"Take away the show of restraint if you would have a patient cease fighting against restraint," is the philosophy of Dr. Zeller. "Human vigilance always was and always will be the greatest safeguard for the insane."
If "Fainting Bertha" Lebecke were a grizzled amazon, even, she might be a simpler proposition for the state. She is too pretty and plump, however, to think of restraining by the harsher methods, if harsh methods are employed. She can pass out of a storm of hysterical tears in an instant and smile through them like a stream of sunshine. Or as quickly she can throw off the pretty little witticism and airy conceit of her baby hands and become a vixen fury with blazing blue eyes that are a warning to her antagonist.
And at large, exercising her charms, she can become the "good fellow" to the everlasting disappearance of half a dozen different valuables in one's tie or pockets.
History of "Fainting Bertha."
Bertha Lebecke says she was born in Council Bluffs, Ia., in 1880. Save for the trick of raising her brows while animated, thus wrinkling her forehead before her time, she might pass easily for twenty-three years of age. In these twenty-seven years, however, Bertha Lebecke has kept the institutions of four states guessing—to some extent experimenting.
Her father was a cobbler, and there were five children, only one other of them living. The father is dead. The mother, with the one sister, is living in Council Bluffs. Seven asylums and one state's prison have held her—for a time; Kankakee three times and Elgin twice, with two escapes from each place credited to her childish cunning. But today the face of Bertha Lebecke in trouble anywhere in Christian civilization would draw helping funds for less than her asking.
"Don't write that I am the awful creature that the papers have pictured me," she exclaimed, with a tragic movement of her little hands. "Oh, I have been a bad girl—I know that—but not as bad as they accuse me of being," burying her face in her arm.
But in a moment she was sitting up, dry eyed, stitching on the bit of linen "drawn work" which she said was intended for Gov. Deneen at Springfield.
Criticises the Linen Purchased by the State.
"But what awful linen!" she exclaimed, holding it out to Dr. Zeller as she sat in a ward with twenty other women inmates regarded as among the hardest to watch and control among the 1,900 inmates of the great institution. "I'm surprised at you! Can't you buy better linen than that?"