While he simply defended his insane dogma as an opinion only, no one had the least right to call him a monomaniac; but when this insane idea became a practical one, 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 of stubborn 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 the first 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 glad you 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 shall protect her 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 a man. 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!