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Mrs. Lydia B. Denny,
WIFE OF
REUBEN S. DENNY,
OF BOSTON,
IN REGARD TO HER ALLEGED INSANITY.
��STATEMENT
Early in the year 1861, I consulted a lawyer in rela
tion to obtaining a divorce from my husband on the
grounds of cruelty and adultery. My married life had
been eminently unhappy, and the terms of, at least, indif
ference on which I had lived with my husband, were noto
rious. For the few years immediately preceding, I had
been constantly subjected to most peculiar and insulting
annoyances and outrages. So openly was I insulted that
my mother felt it a duty at one time to speak to me on
the subject, and my two sons repeatedly urged me to re
sent the indignities to which I was subjected. Finally,
when my expostulations and reproaches were met by per
sonal ill treatment, I resorted, as above stated, to the law
for redress. My counsel assured me from the first that I
had ample grounds for a divorce on both counts. I made
my own investigations, and the information I obtained I
imparted to my counsel and to those whom I then consid
ered as my friends. I also showed to many persons the
bruises and wounds my husband had inflicted on me, thus
giving (as I intended) publicity to a resentment which
was excited by the grossest and most public insults. I
told Mr. Denny of my intentions, and that I had consulted
a lawyer in reference to a divorce. He also knew that I
was in the care of an eminent female physician. Under
these circumstances, on the 25th of March, 1861, Mr.
Denny, assisted by two physicians, kidnapped me in open
day, in the streets of Boston, and conveyed me to the
McLean “ Asylum” (mad house), Somerville, Mass.,
without consulting or informing my friends and relatives,
or my physician, though, had I been insane, they would
have been the first consulted, and he would have been only
too glad to have given me into their hands. In this dread
ful prison, in spite of the unceasing efforts of my relatives
�4
to obtain my release, and in face of the fact that Mr. Denny
is notoriously and persistently guilty of all I ever charged
him with, I was kept eighteen months ; suffering an impris
onment the horrors of which must be endured to be un
derstood, though it would seem that the plainly apparent,
outside, inseparable cruelty of such an imprisonment must
be clear to the understanding of every human being. A
woman, a mother, torn from her home, her liberty, her
children, and immured in a mad house I without help’ and
without hope.. During this time I was allowed no com
munication with my friends in any way, nor any knowl
edge of them, or of anything whatever that it concerned
me to know—I was literally “ buried alive!” Everything
real in relation to my condition was utterly and systemat
ically ignored, and I was constantly told by Dr. Tyler
superintendent of the McLean “ Asylum ”), in reply to
my entreaties, arguments, reasonings, &c., to “ get well ”
—to “ get well.” Dr. Tyler was always unwilling to
argue (or converse) with me on the subject of my alleged
insanity, or to explain its nature, as I frequently urged
him to do,—being, of course, naturally anxious to know
what I was to “ get well ” of. I, however, soon under
stood that to accept the fact of my (alleged) insanity was
the indispensable first step toward getting “ well.” In
deed, Dr. Tyler told me. at one time that my insisting so
strongly on my sanity was proof to him that I was insane I
My alleged insanity has been variously designated as
“ Moral Insanity,Emotional Insanity,” “ Earnestness
of Mind,” “ Morbid state ofFeeling,” “ Fixed Idea,” “ Mo
nomania, li Spirit of Revenge,” etc. It has never, how
ever, been convenient or agreeable (not to say possible)
for Dr. Tyler to explain to me, my friends, or any one
else, the manner in which it was developed. Dr. Tyler
used often to assure me that “ Mr. Denny loved me very
dearly.” I gradually learned to understand the system
to which I had fallen a victim, and to know that I had no
hope from those who placed me there, who kept me there,
or who consented to my being there. I managed after a
time to throw from the carriage, when I rode, letters,
some of which, reaching my friends, incited them to fresh
efforts in my behalf. In October, 1861, they obtained a
hearing on habeas corpus ; but my “ counsel was so confi
dent that the whole court would discharge me, on the
�5
ground that my husband, when I was taking steps to ob
tain a divorce, could have no right to imprison me, whether
insane or not, that he introduced no evidence to prove my
soundness of mind, and made no argument on the ques
tion.” My sanity and perfect self-control were, however,
so palpably evident that “ strangers who were present and
heard the proceedings asserted my perfect soundness of
mind with great vehemence;” and even Dr. Tyler, after I
had gone through a long and severe cross-examination, was
forced to admit that I had neither said or done anything
incompatible with perfect sanity. Nevertheless, his gene
ral statement, that I was “ insane,” held good, and on that
general statement alone, in spite of my personal presence,
an unimpeachably sane woman, I was remanded back to an
imprisonment which every human being capable of reflec
tion must know to be worse than death. The efforts of
my friends to release me subjected them, also, to Mr. Den
ny’s persecutions; and as he has always had all the prop
erty of the family in his hands, he was enabled to annoy
and hinder them most effectually. But they persisted in
all lawful efforts, and finally Mr. Denny, finding it im
possible longer to stave off a jury trial, released his wife
from her imprisonment by an agreement with my mother
and brother-in-law. By the terms of this agreement, I am
under nominal guardianship for six months, yet the guardi
an has no power to restrain my liberty without the con
sent of my mother, who has always asserted my sanity, and
whose only anxiety is in regard to my personal safety ;
and it is expressly stated in the “ agreement ” that con
senting to this appointment “ is in no manner to be taken
as an admission that she (I) is of unsound mind, or to be
used to her (my) prejudice in any legal proceedings which
she (I) may hereaftei’ commence.” My friends consented
to this agreement because they felt that it was of the first
importance to obtain my release, it being impossible to
gain access to me in any other way, my counsel even not
being allowed to see me, thus leaving me without support,
information, or advice, pending a trial which involved to
me so much more than life. I, myself, was no party to
the “ agreement,” and am not bound by it in any way. I
never would have consented to any form of guardianship
whatever, having always asserted (confidently and abso
lutely) my sanity, and my perfect ability to take care of
myself and my family, as I always had done, without help
�6
or interference from any one, up to the very moment of
my seizure; although Mr. Denny and some of his rela
tives and friends have recently discovered, that, “ if I am
not insane,” I have a “ devilish temper,” and am quite
unfit to take charge of my children; and further, that “ if
Mr. Denny is a licentious man,” my aforesaid peculiarity
of “ temper” has, by rendering his home unhappy, driven
him to seek consolation in the arms of courtesans! which
discoveries, considering the circumstances under which they
are made, will perhaps be considered as remarkable as
they are original. As I said, I have always asserted my
sanity, and I, my friends, my relatives, my counsel, and
my physician, now assert that I have never said or done
any thing to any person, at any time, which could by any
(proper) construction be called insane. I have resented
the most atrocious outrages, the most monstrous abuse ;
and I do resent, and I should be ashamed of myself if I
resented in a less degree. But my resentment has never
impelled me to seek anything more than such poor redress
as Massachusetts law affords to married women. Accord
ing to the “ agreement,” Mr. Denny was to pay my board
(ten dollars a week) and furnish money for my other rea
sonable expenses. This he has not done—but on one and
another frivolous pretext, has refused to pay one penny to
ward my support, although he paid without hesitation
OR DEMUR, TWENTY DOLLARS A WEEK, AND ANY OTHER EX
PENSES Dr. Tyler chose to present, so long as I could
and in the endurance of what
he knew to be the most hideous misery. He also perse
cutes me by circulating industriously, constantly, and per
sistently the cruel falsehood of my “ insanity.” He has
found newspapers (respectable !) to publish false reports,
and the contemptible, petty lies on which his charge was
first founded (or, rather, sustained), and he himself and
his tools have stories adapted to all latitudes. To persons
who have seen me since my release, and know that I am,
and always have been, perfectly sane (and who tell him
they know it), he says : “ The doctors do not say so.
Mrs. Denny’s lawyers do not think so. They all admit
that she is insane, and every physician who has seen Mrs.
