They thought I was stubborn. In the strict sense of the word there is
no such thing as a stubborn insane person. The truly stubborn men and
women in the world are sane; and the fortunate prevalence of sanity may
be approximately estimated by the preponderance of stubbornness in
society at large. When one possessed of the power of recognizing his
own errors continues to hold an unreasonable belief--that is
stubbornness. But for a man bereft of reason to adhere to an idea which
to him seems absolutely correct and true because he has been deprived
of the means of detecting his error--that is not stubbornness. It is a
symptom of his disease, and merits the indulgence of forbearance, if
not genuine sympathy. Certainly the afflicted one deserves no
punishment. As well punish with a blow the cheek that is disfigured by
the mumps.

The attendant who was with me most of the time while I remained at the
sanatorium was the kindly one already mentioned. Him I regarded,
however, as a detective, or, rather, as two detectives, one of whom
watched me by day, and the other--a perfect double--by night. He was an
enemy, and his professed sympathy--which I now know was genuine--only
made me hate him the more. As he was ignorant of the methods of
treatment in vogue in hospitals for the insane, it was several weeks
before he dared put in jeopardy his position by presuming to shield me
against unwise orders of the doctors. But when at last he awoke to the
situation, he repeatedly intervened in my behalf. More than once the
doctor who was both owner and superintendent threatened to discharge
him for alleged officiousness. But better judgment usually held the
doctor's wrath in check, for he realized that not one attendant in a
hundred was so competent.