‘I have just got this from Hawkins and Jackson, which, they

[Illustration: CHAMBERS’S JOURNAL

OF

POPULAR

LITERATURE, SCIENCE, AND ART

Fifth Series

ESTABLISHED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, 1832

CONDUCTED BY R. CHAMBERS (SECUNDUS)

NO. 7.—VOL. I. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 1884. PRICE 1½_d._]

HOW LIFE-OFFICES PAY THEIR DEATH-CLAIMS.

The difficulty and delay in obtaining payment of the sum

assured, when death occurred, was at one time urged as an objection

against the system of life-assurance; but of late years the percentage

of cases in which this objection could hold good has been reduced to

a mere fraction, and offices now vie with each other in facilitating

prompt and satisfactory settlement. This and other material

improvements in the practice of life-assurance which have been recently

introduced, have tended to obviate many popular objections, and greatly

to increase the number of the assured. While it is sadly true that

there are thousands of homes in our country without adequate protection

against the suffering and distress which the death of the bread-winner

would entail, it is gratifying to find that by means of existing

policies a provision has been made to the extent of four hundred and

thirty-five millions sterling, for the maintenance and comfort of the

widows and orphans of the future, and this amount does not include what

is known as industrial business. It is difficult to realise without

a strong effort of the imagination what a vast alleviation of the

sum of human misery is shadowed forth in the fact just stated. The

humble cottage of the artisan, and the stately hall rich with heraldic

emblazonry, are alike destined to draw comfort and solace from this

beneficent treasury.

We do not propose to give the history of life-assurance, or, at this

time of day, to demonstrate the great advantages of the system, but

to give some information which may be useful and interesting to the

vast brotherhood of persons who have already availed themselves, or

who intend to avail themselves, of its benefits. Notwithstanding the

vigorous efforts put forth by more than a hundred competing offices

to give their terms publicity, there are still men to be found who

have very crude ideas of what life-assurance is and does. One man

in all seriousness proposed to join one of our Scottish offices,

thinking he could draw half the sum at once, and the other half

later on; quaintly remarking: ‘What use is the money to me after I am

dead?’ Another proposer for a policy suggested that in lieu of his

annual premiums being paid as they fell due, the office should allow

them to remain unpaid, and at his death deduct the sum of the unpaid

premiums as a debt from the policy! Life-offices, like men, must,

in order to live, find the means of living; and we are afraid that,

under present conditions, no means of escape can be afforded to the

public from satisfying the necessity under which all assurance offices

exist—namely, that of requiring the payment of premiums, and these

payments to be made punctually as they fall due.

There was a time when non-payment of the premium on the due date meant

forfeiture of all benefit and all past payments; but now these hard

conditions have been almost entirely abolished; while certain offices

have adopted a plan by which a policy is kept in force automatically,

by applying to the payment of premiums the value that would be given

on surrender of the policy, so long as the value is sufficient for the

purpose. There are many other points in connection with which needless

restrictions have been relaxed; but there are certain well-considered

regulations which must be rigidly adhered to by every well-managed

office. The medical and legal faculties are essential allies of the

offices, both at the commencement of the contract and at the close of

it. The doctor must examine a proposer, and report on his family and

personal history, before he can be admitted to benefit; and when death

takes place, the doctor must certify the fact and report the cause.

Again, the lawyer may prove a most successful agent for the Company

in inducing men to join by advocating the benefits of life-assurance,

and has an opportunity, when preparing marriage settlements or making

wills, of suggesting a policy of assurance as an excellent subject for

settlement or bequest.

During the last few years, the interval between death and the payment

of claims has been greatly shortened; and most of the enterprising

new offices have made it a point to offer settlement of the claims

arising from death with the least possible delay. This is as it should

be; and many of the older and more conservative offices have seen it

to be to their advantage to abandon the three or six months’ interval

which usually had to elapse before payment of the sum assured was made.

