In view of the above facts and principles on which this argument of
"Self-defence from the charge of Insanity" is based, I feel sure that the
array of sophisms which Mr. Packard may attempt to marshall against it,
will only be like arguing the sun out of the heavens at noon-day. He is
the only one who has ever dared to bring personal evidence of insanity
against me, so far as my knowledge extends. Others believe me to be
insane, but it is on the ground of his _testimony_, not from personal
proof, by my own words and actions, independent of the coloring _he_ has
put upon them.
For example, I find he has reported as proof of my insanity, "that I have
punished the children for obeying him." Had this been the case, in the
sense in which he meant it to be understood, it would look like an insane,
or at least very improper, act. But it is not true that I ever punished a
child for obeying their father; but on the contrary, have exacted implicit
obedience to their father's wishes and commands, and have even enforced
this, my own command, by punishments, to _compel_ them to respect their
father's authority, by obeying his commands.
But this I have also done. I have maintained the theory, by logic and
practice both, that a mother had a right to enforce her own reasonable
commands--that her authority to do so was delegated to her by God himself,
and not by her husband--and that this right to command being delegated to
her by God himself, as the God given right identified with her maternity,
the husband had no right to interfere or usurp this God bestowed right
from the wife. But on the contrary, it was the husband's duty, as the
wife's God appointed protector, to see that this right was defended to the
wife by his authority over the children, requiring of them obedience to
her commands, as one whose authority they must respect. Yes, I have
trained my children to respect my authority as a God delegated authority,
equal in power, _in my sphere_, to their father's God delegated authority.
And farther, I have taught them, that I had no right to go out of _my
sphere_ and interfere with their father's authority in his sphere; neither
had their father a right to trespass upon my sphere, and counter order my
commands. I maintain, that the one who commands is the only rightful one
to countermand. Therefore, the father has no right to countermand the
mother's orders, except _through her_; neither has the mother a right to
countermand the father's order, except through _him_. Here is the
principle of "equal rights," which our government is bound to respect. And
it is because they do not respect it, that my husband has usurped all my
maternal rights, thus proving himself traitor, not only to his own
manliness, but traitor to the principles of God's government.
But as this is a volume of facts, rather than theories, I will add one
fact in vindication of my assertion, that I uniformly taught my children
to respect their father's authority. When I was incarcerated in my prison,
my oldest son, Theophilus, was in the post-office in Mt. Pleasant, Iowa,
as clerk, and had not seen me for two years. His regard for me was
excessive. He had been uniformly filial, and very kind to me, and
therefore when he learned that his loving mother was a prisoner in a
lunatic asylum, he felt an unconquerable desire to see me, and judge for
himself, whether I was really insane, or whether I was the victim of his
father's despotism. His father, aware of this feeling, and fearing he
might ascertain the truth respecting me, by some means, sent him a letter,
commanding him not to write to his mother now in the asylum, and by no
means visit her there, adding, if he did so, he should disinherit him.
Theophilus was now eighteen years of age, and, as yet, had never known
what it was to disobey either his father's or mother's express commands.
But now his love for his mother led him to question the justice of this
seemingly arbitrary command, and he, fearful of trusting to his own
judgment in this matter, sought advice from those who had once been Mr.
Packard's church members and deacons in Mt. Pleasant, and from all he got
the same opinion strongly defended, that he had a right to disobey _such_
a command. He therefore ventured to visit his mother in her lonely prison
home in defiance of his father's edict. I was called from my ward to meet
my darling first-born son in the reception room, when I had been in my
prison about two months. After embracing me and kissing me with all the
fondness of a most loving child, and while shedding our mutual tears of
ecstasy at being allowed once more to meet on earth, he remarked, "Mother,
I don't know as I have done right in coming to see you as I have, for
father has forbid my coming, and you have always taught me never to
disobey my father."
"Disobeyed your father!" said I. "Yes, I have always taught you it was a
sin to disobey him, and I do fear you have done wrong, if you have come to
see me in defiance of your father's command. You know we can never claim
God's blessing in doing wrong, and fear our interview will not be a
blessing to either of us, if it has been secured at the price of
disobedience to your father's command."
