Mrs Peixada. Harland Henry

completed her nineteenth year.”

      “Now, doctor, was the condition of Mrs. Peixada’s health, at the time your treatment was discontinued, such as to predispose her to insanity?” (Question objected to, on the ground that the witness had not been produced as an expert, and that his competence to give expert testimony was not established. Objection overruled.)

      “In my opinion,” said Dr. Jetz, “at the time I last saw her professionally, Mrs. Peixada was in an exceedingly critical condition. Although evincing no symptoms of insanity proper, her brain was highly irritated, and her whole nervous system deranged; so that an additional strain of any kind put upon her, might easily have precipitated acute mania. I told her father that she was in no wise fit to get married; but he chose to disregard my advice. I think I may answer your question affirmatively, and say that her health was such as to predispose her to insanity.”

      By the district attorney: “Doctor, are your sentiments—your personal sentiments—for the prisoner of a friendly or an unfriendly nature?”

      “Decidedly, sir, of a friendly nature.”

      “You would be sorry to see her hanged?”

      The doctor replied by a gesture.

      “Or sent to State Prison?”

      “I could not bear to think of it.”

      “You would do your utmost—would you not?—to save her from such a fate?”

      “Eagerly, sir, eagerly.”

      “That’s sufficient, doctor.”

      An alienist of some distinction followed Dr. Jetz. He said that he had listened attentively to the evidence so far adduced in court, had read the depositions taken before the magistrate and the coroner, had conferred at length with the preceding witness, and finally had made a diagnosis of Mrs. Peixada’s case in her cell at the Tombs. He believed that, though perfectly sane and responsible at present, she had “within a brief period suffered from a disturbance of cerebral function.” There were “indications which led him to infer that at the time of the homicide she was organically a lunatic.” The district-attorney took him in hand.

      “Doctor, are you the author of a work entitled, ’Pathology of Mind Popularly Expounded’—published, as I see by the title page, in 1873?”

      “I am, sir, yes.”

      “Does that book express with tolerable accuracy your views on the subject of insanity?’

      “It does—certainly.”

      “Very well. Now, doctor, I will read aloud from Chapter III., page 75. Be good enough to follow.—‘It is then a fact that there exists a borderland between pronounced dementia, or mania, and sound mental health, in which it is impossible to apply the terms, sane and insane, with any approach to scientific nicety. Nor is it to be disputed that a person may have entered this borderland may have departed from the realm of unimpaired intelligence, and not yet have attained the pandemonium of complete madness—and withal, retain the faculty of distinguishing between right and wrong, together with the control of will necessary to the selection and employment of either. This borderland is a sort of twilight region in which, though blurred in outline, objects have not become invisible. Crimes committed by subject? in the state thus described, can not philosophically be extenuated on the ground of mental aberration.’—I suppose, doctor, you acknowledge the authorship of this passage?”

      “Yes, sir.”

      “And subscribe to its correctness?”

      “It expresses the opinion which prevails among the authorities.”

      “Well and good. Now, to return to the case at bar, are you willing to swear that on the night of July 30th, the ’disturbance of cerebral function’ which, you have told us, Mrs. Peixada was perhaps suffering from—are you willing to swear that it had progressed beyond this borderland which you have so clearly elucidated in your book?”

      “I am not willing to swear positively. It is my opinion that it had.”

      “You are not willing to swear positively. Then, you are not willing to swear positively, I take it, that Mrs. Peixada’s crime did not belong to that category which ’can not philosophically be extenuated on the ground of mental aberration?’.rdquo;

      “Not positively—no, sir.”

      “It is your opinion?”

      “It is my opinion.”

      “How firm?”

      “Very firm.”

      “So firm, doctor, that if you were on this jury, you would feel bound, under any and all circumstances, to acquit the prisoner?”

      “So firm that I should feel bound to acquit her, unless evidence of a highly damaging character was forthcoming.”

      “Well, suppose that evidence of a highly damaging character was forthcoming, would you convict?”

      “I might.”

      “Thanks, doctor. You can go.”

      Having thus sought to prove the prisoner’s irresponsibility, the defense endeavored to establish her fair name. Half-a-dozen ladies and two or three gentleman attested that they had known her for many years, and had always found her to be of a peculiarly sweet and gentle temperament. Not one of them would believe her capable of an act of violence, unless, at the time of committing it, she was out of her right mind. As the last of these persons left the stand, Mr. Sondheim said, “Your honor, our case is in.”

      “And a pretty lame case it is,” commented the district-attorney. “I beg leave to remind the court that it is Friday, and to move for an adjournment until Monday, in order that the People may have an opportunity to produce witnesses in rebuttal.” The motion was granted.

      On Monday a second alienist, one whose renown quite equaled that of the first, declared it as his opinion, based upon a personal examination of the accused, that she was not and never had been in the slightest degree insane.

      “Is Dr. Julius Gunther in court?” called out the district-attorney.

      Dr. Gunther elbowed his way to the front, and was sworn.

      “Dr. Gunther,” the prosecutor inquired, “you are a physician in general practice—yes?”

      “Yes, sir, I am.”

      “You were also, I believe, up to the time of his death, physician to the family of Mr. Bernard Peixada?”

      The doctor nodded affirmatively.

      “Did you ever attend the decedent’s wife—Mrs. Peixada—this woman here—the prisoner at the bar?”

      “On the 20th of July last I began to treat her for a sprained ankle. I called on her every day or two, up to the 30th.”

      “You were treating her for a sprained ankle. Did you make any observation of her general health?”

      “Naturally.”

      “And you found it?”

      “Excellent.”

      “How about her mental faculties? Any symptoms of derangement?”

      “Not one. I have seldom known a smarter woman. She had an exceptionally well-balanced mind.”

      “That’ll do, doctor,” said the district-attorney. To the other side, “Want to cross-examine?”

      “Is a well-balanced mind, doctor,” asked Mr. Sondheim, “proof positive of sanity? Is it not possible for one to be perfectly rational on ordinary topics, and yet liable to attacks of mama when irritated by some special circumstances?”

      “Oh, speaking broadly, I suppose so. But in this particular instance, no. That woman is no more crazy than you are.”