When we consider what prompt settlement in many cases implies, this

acceleration of payment is a movement which will be much appreciated,

and, like every other policy of the kind, will eventually benefit

those offices adopting it. It is plain that when the assurance money

is the chief resource of the bereaved family, early payment by the

office is of immense advantage, enabling immediate steps to be

taken in some measure to supply the place of the bread-winner; and

even in cases where there is other property left, the early—almost

immediate—possession of ready-money must be a great boon, often

enabling other effects to be disposed of at leisure, and without

the loss which frequently attends a forced realisation. We observe,

therefore, with satisfaction that a large number of offices now pay

the sums assured either on proof of death and title, or, what is

practically the same, in a month after proof of death. Not one of the

seventeen Scottish offices, for instance, now retains the old style

of paying six months after death. Two of the Scottish offices pay on

proof of death and title; four, one month after proof of death; two,

three months after date of death; and nine, three months after proof of

death. Many of the English offices also have within the last few years

agreed to pay their claims sooner than heretofore. This acceleration of

the payment of claims has long been a desired reform, and will no doubt

result in an increased flow of business to those offices which have

adopted it.

In order that full advantage may be taken of this concession,

co-operation on the part of the assured is needed. For instance, there

is one form of ‘self-help’ which could be practised by all—namely, the

production of evidence of age. When proof has not been produced to the

office and admitted, there is often delay caused in getting payment. In

many cases, there is among the nearest friends an astonishing absence

of knowledge as to the place and date of birth of their relatives, and

therefore the proper person to clear up such matters is the assured

himself. If born in England after July 1, 1837, an extract from the

general Registry at Somerset House, London, can be got for a small fee.

At Somerset House, there are also preserved the non-parochial registers

of baptisms or births kept by various bodies and congregations of

Nonconformists prior to the general system of registration which

commenced at the above-mentioned date. In Ireland, registration

commenced only in 1863. In Scotland, the registers—with the exception

of those for the period from January 1, 1820 to January 1, 1855, which

are in the possession of the local registrars—are preserved at the

Register House in Edinburgh, and an extract can be got on application;

or the assurance office can, if requested, take an extract from the

register there on payment of one shilling. Seeing that, as a rule, the

correct date of birth can easily be certified, every policy-holder

should do so without undue delay, and have a marking made by the

office on his policy that ‘Age is admitted.’ A mistake of a year or

two is easily made, and although the deficiency in annual premium may

be small, the operation of compound interest, which is so essential

a part of the system of life-assurance, causes the accumulation of

these little sums to assume sometimes a startling appearance, when it

comes to be deducted at settlement from the sum assured; and it is

unpleasant for all concerned that such deduction should have to be

inflicted. There is not now the fear which is said to have existed in

Henry VIII.’s time, that a government register of births might be used

for the purpose of a poll-tax; and as the operation of our registration

system goes on, the difficulty in getting proof of age will be reduced

to a minimum. When no official proof of age can be produced, offices,

as a rule, co-operate with those interested, and admit the age when

they have been satisfied that reasonable endeavour has been made to

establish the correct date of birth. In all cases, it is evident how

desirable it is that the assured should themselves see to this.

When death has occurred—that is, when, technically speaking, the

policy has become a claim—intimation should be given to the office

at once, which will issue two simple and easily understood forms, one

to be filled up and signed by the doctor who attended the deceased in

his last illness; and the other by a friend who has known the deceased

for some time, and who can certify to his identity. It is, of course,

impossible to produce such certificates in cases where men whose lives

were assured are drowned or otherwise lost; but after reasonable delay,

the offices admit and pay such claims on the best circumstantial

proof of death that can be obtained. In ordinary cases, the medical

certificate not only vouches for the facts, that such and such a person

died at such and such a place on a certain date, but it also states the

cause of death, which is of value to the offices, as enabling them to

elicit certain facts necessary for future statistical inquiries.

The party who fills up the certificate of identity must be a person

of respectability, to whom the deceased was well known, and who is

capable of certifying that the deceased is the same person whose life

was assured under the policy of assurance which is being claimed upon.

It often happens that the assured has changed both his occupation and

address since he assured, and of course the office must be certain

that they have the right man before paying any claim. Some offices are

more particular than others, and require, in addition to the above two

certificates, a copy of the entry of death in the register, certified

by the registrar for the district.

The forms should be returned as early as possible to the office, so as

to be submitted to the directors at their first weekly meeting. The

claim is then admitted, and the office intimates on what day payment

will be made, provided the title of the party who is to receive the

money is in order and produced to the office.

