The pulpit of Illinois almost universally condemns the outrage, as a crime against humanity and human rights. But fidelity to the truth requires me to say that there are some exceptions. The only open defenders I ever heard for Mr. Packard, came from the Church influence, and the pulpit. Among all the ministers I have conversed with on this subject, I have found only two ministers who uphold his course. One Presbyterian minister told me, he thought Mr. Packard had done right in treating me as he had; “you have no right,” said he, “to cherish opinions which he does not approve, and he did right in putting you in an Asylum for it. I would treat my wife just so, if she did so!” The name and residence of this minister I could give if I chose, but I forbear to do so, lest I expose him unnecessarily.
The other clergyman was a Baptist minister. “I uphold Mr. Packard in what he has done, and I would help him in putting you in again should he attempt it.” The name and place of this minister I shall withold unless self-defence requires the exposure.
When I have added one or two more church members to those two just named, it includes the whole number I ever heard defend, in my presence, Mr. Packard’s course. Still, I have no doubt but that these four represent a minority in Illinois, who are governed by the same popish principles of bigotry and intolerance as Mr. Packard is. And I think it may be said of this class, as a Chicago paper did of Mr. Packard, after giving an account of the case, the writer said: “The days of bigotry and oppression are not yet past. If three-fourths of the people of the world were of the belief of Rev. Packard and his witnesses, the other fourth would be burned at the stake.”
The opinion of his own church and community in Manteno, where he preached at the time I was kidnapped, is another class whose verdict the public desire to know also. I will state a few facts, and leave the public to draw their own inferences. When he put me off, his church and people were well united in him, and as a whole, the church not only sustained him in his course, but were active co-conspirators. When I returned, he preached nowhere. He was closeted at his own domicil on the Sabbath, cooking the family dinner, while his children were at church and sabbath school. His society wasalmost entirely broken up. I was told he preached until none would come to hear him; and his deacons gave as their reason for not sustaining him, that the trouble in his family had destroyed his influence in that community. Multitudes of his people who attended my trial, whom I know defended him at the time he kidnapped me, came to me with these voluntary confessions: “Mrs. Packard, I always knew you were not insane.” “I never believed Mr. Packard’s stories.” “I always felt that you was an abused woman,” &c., &c.
These facts indicated some change even in the opinion of his own allies during my absence. As I said, I leave the public to draw their own inferences. I have done my part to give them the premises of facts, to draw them from.
Sixth Question.
“Mrs. Packard, is your husband’s real reason for treating you as he has, merely a difference in your religious belief, or is there not something back of all this? It seems unaccountable to us, that mere bigotry should so annihilate all human feeling.”
This is a question I have never been able hitherto to answer, satisfactorily, either to myself or others; but now I am fully prepared to answer it with satisfaction to myself, at least; that is, facts, stubborn facts, which never before came to my knowledge until my visit home, compel me to feel that my solution of this perplexing question, is now based on the unchangeable truth of facts. For I have read with my own eyes the secret correspondence which he has kept up with my father, for about eight years past, wherein this question is answered by himself, by his own confessions, and in his own words.
And as a very natural prelude to this answer, it seems to me not inappropriate to answer one other question often put to me first, namely: “has he not some other woman in view?”
I can give my opinion now, not only with my usual promptness, but more than my usual confidence that I am correct in my opinion. I say confidently, he hasnotany other woman in view, nor never had; and it was only because I could not fathom tothe causeof this “Great Drama,” that this was ever presented to my own mind, as a question. I believe that if ever there was a man whopracticallybelieved in the monogamy principle of marriage, he is the man. Yes, I believe, with only one degree of faith less than that of knowledge, that the only Bible reason for a divorce never had an existence in our case.
And here, as the subject is now opened, I will take occasion to say, that as I profess to be a Bible woman both in spirit and practice, I cannot conscientiously claim a Bible right to be divorced. I never have had the first cause to doubt his fidelity to me in this respect, and he never has had the first cause to doubt my own to him.
But fidelity to the truth of God’s providential events compel me to give it as my candid opinion, that the only key to the solution of this mysterious problem will yet be found to be concealed in the fact, that Mr. Packard is amonomaniacon the subject of woman’s rights, and that it was the triumph of bigotry over his manliness, which occasioned this public manifestation of this peculiar mental phenomenon. Some of the reasons for this opinion, added to the facts of this dark drama which are already before the public, lie in the following statement.
In looking over the correspondence above referred to, I find the “confidential” part all refers to dates and occasions wherein I can distinctly recollect we had had a warm discussion on the subject of woman’s rights; that is, I had taken occasion from the application of his insane dogma, namely, that “a woman has no rights that a man is bound to respect,” to defend the opposite position of equal rights. I used sometimes to put my argument into a written form, hoping thus to secure for it a more calm and quiet consideration. I never used any other weapons in self-defence, except those paper pellets of the brain. And is not that man a coward who cannot stand before such artillery?
But not to accuse Mr. Packard of cowardice, I will say, that instead of boldly meeting me as his antagonist on the arena of argument and discussion, and there openly defending himself against my knockdown arguments, with his Cudgel of Insanity, I find he closed off such discussions with his secret “confidential” letters to my relatives and dear friends, saying, that he had sad reason to fear his wife’s mind was getting out of order; she was becoming insane on the subject of woman’s rights; “but be sure to keep this fact a profound secret—especially, never let Elizabeth hear thatIever intimated such a thing.”
I presume this is not the first time an opponent in argument has called his conqueror insane, or lost to reason, simply because his logic was too sound for him to grapple with, and the will of the accuser was too obstinate to yield, when conscientiously convinced. But it certainly is more honorable and manly, to accuse him of insanityto hisface, than it is to thussecretlyplot against him an imprisonable offence, without giving him the least chance at self-defence.
Again, I visited Hon. Gerrit Smith, of Peterborough, New York, about three years before this secret plot culminated, to get light on this subject of woman’s rights, as I had great confidence in the deductions of his noble, capacious mind; and here I found my positions were each, and all, indorsed most fully by him. Said he, “Mrs. Packard, it is high time that youassert your rights, there is no other way for you to live a Christian life with such a man.” And, as I left, while he held my hand in his, he remarked, “You may give my love to Mr. Packard, and say to him, if he is as developed a man as I consider his wife to be a woman, I should esteem it an honor to form his acquaintance.” So it appears that Mr. Smith did not consider my views on this subject as in conflict either with reason or common sense.
Again, his physician, Dr. Fordice Rice, of Cazenovia, New York, to whom I opened my whole mind on this subject, said to me in conclusion—“I can unravel the whole secret of your family trouble. Mr. Packard is a monomaniac on the treatment of woman. I don’t see how you have ever lived with so unreasonable a man.”
I replied, “Doctor, I can live with any man—for I will never quarrel with any one, especially a man, and much less with my husband. I can respect Mr. Packard enough, notwithstanding, to do him good all the days of my life, and no evil do I desire to do him; and moreover, I would not exchange him for any man I know of, even if I could do so, simply by turning over my hand; for I believe he is just the man God appointed from all eternity to be my husband. Therefore, I am content with my appointed portion and lot of conjugal happiness.”