Denny has pronounced her insane.” Now, though seve
ral physicians saw me at the “ Asylum,” no one of them
(except those directly implicated in the crime against me)
be kept out of the way,
�has ever dared to say I was insane ; but, on the contrary,
some of them declared that they saw nothing in me that
indicated insanity. Of course, neither I nor my friends
recognize the interference or authority of physicians in
the matter at all. Yet I shall be infinitely obliged to any
one of them who shall have the independence, the manli
ness, the humanity to come forward (as I trust they will
at the proper time) and declare, what they all very well
know, namely—that I am, and always have been, perfect
ly sane. To other parties Mr. Denny says : “ Mrs. Denny
is very insane, as insane as ever (which to be sure is true),
and I shall be obliged to put her back again soon.”
Again, that I am “ only out for a short time”—that he
“ let me out on his own terms,” &c. He even has not
scrupled to say that “ Mrs. Denny’s family and relatives
all admit note, that she is, and always has been, insane.”
But what most excites the anxiety of my friends (and of
course my own), is the report that I am considered “ dan
gerous,” and that I have “ suicidal ” as well as “ homici
dal propensities.” In the false newspaper reports pub
lished at the time of my release this fatal charge was
inserted, and it has been so boldly reiterated that my
friends have received special cautions not to allow me at
any time to venture out alone; and it was suggested to
them, that these reports were preparatory to kidnapping
and effectually disposing of me, when they would be
brought forward to support the theory of suicide. I and
my friends know that Mr. Denny and the power behind
him are not to be trusted, and we feel that the course I
now take is not only my only mode of defence, but an
absolutely necessary precaution in reference to my per
sonal safety. By keeping me dependent on the charity
of my friends for support, Mr. Denny (besides the in
separable mortifications and embarrassments of such a
condition) puts it out of my power to see my children,
except at rare intervals. My children, for they are mine.
A woman’s children are hers by all laws of humanity, of
Nature, and of God. They are her flesh and her blood,
and my children are my groans, and my sighs, and my
tears. They are my life and my soul. I long for them
unceasingly; and this man knows—as have all tyrants,
great and small, from the beginning of the world—that
the most exquisite torture that can be inflicted on a mother
�8
is to separate and estrange her children from her. It1 is
not by any means a new device—only a comparatively
new mode of executing it. I am suffering especial anx
iety in regard to my youngest child (my only daughter),
who is living with strangers, and entirely isolated from
all her relatives. Her health is delicate and preca
rious ; and I am assured by an eminent physician, who
visited her at my request, that she cannot be properly
cared for in her present situation; that her health for life,
if not her very life, depends on the care she now receives,
and that she ought to be with her mother. I understand
my child’s constitution, and I understand my child as no
one else can; though I am sure no one can help under
standing the anguish I must endure in being separated
from her in such a manner, at such a time ; and I PRO
TEST against the CRUELTY of such treatment. When
a woman is robbed of her liberty, as I have been—that is
to say of her humanity, that is to say of her responsibil
ity, that is to say of her soul—she is considered—no, not
considered, but treated, like the “ thing ” she is repre
sented. I have been, I am, robbed of everything; of my
liberty (that includes all); of my property; of my
children. I was taken to my prison on a cold winter
night, without bonnet, or shawl, or wrapping of any kind.
Afterward, at different times, portions of my wardrobe
(not the choicest) were sent me ; and these articles, with
what was obtained for me during my imprisonment, and
what my friends have since obtained for me, constitute
my entire worldly possessions. The remainder of my
wardrobe, my personal and other ornaments, my money,
my books and pictures, letters and papers, the presents of
friends, all the souvenirs, memorials, and relics which are
so invaluable to their owners—miniatures of my children
and curls of their hair—this man refuses to restore to me ;
and he withholds the property I inherited from my father,
with much valuable personal property, bought with my
money and marked with my name; all of which, and
much more, I claim and demand.
Before closing this defence, this protest, this appeal, I
submit—that the pretense of my insanity is a falsehood,
so monstrous, and so patent, that any man would hesitate
to echo it. The terrible ordeal I have endured, so far
from developing any weakness or infirmity of mind, has,
�9
in the opinion of my friends, shown me to possess cour
age and endurance, energy and strength, not often sur
passed. Gentlemen, lawyers, physicians, conversing with
me, express their amazement that I did not become insane.
They say to me, “ Mrs. Denny, I wonder you did not
become insane.” “ I think I should have become insane.”
111 am sure I should have become insane.” But as I did
not, and would not, become insane, and as I am partially
escaped out of the hands of my enemies, I am persecuted
with slanders the foulest, the cruelest, the most malig
nant, the most injurious. I appeal to human hearts; I
am driven to this last extremity. Every one must under
stand how desperate is my condition, when, to preserve,
not my life only, but my liberty (without which life is
worthless, yea, intolerable), I am compelled to a course,
not less painful than unprecedented, and which is as utterly
opposed to all the habits of my life as it is to the customs
of society. But though my own immediate personal
safety compels this course, I cannot forget nor neglect to
warn all women to beware of a like fate,—for there is not
©ne who is not liable to all that has befallen me, with the
added horror of its continuance for life.
It remains to be seen if, in the “ freest country in the
world,” in this “ boasted nineteenth century,” public
opinion—“ society”—indorses an outrage (not to say a
system) for which the annals of the darkest ages ©f feu
dal tyranny could hardly furnish a parallel.
LYDIA B. DENNY.
Roxbury, Dec. 23, 1862.
The letters appended (and to which I refer in my
statement) are a few of the many written by me during
my imprisonment. These were picked up by different
persons and sent to Mr. Sewall in the first year. For
the last four months or more all fell into the hands of the
spies and keepers by whom I was constantly watched and
guarded. I was never allowed pen, ink, or paper, but I had
secured some bits of pencil before I was suspected, and I
saved the scraps of paper that came around my parcels,
and sometimes ventured to appropriate a blank leaf from
a book. With such materials—in terror, haste, and se
crecy—I tried to give some little idea of the cruel misery
1*
�10
I was enduring. My friends made several copies of the
letters, which were read by many persons, and they were
also read in open court, at the different times when my
friends were endeavoring to obtain my release. For
these reasons I print the letters, and also because every
person of ordinary common sense oi' intelligence who
reads them, must know that they were not written by an
insane person ; although the circumstances of my case are
alone sufficient to prove, absolutely, that I was never
insane. Of course, I utterly repudiate the modern theory
of insanity, popularized by physicians and other interested
persons—a theory which, wherever it prevails, holds un
der its monstrous ban, subject to its hideous penalties,
every human being ! It should be constantly remembered
that during my whole imprisonment I was kept in entire
ignorance of all that it concerned me to know ; that every
thing real in my condition was absolutely ignored, while
I was simply the insane wife of a tender and devoted hus
band ! And I trust that the circumstances under which
these letters were written, with the loss of many inter
vening, will explain any seeming incoherence.
LYDIA B. DENNY.
The first six letters were written before the habeas
corpus—the others after.
LETTER I.
George, you are deceived; believe nothing, but see
me; and O, do not wait too long, till I am dead with
despair and sorrow, but if I never see you again, I shall
not think you have forsaken me. I know you are deceived.
I have not much hope that you will get this, but if you
do, it is best for me that you keep it to yourself. Did
you get any letters from me after I left New York ?
I have written you once before from here, hoping you
may get one or the other, for I must have some hope. It
does not seem to me I can bear it much longer.
I ask the finder of this to inclose it—mail it—directed
to Mr. George Kinney, No. 1 Henry Street, Brooklyn, N.
I
a
�11
Y. I put in money for envelope and stamp, and beseech
you to send it; and so may God send you help in your
sorest need!
[Picked up in Maplewood, Malden, 22d April, 1861, by J. Brown, Jr.]
LETTER II.
