盟 tion of the credulity of the human mind. | impossible to do justice to Godwin in a Queen Elizabeth sent to consult Dr. John short sketch. He was a noble specimen of Dee, the astrologer, respecting a lucky a man, just and sincere. He never truckled day for her coronation. King James the to the world. He took no advantage of first employed much of his leisure upon the caprice of the public, by appealing to questions of witchcraft and demonology, its weak side, or pampering its frailties. in which he fully believed. And, alas for He told bold and startling truths in polpoor human nature, in the year 1664, Sir ished and vehement language. He spoke Matthew Hale caused two old women to with the fire and grandeur of inspiration. be hanged upon a charge of unlawful His powers were versatile, and he acquired communion with infernal agents. Sir laurels in the fields of fiction, biography, Thomas Browne, "the superlatively elo- and history. quent and able author of the Religio Medici" was present, and took part in the interesting proceedings. Sir Thomas was appealed to by Hale, somewhat extra-ju- His novels have charmed the world. dicially, for his opinion, and decided that they were guilty, "and enforced his position by something that had lately occurred in Denmark.” Cloudesley, a novel, appeared in 1830. This work might have been written "under the roof blue Italian weather." Its tone is sweet and interesting, and fervently eloquent. Irene is one of the fine female creations of Godwin, and the work bears the marks of unmistakeable talent and disciplined powers. There is also another novel of our author's, called "Deloraine," -and his long and laborious life terminated in London, in April, 1836. He held a small post under government, conferred upon him by Earl Gray's ministry. It is "Taste after taste, upheld with kind.iest change." "Applause delighted stands And lifts, Briareus-like, her hundred hands." The Essay on Sepulchres, and the Lives of Milton's Nephews, books that he wr to gratify a private sentiment, and for he own enjoyment, were coldly received by the public, and were calculated to cure him, if he had been liable to the intox tion of vanity. He had self-reliance in a high degree, and nothing could daunt his enthusiastic nature. He loved his fell man with a hearty zeal, and beheld every human creature a spark of the d vinity. "Once more hail and farewell' G. F. D › far as INSANITY-HOW FAR A LEGAL DEFENCE. THE Common law (which is ours except we have modified it by the atutes) has adopted two widely different les on the subject of insanity; one havg relation to civil affairs, and the other ferring entirely to criminal cases. By e first, a man whose mind is deranged, s intellects having become insufficient to nduct the common business of life; his operty will be taken from him, and truses appointed to take care of and manage s estate. By the second, strange as it ay seem, the same man, who has been judged incapable of conducting his own ncerns on account of insanity, may be ld responsible for criminal acts, proded he possess a mind capable of distinushing right from wrong. In legal fect there are, therefore, two kinds of soundness of mind-an unsoundness hich is partial, and destroys one's capay for civil affairs; and an unsoundness hich is total, and utterly destroys the oral responsibility; so that the denged is no longer a reasonable and acuntable being. In contemplation of law, rtial insanity simply reduces a man to e condition of a child, a minor under e; who cannot be compelled to fulfill 3 contracts, but is still answerable for imes committed. His position is similar that of the habitual drunkard—he is prived of the management of his proper, because manifestly disqualified by his bits to take care of it judiciously; and nilar, also, to that of the man whose nd falls into decay by reason of adnced age, and the apparent failure of e mental power. According to the early writers, to excuse man from the consequences of his act, must have been at the period when he mmitted the offence, wholly incapable distinguishing between good and evil, or mprehending the nature of what he was ing. If he be but partially insane, the w does not excuse him, but holds him to rigid accountability; making it necessary r him to show that at the time the deed was committed, he was absolutely incapable of distinguishing between right and wrong. As Lord Hale, one of the sages of the law, expresses it, if he possess as great understanding as ordinarily a child of fourteen years hath, he may be guilty of treason or felony. It is well known to most of our readers, that the principles of what is termed the common law, are ascertained from the decisions of the courts; our own first, and those of England secondly by way of illustration. The reason of this is found in the fact that we hold our laws, like our literature and language, in common with that country, having derived them thence with our very being. For as the statesmen of the revolution contended, the men who first emigrated to this country, brought with them the rights of freemen, and the laws and privileges of their own country. Instead of coming forth a loose, disjointed and confused congregation of reckless men, like the Spanish into Mexico and Peru, impatient of control and thirsting for gold, they came forth freely and soberly, a well-appointed community. In place of an arbitrary government of undefined civil and military powers, they brought with them charters of liberty, civil officers, an organized government, and a society firmly knit together, wearing, as a garment, the common law of England. When, therefore, we quote the decisions of the English courts, they are not referred to as binding precedents, and authority to which we must yield obedience; but rather as the historical evidence of what the law was, or still continues to be; they are, as Coke termed them, the witnesses of the law. To whose testimony, on the subject of insanity, we will now briefly refer. In the case of Edward Arnold, indicted and tried at the Surrey Assizes, in England, for shooting at Lord Onslow in 1724, the court, in charging the jury, use these words: "It is not every kind of frantic humor, or something unaccountable in a man's actions that points him out to be such a madman as is to be exempted. It appeared on the trial that the prisoner had been a soldier, and wounded in battle by a blow upon the head, breaking the skull and injuring the brain; that immediately after the wound was received he became crazy, and continued