Again. It was only about four years before I was kidnapped, that Mr. O. S. Fowler, the great Phrenologist, examined his head, and expressed his opinion of his mental condition in nearly these words. “Mr. Packard, you are losing your mind—your faculties are all dwindling—your mind is fast running out—in a few years you will not even know your own name, unless your tread-mill habits are broken up. Your mind now is only working like an old worn out horse in a tread mill.”
Thus our differences of opinion can be accounted for on scientific principles. Here we see his sluggish, conservative temperament, rejecting light, which costs any effort to obtain or use—clinging,serf-like, to the old paths, as with a death grasp; while my active, radical temperament, calls for light, to bear me onward and upward, never satisfied until all available means are faithfully used to reach a more progressive state. Now comes the question. Is activity and progression in knowledge and intelligence, an indication of a sane, natural condition, or is it an unnatural, insane indication? And is a stagnant, torpid, and retrogressive state of mentality, a natural or an unnatural condition—a sane, or an insane state?
In our mental states we simply grew apart, instead of together. He was dwindling, dying; I was living, growing, expanding. And this natural development of intellectual power in me, seemed to arouse this morbid feeling of jealousy towards me, lest I outshine him. That is, it stimulated his monomania into exercise, by determining to annihilate or crush the victim in whose mental and moral magnetism he felt so uneasy and dissatisfied with himself. While, at the same time, the influence of my animal magnetism, was never unpleasant to him; but, on the contrary, highly gratifying. Yea, I have every reason to believe he ever regarded me as a model wife, and model mother, and housekeeper. He often made this remark to me: “I never knew a woman whom I think could equal you in womanly virtues.”
Again. While on this recruiting tour, I made it my home for several weeks at Mr. David Field’s, who married my adopted sister, then living in Lyons, New York. I made his wife my confidant of my family trials, to a fuller degree than I ever had to any other human being, little dreaming or suspecting that she was noting my every word and act, to detect if possible, some insane manifestations. But, to her surprise, eleven weeks observation failed to develop the first indication of insanity. The reason she was thus on the alert, was, that my arrival was preceded by a letter from Mr. Packard, saying his wife was insane, and urged her to regard all my representations of family matters as insane statements. Then he added, “Now, Mrs. Field, I must require of you one thing, and that is, that you burn this letter as soon as you have read it; don’t even let your husband see it at all, or know that you have had a letter from me, and by all means, keep this whole subject a profound secret from Elizabeth.”
My sister, true to Mr. Packard’s wishes, burned this letter, and buried the subject entirely in oblivion. But when she heard that I was incarcerated in an Asylum, then, in view of all she did know, and in view of what she did not know, she deeply suspected therewas foul play in the transaction, and felt it to be her duty to tell her husband all she knew. He fully indorsed her suspicions, and they both undertook a defence for me, when she received a most insulting and abusive letter from Mr. Packard, wherein he, in the most despotic manner, tried to browbeat her into silence. Many tears did this devoted sister shed in secret over this letter and my sad fate—as this letter revealed Mr. Packard’s true character to her in an unmasked state. “O, how could that dear, kind woman live with such a man!” was her constant thought.
Nerved and strengthened by her husband’s advice, she determined to visit me in the Asylum, and, if possible, obtain a personal interview. She did so. She was admitted to my room. There she gave me the first tidings I ever heard of that letter. While at the Asylum, my attendants, amongst others, asked her this question: “Mrs. Field, can you tell us why such a lady as Mrs. Packard, is shut up in this Asylum; we have never seen the least exhibition of insanity in her; and one in particular said, I saw her the first day she was entered, and she was then just the same quiet, perfect lady, you see her to be to day—now do tell us why she is here?”
Her reply I will not give, since her aggravated and indignant feelings prompted her to clothe it in very strong language against Mr. Packard, indicating that he ought to be treated as a criminal, who deserved capital punishment. In my opinion, sister would have come nearer the truth, had she said he ought to be treated just as he is treating his wife—as a monomaniac.
And I hope I shall be pardoned, if I give utterance to brother’s indignant feelings, in his own words, for the language, although strong, does not conflict with Christ’s teachings or example. Among the pile of letters above alluded to, which Mr. Packard left accidentally in my room, was one from this Mr. Field, which seemed to be an answer to one Mr. Packard wrote him, wherein it seemed he had been calling Mr. Field to account for having heard that he had called him a “devil,” and demanded of him satisfaction, if he had done so; for Mr. Field makes reply: “I do believe men are possessed with devils now a days, as much as they were in Christ’s days, and I believe too that some are not only possessed with one devil, but even seven devils, and I believeyou are the man!” I never heard of his denying the charge as due Mr. Field afterwards!
From my own observations in an insane asylum, I am fully satisfiedthat Mr. Field is correct in his premises, and I must also allow that he has a right of opinion in its application.
Looking from these various stand-points, it seems to me self-evident, that this Great Drama is a woman’s rights struggle. From the commencement to its present stage of development, this one insane idea seems to be the backbone of the rebellion: A married woman has no rights which her husband is bound to respect.
While he simply defended his insane dogma as anopiniononly, no one had the least right to call him a monomaniac; but when this insane idea became apracticalone, then, and only till then, had we any right to call him an insane person. Now, if the course he has taken with me is not insanity—that is, an unreasonable course, I ask, what is insanity?
Now let this great practical truth be for one moment considered, namely, All that renders an earth-life desirable—all the inalienable rights and privileges of one developed, moral, and accountable, sensitive being, lie wholly suspended on the arbitrary will of this intolerant man, or monomaniac. No law, no friend, no logic, can defend me in the least,legally, from this despotic, cruel power; for the heart which controls this will has become, as it respects his treatment of me, “without understanding, a covenant breaker, without natural affection, implacable, unmerciful.”
And let another truth also be borne in mind, namely, that this one man stands now as a fit representative of all that class in society, and God grant it may be found to be a very small class! who claim that the subjection of the wife, instead of the protection of the wife, is the true law of marriage. This marriage law of subjection has now culminated, so that it has become a demonstrated fact, that its track lies wholly in the direction of usurpation; and therefore this track, on which so many devoted, true women, have taken a through or life ticket upon, is one which the American government ought to guard and protect by legal enactments; so that such a drama as mine cannot be again legally tolerated under the flag of our protective government. God grant, that this one mute appeal ofstubborn fact, may be sufficient to nerve up the woman protectors of our manly government, to guard us, in some manner, against woman’s greatest foe—the women subjectors of society.
It may be proper here to add the result of this recruiting tour. After being absent eleven weeks from my home, and this being thefirst time I had left my husband during all my married life, longer than for one week’s time, I returned to my home, to receive as cordial and as loving a welcome as any wife could desire. Indeed, it seemed to me, that the home of my husband’s heart had become “empty, swept, and garnished,” during my absence, and that the foul spirits of usurpation had left this citadel, as I fondly hoped, forever. Indeed, I felt that I had good reason to hope, that my logic had been calmly and impassionately digested and indorsed, during my absence, so that now this merely practical recognition of my womanly rights, almost instantly moved my forgiving heart, not only to extend to him, unasked, my full and free forgiveness for the past, but all this abuse seemed to be seeking to find its proper place in the grave of forgetful oblivion.