A gentleman of Boston keeps his wife confined, be
cause, after enduring years of neglect and cruelty, she
finally exposed his brutality, by showing to a number of
persons the bruises he had inflicted on her person, and
telling the outrages he had committed against her. To
cover this, and prevent her obtaining a divorce, she is
shut up—to be cured, she is told, of the “nervousness”
which makes her fancy she was ill-treated. Her desire
to be released from captivity and obtain justice is called
a spirit of revenge, which is insanity. For four months
she has not looked on a face she ever saw before, and only
knows she has children and friends from the assurance
(given when she asks) that her “ friends are all well.”
Her health is giving way, and she fears she cannot endure
till she is rescued. If the finder of this will send it to
Hon. Samuel E. Sewall, Boston, he will know if any
thing can be done for her relief; or to Mr. George Kin
ney, No. 1 Henry Street, Brooklyn, N. Y. Money en
closed to pay for stamp and envelope.
Mr. Sewall knows her story. He advised her what
to do; but she thought she might take a little time to make
up her mind, not knowing that what has happened to her
was possible. She was taken from home by force, with
out a moment’s notice. She desires to act as Mr. Sewall
advised. Expressing that desire and intention where she
is, she knows is fatal to her unless she is rescued, and she
feels or fears she cannot much longer endure her cruel
captivity and the more cruel injustice that causes it. The
finder is again earnestly entreated to send this paper to
Mr. Sewall.
�12
LETTER III.
Reuben S. Denny resides at No. 5 Union Park, Bos
ton. His wife, after enduring years of neglect and un
kindness, was finally rendered desperate by his cruelty,
and exposed him by showing to a number of persons the
bruises he had inflicted on her, and telling the outrages
he had committed against her. To cover this, and to
prevent her obtaining a divorce, which would further
expose him, he keeps her confined in the McLean Asylum,
Somerville, to be cured, she is told, of the nervousness
which makes her fancy she was ill-treated. For more
than four months she has not looked on a face she ever
saw before, and only knows that she has children, a
mother, brother, sister, by being told (when she asks)
that they are well. She was taken from her home by
force, without a moment’s warning. The cruel separation
from her children and.friends, and the more cruel injustice
that compels it, she feels is killing her, and she fears soon.
She has no appetite, but forces herself to take as much
as she possibly can, hoping to endure till she is rescued.
The finder of this is entreated to take or send it to the
Hon. Samuel E. Sewall, Boston, who knows her story,
and she hopes will interpose to save her before it is too
late. Mr. Sewall was her lawyer, and advised hei' what
to do ; but she thought she might take a little time to
make up her mind, not knowing that this which has hap
pened t© her was possible.
She desires to assure Mr. Sewall that she has no story
to tell but the one she told him, and she demands an in
vestigation. She wishes to see him, and her mother and
brother, who are entirely deceived in regard to her con
dition.
Her mother, Mrs. D. Kinney, and her brother, Mr.
George Kinney, resided at No. 1 Henry Street, Brooklyn,
New York.
She begs Mr. Sewall to see her, as he can know nothing
of her unless he does; and, O, let it be soon, for she has
no other hope.
�13
LETTER IV.
Reuben S. Denny resides at No. 5 Union Park, Boston.
His wife, after enduring years of neglect and unkindness,
was finally rendered desperate by his cruelty, and exposed
him by showing the bruises he had inflicted on her per
son, and telling the outrages he had committed against
her. To cover this, and to prevent her obtaining a divorce,
which would further expose him, he keeps her confined in
the McLean Asylum, Somerville, to be cured, she is told,
of the nervousness which makes her “ fancy ” she was illtreated. For more than four months she has not seen a
face she ever saw before, and only knows she has children,
a mother, brother, and sister, from being told (when she
asks) that her “ friends are all well.” This cruel captivity
and separation from all she loves, with the more cruel in
justice that compels it, she fears she cannot much longer
endure, as her health is much impaired, and her appetite
entirely fails.
The finder of this is earnestly entreated to take or send
it to the Hon. Samuel E. Sewall, Boston, who knows her
story, and she trusts will interpose in her behalf before it
is too late. Mr. Sewall was her lawyer, and advised her
what to do, but she thought she might take time to make
up her mind—not knowing that this which has happened
to her was possible. She was taken from her home by
force, without a moment’s warning. She desires Mr. Sewall
to act for her—she thinks with his knowledge of her case
he can demand an investigation. She has, and has had,
no story but the one she told him. She is sure that if her
case was investigated, or if her friends had knowledge of
her real condition, she could not be detained here one
hour. She submits that her friends ought to understand
that any distress of mind they might have seen her ex
hibit was the legitimate and natural (immediate) result of
the treatment to which she had been subjected—at least
with her—and they ought to believe nothing from the
man who was so careful to put her effectually out of the
way before he made his explanations. If she dies here,
they will probably never see her alive, as they would not
�14
be sent for till too late. "Women, mothers of young
children, have been kept here years, and finally died here,
without once being allowed to see their children, not even
at the last—not insane women—except with the peculiar
insanity which only the husband and the physician can dis
cern, or perhaps a friend or two who has the “ reputation
of the family at heart.” Her mother and brother, Mrs.
D. Kinney and Mr. George Kinney, reside at No. 1 Henry
Street, Brooklyn, N. Y. She appeals to any one possess
ing a human heart to pity her in her extremity, and send
this to Mr. Sewall, her mother, or brother.
[The greater part, indeed almost the whole, of this letter (D) is a literal copy
of the above, the variations so slight, it has not been thought necessary to
make a copy.]
LETTER V.
I am obliged to write in secrecy and haste. I hope
the ordinary allowance will be made for incoherence. I
think I need medical treatment (I beg not to distress my
friends), but I will never ask or receive it from any per
son here—not because I am insane or obstinate, for I sup
pose it is only natural that I should prefer to choose my
own physician, that I should desire to be treated by those in
whom I can feel confidence, and that I object to placing
myself in the hands of those toward whom circumstances
compel me to feel some degree of distrust. I do not say
this because I am anxious about my health (for if I cannot
have liberty I desire death, which, being a patriotic senti
ment, can’t be insane); but if I die here (I say again), it
is murder, and I will never by word or act so much as
imply consent, but, as from the first so to the last, I will
protest; and I hereby take to witness the person or per
sons finding and reading this paper, that I, Lydia B. Den
ny,
sound mind, declare I am unjustly and illegally
imprisoned in the McLean Asylum, Somerville, and that
I appeal to the laws of my country for redress, and demand
my liberty, and an open, legal investigation, that I may
establish the truth of what I here assert.
The accompanying paper was written some time ago.
I have neither opportunity or paper to rewrite it, and so
�15
will add a few lines. Since writing it, I have taken such
opportunity as I have, and spoken (appealed) to the
Trustees, and with precisely the result I anticipated. The
business of the Trustees is to indorse Dr. Tyler; not, by
any means, to entertain complaints or redress grievances,
which might possibly implicate him, the institution, or
themselves. Of course this is merely my opinion, but it
seems to me quite warranted by my experience. I finally
asked one of the gentlemen, a lawyer, if, knowing or de
claring myself sane, and my imprisonment cruel, unjust,
and illegal—my friends, deceived as to my condition (or
for any other reason), consenting—thus leaving me without
help or hope—there was for me no redress—no resource.
He said I could “ appeal to the laws of my country.” I
waited another week, and, at the next visit, told him I de
sired to appeal to the law, through you, and with your
advice. I said, however, I should prefer to be released
without resorting to the law. The answer was : “I will
tell Mr. Sewall what you say.” I have waited two weeks
longer, without result, and am forced again to try the for
lorn hope. Sir, if there is any law for me, I appeal to it;
and J submit that (sane or insane) the circumstances of
my case give me a right to demand a legal investigation.
I demand, first, my liberty-, and shall authorize or con
sent to no investigation where that is not the first step.