It is not going wholly outside of our present purpose to repeat the

oft-given advice, that every one possessed of a policy or other

bequeathable property should make a will. In the amusing episode in

the _Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club_, when the will of

the landlady of the _Marquis of Granby_ has been discovered in

‘the little black teapot on the top shelf of the bar closet,’ the

elder Weller, who was named sole executor, says to his son: ‘I s’pose,

Samivel, as it’s all right and satisfactory to you and me, as is the

only parties interested, ve may as vell put this bit o’ paper [the

will] in the fire.’ Knowledge is now too generally diffused to endanger

the safe custody of so important a document; but the public require

to be reminded of the necessity of preserving all deeds (if any) by

which policies have been assigned and re-assigned, as these will be

called for by the office, before any payment is made. Between the

dates of admission of claim and time of payment, some form of title

must be produced, with the view of enabling the Company to prepare the

form of discharge to be signed by the persons entitled to receive the

money. The discharges are adjusted by the Companies free of expense to

claimants, except in the case of insufficient or complicated titles,

where special legal assistance is necessary.[A]

No more _popular_ argument in favour of life-assurance could

be given than the manner in which our Companies discharge their

obligations. Every year, more than ten million pounds sterling are

dispensed throughout the land from these beneficent institutions to

sorrowing widows in their time of need, and to helpless children

bereaved of a father’s care, whose love thus found a way to provide for

them when he was called away.

FOOTNOTES:

[A] We may here refer to the provision of the Acts passed to facilitate

the administration of estates under three hundred pounds. Information

as to the simple and inexpensive mode of procedure in such cases can be

obtained by application to the sheriff-clerks in Scotland, or to the

Inland Revenue authorities in England.

BY MEAD AND STREAM.

CHAPTER XI.—‘STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL.’

That was the best news Martin Wrentham had heard for a long

time. Gribble & Co. were commission agents, and undertook any kind of

business which promised a profit. Shipping, stocks, landed estates and

house property; cargoes of wine, of tea, and of wool, were all equally

welcome to the best attention of Gribble & Co. Mr Wrentham was the sole

partner and representative of this impartial firm. There never had

been a Gribble or a Co.; but there was a highly respectable and old

established firm known as Gribble, Hastings, & Co., who had nothing

to do with the house in Golden Alley. There were, however, people in

the colonies and on the continent who made mistakes, and entered into

business relations with Mr Wrentham under the impression that they were

dealing with the firm whose designation was so nearly the same as the

one under which he traded.

The mistake was of course discovered by some, and rectified as soon as

possible; but still there were others who continued to blunder, and

Wrentham appeared to prosper. There were envious City men who said

that he made more out of the betting ring than out of his professed

business; and he certainly was well known in sporting circles. He

frequently had the ‘straight tip’ for the Derby, the Oaks, Ascot,

the St Leger, and other important racing events of the year. This

information he was good-naturedly ready to impart to his friends,

claiming only what he called a ‘comfortable’ percentage on the

winnings, whilst he had no share in the losses.

It had long been his ambition to open an account with the great house

of Hadleigh & Co. With this object in view, he had taken infinite pains

to ingratiate himself with Mr Hadleigh, and succeeded so far that he

became an occasional guest at the Manor: but no business came of it. He

had courted the society of Coutts Hadleigh, flattered him, spent time

and money in amusing him, endured his cynical jokes, and had even given

him ‘straight tips’ without seeking a commission: still no business

came of it.

But he did not give up hope. He was cool, patient, and good-humoured,

and his perseverance was rewarded. See, here is the chief partner of

the firm come to him at last with the announcement that his visit was

on ‘important business.’

‘Upon my word, Mr Hadleigh, you give me such an agreeable surprise,

that I can only say we shall have pleasure in doing the utmost in our

power to serve you satisfactorily.’

Wrentham was always frank, always eager to say the thing which he

supposed would please his listener most. If he was pleased, he said

so, and showed it; if displeased, he showed it, although he did not

always say so. But then he was very seldom displeased; for he had the

happy knack of turning the most offensive words or acts into a joke or

ridicule, so that he never quarrelled with anybody—not even with the

tax-collector.

‘I may tell you at once,’ said Mr Hadleigh in his cold way, ‘that the

business is entirely private at present, and has nothing to do with the

firm.’

