And here I will say, that from what I do know of the practical workings…of that institution, as seen from behind the curtain…I predict it will not be the last.
Changing the law was Elizabeth’s primary aim. But a full investigation of the hospital, which looked behind that iron curtain, would certainly be a satisfying secondary success.
Her time was nearly up. Elizabeth gathered herself for a final push. “Gentlemen, this law and its application to me cannot be obliterated, for it has already become a page of Illinois history, which must stand to all coming time, as a living witness against the legislation of Illinois in the nineteenth century. There is one way, and only one, by which you can redeem your State…and that is by such practical repentance as this bill demands.”
She fixed them all with her gleaming brown eyes. “Gentlemen…so far as you are concerned, my work is now done. Yours remains to be done.
“God grant you may dare to do right!”
When Elizabeth Packard stood and spoke, all listened “with the most profound and respectful interest.”3 And that’s exactly what the members of the legislature did that February day as her words worked their way inside their hearts and minds. A newspaper later wrote that she was able to hold her audience “spellbound…every ear…intent on receiving her utterances.”4
In short, she was nothing less than a “sensation.”5
So persuasive was her speech that it had an immediate impact. At 9:00 p.m. on the very same day as her presentation, the telegram boy in Jacksonville suddenly sat upright. Though the hour was late, electrical impulses began coming down the wire at lightning speed: a message from the spellbound politicians in Springfield.
Against the noise of the pouring rain outside, he quickly transcribed the message.
They were coming, the telegram read.
The time for complacency and cover-ups in Jacksonville was over; exposure and investigation were now the name of the game. Because the politicians would be arriving for an unscheduled visit at 9:30 a.m.
The boy’s pen paused over the all-important date.
Tomorrow.
CHAPTER 51
The Jacksonville citizens scrambled to make arrangements, keen to show off their celebrated hospital at its best. As the Jacksonville Journal stated, “The success of the town depends in no small degree upon that of her institutions.”1 Yet the weather was against them; the heavy rain created an “excessive quantity of mud”2 that impaired their efforts. When the politicians arrived, it was to find a mud-slicked city unable to scrub itself clean.
It’s possible the legislature did not want the citizens—or McFarland—to suspect the real reason for their sudden visit. They split into two groups: one a committee that embarked on other official business, the other a mismatch of house and senate members who requested a tour of all the state institutions in the city, including the asylum.
As the media had been at their visit in January, the politicians were feted, with concerts and dances laid on in the evening. Before then, however, the more serious business of the unannounced inspection took place. One member at least, having been briefed by Elizabeth, made a special request to visit Mrs. Minard and Mrs. Chapman on Seventh Ward, which was granted.
“How long have you been here?”3 the gentleman asked of Sarah, having been directed to her room full of house plants, in which sat a lady wearing gold spectacles.
“Nine years,” she replied forlornly.
“Has your husband ever been to visit you?”
“He has not.”
They conversed a little while longer.
“I do not know what motive it is that requires me to be confined in this lunatic asylum,” Sarah burst out, “or what good purpose can be answered by my remaining here. My main desire is to get home.”
The gentleman told the two women he knew Elizabeth. Both Mrs. Minard and Mrs. Chapman brightened visibly. “Give our love to Mrs. Packard,” they urged. “Tell [her] she must not forget us.”
The urgency of their message resonated. “Mrs. Packard and I have consulted about your cases,” he revealed. “I am not at liberty to say anything definite now…but this much I can say, your case will not be forgotten.”
He took his leave of them feeling stunned. As he later told Elizabeth, “I am more forcibly impressed with the injustice of their confinement by seeing them, than from the impression I had received from you. I have no hesitancy in saying these persons ought to be removed from that asylum.”
Nor was he the only visitor to feel that way. Another gentleman who also toured the hospital felt an “irresistible conviction”4 that many currently there ought to be sent home. For he observed not only “the wild, frantic maniac” and “the partially deranged,” but also, “not unfrequently…the sane.” He blasted the conditions in which he found the patients, shocked they were herded together “like wild beasts.”