I assert confidently that my friends have no idea of my
real condition. I assure them they would not find me
troublesome. I am neither restless, nervous, or sad ; on
the contrary, I am calm, quiet, cheerful, and withal indus
trious. I never before preserved so equal a demeanor,
for there was never before a time when I dared not act as
I felt, and speak what I thought. Now, if I feel indigna
tion, contempt, terror, disgust, pity, sorrow, longing, I
endure, and am silent, and I wait. I have waited six
months and in all that time, I have had no word, message,
or greeting from any person outside these walls, except,
sir, your visit; nor have 1 sent any except as I send this.
L. B. DENNY.
To the Hon. Saml. E. Sewall, Boston.
Dr. Tyler says your visit was a matter of courtesy to
you.
�16
LETTER VI.
I am compelled to write secretly and in haste, and
cannot choose my words. I make as many copies as I
can, hoping some one of them may reach you. I think
I need medical treatment (I hope my friends will not be
too anxious), but I will never ask or receive it from any
person here, not because I am insane or obstinate—for I
suppose it is only natural that 1 should prefer to choose
my own physician—that I should desire to be treated by
those in whom I can feel confidence, and that I object to
placing myself in the hands of those toward whom cir
cumstances compel me to feel some degree of distrust. I
say again, if I die here, it is murder, and I will never, by
word or act, so much as imply consent, but, as from the
first so to the last, I will protest; and I hereby take to
witness the person or persons finding and reading this
paper that I, Lydia B. Denny, of sound mind, declare that
I am unjustly and illegally imprisoned in the M<Lean
Asylum, Somerville; and that I appeal to the laws of my
country for redress, and demand an open, legal investiga
tion, that I may establish the truth of what I here assert.
When I was forced from my home and brought to this
place I had four children. My youngest, a little girl, seven
years old, is, I suppose, with her aunt, in Cambridge.
Almost every time I ride I go in sight of the back of the
house where she lives. I have often asked to be taken
past the front, thinking I might get a glimpse of my child.
The request seems to be regarded as rather a pleasant
joke : it is never granted. Now, such may be excellent
discipline for insane people—I can’t say, but to me, or
any sane mother, it is simply cruelty, cruelty—equally
wicked and contemptible. It is an easy thing for Dr.
Tyler to say it is his opinion that I am insane; but is Dr.
Tyler infallible ? I heard him admit that it was possible
he might be mistaken. Ought the opinion of one, or
two, or twenty men, subject a woman to such an ordeal
as I have endured for the last six months, without at least
giving her a chance for her life, or, what is of infinitely
more value, her liberty ?
�17
Dr. Tyler says he does not believe what I say of my
husband is true ; and if he did, he calls my desire to be
restored to my friends and to obtain justice a spirit of
revenge.
When I say Mr. Sewall advised me to get a divorce
from my husband, and that if my condition was under
stood he could not keep me an hour, he does not wish to
argue the question.
L. B. D.
LETTER VII.
To Hon. Samuel E. Sewall, Boston:—I am afraid,
sir, that you have failed (for the present) in your efforts
to release me from this dreadful place ; and I am afraid,
too, that it is my own fault. I suppose I should have told
my story more fully; but I was so absorbed with anxiety
and the dread of returning here, that I had scarcely any
other thought or feeling. I had no chance. I can have
none until I am removed from this place. I think, sir, I
told you how I was brought here. On a cold winter
night, with snow on the ground, and my feet wet to my
ankles, without bonnet oi’ shawl, or wrapping of any kind,
I was forced into a carriage and brought here. I asked
to be allowed to get some covering and bid good-by to
my child; I was refused. I suffered for three weeks writh
a severe cold then contracted ; though I believe the theory
here is, that “excited patients” do not take cold. If I
am to remain longer here, cannot you visit me again ? I
wish to tell you some things which I am sure it is import
ant you should know, and there are circumstances I am
desirous my friends should know, in case I never have an
opportunity of telling them myself. If proofs are now
of any importance, I think I can show how they may be
obtained. I believe I have never told any one what I
learned on my last visit to New York, and I certainly
made important discoveries. Perhaps I am unwise in
advising you at this time; but this suspense, anxiety, igno
rance, dread, is so hard to bear; and yet, since I have seen
my friends I bear it better, and, whatever may be the
result, I shall continue to.
My insanity here still consists in my thinking I am
ill-used, and supposing that those who imprison me here
�18
are not my best friends. The anxiety of my friends and
your efforts in my behalf are utterly ignored.
L. B. DENNY.
(Received May 12, 1862.
S. E. S.)
LETTER VIII.
Dr. Tyler has represented to (told ?) my friends that
I was contented and willing to be here. I have never to
any person, at any time, said or intimated anything which
could by any possibility be so construed; but I have in
variably expressed to him and others the most intense and
earnest desire to be liberated and restored to my friends.
I have said repeatedly to Dr. Tyler, and to my attendant,
that I had rather die than to remain here as I was, even for
a limited time—that life could offer me nothing to com
pensate for such terrible endurance—that the separation
and estrangement from my children alone was too much
to endure. It is but a few days since I endeavored to express
to Dr. Tyler the anguish of my mind in the thought that
to my younger children I was already as one dead. I
have expressed these feelings, and none other, repeatedly,
to Dr. Blackman, Miss Barber, and my attendant, telling
them it was simply compelled endurance ; I have at the
same time presented a cheerful and composed exterior—
employing myself constantly, and availing myself of every
possible resource.
Dr. Tyler said to me thWmy insisting on my sanity
was a proof of insanity—if I were really sane, I should
begin to think myself insane. I repeated these remarks
to the trustees (Mr. Davis, Mr. Lowell). Mr. Lowell
laughed and said, “ that is rather strong.” Dr. Tyler
made some modifying explanation. One of the trustees
said to me that my friends refused to receive me—Mr.
Rogers.
I submit that Dr. Tyler can now have no pretext for
detaining me, as he must admit that it is impossible I
should ever return to my husband.
�19
LETTER IX.
I wish to be at the Court next Monday morning. I
think the law allows me the privilege. I asked Dr. Tyler,
in presence of the trustees, if he intended to take me there.
He does not. He thinks it is “ not good for me to keep
this matter stirring ; it confirms my peculiar views.” I
then asked him (and them) if the law did not allow me to
decide for myself whether to be present or absent ? The
question was evaded. Then I stated plainly and fully
that I desired to be present in Court next Monday morn
ing (Nov. 25, 1861), and demanded all my rights and
privileges under the law. I wish at least for the opportu
nity it would give me to see my friends once more.
L. B. DENNY.
The finder is requested to take or send this to the
Hon. Samuel E. Sewall, Boston. Money inclosed for en
velope and postage. The horrors I am compelled to wit
ness and to hear are too dreadful for my endurance.
(Received April 14,1862.
S. E. 9.
Left at my office with three other papers, I am told, April 12, by some person
unknown.
9. E. S.)
LETTER X.
I was so closely watched, it was impossible for me to
throw out the accompanying paper before the time speci
fied, nor is the vigilance since relaxed; but I shall keep
the paper by me, and if opportunity ever comes, trust to the
chance that before befriended me. Of course I know no
thing about law, but it would seem that there is none for
me—that the insane (those to whom insanity is imputed)
have no rights that the sane are bound to respect. I have
not heard a -word of my friends, or anything that concerns
me, since I left them in the court-house, nearly two months
ago. I ask no questions. I could only hear they were
well or ill, alive or dead ; and as I do not wish to know if
they are ill or dead, I know nothing. None can realize
�20
what such a life is, except they have experienced it; but
it is not so bad, nor ever can be again, as before I saw my
friends. My friends understand they can know nothing of
my real condition, except as they know me, for the truth
cannot be told by those who keep me here—who have
kept me here already nearly nine months, when there has
never been the shadow of a reason for keeping me one
hour, as every person here well knows.
