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 happy as 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 a.s.sure me, that I am doing a great work here, for the inst.i.tution.

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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d, 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 G.o.d's love.

The questions are often asked me, "Why were you sent here? you are 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 G.o.d, and me, before it is too late. Indeed, I pity you; my soul weeps on your account. But G.o.d 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 a.s.suring 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 G.o.d 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, G.o.d 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 a.s.sure you all for your encouragement, that my own experience bears honest, practical testimony that great peace they have who make G.o.d 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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d, 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 G.o.d'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 for _you_, in times past. I am grieved that you have been left to suffer so much _alone_--had we known, I think something would have been done for _you_. 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--_practical_ repentance.

FIFTH REPORT.

"Dr. McFarland, the Superintendent of the Asylum, says she is insane; and he ought to _know_."

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 a.s.sertion, 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 a.s.sertion 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 the _greatest_ man I ever saw, and he would be the _best_ if he wasn't _so 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, G.o.d made him fit for one of his great resplendent luminaries; but Satan has marred this n.o.ble 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 ma.n.u.script 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, I regard him as a practical penitent, and on this basis, I have really forgiven him. And G.o.d only knows what a mult.i.tude 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 inst.i.tution, 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 a.s.sistant 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, G.o.d, G.o.d alone, saved me from the awful vortex Mr. Packard and Dr.

McFarland had prepared for me--the vortex of oblivion--G.o.d 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 G.o.d's providence, I hope sometime to get rich enough to publish; and it is to the magnanimity of Dr. McFarland alone, under G.o.d, 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 G.o.d'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 a.s.sertions. 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 a.s.sertion 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 a.s.sertion 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 inst.i.tution. A very intelligent employee in that inst.i.tution, and one who had, by her position, peculiar advantages for knowing the real state of feeling towards me in that inst.i.tution, once said to me, "Mrs. Packard, I can a.s.sure you, that there is not a single individual in this house who believes you are an insane person; and as for Dr. McFarland he _knows_ you 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 crazy woman 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 inst.i.tution, that "Mrs. Packard was better fitted to be the matron of the inst.i.tution 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 pa.s.sed 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."