so occa sionally up to the time of his attempt to kill the king; his insanity being intermittent. Prior to his receiving the wound, the witnesses proved him brave and loyal, and the jury acquitted him on the ground of insanity. from punishment; it must be a man that | from criminal responsibility, there must be is totally deprived of his understanding a total deprivation of memory and underand memory, and doth not know what he standing. He admits it the very language is doing, no more than an infant, than a of Coke and Hale, but contends it cannot brute, or a wild beast; such a one is be applied in a literal sense, for in that never the object of punishment." Upon this case such thing as insanity seldom if ever charge it is scarcely necessary to say the jury occurred. found the prisoner guilty, and he received the sentence of death; though there was no question of his partial insanity. It is worthy of remark, that at the period of this trial, the accused, in such cases, were not allowed to come into court with counsel, except upon the special grace and favor of the court. In the case of Earl Ferrers, tried and convicted of the murder of John Johnson in 1760, the same rule was enforced. On this occasion, the highest solemnities of the law were observed. George II. issued a special commission to his chancellor, Henly, recited that the king considering justice an excellent virtue, and pleasing to the Most High; and concluded with making him Lord High Stewart, with authority to preside in the august court thus organized. Upon the trial, the solicitorgeneral, quoting the law as laid down by Hale, (whom he terms the wise judge and great lawyer,) says, that the result of his whole reasoning stands thus: "If there be a total, permanent want of reason, it will acquit the prisoner. If there be a total temporary want of it when the of fence was committed, it will acquit the prisoner; but if there be only a partial degree of insanity, mixed with a partial degree of reason; not a full and complete use of reason, but a competent use of it, sufficient to have restrained those passions which produced the crime; if there be thought and design; a faculty to distinguish the nature of actions; to discern the difference between moral good and evil; then upon the fact of the offence proved the judgment of the law must take place." The case of James Hadfield, quite as interesting as the one first mentioned, was tried in 1800. The indictment was for shooting at the king in a crowded theatre, just as he entered his box, and the audience was rising to cheer him. The rule, as to responsibility for crime, administered in this case, was substantially the same as quoted above; though Mr. Erskine commented upon the rule insisted on by the attorney-general, that to protect a man It has been sometimes said that the law does not understand, or knows no distinction between different kinds of insanity. This is not strictly true, as is proved by the case of John Bellingham, tried for the murder of the Right Hon. Spencer Perceval, before chief justice Mansfield, in 1812. The rule, as laid down in that case, exempts the prisoner from responsibility, provided he is found deprived of all power of reasoning, so as not to be able to distinguish whether it was right or wrong to commit the most wicked transaction. But this, he adds, must be proved, and the jury must find it as a fact, beyond all doubt, that at the time he committed the act with which he stood charged, he did not consider that murder was a crime against the laws of God and nature. There was no other proof of insanity which would excuse murder or any other crime. After speaking of other kinds of insanity, the judge then goes on to say, "There was a third species of insanity in which the patient fancied the existence of injury, and sought an opportunity of gratifying revenge by some hostile act. If such a person were capable, in other respects, of distinguishing right from wrong, there was no excuse for any act of atrocity which be might commit under this description of derangement.' On the trial of Hadfield, mentioned above, it was contended by Mr. Erskine, on behalf of the prisoner, and may be assumed, as admitted by the court, that where the prisoner labored under a delusion connected directly with the subject matter of the transaction for which he stands indicted, he cannot be convicted of crime, even though he be not deprived of all power of reasoning. This distinction, however, when examined, fades away into the original color, and leaves to the jury still the same simple inquiry, whether the party, charged with the offence, knew that the very act he committed was criminal. Having referred to a few of the leading cases on the subject of insanity, enough to show what the law now is, and how far it enforces human responsibility, we arrive at the point where we have a right, and are bound to speak for ourselves. With a proper estimate of history we cannot be indifferent to the past, and those various influences out of which have arisen our present social relations. We go back to the sources of civilization with pleasure, and trace, with delight, the increasing and expanding volume as it emerges from the wild and mountainous regions of romance, and opens on the unobsructed plain of his tory. We listen to its many voices, and make ourselves acquainted with its wisdom. We go out of ourselves and the present time, to learn the thoughts of those who have preceded us. We gather instruction from their deeds, and a wise forecast from their folly. It is thus we trace the progress of opinions, and the slow though constant and firm advance in the tone and temper of law-that high and sublime march of a people, in which there are few hasty changes, and no magnificent strides; but a modest and steady progression, keeping time with the music of intelligent thought. It is not a romance, nor an epic poem; it is no picture of the imagination, nor republic of Utopia; but a system of principles that spring up out of the national mind, and adapt themselves to every condition and circumstance of life. Flexible in their nature, and always closely surrounding us, we are generally unmindful of their presence till the very moment we need protection, so easily and naturally do we wear them as an armor of defence. Like our political institutions, they come down to us from the past, associated with the events and scenes of history; imperfect in particulars, but in the main breathing the earnest and manly spirit of times | | when men stood upon