In the very enormity of the deed is its safety. But I
am not in the least blinded or confused. I know just what
has been (and is) done to me, and why; and I know also
that I am helpless, and, from those who keep me here,
hopeless. I complain to no one here, nor mention my
affairs in any way. I never intend to again. I maintain
a demeanor perfectly tranquil, equal, and cheerful. I long
for my children with unutterable anguish. For my mo
ther and my brother I am most anxious, for I know they
will suffer much for me. I wish them to know that I bear
it as well as any one could; but it is bitter, it is cruel.
The knowledge of their dear love and sympathy is my
great support, my strong consolation; and may I not say
to you, dear sir, that I know and feel (if I cannot express)
what I owe to you. You said you would not forsake me,
and I know you will not. But, sir, if you cannot save
me, do not give up my cause. Save others. Truth (if
you could get at it) and justice ought to be strong enough
to break down even this monstrous “ refuge of lies.”
Sir, this place is ruled by terror.
(Received April 14th, 1862. Left at office April 12,1862.
S. E. S.)
LETTER XI.
I have now endured this imprisonment for nearly a
year. At times I am weak and tired, and able to sit up
but part of the day. I have no exercise, and that, I sup
pose, with the wearing anguish of my imprisonment and
separation from all I love, wastes my strength. I suppose,
too, that I need medical treatment, as Miss Z. will under
stand. Of my own affairs I know absolutely nothing. I
ask no questions; I make no complaints ; I am at all times
cheerful, serene, equal; but my life is a burden. To every
honorable mind, degradation is worse than death—and
this life (of mine) is, besides its anguished longings, a daily
�21
and deadly humiliation. Dr. Tyler has told me repeat
edly, within the last three months, that I am “ much bet
ter
but to be “ well ” I am to acknowledge that I have
labored under a delusion, and that the charges I brought
against my husband (especially those in relation to his
cruelty) were the result of said delusion. I shall never
make any such acknowledgment. I feel that I take my
life in my hand when I risk having it known here that I
have again attempted to communicate with my friends;
but, because I do not wish to live, here, I take the risk—
not that I desire to die; except as a release from this fear
ful imprisonment, wherein I am environed with miseries
and terrors that sicken the soul and curdle the blood ; but
I dare not say so here. Sir, no one can form an idea of
the system here maintained—a very “system of terror”
—and such terror as can compel its victims to appear
cheerful. Can there be greater, except it produce death ?
And that many do die here from terror and despair, is un
questionable. It may be called the “ crushing-out ” sys
tem, perfected. Such things as I have heard and known,
seen and felt! And my experience is the experience of
all here—modified and varied, of course, by intelligence,
temperament, circumstances, and, above all, the sanity or
insanity of the victim. Every one who knows anything of
my case knows, of course, that I am not and never have
been insane; and let not my friends ever for a moment
admit the deadly lie—a lie that entails not only on my
innocent children, but on theirs also, its blighting curse.
I have been represented as an insanely jealous woman, a
liar, and a murderess (in heart). Iwas jealous of my rights,
my honor, and my dignity, as a woman, a wife, and a mo
ther (for my sons were fully cognizant of my wrongs); but
that I was ever jealous of that man, I disdain to admit. I
was insulted, outraged, maltreated, bruised; and, in my
desperate, but perfectly legitimate, grief and anger, I told
the truth; and not all the truth even then. I did also at
times express in tolerably strong language the hatred and
contempt I felt, always have felt, and always shall feel,
for cruelty and meanness. To cloak these exposures, and
to prevent my obtaining a divorce, which would give them
still further publicity, I was kidnapped and brought here,
with circumstances of barbarous cruelty; and here, for
nearly a year, I have been imprisoned, suffering terrors
and anguish that cannot be described; and here, unless
�22
my friends can rescue me, I shall die (not, alas! the first
victim), for I am in the hands of those who are as cruel
as guilt, and cowardice, and power, can make men, and,
withal, as relentless and secret as the grave.
Before I was brought here, I asked only such repara
tion as the law would give me. Since, I have asked only
my liberty and a fair and open investigation. Now I
know nothing about law, but I do know what is just and
right; and I know that any act, any system, any institu
tion which shuns investigation when accused or suspected,
shuns it because it cannot bear it; but I do not think Jaw
keeps me here—it is money, and power, and influence.
Patients sometimes die suddenly here. Of course, I
know what would be said of this remark here, but the
statement is, nevertheless, true; and if I die here, I say
to my friends (to you, sir), do not let this matter rest.
Try to save others. Let no consideration deter you from
giving publicity to my story, and so exposing, as far as
you can, a system which has in its dreadful toils thou
sands of miserable victims, and which every year mur
ders with torments hundreds of innocent and helpless
human beings. Do not my sufferings and my treatment
indorse my words ? I do not speak of dying because I
am alarmed or anxious about my health. I am not; but
let my friends bear in mind that I know nothing at all
that it concerns me to know, or that I care to know. I
do not even know if they are alive or dead, and my only
prospect is an idefinite hope. For my children and my
friends I long with intolerable longings. My poor heart
is so wrung and tortured that I sometimes feel it can
endure no more, no longer. God be merciful to me,
and grant me the “ desire of mine eyes ”—my children,
my friends I
I am sometimes exhibited to gentlemen, strangers,
besides the trustees, possibly that they may testify to my
comfort, content, happiness.
Of these papers I make several copies, that there may
be the better chance for some one package reaching its
destination.
I entreat the person finding these papers to take or
send them to the Hon. Samuel E. Sewall, Boston.
I inclose money for postage and envelope.
(Rec’d April 14,1862.
Left at office April 12,1861, I am told, with three other papers.
8. E. S.
S. E. g.)
�23
LETTER XII.
During my imprisonment in this place, the suite of
rooms next mine has been occupied by a young lady from
Boston. Last Saturday evening, March 29, this young
lady was burned to death. She lingered till the next
night, about midnight, when she died, here. Monday night
her body was privately removed. Her death was re
corded in the Boston papers, under the usual head, in the
usual manner, as “ Died in this city,” &c. This accident
is to be concealed, that the reputation of this institution
may remain intact. I think but three of the patients
know how she died. It is one of the secrets of this place.
Sir, I know it is not safe for me to be acquainted
with their secrets. I do not think I am afraid to die ; but
this life is too fearful.
Can you,do nothing for me?
The Hon. Samuel E. Sewall, Boston.
(Deceived April 14, 1862.
S. E. S.
Left, I am told, at my office, April 12,1862, with three other papers.
S. E. S.)
LETTER XIII.
Sir :—Saturday evening, March 29th,'a young lady
from Boston, a “ patient ” here, was so terribly burned
as to cause her death. She lingered till the next night,
when she died, here, about midnight. Monday night her
body was privately removed. Her death was recorded
in the Boston papers, under the usual head, in the usual
manner, as “ Died in this city,” &c. This accident is
concealed, I suppose (I heard as much said), that the repu
tation of the institution may remain intact. I think (for
the subject is not alluded to, and I dare not ask) that
but three of the patients are acquainted with the manner
of her death. It is one of the secrets of this place. Sir,
I am sure it is not safe for me to be cognizant of these
secrets. This is a fearful place. You can have no idea
of the system here maintained—a “ system of terror,”
�' 24
which has in its cruel toils (here and in other places)
thousands of miserable victims, and which every year
murders with torments (the torments of fear, anguish, and
despair) hundreds of helpless and innocent human beings.
It is now more than a year since I was, with cruel vio
lence, torn from my children and brought to this dreadful
place. Since then, with the exception of which you are
aware, I know absolutely nothing of them, my friends, or
anything that it concerns me to know. I still cherish
hope, and shall while life remains; but, knowing of this
place and those who keep me here, and knowing (I may
say) nothing else, I greatly fear. I long for my children
and my friends with inexpressible anguish. I think
sometimes I cannot bear it; but I do, and better than
many others. The miseries and horrors I am compelled
to witness ^nd to know add greatly to my sufferings. But
I make no complaints here. I am always cheerful and
serene—taking care, however, to have it understood that
I am simply enduring what is inevitable. No one sup
poses that I am either happy or contented,’ and no one
has ever supposed that I was insane; but they all under
stand their business.
