sistent denial of its just obligations, for example, would work an injury second only to that of disruption. The debts of nations are especially debts of honor, since none of them can be legally enforced. What would be dishonorable in an individual, would be doubly dishonorable in a nation. It is the plainest duty of the country to pay every borrowed dollar, not only according to the letter of the bond, but according to the understanding of the lender as understood by the borrower. No other rule is consistent with honor, with justice, or with policy.

There is another kind of repudiation, even more dishonest, and equally fatal-the repudiation of official trusts. To repudiate a debt is base; to repudiate a trust is baser, since the latter involves the double dishonor of falsehood and betrayal. The legislator, the judge, the magistrate, who, receiving a public trust for public ends, perverts it to private ends, is as base a wretch as he who robs his employer, or runs away with the pocket-book of his friend, or embezzles the money of a bank of which he is guardian. A corrupt Legislature dishonors a state not less than the defeat of its armies. The humiliation of the flag may be effected not more by force without than by fraud within. Our friends, whose names we hold in such honor, fought against force; it is for us to fight against fraud. And every man in official station who acts from any other motive than the conscientious discharge of his trust, is a fraudulent rogue, and every citizen who upholds any such man or his measures is an accomplice in the fraud.

If we have not rebels in arms to fight, we have political and social disorders more subtle and not less dangerous to overcome. An abased press must be lifted into the region of truth and honor; and the elective franchise must be honored as a trust, and exercised as a matter of conscience.

Let us turn now from the view of this monument as a tribute, to the view of it as a memorial of a great war and a great peace, and of the gallant part therein which these men bore.

A great war it was. Scarce ever was there a greater. In its onward course it swept millions of men into the field, sacrificed hundreds of thousands of lives, and wasted more than

five thousand millions of treasure. The whole population took sides-not the men only, but the women; each person in his sphere-the old man giving his counsel, the young man his strong hand, the matron and the maiden encouragement and contribution in every form in which woman can minister.

This war drew after it a great peace. It brought “the deliverance of the captives, and the opening of the prison" to them that were bound. When it ended, four millions of persons stood up in the glory of freemen, who were slaves when it began. The questions of secession and slavery, those apples of discord, which had troubled the nation from its origin, were settled for ever. The land was delivered from the superstition of the weakest of heresies, and from submission to the worst of institutions. When we met here eight years ago, fifteen States of this Union recognized human servitude as an established institution; the laws were fashioned in the interest of the master, to maintain his dominion and the submission of his slaves; public opinion went even beyond the law in its exaction; freedom of the press and of speech was an empty phrase; personal immunity was talked about but not practiced; and social ostracism completed the tyranny which the law and lawless violence began.

To-day there is not a slave in the land. All who were born in God's image may now stand up in the full light of God's liberty. The Union of the States is indissoluble; the country is undivided and indivisible for ever.

For us it remains to complete what these heroic brethren began. Let us finish the building with the symmetry and beauty of its first design; many States compacted into one nation, but retaining, nevertheless, their character as separate and indestructible parts and supports of the great whole. It is a curiously contrived and wonderful structure; a masterpiece of political architecture. "Manet et manebit."

Though in the process of pacification some methods were adopted which I could not approve, I will not speak of them here. An indissoluble nation, and the freedom of all its people, have been secured by the peace, and therefore I call it a great peace. Let us do what further may be needed to make

it a reconciliation. Let us remove as far as possible every cause of continuing irritation. The dead we can not bring to life; the mutilated we can not make whole; but we can rebuild the burned dwelling; we can recultivate the wasted field; we can sit down with our late adversaries and make the agreement between us real; we can labor together to repair the desolation of war, and to reconstitute society wherever it may have fallen into disorder. Let us do this with a true and not a seeming consent, and, so doing, we shall both honor the memory and profit by the labors of the brave men, who died for the freedom, purity, and union of the whole land.