This radical transformation in the bearing of my husband towards me, allowing me not only the rights and privileges of a junior partner in the family firm, but also such a liberal portion of manly expressed love and sympathy, as caused my susceptible, sensitive, heart of affection fairly to leap for joy. Indeed, I could now say, what I could never say in truth before, I am happy in my husband’s love—happy in simply being treated as a true woman deserves to be treated—with love and confidence. All the noblest, purest, sensibilities of woman’s sympathetic nature find in this, her native element, room for full expansion and growth, by stimulating them into a natural, healthful exercise. It is one of the truths of God’s providential events, that the three last years of married life were by far the happiest I ever spent with Mr. Packard.
So open and bold was I in this avowal, during these three happy years, that my correspondence of those days is radiant with this truth. And it was not three months, and perhaps not even two months, previous to my being kidnapped, that I made a verbal declaration of this fact, in Mr. Packard’s presence, to Deacon Dole, his sister’s husband, in these words. The interests of the Bible class had been our topic of conversation, when I had occasion to make this remark: “Brother,” said I, “don’t you think Mr. Packard is remarkably tolerant to me these days, in allowing me to bring my radical views before your class? And don’t you think he is changing as fast as we can expect, considering his conservative organization? We cannot, of course, expect him to keep up with my radical temperament. I think we shall make a man of him yet!”
Mr. Packard laughed outright, and replied, “Well, wife, I am gladyou have got so good an opinion of me. I hope I shall not disappoint your expectations!”
But, alas! where is he now? O, the dreadful demon of bigotry, was allowed to enter and take possession of this once garnished house, through the entreaties, and persuasions, and threats, of his Deacon Smith, and his perverted sister, Mrs. Dole. These two spirits united, were stronger than his own, and they overcame him, and took from him all his manly armor, so that the demon he let in, “brought with him seven other spirits more wicked than himself, and they enter in and dwell there,” still; so that I sadly fear “the last state of that man will be worse than the first.”
I saw and felt the danger of the vortex into which his sister and deacon were dragging him, and I tried to save him, with all the logic of love, and pure devotion to his highest and best interests; but all in vain. Never shall I forget this fatal crisis. When, just three weeks before he kidnapped me, I sat alone with him in his study, and while upon his lap, with my arms encircling his neck, and my briny cheek pressed against his own, I begged of him to be my protector, in these words: “O, husband! don’t yield to their entreaties! Do be true to your marriage vow—true to yourself—true to God. Instead of taking the side of bigotry, and going against your wife, do just protect to me my right of opinion, which this deacon and sister seem determined to wrest from me. Just say to the class, “My wife has as good a right to her opinion as the class have to theirs—and I shallprotecther in this right—you need not believe her opinions unless you choose; but she shall have her rights of opinion, unmolested, for I shall be my wife’s protector.” I added, “Then, husband, you will be aman. You will deserve honor, and you will be sure to have it; but if you become my persecutor, you will become a traitor to your manliness; you will deserve dishonor, and you will surely get it in full measure.”
My earnestness he construed into anger. He thrust me from him. He determined, at all hazard, to subject my rights of opinion to his will, instead of protecting them by his manliness. The plot already laid, eight years previous, now had a rare opportunity to culminate, sure as he was of all needed help in its dreadful execution. In three short weeks I was a State’s prisoner of Illinois Lunatic Asylum, being supported as a State pauper!
From this fatal evening all appeals to his reason and humanity have been worse than fruitless. They have only served to aggravatehis maddened feelings, and goad him on to greater deeds of desperation. Like Nebuchadnezzar, his reason is taken from him, on this one subject; and unrestrained, maddened, resentment fills his depraved soul—his manliness is dead. Is he not a monomaniac?
I find in circulation various false reports and misrepresentations, so slanderous in their bearing upon my character and reputation, and that of my family relatives, that I think they demand a passing notice from me, in summing up this brief record of events.
First Report.
“Mrs. Packard’s mother was an insane woman, and several of her relatives have been insane; and, therefore, Mrs. Packard’s insanity is hereditary, consequently, she is hopelessly insane.”
This base and most cruel slander originated from Mr. Packard’s own heart; was echoed before the eyes of the public, by Dr. McFarland, Superintendent of the Insane Asylum, through the Chicago Tribune, in a letter which he wrote to the Tribune in self-defence, after my trial. The verdict of the jury virtually impeached Dr. McFarland as an accomplice in this foul drama, and as one who had prostituted his high public trust, in a most notorious manner. This presentation of him and his institution before the public, seemed to provoke this letter, as a vindication of his course. And the most prominent part of this defence seemed to depend upon his making the people believe that the opinion of the jury was not correct, in pronouncing me sane. And he used this slander as the backbone of his argument, to prove that I was hopelessly insane, there having been no change either for the better or worse, while under his care, and that I left the institution just as I entered it, incurably insane.
I think I cannot answer this slander more summarily and concisely, than by quoting, verbatim, Mr. Stephen R. Moore’s, my attorney, reply to this letter, as it was published at the time in the public papers.
MR. MOORE’S REPLY TO DR. MCFARLAND’S SLANDER.
“Your letter starts out with a statement of an error, which I believe, to be wholly unintentional, and results from placing too much confidence in the statements of your friend, Rev. Theophilus Packard.You say, “Mrs. P., as one of the results of a strongly inherited predisposition, (her mother having been for a long period of her life insane,) had an attack of insanity previous to her marriage.” Such arenotthe facts. Neither the mother, nor any blood relations of Mrs. Packard, were ever suspected or charged with being insane. And it is a slander of one of the best and most pious mothers of New England, and her ancestry, to charge her and them with insanity; and could have emanated only from the heart of the pious ——, who would incarcerate the companion of his bosom for three years, with gibbering idiots and raving maniacs.
“Nor had Mrs. Packard an attack of insanity before her marriage. The pious Packard has fabricated this story to order, from the circumstance, that when a young lady, Mrs. Packard had a severe attack of brain fever, and under which fever she was for a time delirious, and no further, has this a semblance of truth.”
This is the simple truth, which all my relatives are ready, and many of them very anxious to certify to; but the limits of this pamphlet will not admit any more space in answer to this slander.
Second Report.
“Mrs. Packard is very adroit in concealing her insanity.”
This report originated from the same source, and I will answer it in the words of the same writer, as found in his printed reply: “You say, ‘Mrs. Packard is very adroit in concealing her insanity.’ She has indeed been most adroit in this concealment, when her family physician of seven year’s acquaintance, and all her friends and neighbors, with whom she visited daily, and her children, and the domestics, and lastly, the court and jury had not, and could not, discover any traces of insanity; and the only persons who say they find her insane, were Dr. McFarland, your pious friend Rev. Packard, his sister, and her husband, one deacon of the church, and a fascinating young convert—all members of his church—and a doctor. These witnesses each and every one swore upon the stand, “That it was evidence of insanity in Mrs. Packard, because she wished to leave the Presbyterian church, and join the Methodist.” I quote the reasons given by these “Lambs of the Church,” that you may know what weight their opinions are entitled to. The physician, upon whose certificate you say you held Mrs. Packard, swore upon the trial, that three-fourths of the religious community were just as insane as Mrs. Packard.”