Here his tears began to flow anew, while he exclaimed, "I was afraid it
would prove so! I was afraid you would not approve of my coming! But,
mother, I could not bear to feel that you had become insane, and I could
not believe it, and would not, until I had seen you myself; and now I see
it is just as I expected, you are not insane, but are the same kind mother
as ever. But I am sorry if I have done wrong by coming."
I wept. He wept. I could not bear to blame my darling boy. And must I? was
the great question to be settled. "My son," said I, "let us ask God to
settle this question for us," and down we both kneeled by the sofa, and
with my arm around my darling boy, I asked God if I should blame him for
coming to see me in defiance of his father's order. While asking for
heavenly wisdom to guide us in the right way, the thought came to me, "go
and ask Dr. McFarland."
I accordingly went to the Doctor's parlor, where I found him alone,
reading his paper. I said to him, "Doctor, I have a question of conscience
to settle, and I have sought your help in settling it, namely, has my son
done wrong to visit me, when his father has forbid his coming, and has
threatened to disinherit him if he did? He has the letter with him showing
this to be the case."
After thinking a moment, the Doctor simply replied, "Your son had a
_right_ to visit his mother!"
O, the joy I felt at this announcement! It seemed as if a mountain had
been lifted from me, so relieved was I of my burden. With a light heart I
sought my sobbing boy, and encircling my arms about his neck, exclaimed,
"Cheer up! my dear child, you had a _right_ to visit your mother! so says
the Doctor."
Why was this struggle with our consciences? Was it not that we had trained
them to respect paternal authority? Can testimony, however abundant,
change this truth into a falsehood?
That principle of self-defence, which depends wholly on certificates and
testimonials, instead of the principle of right, truth and justice, is not
able to survive the shock which the revelation of truth brings against it.
A lie, however strongly fortified by testimonials and certificates, can
never be transformed into a truth. Neither can the truth, however single,
and isolated, and alone, be its condition, can never be transformed into a
lie, nor crushed out of existence. No. The truth will stand alone, and
unsupported. Its own weight, simply, gives it firmness to resist all
shocks brought against it, to produce its overthrow. Like the house built
upon a rock, it needs no props, no certificates, to sustain it. Storms of
the bitterest persecution may beat piteously upon it, but they cannot
overthrow it, for its foundation is the rock of eternal truth. But lies,
are like the house built upon the sand. While it does stand, it needs
props or certificates on all sides, to sustain it. And it cannot resist
the storm even of a ventilating breeze upon it, for it must and will fall,
with all its accumulated props, before one searching investigation; and
the more props it has so much the more devastation is caused by its
overthrow.
And here I wish to add, that it was not because Mr. Packard was a
minister, that bigotry had power thus to triumph over his manliness, but
because he was a man, liable to be led astray from the paths of rectitude
as other human beings are. The ministerial office does not insure men
against the commission of sins of the darkest hue, for the ministry is
composed of men, who are subject to like frailties and passions as other
men are; and ministers, like all other men, must stand just where their
own actions will place them, not where their position ought always to find
them. They ought to be men whose characters should be unimpeached. But
they are not all so. Neither are all other men what they should be in
their position. It is as much the duty of the minister to be true to
himself--true to the instincts of his God-like nature, as it is other men.
And any deviation from the path of rectitude which would not be tolerated
in any other man, ought not to be tolerated in a minister. In short,
ministers must stand on a common level with the rest of the human race in
judgment. That is, they, like others, must stand just where their own
conduct and actions place them. If their conduct entitles them to respect,
we should respect them. But if their conduct makes them unworthy of our
respect and confidence, it is a sin to bestow it upon them; for this very
respect which we give them under such circumstances, only countenances
their sins, and encourages them in iniquity, and thus puts their own souls
in jeopardy, as well as reflects guilt on those who thus helped them work
out their own destruction, when they ought to have helped them work out
their own repentance for evil doing.