O, sir, if you (my friends) cannot rescue me, I shall
never leave this place alive. From those who keep me
here nothing of my real condition can be known. Facts
and realities are utterly and systematically ignored. If
it were not so terrible a tragedy, it would be an absurd
farce; and it is, if possible, even more contemptible than
wicked. No honest, honorable mind can conceive such
mean wickedness ; it must be known to be believed. I,
alas ! have had full experience.
The finder of this is entreated to send or take this to
the Hon. Samuel E. Sewall, Boston.
I have no money to pay for envelope and postage, and
inclose car tickets, hoping they will be deemed equivalent.
Hon. Samuel E. Sewall, Boston.
(Received April 11,1862.
88.)
[Letter (C) was received April 10,1862. It is evident that one was copied
from the other—I mean (C) from (H), or (H) from (C). The variations are so
few and unimportant that no copy is made of it.]
jq*
�
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Victorian Blogging
Description
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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Statement of Mrs. Lydia B. Denny, wife of Reuben S. Denny, of Boston, in regard to her alleged insanity
Creator
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Denny, Lydia B.
Description
An account of the resource
Place of publication: [Boston]
Collation: 24 p. ; 20 cm.
Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Includes letters written by Mrs. Denny to her lawyer, Samuel E. Sewall, during her imprisonment.
Publisher
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[s.n.]
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[1863]
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G5226
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Women's rights
Domestic violence
Mental health
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<a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (A defence of atheism: being a lecture delivered in Mercantile Hall, Boston, April 10, 1861), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
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English
Conway Tracts
Divorce
Domestic violence
Mental Health
Women's Rights
-
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Text
national secular scc7^
MARRIAGE
AND
DIVORCE
AN AGNOSTIC’S VIEW.
BY
COLONEL R. G. INGERSOLL.
Price Twopence.
LONDON:
R. FORDER, 28 STONECUTTER STREET, E.C.
�LONDON:
PRINTED BY G. W. EOOTE,
AT 28 STONECUTTER STREET, E.C.
�V9 0-73 0
M374-
During November and December, 1889, the North
American Review printed a number of articles by repre
sentative men on the subject of Divorce. The editor
framed a series of four questions, which the various
writers replied to. Colonel Ingersoll answered them
seriatim and fully, without the least evasion or reserve,
having a habit, not only of meaning what he says, but of
saying what he means. His article is now reproduced
for the benefit of English readers. It is a very important
contribution to the literature of the marriage question,
and it is to be hoped that those who are privileged to
read it will circulate it amongst their friends and
acquaintances.
��MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
Question (1). Do you believe in the principle of divorce under
any circumstances ?
The world for the most part is ruled by the tomb, and
the living are tyrannised over by the dead. Old ideas,
long after the conditions under which they were produced
have passed away, often persist in surviving. Many are
disposed to worship the ancient—to follow the old paths,
without inquiring where they lead, and without knowing
exactly where they wish to go themselves.
Opinions on the subject of divorce have been for the
most part inherited from the early Christians. They
have come down to us through theological and priestly
channels. The early Christians believed that the world
was about to be destroyed, or that it was to be purified
by fire; that all the wicked were to perish, and that the
good were to be caught up in the air to meet their Lord
—to remain there, in all probability, until the earth was
prepared as a habitation for the blessed. With this
thought or belief in their minds, the things of this world
were of comparatively no importance. The man who
built larger barns in which to store his grain was re
garded as a foolish farmer, who had forgotten, in his
greed for gain, the value of his own soul. They regarded
prosperous people as the children of Mammon, and the
unfortunate, the wretched, and diseased, as the favorites
of God. They discouraged all worldly pursuits, except
the soliciting of alms. There was no time to marry or
to be given in marriage ; no time to build homes and
have families. All their thoughts were centred upon the
heaven they expected to inherit. Business, love, all
secular things, fell into disrepute.
�6
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
Nothing is said in the Testament about the families of
the Apostles ; nothing of family life, of the sacredness of
home; nothing about the necessity of .education, the im
provement and development of the mind. These things
were forgotten, for the reason that nothing, in the pre
sence of the expected event, was considered of any
importance, except to be ready when the Son of Man
should come. Such was the feeling, that rewards were
offered by Christ himself to those who would desert their
wives and children. Human love was spoken of with
contempt. “Let the dead bury their dead. What is
that to thee ? Follow thou me.” They not only believed
these things, but acted in accordance with them; and, as
a consequence, all the relations of life were denied or
avoided, and their obligations disregarded. Marriage
was discouraged. It was regarded as only one degree
above open and unbridled vice, and was allowed only in
consideration of human weakness. It was thought far
better not to marry—that it was something grander for
a man to love God than to love woman. The exceedingly
godly, the really spiritual, believed in celibacy, and held
the opposite sex in a kind of pious abhorrence. And
yet, with that inconsistency so characteristic of theo
logians, marriage was held to be a sacrament. The
priest said to the man who married: “ Remember that
you are caught for life. This door opens but once.
Before this den of matrimony the tracks are all one
way.” This was in the nature of a punishment for
having married. The theologian felt that the contract of
marriage, if not contrary to God’s command, was at least
contrary to his advice, and that the married ought to
suffer in some way, as a matter of justice. The fact that
there could be no divorce, that a mistake could not be
corrected, was held up as a warning. At every wedding
feast this skeleton stretched its fleshless finger towards
bride and groom.
Nearly all intelligent people have given up the idea
that the world is about to come to an end. . They do not
now believe that prosperity is a certain sign of wicked
ness, or that poverty and wretchedness are sure, certificates
of virtue. They are hardly convinced that Dives should
have been sent to hell simply for being rich, or that
�MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
7
Lazarus was entitled to eternal joy on account of his
poverty. We now know that prosperous people may
be good, and that unfortunate people may be bad. We
have reached the conclusion that the practice of virtue
tends in the direction of .prosperity, and that a violation
of the conditions of well-being brings, with absolute
certainty, wretchedness and misfortune.
There was a time when it was believed that the sin of an
individual was visited upon the tribe, the community, or
the nation to which he belonged. It was then thought
that if a man or woman had made a vow to God, and had
failed to keep the vow, God might punish the entire com
munity ; therefore it was the business of the community
to see to it that the vow was kept. That idea has been
abandoned. As we progress, the rights of the individual
are perceived, and we are now beginning dimly to discern
that there are no rights higher than the rights of the
individual. There was a time when nearly all believed in
the reforming power of punishment—in the beneficence of
brute force. But the world is changing. It was at one
time thought that the Inquisition was the savior of
society; that the persecution of the philosopher was
requisite to the preservation of the State; and that, no
matter what happened, the State should be preserved.
We have now more light. And standing upon this
luminous point that we call the present, let me answer
your questions.
Marriage is the most important, the most sacred, con
tract that human beings can make. No matter whether
we call it a contract or a sacrament, or both, it remains
precisely the same. And no matter whether this contract
is entered into in the presence of magistrate or priest, it is
exactly the same. A true marriage is a natural concord
and agreement of souls, a harmony in which discord is not
even imagined; it is a mingling so perfect that only one
seems to exist; all other considerations are lost; the
present seems to be eternal. In this supreme moment
there is no shadow—or the shadow is as luminous as light.
And when two beings thus love, thus unite, this is the true
marriage of soul and soul. That which is said before the
altar, or minister, or magistrate, or in the presence of
witnesses, is only the outward evidence of that which has
�8
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
already happened within; it simply testifies to a union
that has already taken place—to the uniting of two
mornings that hope to reach the night together. Each
has found the ideal: the man has found the one woman of
all the world—the impersonation of affection, purity,
passion, love, beauty, and grace; and the woman has
found the one man of all the world-—her ideal, and all that
she knows of romance, of art, courage, heroism, honesty, is
realised in him. The idea of contract is lost. Duty and
obligation are instantly changed into desire and joy, and
two lives, like uniting streams, flow on as one. Nothing
can add to the sacredness of this marriage, to the obliga
tion and duty of each to each. There is nothing in the
ceremony except the desire on the part of the man and
woman that the whole world should know that they are
really married, and that their souls have been united.