‘I shall have the more pleasure in attending to it as a friend,’ was

the cordial reply.

‘Thank you; but I give you credit for knowing enough of me to be aware

that I shall not take advantage of your generosity. You have heard the

saying—there is no friendship in business.’

‘Happily, there are many exceptions to the rule,’ said Wrentham

cheerfully.

‘This is not to be one of them. You are to regard the transaction as

one coming to you in the ordinary course of business, but to be dealt

with as a strictly confidential matter. Your clerks are to have nothing

to do with it.’

There was something in his manner, calm and quiet as it was, which

attracted Wrentham’s attention, puzzled him, and modified the

enthusiasm with which he had begun the interview.

‘If you will explain, Mr Hadleigh, you will find me willing to do

whatever you require, if it is possible.’

Mr Hadleigh looked steadily in the speaker’s face, and the latter

leaned back on his chair, as if to afford a better light for the

inspection. He endured the gaze with the placid smile of one who was

prepared for the closest scrutiny into his character and motives.

Apparently satisfied, Mr Hadleigh, speaking with much deliberation,

proceeded:

‘I want in the first place a little information. You have been for some

time doing business for Mr Austin Shield?’

The placid smile faded from the countenance of Gribble & Co., and the

plural pronoun came into use again.

‘That is correct. He has intrusted us with various small commissions;

but they are mere trifles, I believe, compared with those he has given

to others. Indeed, I do not think he has treated us quite so liberally

as he ought to have done.’

There was no irritation in the last remark: it simply implied that

Mr Shield had not acted wisely. Mr Hadleigh did not appear to have

observed it.

‘You are aware of his relationship to my children?’

‘Yes; and that your son, Philip, is going out to him. Lucky for your

son, I should say.’

‘I do not wish him to go.’

‘Wh—at!’ The exclamation was long drawn out, and its modulations were

suggestive of a rapid series of speculations, in which curiosity and

doubt were more predominant than surprise.

‘I do not wish him to go,’ repeated Mr Hadleigh, each word passing his

lips like the measured stroke of a funeral bell.

‘You take my breath away. Such a chance—such prospects! Shield is

reported to be enormously wealthy, and he has no direct heirs....

Pardon me, Mr Hadleigh, but I must say that you would be doing the

young man a serious injury if you interfered with his uncle’s wishes.’

In sickness and in sorrow there are people who feel called upon to

offer you their sympathy; but there is too often a conventional ring

in the expression of it which there is no mistaking, and even bare

politeness in the acknowledgment of it becomes irksome. It was in this

conventional way that Wrentham uttered his virtuous warning to the

parent who was opposing his son’s best interests.

The parent understood, and smiled.

‘Strange as it may seem to you, Mr Wrentham, my desire is that not one

of my children should be mentioned in that man’s will.’

‘Extraordinary! But you were always peculiar in your views of things.

To be sure, your views generally turned out to be the right ones.

Everybody in the City is aware of that. But I do not see yet how my

services can be of any use to you in this matter.’

‘The service I require will not be difficult to render. You have been

for some years in correspondence with Mr Shield, and you know more

about his affairs than any one in London except his solicitors. I want

you to tell me all that you have learned regarding his intentions

concerning Philip.’

‘That is easily done. I have learned absolutely nothing.’

Wrentham was quite cheerful again as he gave this reply.

Mr Hadleigh was disappointed: he was silent and thoughtful for a few

moments. Then: ‘I begin to see his purpose.’

‘I should be glad if you would enlighten me,’ said Wrentham eagerly:

‘it might be useful to me.’

‘I am quite sure it will be. But first you must give me a full

explanation of his affairs, so far as you are acquainted with them, and

the nature of this business which has brought him such sudden wealth,

and which he is at so much pains to keep secret.’

Wrentham’s cheerfulness disappeared, and he rose uneasily.

‘I am sorry, Mr Hadleigh, that you should ask me for information which

I am not at liberty to give.’

‘You mean that his business is of so much value that you cannot risk

the loss of it?’

‘Of course—of course, his business is of some importance to us,

although, as I have already mentioned, he has not treated us quite so

liberally as we think he ought to have done. Besides, we have only a

small part of his patronage.’

‘All the same you would not like to lose it?’