Third Report.
“All her family friends, almost without exception, sustain Mr. Packard in his course.”
Not one of my family friends everintelligentlysustained Mr. Packard in his course. But they did sustain him ignorantly and undesignedly, for a time, while his tissue of lies held them back from investigating the merits of the case for themselves. But as soon as they did know, they became my firm friends and defenders, and Mr. Packard’s private foes and public adversaries. I do not mean by this, that they manifest any revengeful feelings towards him, but simply a God-like resentment of his inhuman course towards me. All my relatives, without exception, who have heard my own statement from my own lips, now unite in this one opinion, that Mr. Packard has had no right nor occasion for putting me into an insane asylum.
But fidelity to the truth requires me to say in this connection, that among my family relatives, are three families of Congregational ministers—that each of these families have refused me any hearing, so that they are still in league with, and defenders of, Mr. Packard. All I have to say for them is, “May the Lord forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
But it may be urged that the published certificates of her friends contradict this statement. This is not the case. Those certificates which have appeared in print since my return to my friends, all bear date to the time they were given previous to my return.
And in this connection I feel conscientiously bound, in defence of my kindred, to say, that some of these certificates are mere forgeries in its strict sense; that is, they were drafted by Mr. Packard, himself, and most adroitly urged upon the individual whose signature he desired to obtain, and thus his logic, being based in a falsehood, which was used as a truth, and received as such, they are thus made to certify to what was not the real truth. My minor children’s certificates are the mere echoes of their father’s will and dictation. He has tried to buy the signatures of my two oldest sons, now of age, in Chicago, by offering them some of his abundant surplus clothing, from his missionary boxes, if they would only certify that their mother was insane. But these noble sons have too much moral rectitude to sell their consciences for clothes or gold. Instead of being abettors in their father’s crimes, they have, and do still, maintain a mostfirm stand in defence of me. And for this manly act of filial piety towards me, their father has disinherited both of them, as he has me, from our family rights.
Another thing, it is no new business for Mr. Packard to practice forgery. This assertion I can prove by his own confession. Not long before I was exiled from my home, he said to me one day, “I have just signed a note, which, if brought against me in law, would place me in a penitentiary; but I think I am safe, as I have fixed it.” Again, Mr. Packard sent a great many forged letters to the Superintendent of the Asylum, while I was there, professing to come from a different source, wherein the writer urged, very strongly, the necessity of keeping me in an asylum, and begging him, most pathetically, tokeep me there, not only for Mr. Packard’s sake, but also for his children’s sake, and community’s sake, and, lastly, for the cause of Christ’s sake! Dr. McFarland used to come to me for an explanation of this singular phenomenon. I would promptly tell him the letters are a forgery—the very face of them so speaks—for who would think of a minister in Ohio writing, self-moved, to a Superintendent in Illinois, begging of him to keep another man’s wife in his Asylum! Either these letters were exact copies of Mr. Packard’s, with the exception of the signature, or, they were entirely drafted from Mr. Packard’s statement, and made so as to be an echo of Mr. Packard’s wishes, but seeming to be a self-moved act of the writer’s own mind and wishes.
O, how fruitful is a depraved heart in devising lies, and masking them with the semblance of truth! and how many lies it takes to defend one! The lie he was thus trying to defend was, that I was insane, when I was not, and all this gigantic frame work of certificates and testimony became necessary as props to sustain it.
I now give the testimony of my lawyer, who, after witnessing the revelations of the court room, thus alludes to this subject in his reply to Dr. McFarland’s letter. “The certificates produced, fully attesting her insanity, before she was admitted, I suspect were forgeries of the pious Packard, altered to suit the occasion, and your too generous disposition to rely upon the statements made to you, was taken advantage of again, and they were imposed upon you, without the critical examination their importance demanded.”
Fourth Report.
“Mrs. Packard is alienated from her kindred, and even her own father and husband.”
I will confess I am alienated fromsuchmanifestations of love as they showed me while in the Asylum; that is, from none at all. Not one, except my adopted sister, and my two sons at Chicago, ever made an attempt to visit me, or even wrote me scarcely one line. I do say, this was rather cold sympathy for one passing through such scenes as I was called to pass through. This fact was not only an enigma to myself, but it was so to all my Asylum friends, and even to the Doctor himself, if I can believe his own words. He would often say to me, “Mrs. Packard, who are your friends? have you any in the wide world? If so, why do they not look after you?”
I used at first to say, I have many friends, and no enemies, except Mr. Packard, that I know of in the whole world. All my relatives love me tenderly. But after watching in vain for three years of prison life for them to show me some proof of it, I changed my song, and owned up, I had no friends worth the name; for my adversity had tried or tested their love, and it had all been found wanting—entirely wanting. So it looked to me fromthatstand point. And I still insist upon it, this was a sane conclusion. For what is that love worth, that can’t defend its friend in adversity? I say it is not worth the name of love.
But it must be remembered, I saw then only one side of the picture. The other side I could not see until I saw my friends, and looked fromtheirstandpoint. Then I found that the many letters I had written had never reached them; for Mr. Packard had instructed Dr. McFarland, and had insisted upon it, that not a single letter should be sent to any of my friends, not even my father, or sons, without reading it himself, and then sending it to him to read, before sending it; and so he must do with all the letters sent to me; and the result was, scarcely none were delivered to me, nor were mine sent to my friends. But instead of this, a brisk correspondence was kept up between Dr. McFarland and Mr. Packard, who both agreed in representing me as very insane; so much so, that my good demanded that I be kept entirely aloof from their sympathy. I have seen and read these letters, and now, instead of blaming my friends for regarding me as insane, I don’t see how they could have come to any other conclusion. Fromtheirstandpoint, they acted judiciously, and kindly.
They were anxious to aid the afflicted minister to the extent they could, in restoring reason to his poor afflicted, maniac wife, and they thought the Superintendent understood his business, and with him, and her kind husband to superintend, they considered I must be well cared for.
And again, how could they imagine, that a man would wish to have the reputation of having an insane wife, when he had not? And could the good and kind Mr. Packard neglect even his poor afflicted wife? No, she must be in good hands, under the best of care, and it is her husband on whom we must lavish our warmest, tenderest, sympathies! Yes, so it was; Mr. Packard managed so as to get all the sympathy, and his wife none at all. He got all the money, and she not a cent. He got abundant tokens of regard, and she none at all. In short, he had buried me in a living tomb, with his own hands, and he meant there should be no resurrection. And the statement that I was alienated from my friends when I was entered, is utterlyfalse. No one ever loved their kindred or friends with a warmer or a purer love than I ever loved mine.
