WARREN, Samuel (1807-1877), author of Ten Thousand a Year, was born in Denbighshire in 1807. After a curriculum at the university of Edinburgh, of such distinction that he made the acquaintance of “Christopher North” through his undergraduate fame, he began the study of medicine, but soon abandoned it for the English bar. He entered at the Inner Temple in 1828, and was successful in his profession. He took silk in 1851, was made recorder of Hull in 1854, represented Medhurst in parliament for three years (1856-59), and was rewarded by his party leaders in 1859 with a mastership in lunacy. Meantime he had made a much more brilliant success in fiction-writing. Very early in his career, before he was called to the bar, he had begun to write for Blackwood. His Passages from the Diary of a Late Physician appeared in that magazine between August 1830 and October 1831, being collected into two volumes in 1832. A third volume was published in 1838, the contents of which appeared originally in the same magazine between September 1832 and August 1837. These short stories, most of them of a horrible character, with morbid interest shielded under a moral purpose, were extremely popular, and so realistic that as long as the writer remained anonymous it was customary for doctors to declare that some brother must be making capital of the secrets of his profession. Warren’s brief experience as a medical student thus stood him in good stead. But his great success was Ten Thousand a Year, which ran in Blackwood from October 1839 to August 1841, and was published separately immediately on its conclusion. Critics complained of the coarseness of the workmanship, of the banality of the moralizing, the crudeness of the pathos, the farcical extravagance of the humour; but meantime the ...work established itself as one of the most popular novels of the century. Of the higher qualities of imagination and passion Warren was destitute, but his sketches of character, especially farcical character,—Tittlebat Titmouse, Oily Gammon, Mr Quicksilver (an open caricature of Lord Brougham),—are bold and strong, forcibly imprinted on the memory, and the interest of the story is made to run with a powerful current. For several years Warren was content to be known as the author of Ten Thousand a Year, and many tales were told of his open pride in the achievement. In 1847 he made another venture, but Now and Then was not a success. The Lily and the Bee, a squib on the Crystal Palace, published in 1851, though it had the honour of translation into Italian, was a signal failure. A pessimistic dissertation on The Intellectual and Moral Development of the Age, published in 1853, also fell flat, and thenceforth Warren, after publishing his Works, Critical and Imaginative, in four volumes in 1854, retired on his laurels. He died at London, July 29, 1877.
Besides his novels and other contributions to Blackwood, Warren wrote several legal works of repute— Introduction to Law Studies (1835), Extracts from Blackstone (1837), Manual of Parliamentary Law (1852).
His whole attitude towards the subject of insanity in its legal relations was determined by his clear perception and tenacious grasp of the fact that the disease insanity is merely one of the indicia of legal “unsoundness of mind he thus reduced medical expertism to its proper proportions, by treating the alienist as a witness and not a judge. The masterly brevity with which he addressed the jury in the Windham inquiry branded as practically irrelevant the mass of the evidence produced at the trial, and prepared the public mind for the third section of the Lunacy Regulation Act of 1862. To the doctrine of moral insanity he offered an uncompromising but ineffective and, it must be confessed, an ignorant opposition. It is doubtful whether he understood the meaning, and it is certain that he had never studied the evidences, of the theory which he so severely condemns. A writer who imagined that the cases of Oxford and MacNaughten bore any resemblance to the “observations” of Pinel was hardly qualified to criticize even the less worthy of his disciples. Yet this hostility was not altogether irrational. Exaggerating, indeed mistranslating, the language of Pinel, in whose work moral insanity appears as “manie sans délire,” the English alienists had pressed into their service cases which were far less closely allied to insanity than to crime, and had claimed, in tho name of science, to return the verdict whenever mental incompetence existed or was presumed. Against these extravagant pretensions the school of Alderson and Rolfe arose in healthy revolt. Ignorant of, or possibly not caring to sift, the residuum of fact which undoubtedly they would have found in the standard literature of “manie sans délire,” they believed moral insanity to be nothing more than the immoral and illogical plea with which English alienists had made them familiar, and they sternly refused to recognize it. To the exertions of this school, of which Samuel Warren was a distinguished member, we owe the wise jealousy with which the defence of moral insanity is now regarded by alienists themselves. See Warren’s Miscellanies, vol. ii., “High Treason and Murder—Moral Insanity.” (1854); also The Windham Trial, published by Wm. Olliver.
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