‘Well, not unless something better offered itself,’ replied Wrentham,

recovering a degree of his jaunty manner, as he recollected that he was

speaking to the head of a great firm whose influence might bring him

thousands a year. It would never do to display to such a man either too

much weakness or too much indifference.

‘But if that something better did not present itself, you would be

sorry to lose the connection. I suppose it is necessary to tell you

what my surmise is as to his intentions. He intends to establish Philip

as his sole representative in England, and everything will be taken

out of your hands. I may be able to help you, if you will give me the

information which will put it in my power to do so.’

Wrentham walked to the window, stared at the blank wall opposite, and

frowned at it.

Mr Hadleigh smiled at his evident alarm, and attempted to relieve it.

‘You need not be afraid to trust me; I am not inviting you to enter

into a conspiracy against Mr Shield. I have no evil design in my

inquiries.’

‘I am sure of that,’ responded Wrentham, wheeling round. Every sign

of alarm had vanished from his visage. ‘But of what use could the

information be to you? Giving it might do me a great deal of harm,

whilst it could not serve you.’

‘Of that you cannot judge. But we need not discuss the point further at

present. Take time and consider. Meanwhile, you can have no objection

to do this for me—telegraph to him that you learn from me that Philip

goes out to him against my will.’

‘It shall be done immediately, and I will bring you the answer myself.’

There was a tap at the door, and the clerk entered with a slip of paper

which he handed to his master.

‘All right, Perkins. Shall be disengaged in a few minutes.’

As the clerk closed the door behind him, Wrentham handed the paper to

his visitor, who read on it, ‘Mr Philip Hadleigh,’ and instantly rose

to go.

‘Perhaps—you will excuse me—but perhaps it would be as well if you

did not meet each other here at present. Here is my private door.’

‘I expect to see you this evening with the answer to the telegram,’

said Mr Hadleigh quietly as he went out.

‘You shall see me whether the answer has arrived or not.’

When he had closed the door, Wrentham stood still, unconscious,

apparently, that he was resting on the handle, although it seemed as

if he were half-inclined to call Mr Hadleigh back. His expression had

changed to a frown at some invisible object on the floor, and his head

was slightly bowed. This was his thought:

‘Have I lost a chance, or opened the way to one?... Eminently

unsatisfactory, if I have not. He must have some game on.... No

designs! As if he could gammon me into the notion that he was the sort

of man to bother himself about other people’s affairs without good

reason for it. A hundred to one on _that_ event. But if Shield

does mean to take everything out of my hands’——

He frowned still more darkly at the invisible object on the floor, and

the speculation ended in a chaos of disagreeable reflections. With a

quick jerk of the head he roused himself.

‘We’ll see,’ he muttered as he advanced to the table and touched a

hand-bell twice.

The habitual smile had returned to his face when Philip entered the

room.

‘I shall not keep you many minutes to-day, Mr Wrentham. But I suppose

you will have to give me an hour or so on the earliest date you can

appoint.’

‘It will be a pleasure to me whatever it may be to you. I suppose it is

business. I shall make it as easy for you as I can. What is it?’

‘I have just got this from Hawkins and Jackson, which, they tell me, my

uncle inclosed to them with instructions that they were to see that I

gave personal attention to the matter.’

Wrentham read the note, placed it in a clip bearing the word

‘Immediate’ in large capitals, and looked up again.

‘Your uncle might have sent this to me direct—I should have liked it

better; but he has a curious way of doing things. You are to have a

full statement of my accounts with him, and it is to be duly audited by

a professional accountant. This looks as if he intended to close the

account altogether.’

‘I hope not.’

‘Well, the statement will be ready for you on Wednesday next week, and

you shall have every assistance and explanation you may require from

me.’

‘Thank you. At what hour shall I call?’

‘Ten o’clock. I expect you will have a long day of it.’

‘We cannot help that, I suppose, and I need not take up more of your

time at present.’

‘Are you in a hurry? Because I am going out to have some luncheon, and

you might join me.’

The invitation was given so cordially, that Philip could not decline,

and they went out by the private door together. At the mouth of the

alley they were passed by a smart little man with thin clean-shaved

face, wearing a soft felt hat, a loose black frock-coat, and gray tweed

trousers. He carried in his hand a folding trestle and a well-filled

green bag, and under his arm was a small circular table top covered

with green baize.