Every marriage, for a thousand reasons, should be
public, should be recorded, should be known; but, above
all, to the end that the purity of the union should appear.
These ceremonies are not only for the good and for the
protection of the married, but also for the protection of
their children, and of society as well. But, after all, the
marriage remains a contract of the highest possible
character—a contract in which each gives and receives a
heart.
The question then arises, Should this marriage, under
any circumstances, be dissolved ? It is easy to understand
the position taken by the various Churches ; but back of
theological opinions is the question of contract.
In this contract of marriage the man agrees to protect
and cherish his wife. Suppose that he refuses to protect;
that he abuses, assaults, and tramples upon the woman he
wed. What is her redress ? Is she under any obligation
to him ? He has violated the contract. He has failed to
protect, and, in addition, he has assaulted her like a wild
beast. Is she under any obligation to him 1 Is she bound
by the contract he has broken ? If so, what is the con
sideration for this obligation ? Must she live with him for
his sake ? or, if she leaves him to preserve her life, must
she remain his wife for his sake ? No intelligent man will
answer these questions in the affirmative.
If, then, she is not bound to remain his wife for the
�MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
9
husband’s sake, is she bound to remain his wife because the
marriage was a sacrament ? Is there any obligation on the
part of the wife to remain with the brutal husband for the
sake of God ? Can her conduct affect in any way the
happiness of an infinite being ? Is it possible for a human
being to increase or diminish the well-being of the Infinite ?
The next question is as to the right of society in this
matter. It must be admitted that the peace of society
will be promoted by the separation of such people.
Certainly society cannot insist upon a wife remaining
with a husband who bruises and mangles her flesh.
Even married women have a right to personal security.
They do not lose, either by contract or sacrament, the
right of self-preservation; this they share in common,
to say the least of it, with the lowest living creatures.
This will probably be admitted by most of the enemies
of divorce; but they will insist that, while the wife has
the right to flee from her husband’s roof and seek
protection of kindred or friends, the marriage the
sacrament—must remain unbroken. Is it to the interest
of society that those who despise each other should live
together ? Ought the world to be peopled by the children
of hatred or disgust, the children of lust and loathing, or
by the welcome babes of mutual love ? Is it possible that
an infinitely wise and compassionate God insists that a
helpless woman shall remain the wife of a cruel wretch 1
Can this add to the joy of Paradise, or tend to keep one
harp in tune ? Can anything be more infamous than for a
Government to compel a woman to remain the wife of a
man she hates—of one whom she justly holds in abhor
rence ? Does any decent man wish the assistance of. a
constable, a sheriff, a judge, or a church, to keep his wife
in his house ? Is it possible to conceive of a more con
temptible human being than a man who would appeal to
force in such a case ? It may be said that the woman is
free to go, and that the courts will protect her from the
brutality of the man who promised to be her protector;
but where shall the woman go ? She may have no
friends; or they may be poor ; her kindred may be dead.
Has she no right to build another home ? Must this
woman, full of kindness, affection, health, be tied and
chained to this living corpse ? Is there no future for
�10
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
her ? Must she be an outcast for ever—deceived and
betrayed for her whole life ? Can she never sit by her
own hearth,, with the arms of her children about her
neck, and with a husband who loves and protects her ?
Is she to become a social pariah, and is this for the bene
fit of society ?—or is it for the sake of the wretch who
destroyed her life ?
The ground has been taken that woman would lose
her dignity if marriage could be annulled. Is it necessary
to lose your liberty in order to retain your moral
character—in order to be pure and womanly ? Must a
woman,, in order to retain her virtue, become a slave, a
serf, with a beast for a master, or with society for a
master, or with a phantom for a master ?
If an infinite being is one of the parties to the contract,
is it not the duty of this being to see to it that the con
tract is carried out ? What consideration does the infinite
being give ? What consideration does he receive ? If a
wife owes no duty to her husband because the husband
has violated the contract, and has even assaulted her life,
is it possible for her to feel towards him any real thrill of
affection ? If she does not, what is there left of marriage ?
What part of this contract or sacrament remains in living
force ? She cannot sustain the relation of wife, because
she abhors him ; she cannot remain under the same roof,
for fear that she may be killed. They sustain, then, only
the relations of hunter and hunted—of tyrant and victim.
Is it desirable that this relation should last through life,
and that it should be rendered sacred by the ceremony of a
church ?
Again I ask, Is it desirable to have families raised under
such circumstances ? Are we in need of children born of
such parents ? Can the virtue of others be preserved
only, by this destruction of happiness, by this perpetual
imprisonment ?
A marriage without love is bad enough, and a marriage
for wealth or position is low enough; but what shall we
say of a marriage where the parties actually abhor each
other 1 Is there any morality in this ? any virtue in
this ? Is there virtue in retaining the name of wife, or
husband, without the real and true relation ? Will any
good man say, will any good woman declare, that a true,
�MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
11
loving woman should be compelled to be the mother of
children whose father she detests ? Is there a good
woman in the world who would not shrink from this her
self ; and is there a woman so heartless and so immoral
that she would force another to bear that from which she
would shudderingly and shriekingly shrink ?
Marriages are made by men and women, not by society;
not by the State; not by the Church; not by supernatural
beings. By this time we should know that nothing is
moral that does not tend to the well-being of sentient
beings j that nothing is virtuous the result of which is not
good. We know now, if we know anything, that all the
reasons for doing right, and all the reasons against doing
wrong, are here in this world. We should have imagination
enough to put ourselves in the place of another. Let a man
suppose himself a helpless woman beaten by a brutal
husband—would he advocate divorces then ?
Few people have an adequate idea of the sufferings of
women and children, of the number of wives who tremble
when they hear the footsteps of a returning husband, of the
number of children who hide when they hear the voice of
a father. Few people know the number of blows that fall
on the flesh of the helpless every day, and few know the
nights of terror passed by mothers who hold babes to their
breasts. Compared with these, all the hardships of
poverty borne by those who love each other are as
nothing. Men and women truly married bear the suffer
ings and misfortunes of poverty together. They console
each other. In the darkest night they see the radiance of
a star, and their affection gives to the heart of each
perpetual sunshine.
The good home is the unit of the good government.
The hearth-stone is the corner-stone of civilisation. Society
is not interested in the preservation of hateful homes, of
homes where husbands and wives are selfish, cold, and
cruel. It is not to the interest of society that good women
should be enslaved, that they should live in fear, or that
they should become mothers by husbands whom they hate.
Homes should be filled with kind and generous fathers,
with true and loving mothers; and when they are so filled
the world will be civilised. Intelligence will rock the
cradle; justice will sit in the courts; wisdom in the
�12
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
legislative halls; and above all and over all, like the dome
of heaven, will be the spirit of liberty.
Although marriage is the most important and the most
sacred contract that human beings can make, still, when
that contract has been violated, courts should have the
power to declare it null and void upon such conditions as
may be just.
As a rule, the woman dowers the husband with her
youth, her beauty, her love—with all she has; and from
this contract certainly the husband should never be released,
unless the wife has broken the conditions of that contract.
Divorces should be granted publicly, precisely as the
marriage should be solemnised. Every marriage should be
known, and there should be witnesses, to the end that the
character of the contract entered into should be understood;
the record should be open and public. And the same is
true of divorces. The conditions should be determined,
the property should be divided by a court of equity, and
the custody of the children given under regulations pre
scribed.