their rights, maintained the claims of the citizen against the sovereign, and established the law upon the rough and rugged field of battle. They come to us dressed in the style of an early day, but with a universal and catholic authority, comprehending the past, present and future. They command respect and elicit our regard in infancy and childhood, long before we are able to understand them or appreciate their excellence. It is thus the common law becomes a part of the common mind, intimately blending itself with the thoughts, and entering into the judgments of each individual; so that it is not, perhaps, too much to say, that on general subjects the common opinion of the law is the highest and best evidence of what that law is. There is a strange and wonderful interest attaching itself to every description of insanity. The subtle relation existing between the material and immaterial man, that intimate association of mind with body, acting and reacting sympathetically upon each other, is at all times a subject of interesting and curious speculation. But when examined in connection with derangement of the mental powers, it becomes a mystery passing the ken of human knowledge, around which the light of science sheds no illumination, and gives token of no discovery. On other subjects, investigation repays us with a fixed and satisfactory result; we congratulate ourselves with the discovery of truth, and the establishment of those general principles upon which the sciences are based. It is a pleasure that springs out of certainty and system, and a harmony that rises from many voices mingling in unison. But on this subject we have no system; it is all mysterious and uncertain, complex and wonderful, as are the operations of the human mind. For though we are able to understand many of the influences that operate remotely to induce insanity, though we can speak of the phenomena that attend it, and sometimes point out the causes that seem to have produced it, though we can trace its stages through disappointment, melancholy, wakefulness, and a sad brooding over real or imaginary wrong, observe the freaks of fancy, the odd conceits and strange devices that occasionally denote the source of madness, though we can sometimes discover and pronounce upon the subject around which the brittle thread of reason was broken, our skill is at fault, and fails us when we attempt to classify the causes, or speak with accuracy of a general origin of mental disease. Each case is so peculiar, it furnishes a law for itself. In the tragedy of Hamlet it has long been a question among critics whether the great master intends to portray actual or assumed madness. Soon after seeing his father's ghost, we find him swearing his friend Horatio to silence and secresy; intimating his intention "to put an antic disposition on," the better to cover his proceedings. Directly we hear him lamenting his feebleness and lack of spirit in such a style, as convinces us of the deep meiancholy that has settled on his mind, and darkened his prospects. He is called to a mighty work, and feels himself incompetent to the task. His nature is noble; he has been accustomed to believe in the sincerity of his companions, and to trust the integrity of the king. He has been surrounded from infancy with flatterers, and those who have courted him as the heir apparent to the crown. He has yielded himself to the protestations of friendship and to the soft, winning accents of tenderness and love. The gaieties of life have thrown a charm around him, and his youth has passed away like the sweet influences of spring, the bloom and beauty of the year. He has not known disappointment, nor anticipated danger; the smooth current of his being has flowed like the river. The manner of the murder is known, and Hamlet is commissioned to revenge the most foul and unnatural crime. Henceforth he is a new man; the pleasures of life pall on his taste, and the objects that have occupied his attention have been changed, as by the touch of magic, into the veriest baubles. His deep spirit has been stirred within him, and one great passion controls and masters every thought. His mind is unnaturally active, but his purposes are weak, and dispose him to meditation. He believes, and yet be doubts, and so devises a scheme to catch the conscience of the king, and assure himself that he is not beguiled by the devil; for he is still uncertain about the character of the fearful and dread apparition. In this state of suspense, everyiting becomes suspicious and questionable. The world is not what it used to be. Hamk: contemplates suicide, and runs over in his mind the prospects of a future life, the sleep of death, the dread of something after death, the clouds and darkness thai hang over the undiscovered future; be then glances at the evils of the present life, multiplies them, and magnifies "The scorns of time The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's cotumely, The pangs of despised love, the laws delay, By-and-by in his interview with his m ther, he undertakes to speak to her of br crimes, grows warm with the theme, u words of burning sarcasm, bitter hare! terrible and scathing rebuke. When in 1*very height of his passion and fiery dess ation, his father's ghost again appears charging him, "Do not forget. This visitation Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose The mother observes his manner as he From such a life he is suddenly aroused to new thoughts. The death of his father was not natural-there was a strangeness about the circumstances, a solemn show of grief, a haste to close over the grave, and a grasping of the crown that threw a shadow and a doubt over him that wore it. There are no witnesses to the deed-tens to the strange visitor, and quest the act was done in silence. No eye saw him, that he bends his eye on vacancy it, and no tongue has spoken of it. But holds discourse with the incorpore! it was a bloody deed, and cries for ven- and calls his vision, the very coinage a geance. The ghost of the murdered man brain, an ecstasy. To this he indign cannot rest in his grave, but wakes to walk replies: the earth at night, and whisper of the foul treason; how he was cut off in the blossom of his sin, and sent to his account with all his imperfections on his head, Unhousel'd, disappointed, unaneled.” "Ecstasy! My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep And makes as healthful music. It is et s ness That I have uttered: bring me to the test And I the matter will reword, which mad |