Neither was I alienated even from Mr. Packard, when he entered me. As proof of this, I will describe my feelings as indicated by my conduct, at the time he forced me from my dear ones at home. After the physicians had examined me as described in my Introduction, and Mr. Packard had ordered me to dress for a ride to the Asylum, I asked the privilege of having my room vacated, so that I might bathe myself, as usual, before dressing; intending myself to then secure about my person,secretly, my Bible-class documents, as all that I had said in defence of my opinions was in writing, never having trusted myself to an extemporaneous discussion of my new ideas, lest I be misrepresented. And I then felt that these documents, alone, were my onlydefence, being denied all and every form of justice, by any trial. I therefore resorted to this innocent stratagem, as it seemed to me, to secure them; that is, I did not tell Mr. Packard that I had any other reason for being left alone in my room than the one I gave him.
But he refused me this request, giving as his only reason, that he did not think it best to leave me alone. He doubtless had the same documents in view, intending thus to keep me from getting them, for he ordered Miss Rumsey to be my lady’s maid, as a spy upon my actions. I dared not attempt to get them with her eye upon me, lest she take them from me, or report me to Mr. Packard, as directed byhim so to do, as I believed. I resolved upon one more stratagem as my last and only hope, and this was, to ask to be left alone long enough to pray in my own room once more, before being forced from it into my prison. When, therefore, I was all dressed, ready to be kidnapped, I asked to see my dear little ones, to bestow upon them my parting kiss. But was denied this favor also!
“Then,” said I, “can I bear such trials as these without God’s help? And is not this help given us in answer to our own prayers? May I not be allowed, husband, to ask this favor of Godalonein my room, before being thus exiled from it?”
“No,” said he, “I don’t think it is best to let you be alone in your room.”
“O, husband,” said I, “you have allowed me no chance for my secret devotions this morning, can’t I be allowed this one last request?”
“No; I think it is not best; but you may pray with your door open.”
I then kneeled down in my room, with my bonnet and shawl on, and in the presence and hearing of the sheriff, and the conspiracy I offered up my petition, in an audible voice, wherein I laid my burdens frankly, fully, before my sympathizing Saviour, as I would have done in secret. And this Miss Rumsey reports, that the burden of this prayer was forMr. Packard’s forgiveness. She says, I first told God what a great crime Mr. Packard was committing in treating his wife as he was doing, and what great guilt he was thus treasuring up to himself, by this cruel and unjust treatment of the woman he had sworn before God to protect; and what an awful doom he must surely meet with, under the government of a just God, for these his great sins against me, and so forth; and then added, that if it was possible for God to allow me to bear his punishmentfor him, that he would allow me so to do, if in that way, his soul might be redeemed from the curse which must now rest upon it. In short, the burden of my prayer was, that I might be his redeemer, if my sufferings could in any possible way atone for his sins. Such a petition was, of course looked upon by this conspiracy, as evidence of my insanity, and has been used by them, as such. But I cannot but feel that in God’s sight, it was regarded as an echo of Christ’s dying prayer for his murderers, prompted by the same spirit of gospel forgiveness of enemies. In fact, if I know anything of my own heart, I do know that it then cherished not a single feeling of resentment towards him.But my soul was burdened by a sense of his great guilt, and only desired his pardon and forgiveness.
As another proof of this assertion, I will describe our parting interview at the Asylum. He had stayed two nights at the Asylum, occupying the stately guest chamber and bed alone, while I was being locked up in my narrow cell, on my narrow single bed, with the howling maniacs around for my serenaders. He sat at the sumptuous table of the Superintendent, sharing in all its costly viands and dainties, and entertained by its refined guests, for his company and companions. While I, his companion, ever accustomed to the most polished and best society, was sitting at our long table, furnished with nothing but bread and meat; and my companions, some of them, gibbering maniacs, whose presence and society must be purchased only at the risk of life or physical injury. He could walk about the city at his pleasure, or be escorted in the sumptuous carriage, while I could only circumambulate the Asylum yard, under the vigilant eye of my keeper. O, it did seem, these two days and nights, as though my affectionate heart would break with my over much sorrow. No sweet darling babe to hug to my heart’s embrace—no child arms to encircle my neck and bestow on my cheek its hearty “good night” kiss. No—nothing, nothing, in my surroundings, to cheer and soothe my tempest tossed soul.
In this sorrowful state of mind Mr. Packard found me in my cell, and asked me if I should not like an interview with him, in the parlor, as he was about to leave me soon.
“Yes,” said I, “I should be very glad of one,” and taking his arm, I walked out of the hall. As I passed on, one of the attendants remarked: “See, she is not alienated from her husband, see how kindly she takes his arm!” When we reached the parlor, I seated myself by his side, on the sofa, and gave full vent to my long pent up emotions and feelings.
“O, husband!” said I, “how can you leave me in such a place? It seems as though I cannot bear it. And my darling babe! O, what will become of him! How can he live without his mother! And how can I live without my babe, and my children! O, do, do, I beg of you, take me home. You know I havealwaysbeen a true and loving wife to you, and how can you treat me so?” My entreaties and prayers were accompanied with my tears, which is a very uncommon manifestation with me; and while I talked, I arose from my seat and walked the room, with my handkerchief to my eyes; for it seemedas if my heart would break. Getting no response whatever from him, I took down my hand to see why he did not speak to me when—what did I see! my husband sound asleep, nodding his head!
“O, husband!” said I, “can you sleep while your wife is in such agony?”
Said he, “I can’t keep awake; I have been broke of my rest.”
“I see,” said I, “there is no use in trying to move your feelings, we may as well say our ‘good bye’ now as ever.” And as I bestowed upon him the parting kiss, I said, “May our next meeting be in the spirit land! And if there you find yourself in a sphere of lower development than myself; and you have any desire to rise to a higher plane, remember, there is one spirit in the universe, who will leave any height of enjoyment, and descend to any depth of misery, to raise you to a higher plane of happiness, if it is possible so to do. And that spirit is the spirit of your Elizabeth. Farewell! husband, forever!!”
This is the exact picture. Now see what use he makes of it. In his letter to my father, he says: “She did not like to be left. I pitied her.” (Pitied her! How was his sympathy manifested?) “It was an affecting scene. But she was very mad at me, and tried to wound my feelings every way. She would send no word to the children, and would notpleasantlybid me good bye.” Pleasantly was underlined, to make it appear, that, because I did not pleasantly bid him good bye, under these circumstances, I felt hard towards him, and this was a proof of my alienation, and is as strong a one as it is possible for him to bring in support of his charge.
Let the tender hearted mother draw her own inferences—man cannot know what I then suffered. And may a kind God grant, that no other mother may ever know what I then felt, in her own sad experience!
The truth is, I never was alienated from my husband, until he gave me justcausefor this alienation, and not until he put me into the Asylum, and then it took four long months more, of the most intense spiritual torture, to develop in my loving, forgiving heart, one feeling of hate towards him. As proof of this, I will here insert two letters I wrote him several weeks after my incarceration.
Copy of the Letter.
Jacksonville, July 14th, 1860, Sabbath, P. M.