Such a war, and such a peace, deserve a memorial that shall last as long as yonder mountains look upon this valley. Let us hope that in the spot where we have placed it, it will stand through summer and winter, with the same placid face to the fierce storm and the sweet sunshine, witnessing to the generations as they pass the trials and the glories of our days. Here let it remain, in the shadow of the mountains, standing like a sentinel at the dawn of morning, at noon, at eventide, in the soft moonlight and beneath the stars.

And in all future time, as students gather here in successive classes, may each say to himself as he passes before it: "This is the monument of my countrymen, who fell in the great civil war which sealed the unity of my country, and delivered it from slavery, and here I promise to maintain its purity, freedom, and unity; no dishonor shall befall it by word or deed of mine; and whoever counsels its people to a dishonest or dishonorable act shall be my enemy for ever!"

EMOTIONAL INSANITY.

Paper read by Mr. Field before the Medico-Legal Society of New York, April 24, 1873.

Is there such a thing as emotional insanity, and, if there be, does it excuse an act otherwise criminal? These questions depend upon another, more general, that is to say, What is insanity in its relation to crime? Satisfactory answers would be, as we all know, of inestimable service in the administration of criminal law; and the aim of this paper is to contribute, whatever I may be able, toward their careful consideration. My point of view is, of course, the legal side of that twofold science which we call medico-legal, or, as I should prefer to express it, "medical jurisprudence." The pathol

ogy of insanity is beyond my province.

ment.

A crime is an act or omission forbidden by law, to which is annexed, upon conviction, a certain punishment. Our present inquiry relates solely to human law and human punishThe element of religion or morals does not enter into the question. No reference is made to a violation of the moral or divine law, however great may be the guilt or awful the punishment. For the present hour, we are concerned only with a violation of those laws which depend upon human sanction; and when I speak of the relation of insanity to crime, I mean the relation which it bears to a violation of the law of the land. Punishment is something annexed to crime, as a consequence, painful to the offender; or, in other words, a penalty which he is to suffer for his violation of the law. What is the theory upon which punishment is inflicted? It is not to avenge. "Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord." "To me belongeth vengeance and recompense." The purpose of human punishment is neither revenge nor retribution, but the enforcement of the laws. This is effected by annexing a penalty to their violation. The penalty operates not by way of

pun

satisfaction, but prevention. The object is to deter. The threat of punishment is addressed to all. An instance of ishment has a twofold operation: first, upon the offender, to deter him from a repetition of the offense; and then upon others like him, to deter them by force of his example. The measure of a just punishment is, therefore, that kind and degree, which are necessary to such an end.

The rightfulness of punishment depends solely upon its necessity. The test is not the greater or less ill deserving of the offender, but the safety of society. Laws are made for the protection of rights. If it be necessary to have laws, it is

necessary to enforce them. Necessitas quod cogit defendit.

Show me that a certain rule is necessary to the public good, and that a certain punishment is necessary to the enforcement of the rule, and I accept the conclusion as irresistible that this punishment may be rightfully inflicted. The authority to take human life can only be justified by such a course of reasoning. The argument embraces not only penal laws, but all human conduct. If four men are at sea in an open boat, three of them struggling to reach the land, and the fourth, maddened by distress, insists upon upsetting the boat, the three may rightfully throw him into the sea. When Sir John Franklin, on his perilous journey in the frozen zone, shot one of his men who showed signs of mutiny, dangerous to the rest, he exercised an inherent right to protect the company which he was trying to lead to a place of safety. Every age of the world has seen monsters, hostes humani generis, whom it was justifiable to exterminate. So in all regular government, the safety of society is the warrant which the Almighty has given for the punishment of those who infringe its laws. This necessity is not only the warrant, but the limit of the power. For useless punishment is itself crime.

Starting from this point we enter upon the question of insanity in its relation to criminal responsibility. I say in this relation, because here lies the first distinction which it is necessary to bear in mind. There may be a degree of the disease which requires that the patient should be shut in a lunatic asylum, or which would invalidate his contract or his testament, but which, nevertheless, would not absolve him from the charge