He lifted his hat to Philip, who acknowledged the salute with a

pleasant nod. Wrentham’s attention was attracted by something in

another direction, and the little man went swiftly on his way.

‘That’s the juggler Bob Tuppit,’ said Philip to his companion. ‘Haven’t

you seen him down our way? I suppose he has just had a successful

performance in some quiet court, he looks so cheery. Clever fellow;

works ten and twelve hours a day, and tells me he makes a decent income

out of it.’

‘Is he an acquaintance of yours?’ inquired Wrentham, somewhat drily.

‘I have had several chats with him, and found him a most interesting

and intelligent fellow.’

‘Has he told you anything about his family?’

‘Nothing more than that he is married; has a troop of children, and a

comfortable home.’

‘Ah, that is not like the ordinary tramp. But I wouldn’t cultivate his

acquaintance, if I were you. No doubt he told you all about his birth

and parentage, and got a sovereign out of you on the strength of being

a poor orphan.’

‘He told me that he had been born and brought up in London; but he

has travelled over the whole country in his professional capacity.

He speaks of his juggling as a “profession.” He is an orphan, as you

guessed; but he has a brother somewhere.’

‘And what might his profession be?’ said Wrentham with a quick

side-glance at Philip.

‘I don’t know. Tuppit is shy of talking about him; and from his

sorrowful way of mentioning the fact that he had a brother, I came to

the conclusion that the fellow was in prison, or something of that

sort. So I did not put any disagreeable questions.’

They had entered the dining-room of the Gog and Magog Club by this

time; and amidst the clatter of plates and knives and forks, and the

loud hum of voices, Wrentham pointed to the bill of fare, which was

hung up beside the clerk’s desk, and said hastily: ‘What are you to

have?’

* * * * *

Mr Hadleigh had been much more disappointed by the result of his

interview with Wrentham than he had allowed to appear. He had gone to

him with the vague hope that he might learn something about Austin

Shield, which should give him an excuse for making another appeal to

Madge. He had learned nothing. There was, however, a probability that

when his objection was made known to Shield, the latter would himself

withdraw the invitation he had sent to Philip.

In the evening, Wrentham presented himself at the Manor. No answer to

the telegram had yet arrived: the conversation in the library occupied

an hour notwithstanding. Shortly after noon on the following day,

Wrentham brought the expected answer to Mr Hadleigh, who was waiting

for it in his private room in the office of his firm.

‘_My sister’s son must decide for himself._’

‘It is like the man,’ muttered Mr Hadleigh, as he tore up the paper.

‘Now, you can make your choice—his business or mine.’

‘I shall give you an answer in half an hour.’

Wrentham returned to his office, and entered it by the private door.

He took a half-crown from his pocket and balanced it on his forefinger

and thumb. He gazed at it steadily for a moment, then tossed it up.

‘Heads for Hadleigh—tails for Shield and sudden death.... Heads it is,

and Hadleigh’s my man.’

He picked up the coin, seated himself at his writing-table, and

proceeded to communicate his decision to Mr Hadleigh with as much

gravity as if he had arrived at it after serious deliberation.

FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF ENGLISH LAW.

BY AN EXPERIENCED PRACTITIONER.

It is not necessary for the writer of these sketches to declare which

branch of the legal profession he belongs to, but it appears desirable

to explain the purpose for which they are written. The laws of our land

are so numerous and complicated, and derived from so many sources,

that it is impossible for any human mind to make itself thoroughly

acquainted with all their multifarious details, however familiar the

general principles of the law may have become. And yet every one of

the Queen’s subjects is responsible for any breach of the law which he

or she may commit. The reason of this is obvious: a law which might be

broken with impunity on the excuse that the law-breaker was ignorant

of its existence, would be an absurdity. If laws are to be of any use,

they must be universally binding, on the learned and unlearned, within

the sphere of their operation. In the course of a long, extensive,

and varied professional experience, we have often been astonished to

find profound ignorance of legal principles and responsibilities in

unexpected quarters; and it has occurred to us that a few familiar

articles on the laws which affect the different relationships of social

life might be both interesting and useful. Many of the principles which

affect persons in the characters of husband and wife, parent and child,

master and servant, and so forth, are easily understood, if explained

in simple language and free from technicalities.