Men and women are not virtuous by law. Law does not
of itself create virtue, nor is it the foundation or fountain
of love. Law should protect virtue, and law should protect
the wife, if she has kept her contract, and the husband, if
he has fulfilled his. But the death of love is the end of
marriage. Love is natural. Back of all ceremony burns
and will forever burn the sacred flame. There has been no
time in the world’s history when that torch was extin
guished. In all ages, in all climes, among all people, there
has been true, pure, and unselfish love. Long before a
ceremony was thought of, long before a priest existed,
there were true and perfect marriages. Back of public
opinion is natural modesty, the affections of the heart; and,
in spite of all law, there is and forever will be the realm of
choice. Wherever love is, it is pure; and everywhere,
and at all times, the ceremony of marriage testifies to that
which has happened within the temple of the human heart.
Question (2). Ought divorced people to be allowed to marry
under any circumstances 2
This depends upon whether marriage is a crime. If it
is not a crime, why should any penalty be attached ? Can
�MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
13
anyone conceive of any reason why a woman obtaining a
divorce, without fault on her part, should be compelled as a
punishment to remain forever single ? Why should she be
punished for the dishonesty or brutality of another ? Why
should a man who faithfully kept his contract of marriage,
and who was deserted by an unfaithful wife, be punished
for the benefit of society ? Why should he be doomed to
live without a home ?
There is still another view. We must remember that
human passions are the same after as before divorce. To
prevent remarriage is to give excuse for vice.
Question (3). What is the effect of divorce upon the integrity
of the family 2
The real marriage is back of the ceremony, and the real
divorce is back of the decree. When love is dead, when
husband and wife abhor each other, they are divorced.
The decree records in a judicial way what has really taken
place, just as the ceremony of marriage attests a contract
already made.
The true family is the result of the true marriage, and
the institution of the family should above all things be
preserved. What becomes of the sacredness of the home,
if the law compels those who abhor each other to sit at
the same hearth ? This lowers the standard, and changes
the happy haven of home into the prison-cell. If we
wish to preserve the integrity of the family, we must
preserve the democracy of the fireside, the republicanism
of the home, the absolute and perfect equality of husband
and wife. There must be no exhibition of force, no
spectre of fear. The mother must not remain through
an order of court, or the command of a priest, or by
virtue of the tyranny of society; she must sit in absolute
freedom, the queen of herself, the sovereign of her own
soul and of her own body. Real homes can never be
preserved through force, through slavery, or superstition.
Nothing can be more sacred than a home, no altar purer
than the hearth.
Question (4). Does the absolute prohibition of divorce, where
it exists, contribute to the moral purity of society 2
We must define our terms. What is moral purity ?
The intelligent of this world seek the well-being of them
�14
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
selves and others. They know that happiness is the only
good; and this they strive to attain. To live in accordance
with the conditions of well-being is moral in the highest
sense. To use the best instrumentalities to attain the
highest ends is our highest conception of the moral. In
other words, morality is the melody or the perfection of
conduct. A man is not moral because he is obedient
through fear or ignorance. Morality lives in the realm of
perceived obligation, and where a being acts in accordance
with perceived obligation, that being is moral. Morality
is not the child of slavery. Ignorance is not the corner
stone of virtue.
The first duty of a human being is to himself. He must
see to it that he does not become a burden upon others.
To be self-respecting, he must endeavor to be self-sustaining.
If by his industry and intelligence he accumulates a margin,
then he is under obligation to do with that margin all the
good he can. He who lives to the ideal does the best he
can. In true marriage men and women give not only
their bodies, but their souls. This is the ideal marriage;
this is moral. They who give their bodies, but not their
souls, are not married, whatever the ceremony may be;
this is immoral.
If this be true, upon what principle can a woman
continue to sustain the relation of wife after love is dead 1
Is there some other consideration that can take the place
of genuine affection 1 Can she be bribed with money, or
a home, or position, or by public opinion, and still remain
a virtuous woman ? Is it for the good of society that
virtue should be thus crucified between Church and State ?
Can it be said that this contributes to the moral purity of
the human race 1
Is there a higher standard of virtue in countries where
divorce is prohibited than in those where it is granted 1
Where husbands and wives who have ceased to love cannot
be divorced there are mistresses and lovers.
The sacramental view of marriage is the shield of vice.
The world looks at the wife who has been abused, who
has been driven from the home of her husband, and the
world pities ; and when this wife is loved by some other
man, the world excuses. So, too, the husband who cannot
live in peace, who leaves his home, is pitied and excused.
�MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
15
Is it possible to conceive of anything more immoral than
for a husband to insist on living with a wife who has no
love for him ? Is not this a perpetual crime ? Is the wife
to lose her personality ? Has she no right of choice ? Is
her modesty the property of another ? Is the man she
hates the lord of her desire ? Has she no right to guard
the jewels of her soul ? Is there a depth below this ? And
is this the foundation of morality ? this the corner-stone of
society ? this the arch that supports the dome of civilisa
tion ? Is this pathetic sacrifice on the one hand, this sacri
lege on the other, pleasing in the sight of heaven ?
To me, the tenderest word in our language, the most
pathetic fact within our knowledge, is maternity. Around
this sacred word cluster the joys and sorrows, the agonies
and ecstasies, of the human race. The mother walks in
the shadow of death that she may give another life. Upon
the altar of love she puts her own life in pawn. When the
world is civilised, no wife will become a mother against her
will. Man will then know that to enslave another is to
imprison himself.
�Works by Colonel R. G. Ingersoll,
of Moses.
The only complete edition in
England. Accurate as Colenso,
and fascinating as a novel. 132 pp.
Is. Superior paper, cloth Is. 6d.
Defence of Freethought.
A Five Hours’ Speech at the Trial
of C. B. Reynolds for Blasphemy.
6d.
The Gods. 6d.
Reply to Gladstone. With
a Biography by J. M. Wheeler.
4d.
Rome or Reason? A Reply
to Cardinal Manning. 4d.
Crimes against Criminals.
3d.
Oration on Walt Whitman.
3d.
Oration on Voltaire. 3d.
Abraham Lincoln. 3d.
Paine the Pioneer. 2d.
Humanity’s Debt to Thomas
Paine. 2d.
Ernest Renan and Jesus
Christ. 2d.
True Religion. 2d.
The Three Philanthropists.
2d.
Love the Redeemer. 2d.
Is Suicide a Sin? 2d.
Last Words on Suicide. 2d.
Some Mistakes
God and the State. 2d.
Why am I an Agnostic
Part I. 2d.
Why am I
an Agnostic ?
Part II. 2d.
Faith and Fact. Reply to
Dr. Field. 2d
God and Man. Second reply
to Dr. Field. 2d.
The Dying Creed. 2d.
The Limits of Toleration.
A Discussion with the Hon. F. D.
Ooudert andGrov. S. L. Woodford.
2d.
The Household of Faith.
2d.
Art and Morality. 2d.
Do I Blaspheme ? 2d.
The Clergy and Common
Sense. 2d.
Social Salvation. 2d.
Marriage and Divorce. An
Agnostic’s View. 2d.
Skulls. 2d.
The Great Mistake, id.
Live Topics. Id.
Myth and Miracle. Id.
Real Blasphemy. Id.
Repairing the Idols. Id.
Christ and Miracles. Id.
Creeds & Spirituality. Id.
COL. INGERSOLL’S NEW LECTURE,
ABOUT THE
HOLY
BIBLE.
Price Sixpence.
READ
THE
FREETHINKER,
Edited by G. W. FOOTE.
■Published every Thursday. Price Twopence.
London : R. Forder, 28 Stonecutter-street, E.C.
�
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Victorian Blogging
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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Title
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Marriage and divorce : an agnostic's view
Creator
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Ingersoll, Robert Green [1833-1899]
Description
An account of the resource
Place of publication: London
Collation: 15 p. ; 20 cm.
Notes: No. A5 in Stein checklist (not identified or located by Stein). Publisher's advertisements on back cover. Reproduced from the North American Review. Printed by G.W. Foote. Part of the NSS pamphlet collection.
Publisher
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R. Forder
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[1890?]
Identifier
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N374
Subject
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Marriage
Agnosticism
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application/pdf
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Text
Language
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English
Divorce
Marriage
NSS