My Dear Children and Husband:
Your letter of July eleventh arrived yesterday. It was the third I have received from home, and, indeed, is all I have received from any source since I came to the Asylum. And the one you received from me is all I have sent from here. I thank you for writing so often. I shall be happy to answer all letters from you, if you desire it, as I see you do, by your last. I like anything to relieve the monotony of my daily routine. * * *
Dr. McFarland told me, after I had been here one week, “I do not think you will remain but a few days longer.” I suspect he found me an unfit subject, upon a personal acquaintance with me. Still, unfit as I consider myself, to be numbered amongst the insane, I am so numbered at my husband’s request. And for his sake, I must, until my death, carry about with me, “This thorn in the flesh—this messenger of Satan to buffet me,” and probably, to keep me humble, and in my proper place. God grant it may be a sanctified affliction to me! I do try to bear it, uncomplainingly, and submissively. But, O! ’tis hard—’tis very hard. O, may you never know what it is to be numbered with the insane, within the walls of an insane asylum, not knowing as your friends will ever regard you as a fit companion or associate for them again, outside its walls.
O, the bitter, bitter cup, I have been called to drink, even to its very dregs, just because I choose to obey God rather than man! But, as my Saviour said, “the cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?” O, yes, for thy sake, kind Saviour, I rejoice, that I am counted worthy to suffer the loss of all things, for thy sake. And thou hast made me worthy, by thine own free and sovereign grace. Yes, dear Jesus, I believe that I have learned the lesson thou hast thus taught me, that “in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.”
Yes, content, to sit at a table with twenty-four maniacs, three times a day, and eat my bread and meat, and drink my milk and water, while I remember, almost each time, how many vegetables and berries are upon my own dear table at home, and I not allowed to taste, because my husband counts me unworthy, or unfit, or unsafe, to be an inmate at his fireside and table. I eat, and retire, and pray God to keep me from complaining. My fare does not agree with my health,and so I have begged of our kind attendants, to furnish me some poor, shriveled wheat, to keep in my room, to eat raw, to keep my bowels open. This morning, after asking a blessing at the table, I retired to my own room, to eat my raw, hard wheat alone, with my pine-apple to soften it, or rather to moisten it going down. Yes, the berries I toiled so very hard to get for our health and comfort, I only must be deprived of them at my husband’s appointment. The past, O, the sad past! together with the present, and the unknown future. O, let oblivion cover the past—let no record of my wrongs be ever made, for posterity to see, for your sake, my own lawful husband.
O, my dear precious children! how I pity you! My heart aches for you. But I can do nothing for you. I am your father’s victim, and cannot escape from my prison to help you, even you—my own flesh and blood—my heart’s treasures, my jewels, my honor and rejoicing.
For I do believe you remain true to the mother who loves you so tenderly, that she would die to save you from the disgrace she has brought upon your fair names, by being stigmatised as the children of an insane mother, whom your father said he regarded as unsafe, as an inmate of your own quiet home, and, therefore, has confined me within these awful enclosures.
O, may you never know what it is to go to sleep within the hearing of such unearthly sounds, as can be heard here almost at any hour of the night! I can sleep in the hearing of it, for “so he giveth his beloved sleep.” O, children dear, do not be discouraged at my sad fate, for well doing. But be assured that, although you may suffer in this world for it, you may be sure your reward will come in the next. “For, if we suffer with him, we shall also reign with him.”
O, do commit your souls to him in well-doing for my sake, if you dare not for your own sake, for I do entreat you to let me be with you in heaven, if your father prevents it on earth.
I may not have much longer to suffer here on earth. Several in our ward are now sick in bed, and I give them more of my fruit than I eat myself, hoping that, when my turn comes to be sick, some one may thus serve me. But if not, I can bear it, perhaps better than they can, to be without any solace or comfort in sickness here, such as a friend needs. I have nothing to live for now, but to serve you, as I know of. But you can get along without me, can’t you? Pa will take care of you. Do be kind to him, and make him as happyas possible. Yes, honor your father, if he has brought such dishonor upon your name and reputation.
I will devote my energies to these distressed objects around me, instead of attending to your wants, as a mother should be allowed to do, at least, so long as she could do so, as well as I could, and did, when I was taken from you. I know I could not, for lack of physical strength, do as much for you as I once could, still I was willing, and did do all I could for you. Indeed, I find I am almost worn out by my sufferings. I am very weak and feeble. Still, I make no complaints, for I am so much better off than many others here.
Do bring my poor lifeless body home when my spirit, which troubled your father so much, has fled to Jesus’ arms for protection, and lay me by my asparagus bed, so you can visit my grave, and weep over my sad fate in this world. I do not wish to be buried in Shelburne, but let me rise where I suffered so much for Christ’s sake.
O, do not, do not, be weary in well doing, for, did I not hope to meet you in heaven, it seems as though my heart would break!
I am useful here, I hope. Some of our patients say, it is a paradise here now, compared with what it was before I came. The authorities assure me, that I am doing a great work here, for the institution.
When I had the prospect of returning home in a few days, as I told you, I begged with tears not to send me, as my husband would have the same reason for sending me back as he had for bringing me here. For the will of God is still my law and guide, so I cannot do wrong, and until I become insane, I can take no other guide for my conduct. Here I can exercise my rights of conscience, without offending any one.
Yes, I am getting friends, from high and low, rich and poor. I am loved, and respected here by all that know me. I am their confident, their counsellor, their bosom friend. O, how I love this new circle of friends! There are several patients here, who are no more insane than I am; but are put here, like me, to get rid of them. But here we can work for God, and here die for him.
Love to all my children, and yourself also. I thank you for the fruit, and mirror. It came safe. I had bought one before.
I am at rest—and my mind enjoys that peace the world cannot give or take away. When I am gone to rest, rejoice for me. Weep not for me. I am, and must be forever happy in God’s love.
The questions are often asked me, “Why were you sent here? youare not insane. Did you injure any one? Did you give up, and neglect your duties? Did you tear your clothes, and destroy your things? What did you do that made your friends treat such a good woman so?” Let silence be my only reply, for your sake, my husband. Now, my husband, do repent, and secure forgiveness from God, and me, before it is too late. Indeed, I pity you; my soul weeps on your account. But God is merciful, and his mercies are great above the heavens. Therefore, do not despair; by speedy repentance secure gospel peace to your tempest-tossed soul. So prays your loving wife,
Elizabeth.
Extract from another Letter.
My Dear Husband.
I thank you kindly for writing me, and thus relieving my burdened heart, by assuring me that my dear children are alive and well. I have been sadly burdened at the thought of what they are called to suffer on their mother’s account. Yes, the mother’s heart has wept for them every moment: yet my heart has rejoiced in God my Savior, for to suffer as well as to do His holy will, is my highest delight, my chief joy. Yes, my dear husband, I can say in all sincerity and honesty, “The will of the Lord be done.” I can still by his abundant grace utter the true emotions of my full heart, in the words of my favorite verse, which you all know has been my solace in times of doubt, perplexity and trial. It is this:
“With cheerful feet the path of duty run,God nothing does, nor suffers to be done,But what thou wouldst thyself, couldst thou but see,Through all events of things as well as He.”
