note that within a year of Harris's
conviction, Dr. Buchanan was indicted and tried for a
similar offence—wife poisoning by the use of morphine.</p>
<p>It appeared in evidence at Dr. Buchanan's trial that,
during the Harris trial and the examination of the medical
witnesses, presumably the witness whose examination
has been given above, Buchanan had said to his messmates
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</SPAN></span>
that "Harris was a —— fool, he didn't know how
to mix his drugs. If he had put a little atropine with his
morphine, it would have dilated the pupil of at least one
of his victim's eyes, and no doctor could have deposed to
death by morphine."</p>
<p>When Buchanan's case came up for trial it was discovered
that, although morphine had been found in the
stomach, blood, and intestines of his wife's body, the pupils
of the eyes were not symmetrically contracted. No positive
diagnosis of her case could be made by the attending
physicians until the continued chemical examination of
the contents of the body disclosed indisputable evidence
of atropine (belladonna). Buchanan had profited by the
disclosures in the Harris trial, but had made the fatal
mistake of telling his friends how it could have been
done in order to cheat science. It was this statement of
his that put the chemists on their guard, and resulted in
Buchanan's conviction and subsequent execution.</p>
<p>Carlyle Harris maintained his innocence even after the
Court of Appeals had unanimously sustained his conviction,
and even as he calmly took his seat in the electric
chair.</p>
<p>The most famous English poison case comparable to
the Harris and Buchanan cases was that of the celebrated
William Palmer, also a physician by profession, who poisoned
his companion by the use of strychnine in order
to obtain his money and collect his racing bets. The
trial is referred to in detail in another chapter.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Palmer, like Harris and Buchanan, maintained a stoical
demeanor throughout his trial and confinement in jail,
awaiting execution. The morning of his execution he
ate his eggs at breakfast as if he were going on a journey.
When he was led to the gallows, it was demanded of him
in the name of God, as was the custom in England in
those days, if he was innocent or guilty. He made no
reply. Again the question was put, "William Palmer, in
the name of Almighty God, are you innocent or guilty?"
Just as the white cap came over his face he murmured in
a low breath, "Guilty," and the bolts were drawn with a
crash.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</SPAN></span></p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />