On the other hand, if the word "wrong" is judicially interpreted, it would seem to be given an elasticity which would invite inevitable confusion as well as abuse.

Moreover, the test in question takes no cognizance of persons who have no power of control. The law of New York and most of the states does not recognize "irresistible impulses," but it should admit the medical fact that there are persons who, through no fault of their own, are born practically without any inhibitory capacity whatever, and that there are others whose control has been so weakened, through accident or disease, as to render them morally irresponsible,—the so-called psychopathic inferiors.

Most of us are only too familiar with the state of a person just falling under the influence of an anesthetic, when all the senses seem supernaturally acute, the reasoning powers are active and unimpaired, and the patient is convinced that he can do as he wills, whereas, in reality, he says and does things which later on seem impossible in their absurdity. Such a condition is equally possible to the victim of mental disease, where the knowledge of right and wrong has no real relevancy.

The test of irresponsibility as defined by law is hopelessly inadequate, judged by present medical knowledge. There is no longer any pretence that a perception of the nature and quality of an act or that it is wrong or right is conclusive of the actual insanity of a particular accused. In a recent murder case a distinguished alienist, testifying for the prosecution, admitted that over seventy per cent. of the patients under his treatment, all of whom he regarded as insane and irresponsible, knew what they were doing and could distinguish right from wrong.

Countless attempts have been made to reconcile this obvious anachronism with justice and modern knowledge, but always without success, and courts have wriggled hard in their efforts to make the test adequate to the particular cases which they have been trying, but only with the result of hopelessly confounding the decisions.

But, however it is construed, the test as laid down in 1843 is insufficient in 1908. Medical science has marched on with giant strides, while the law, so far as this subject is concerned, has never progressed at all. It is no longer possible to determine mental responsibility by any such artificial rule as that given by the judges to the Lords in McNaughten's case, and which juries are supposed to apply in the courts of today. I say "supposed," for juries do not apply it, and the reason is simple enough—you cannot expect a juryman of intelligence to follow a doctrine of law which he instinctively feels to be crude and which he knows is arbitrarily applied.

No juryman believes himself capable of successfully analyzing a prisoner's past mental condition, and he is apt to suspect that, however sincere the experts on either side may appear, their opinions may be even less definite than the terms in which they are expressed. The spectacle of an equal number of intellectual-looking gentlemen, all using good English and all wearing clean linen, reaching diametrically opposite conclusions on precisely the same facts, is calculated to fill the well-intentioned juror with distrust. Painful as it is to record the fact, juries are sometimes almost as sceptical in regard to doctors as they always are in regard to lawyers.

The usual effect of the expert testimony on one side is to neutralize that on the other, for there is no practical way for the jury to distinguish between experts, since the foolish ones generally look as learned as the wise ones. The result is hopeless confusion on the part of the juryman, an inclination to "throw it all out," and a resort to other testimony to help him out of his difficulty. Of course he has no individual way of telling whether the defendant "knew right from wrong," whatever that may mean, and so the ultimate test that he applies is apt to be whether or not the defendant is really "queer," "nutty" or "bughouse," or some other equally intelligible equivalent far "medically insane."

The unfortunate consequence is that there is so general and growing a scepticism about the plea of insanity, entirely apart from its actual merits, that it is difficult in ordinary cases, whatever the jurors may think or say in regard to the matter, to secure twelve men who will give the defence fair consideration at the outset.

This is manifest in frequent expressions from talesmen such as: "I think the defence of insanity is played out," or "I believe everybody is a little insane, anyhow" (very popular and regarded by jurymen as witty), or "Well, I have an idea that when a fellow can't cook up any other defence he claims to be insane."