O, the consolation the tempest tossed spirit feels in the thought that our Father is at the helm, and that no real harm can befall us with such a pilot to direct our course. And let me assure you all for your encouragement, that my own experience bears honest, practical testimony that great peace they have who make God their shield, their trust, their refuge; and I can even add that this Insane Asylum has been to me the gate to Heaven. * * *
By Dr. McFarland’s leave, I have established family worship in our hall; and we never have less than twelve, and sometimes eighteen or more, quite quiet and orderly, while I read and explain a chapter—then join in singing a hymn—then kneeling down, I offer a prayer,as long as I usually do at our own family altar. I also implore the blessing of God at the table at every meal, while twenty-nine maniacs, as we are called, silently join with me. Our conversation, for the most part, is intelligent, and to me most instructive. At first, quite a spirit of discord seemed to pervade our circle. But now it is quiet and even cheerful. I find that we as individuals hold the happiness of others to a great degree in our own keeping, and that “A merry heart doeth good like medicine.” * * *
If God so permit, I should rejoice to join the dear circle at home, and serve them to the best of my ability. “Nevertheless, not as I will, but as Thou wilt.” I thank you, husband, for your kindness, both past and prospective. Do forgive me, wherein I have wronged you, or needlessly injured your feelings, and believe me yours,
Elizabeth.
P. S. Tell the dear children to trust God, by doing right.
I now do frankly own, I am fully alienated from him, in his present detestable character, as developed towards me, his lawful wife. And I claim that it is not consistent with the laws of God’s moral government, for a fully sane being to feel otherwise.
But it is not so with my kindred, and other friends. I am not alienated from them, for I have had no just and adequate cause for alienation. They erred ignorantly, not willfully. They were willing to know the truth; they were convicted, and are now converted to the truth. They have confessed their sin against me in thus neglecting me, and have asked my forgiveness. I have most freely forgiven them, and such penitents are fully restored to my full fellowship and confidence. To prove they are penitent, one confession will serve as a fair representation of the whole. I give it in the writer’s own words, verbatim, from the letter now before me. “We are all glad you have been to visit us, and we regret we have not tried to do more foryou, in times past. I am grieved that you have been left to suffer so muchalone—had we known, I think something would have been done foryou. Forgive us, won’t you, for our cruel neglect?” Yes, I do rejoice to forgive them, for Christ allows me to forgive the penitent transgressor. But he does not allow me to do better than he does—to forgive the impenitent transgressor. And I do not; but as I have before said, I stand ready with my forgiveness in my heart to extend it to him, most freely, on this gospel condition of repentance—practicalrepentance.
Fifth Report.
“Dr. McFarland, the Superintendent of the Asylum, says she is insane; and he ought toknow.”
Yes, he ought to know. But, in my opinion, Dr. McFarland, does not know a sane from an insane person; or else, why does he keep so many in that Asylum, as sane as himself? And mine is not the first case a court and jury differed from him in opinion on this subject. He has been so long conversant with the insane, that he has become a perfect monomaniac on insanity and in his treatment of the insane. I never saw such inhumanity, and cruelty, and barbarity, practiced towards the innocent and helpless as he sanctions and allows in that Asylum. I could write a large volume in confirmation of this assertion, made up of scenes I myself witnessed, during my three years’ incarceration in that terrible place. The material is all on hand for such a book, since I kept a secret journal of daily events, just as they occurred, so that my memory is not my only laboratory of such truths. And in arranging this matter for a book, I intend to turn Jacksonville Asylum inside out. That is, I shall report that Asylum from the standpoint of a patient, and if this book don’t prove my assertion that Dr. McFarland is a monomaniac, I am sure it will prove him to be something worse. But I claim to defend his heart from the charge of villainy, and his intellect from imbecility, for I have often said of him, “Dr. McFarland is thegreatestman I ever saw, and he would be thebestif he wasn’tso bad!”
But this is not the place to make a defence for Dr. McFarland. Let him stand where his own actions put him, for that is the only proper place for either superintendent or patient to stand upon. But I will own, God made him fit for one of his great resplendent luminaries; but Satan has marred this noble orb, so that now it has some very dark spots on its disk, such as his patients can behold without the aid of a telescope! Yes, as a general thing, his patients are not allowed to behold anything else but these dark spots, while the public are allowed to see nothing except the splendors of this luminary. And when my telescopic book is in print, the public may look, or not look, at the scenes behind the curtain, just as they please. The exact scenes are now fully daguerreotyped on my brain and heart both, as well as on my manuscript journal. In this volume I am only allowed to report what relates to myself alone. Therefore I have but little to say; for as it respects his treatment of me, individually, Iregard him as a practical penitent, and on this basis, I have really forgiven him. And God only knows what a multitude of sins this man’s repentance has covered! And my Christianity forbids my exposing the sins of a practical penitent, after having practically forgiven him.
As proof of his penitence, I bring this fact, that it was under his superintendence, and by his consent alone, that I was permitted to spend the last nine months of my prison life in writing “The Great Drama.” This book was commenced as an act of self-defence from the charge of insanity, and this man was the first person in America that ever before allowed me any right of self-defence. And this act of practical manliness on his part, awakened, as its response, my full and hearty forgiveness of all the wrongs he had hitherto heaped upon me; and these wrongs had not been “like angels visits, few and far between.” But I had, in reality, much to forgive. At least, so thought my personal friends at the Asylum, if their words echoed their real feelings. Their feelings on this subject were not unfrequently uttered in very strong language like the following: “If Mrs. Packard can forgive Dr. McFarland all the wrongs and abuses he has heaped upon her she must be more than human.” And I now have before me a letter from one who had been for several years an officer in that institution, from which I will make an extract, as it corroborates this point. She says, “How the mind wanders back to those dark hours. O, that hated letter! once presented you by a ——, who delighted to torture those he could not subdue. Our hearts did pity you, Mrs. Packard. Mrs. Tenny, (now the wife of the then assistant physician, but my attendant at the time referred to,) and myself often said, everything was done that could be, to annihilate and dethrone your reason. Poor child! They had all fled—none to watch one hour! All I have to say is, if there can be found man or woman who could endure what you did in that three years, and not become a raving maniac, they should be canonized.”
Yes, God, God alone, saved me from the awful vortex Mr. Packard and Dr. McFarland had prepared for me—the vortex of oblivion—God has delivered me from them who were stronger than I, and to his cause, the cause of oppressed humanity, for which I there suffered so much in its defence, I do now consecrate my spared intellect, and reason, and moral power.
This “Great Drama,” written there, is my great battery, which, in God’s providence, I hope sometime to get rich enough to publish;and it is to the magnanimity of Dr. McFarland alone, under God, that my thanks are due, for letting me write this book. He dictated none of it. He allowed me perfect spiritual liberty, in penning this voluminous literary production of seven hundred pages; and if ever there was a book written wholly untrammelled by human dictation, this is the book. But as I said, his magnanimity, even at the eleventh hour, has, so far as I am concerned, secured my forgiveness.
