Affectionately presented to the “World’s Friend”—Mrs. E. P. W. Packard—by her friend, Mrs. Sophia N. B. Olsen.
Go, little book, go seek the world;
With banner new, with flag unfurled;
Go, teach mankind aspirings high,
By human immortality!
Thou canst not blush; thine open page
Will all our higher powers engage;
Thy name on every soul shall be,
Defender of humanity!
The poor, the sad, the sorrowing heart,
Shall joy to see thy book impart
Solace, to every tear-dimmed eye,
That’s wept, till all its tears are dry.
The palid sufferer on the bed
Of sickness, shall erect the head
And cry, “Life yet hath charms for me
When Packard’s books shall scattered be.”
Each prison victim of despair
Shall, in thy book, see written there
Another gospel to thy race,
Of sweet “Requiescat in pace.”
The time-worn wigs, with error gray,
Their dusty locks with pale dismay,
Shall shake in vain in wild despair,
To see their prostrate castles, where?
No mourner’s tear shall weep their doom,
No bard shall linger o’er their tomb,
No poet sing, but howl a strain
Farewell, thou doom’d, live not again.
Yes, oh, poor Ichabod must lay,
Deep buried in Aceldema!
His lost Consuelo shall rise
No more, to cheer his death-sealed eyes.
Then speed thy book, oh, sister, speed,
The waiting world thy works must read;
Bless’d be the man who cries, “Go on,”
“Hinder it not, it shall be gone.”
Go, little book, thy destiny
Excelsior shall ever be;
A fadeless wreath shall crown thy brow,
O writer of that book! e’en now.
The wise shall laugh—the foolish cry—
Both wise and foolish virgins, why?
Because the first will wiser grow,
The foolish ones some wisdom show.
The midnight cry is coming soon,
The midnight lamp will shine at noon;
I fear for some, who snoring lie,
Then rise, ye dead, to judgment fly.
The stars shall fade away—the sun
Himself grow dim with age when done
Shining upon our frigid earth;
But Packard’s book shall yet have birth,
But never death, on this our earth.
Jacksonville Lunatic Asylum, Jan. 27, 1863.
So much for the opinions of those whom this age call crazy, but who are, in my opinion, no more insane than all that numerous class of our day, who are called “spirit mediums;” and to imprison them as insane, simply because they possess these spiritual gifts or powers, is a barbarity, which coming generations will look upon with the same class of emotions, as we now look upon the barbarities attending Salem Witchcraft. It is not only barbarous and cruel to deprive them of their personal liberty, but it is also a crime against humanity, for which our government must be held responsible at God’s bar of justice.
I will now give some of the opinions of a few who know something of the character of my book, whom the world recognize as sane. Dr. McFarland used to sometimes say, “Who knows but you were sent here to write an allegory for the present age, as Bunyan was sent to Bedford Jail to write his allegory?” Dr. Tenny, the assistant physician, once said to me as he was pocketing a piece of my waste manuscript, “I think your book may yet become so popular, and acquire so great notoriety, that it will be considered an honor to have a bit of the paper on which it was written!”
I replied, “Dr. Tenny, you must not flatter me.”
Said he, “I am not flattering, I am only uttering my honest opinions.”
Said another honorable gentleman who thought he understood the character of the book, “Mrs. Packard, I believe your book will yet be read in our Legislative Halls and in Congress, as a specimen of the highest form of law ever sent to our world, and coming millions will read your history, and bless you as one who was afflicted for humanity’s sake.” It must be acknowledged that this intelligent gentleman had some solid basis on which he could defend this extravagant opinion, namely: that God does sometimes employ “the weak things of the world to confound the mighty.”
These expressions must all be received as mere human opinions, and nothing more. The book must stand just where its own intrinsic merits place it. If it is ever published, it, like all other mere human productions, will find its own proper level, and no opinions can change its real intrinsic character. The great question with me is, how can I soonest earn the $2,500.00 necessary to print it with? Should I ever be so fortunate as to gain that amount by the sale of this pamphlet, I should feel that my great life-work was done, so that I might feel at full liberty to rest from my labors. But until then, I cheerfully labor and toil to accomplish it.
NOTE OF THANKS TO THE PRESS.