“He has robbed her of all her patrimony, including not only her furniture, but her valuable clothing also, and a note of six hundred dollars on interest, which he gave her seven years before, as an equivalent for this amount of patrimony which her father, Rev. Samuel Ware, of Sunderland, Massachusetts, sent Mrs. Packard for her special benefit, and to be used for her and her children as her own judgment should dictate. He has taken her furniture and clothing, or the avails of them, with him to Massachusetts, without allowing her a single article of furniture for her own individual comfort and use. Thus he has left her without a single penny of their common property to procure for herself the necessaries of life.
“He has left her homeless. Before the court closed, Mr. Packard left this scene of revelations, and mortgaged and rented their home in Manteno, and dispossessed it by night of its furniture, so that when the court closed, Mrs. Packard had no sort of home to return to, the new renter having claimed possession of her home, and claiming a legal right to all its privileges, excluding her from its use entirely as a home, without leaving her the least legal claim to any of the avails of the rent or sales for the supply of her present necessities.
“Again, she is childless. Her cruel husband, not satisfied with robbing his wife of all her rightful property, has actually kidnapped all her dear children who lived at home, taking them with him, clandestinely, to Massachusetts, leaving her a ‘childless widow,’ entirely dependent for her living, either upon her own exertions, or the charities of the public. We will not attempt to describe the desolation of her maternal heart, when she returned to her deserted home, to find it despoiled of all her dearest earthly treasures; with no sweet cherub, with its smiling, joyous face to extend to her the happy, welcome kiss of a mother’s return.
“But one short week previous, Mrs. Packard had bestowed the parting kiss upon her three youngest children, little dreaming it would be the last embrace the mother would ever be allowed to bestow upon her dear offspring, in their own dear home. But now, alas! where is her only daughter, Elizabeth, of thirteen years, and her George Hastings, of ten years, and her darling baby, Arthur Dwight, of five years? Gone! gone! never to return, while the mandate of their father’s iron will usurps supreme control of this household!
“Yes, the mother’s home and heart are both desolate, for her heart-treasures—her dear children—are no more to be found. At length, rumor reaches her that her babe, Arthur, is at their brother Dole’s. The anxious mother hastens to seek for it there. But all in vain. The family, faithful to their brother’s wishes, keep the babe carefully hid from the mother, so that she cannot get even one glimpse of her sweet, darling boy. Her cruel husband, fearing her attempts to secure the child might prove successful, has sent for it to be brought to him in Massachusetts, where he now is fairly out of the mother’s reach.”
Z. Hanford.
I made various attempts to recover my furniture, which I found was stored at Deacon Doles’ house, a brother-in-law of Mr. Packard’s, under the pretense, that he had bought it, although he could never show one paper as proof of property transferred. I took counsel of the Judge and lawyers at Kankakee, to see if I could in any way recover my stolen furniture, which I had bought with my own patrimony. “Can I replevy it as stolen property?” said I. “No,” said my advisers, “you cannot replevy anything, for you are a married woman, and a married woman has no legal existence, unless she holds property independent of her husband. As this is not your case, you are nothing and nobody in law. Your husband has a legal right to all your common property—you have not even a right to the hat on your head!” “Why?” said I, “I have bought and paid for it with my own money.” “That is of no consequence—you can hold nothing, as you are nothing and nobody in law! You have a moral right to your own things, and your own children, but no legal right at all; therefore you, a married woman, cannot replevy, although any one else could under like circumstances.” “Is this so? Has a married woman no identity in Statute Book of Illinois?” “It is so. Her interests are all lost in those of her husband, and he has the absolute control of her home, her property, her children, and her personal liberty.”
Yes, all this is but too true, as my own sad experience fully demonstrates. Now I can realize the sad truths so often iterated, reiterated to me by my husband, namely: “You have no right to your home, I have let you live with me twenty-one years in my home as a favor to you. You have no right to your children. I let you train them, as far as I think it is proper to trust your judgment—this privilege of training and educating your own children is a favor bestowed upon you by me, which I can withhold or grant at my own option. You have no right to your money patrimony after you intrusted it to my care, and I gave you a note for it on interest which I can either pay you or not at my own option. You have no right to your personal liberty if I feel disposed to christen your opinions insane opinions, for I can then treat you as an insane person or not, just at my own option.” Yes, Mr. Packard has only treated me as he said the laws of Illinois allowed him to do, and how can he be blamed then? Did not “wise men” make the laws, as he often used to assert they did? And can one be prosecuted for doing a legal act? Nay—verily—no law can reach him; even his kidnapping me as he did is legalized in Illinois Statute Book, as the following article which was published in several Boston papers in the winter of 1865, demonstrates, namely:
“LEGAL KIDNAPPING,” OR PROVISION FOR A SANE PERSON’S IMPRISONMENT.
“From the ‘Disclosures’ of Mrs. Packard’s book, it appears a self-evident fact that one State of our Union has an express provision for the imprisonment of married women who are not insane. And this process of legal kidnapping is most strikingly illustrated in the facts developed in Mrs. Packard’s own experience, as delineated in her book entitled ‘The Great Drama.’