But he has been, and I fear still is, a great sinner against others, also; for, as I have often said, it is my candid opinion, that there were fifty in that house, as patients, who have no more right to be there than the Doctor himself. Judging them from their own actions and words, there is no more evidence of insanity in them, than in Dr. McFarland’s words and actions. He certainly has no scruples about keeping perfectly sane persons as patients. At first, this was to me an enigma I could not possible solve. But now I can on the supposition that he don’t know a sane from an insane person, because he has become a monomaniac on this subject, just as Mr. Packard has on the woman question. The Doctor’s insane dogmas are, first: all people are insane on some points; second: insane persons have no rights that others are bound to respect.
He has never refused any one’s application on the ground of their not being insane, to my knowledge, but he has admitted many whom he admitted were not near as insane as the friends who brought them were. He can see insanity in any one where it will be for his interest to see it. And let him put any one through the insane treatment he subjects his patients to, and they are almost certain to manifest some resentment, before the process is complete. And this natural resentment which his process evokes, is what he calls their insanity, or rather evidence of it. I saw the operation of his nefarious system before I had been there long, and I determined to stand proof against it, by restraining all manifestations of my resentful feelings, which his insults to me were designed to develop. And this is his grand failure in my case. He has no capital to make out his charge upon, so far as my own actions are concerned. No one ever saw me exhibit the least angry, resentful feelings. I say that to God’s grace alone is this result due. I maintain, his treatment of his patients is barbarous and criminal in many cases; therefore he shows insanity in his conduct towards them.
Again, he does not always tell the truth about his patients, nor to his patients. And this is another evidence of his insanity. I do say,lying is insanity; and if I can ever be proved to be a liar, by my own words or actions, I do insist upon it I merit the charge put upon me of monomania, or insanity. But, speaking the truth, and nothing but the truth, is not lying, even if people do not believe my assertions. For the truth will stand without testimony, and in spite of all contradiction. And when one has once been proved to have lied, they have no claims on us to be believed, when they do speak the truth. Were I called to prove my assertion that the Doctor misrepresents, I could do so, by his own letters to my husband, and my father, now in my possession, and by letters Mr. Field had from him while I was in the Asylum. For example, why did he write to Mr. Field that I “was a dangerous patient, not safe to live in any private family,” and then refuse to answer direct questions calling for evidence in proof on this point, and give as his reason, that he did not deem it his duty to answer impertinent questions about his patients? Simply because the assertion was a lie, and had nothing to support or defend it, in facts, as they existed. These letters abound in misrepresentations and falsehoods respecting me, and it is no wonder my friends regarded me as insane, on these representations from the Superintendent of a State Asylum.
I have every reason to think Dr. McFarland believes, in his heart, that I am entirely sane; but policy and self-interest has prompted him to deny it in words, hoping thus to destroy the influence of the sad truths I utter respecting the character of that institution. A very intelligent employee in that institution, and one who had, by her position, peculiar advantages for knowing the real state of feeling towards me in that institution, once said to me, “Mrs. Packard, I can assure you, that there is not a single individual in this house who believes you are an insane person; and as for Dr. McFarland heknowsyou are not, whatever he may choose to say upon the subject.”
One thing is certain, his actions contradict his words, in this matter. Would an insane person be employed by him to carry his patients to ride, and drive the team with a whole load of crazy women, with no one to help take care of them and the team but herself? And yet Dr. McFarland employed me to do this very thing fourteen times; and I always came back safely with them, and never abused my liberty, by dropping a letter into the post-office, or any thing of the kind, and never abused the confidence reposed in me in any manner.
Would he give a crazy woman money to go to the city, and make purchases for herself? And yet he did so by me. Would a crazywoman be employed to make purchases for the house, and use as a reason for employing her, that her judgment was superior to any in the house? And yet this is true of me. Would a crazy woman be employed to cut, fit and make his wife’s and daughter’s best dresses, instead of a dressmaker, because she could do them better, in their opinion, than any dressmaker they could employ? And yet I was thus employed for several weeks, and for this reason. And would his wife have had her tailoress consult my judgment, before cutting her boy’s clothes, and give as her reason, that she preferred my judgment and planning before her own, if I was an insane person? And yet she did.
Would the officials send their employees to me for help, in executing orders which exceeded the capacity of their own judgment to perform, if they considered my reason and judgment as impaired by insanity? And yet this was often the case. Would the remark be often made by the employees in that institution, that “Mrs. Packard was better fitted to be the matron of the institution than any one under that roof,” if I had been treated and regarded as an insane person by the officials? And yet this remark was common there.
No. Dr. McFarland did not treat me as an insane person, until I had been there four months, when he suddenly changed his programme entirely, by treating me like an insane person, and ordering the employees to do so to, which order he could never enforce, except in one single instance, and this attendant soon after became a lunatic and a tenant of the poor house. My attendants said they should not treat me as they did the other patients, if the Doctor did order it.
The reason for this change in the Doctor’s treatment, was not because of any change in my conduct or deportment in any respect, but because I offended him, by a reproof I gave him for his abuse of his patients, accompanied by the threat to expose him unless he repented. I gave this reproof in writing, and retained a copy myself, by hiding it behind my mirror, between it and the board-back. Several thousand copies of which are now in circulation. After this event, I was closeted among the maniacs, and did not step my foot upon the ground again, until I was discharged, two years and eight months afterwards. When he transferred me from the best ward to the worst ward, he ordered my attendants to treat me just as they did their other patients, except to not let me go out of the ward; although all the others could go to ride and walk, except myself.Had I not known how to practice the laws of health, this close confinement would doubtless have been fatal to my good health and strong nerves. But as it was, both are still retained in full vigor.
My correspondence was henceforth put under the strictest censorship, and but few of my letters ever went farther than the Doctor’s office, and most of the letters sent to me never came nearer me than his office. When I became satisfied of this, I stopped writing at all to any one, until I got an “Under Ground Express” established, through which my mail passed out, but not in.
One incident I will here mention to show how strictly and vigilantly my correspondence with the world was watched. There was a patient in my ward to be discharged ere long, to go to her home near Manteno, and she offered to take anything to my children, if I chose to send anything by her. Confident I could not get a letter out through her, without being detected, I made my daughter some under waists, and embroidered them, for a present to her from her mother. On the inside of these bleached cotton double waists, I pencilled a note to her, for her and my own solace and comfort. I then gave these into the hands of this patient, and she took them and put them into her bosom saying, “The Doctor shall never see these.” But just as she was leaving the house, the Doctor asked her, if she had any letter from Mrs. Packard to her children with her? She said she had not.
He then asked be “Have you had anything from Mrs. Packard with you?”
She said, “I have two embroidered waists, which Mrs. Packard wished me to carry to her daughter, as a present from her mother; but nothing else.”
“Let me see those waists,” said he.
She took them from her bosom and handed them to him. He saw the penciling. He read it, and ordered the waists to the laundry to be washed before sending them, so that no heart communications from the mother to the child, could go with them. I believe he sent them afterwards by Dr. Eddy.
In regard to Dr. McFarland’s individual guilt in relation to his treatment of me, justice to myself requires me to add, that I cherish no feelings of resentment towards him, and the worst wish my heart dictates towards him is, that he may repent, and become the “Model Man” his nobly developed capacities have fitted him to become; forhe is, as I have said, the greatest man I ever saw, and he would be the best if he wasn’t so bad!