passions and emotions, be answered in the affirm ative, then said evidence was legal. If the scien tific answer be in the negative, then such evidence is illegal, and the judgment must be reversed. To answer said question intelligently and scientifically, all that is or can be known of the intellect, the passions and emotions of man must be put in requisition. If the answer to such question be not a universal affirmative, then defendant might be an exception, and the evidence would then be illegal. The record of man proves, the conscious ness of man convinces, the experience of all men demonstrates, each known classical writer upon this subject corroborates and verifies, this universal axiom, — that the deepest anguish, the most pro found and life-consuming grief, the blackest de spair, do not manifest themselves in tears. The fiery furnace of grief consumes the foundation of tears. He who suffers most discloses his agony least. The strongest natures, the most noble of earth's creatures, control their emotions, nor mani fest to human eye one sign of the mental agony preying upon their vitals. Prometheus, chained to the rock, with the vulture gnawing at his vitals, did not utter a cry nor shed a tear. Only the weak manifest the sorrow which they are unable to endure, by the tears which they are unable to restrain. A true man, conscious of his innocence, overwhelmed by a dark ocean of affliction, crushed beneath a volcano of suspicion, burned to the quick, through every life-strung nerve and organ of the brain by grief, agony, and fell despair, as was poor Greenfield on that awful day, was never known to shed a tear. The world's history of human mis fortunes and agony verifies this assertion. The weak may weep at the loss of a bauble; the strong shed not a tear though whelmed in a fathom less ocean of irrepressible (inexpressible?) grief and unutterable despair. Such was the awful fate of the defendant, the most unfortunate of men, upon that fatal day. 'He must die, if such evi dence be legal, because the awful circumstances, the laws of his own nature, the laws of the emo tions, and the laws of the Eternal Ruler of the universe, and the black demon of despair gnawing at his vitals, rendered it impossible that he, during the first crisis of his terrible agony, should find relief in tears. * Such is not the divine, and such is not the human law."
The evidence was held admissible; but Miller, J., observed: —
"Innocent persons, appalled by the enormity of a charge of crime, will sometimes exhibit great weakness and terror, and those who have been crushed with the weight of a great sorrow will manifest the greatest composure and serenity in their grief, and meet it without the shedding of a tear."
It is probable that the jury laid more stress on Greenfield's reply to a witness, who said it was a sad affair that occurred at his house, " Yes, I had a load of oats stolen." In People v. Gonzalez, 35 N. Y. 49, evi dence was allowed that when the accused was confronted with the body of the man whom he was accused of having murdered, he " started." This was objected to because it was " like the rule applied to witches in the olden time." In a recent case in the Court of Appeals of Kentucky, on appeal from a conviction of murder, it was held proper to show that the accused, two hours after the murder, wiped some blood off the body, smelled it, and then gave his finger a jerk to throw the blood off. The court said : " If the appellant had gotten on his knees, and bellowed over the corpse like a bull, it would have been proper to go to the jury, as showing the condition of his mind." I have for a long time believed this kind of evidence very unsafe, and that if admitted, it should be accompanied by a clear warning from the judge of its incon clusive character. It might well be argued that the omission to show grief should tend to give an impression of innocence, for a cun ning wrong-doer would be apt to feign grief. According to my observation, the waters of deep grief run still. Men who are easily moved by the fictitious sorrow of literature and the stage will sometimes assume strange composure when overtaken by great personal sorrow. On the other hand, the widower who knocks his head against the wall, avows that his heart is in the grave, and makes himself a nuisance to his friends by dwelling on his "dear, lost, sainted Maria," is quite apt to marry again instantly after the lapse of the conventional year, and sometimes sooner.