In so doing, we have no intention to interfere with the proper province

of the solicitor or the barrister. The law has in many respects been

much simplified during the present century; but still the proverb

remains true, ‘He who is his own lawyer has a fool for his client.’

In buying a house, the title must be investigated by one who has

acquired an accurate knowledge of the law of real property, or a fatal

flaw in the title may deprive the purchaser of that for which he has

paid. Home-made wills, unless of the very simplest description, lead

in many cases to costly and vexatious litigation after the death of

the testator. And in actions and other legal proceedings, where the

rights of the parties depend upon the application of established legal

principles to new combinations of facts which are themselves doubtful

and capable of being considered from opposite points of view, the

necessity for professional assistance is too obvious to require comment.

I. MARRIAGES; SETTLEMENTS; AND BREACHES OF PROMISE TO MARRY.

The contract of marriage lies at the foundation of our social system;

and therefore we select it and other matters incidentally relating

thereto for explanation and comment in the first instance, reserving

for a future paper the law of _Scotch_ marriages, as apart from

that which now holds good south of the Border; but noting in the

meantime, that prior to 25th March 1754, when Lord Hardwick’s Act came

into operation, the theory of the law in both countries was, that the

consent of a free and capable man and woman, to become husband and wife

constituted marriage, if proved by credible evidence. But in England,

a marriage by mere words of consent did not confer all the rights

consequent on a marriage duly solemnised. Since 1754, the English law

has required definite technicalities of evidence, which, however, have

been much restricted in their scope for injustice.

In considering the first part of our subject, ‘Who may marry’, it will

be most convenient to deal with the question negatively; and when we

have seen who must not marry, it must be understood that persons not

coming within any of the categories specified are at liberty to enter

into the legal contract of matrimony.

Foremost among the disabilities is insufficient age. In this respect

the law is extremely indulgent, fixing the age for a male at fourteen,

and for a female at twelve years. But there is a qualified disability

beyond those ages: a person who has not been previously married, and

is under the age of twenty-one years—technically called an infant

or minor—is not allowed to marry without the consent of his or her

parent or guardian. The consent of the father is required if living;

after his death, the consent of the guardian appointed by his will, or

otherwise lawfully appointed; or if none, then of the mother if still

a widow. If the mother be married, then a guardian may be appointed

by the High Court of Justice. When the minor is a Ward of Court, any

person marrying him or her without the consent of the Court—which will

only be granted on a proper settlement being made—may be imprisoned

for contempt, and will only be released, after longer or shorter

detention at the discretion of the Court, on condition of paying all

costs, and settling the whole of the ward’s property as the Court may

direct, the offender being usually excluded from any benefit therefrom.

A lady of full age was recently sent to prison for marrying an infant

Ward of Court without consent; and there have been numerous instances

of gentlemen being punished in the same way. Nullity of the marriage

is not now the result of this disability; but the man who procures a

license by affirming that he is of full age when he is not, or that the

necessary consent has been obtained when it has not, may be punished

both civilly and criminally.

Another disability is want of sanity. It is not to be understood that

weak-minded people must not marry; they can, and do in considerable

numbers. But if a person who is a lunatic go through the form of

marriage, except during a lucid interval, the marriage is void. This

objection to the validity of a marriage does not often occur; but

sometimes the question whether a man was lunatic or of sound mind when

married is difficult to determine, but most likely to be settled in

favour of his sanity, unless there was manifestly some fraudulent or

sordid motive for the marriage.

Nearness of relationship, either by birth or marriage, is another

disability. First-cousins and all persons more distantly related, may

lawfully intermarry. But ancestors and descendants in the direct line

are prohibited; as are also brothers and sisters, uncles and nieces,

aunts and nephews. We will not here enter into any controversy as to

the expediency of the law which prohibits the marriage of a widower

with the sister or niece of his deceased wife. Before 1835, a marriage

between persons whose relationship was within the prohibited degrees

was not necessarily void, but voidable only during the joint lives

of the parties thereto; so that if the marriage were not set aside

during the lives of both parties, on the death of either of them it was

treated as having been a valid marriage, and the children born thereof

were legitimate to all intents and purposes. But in that year an Act of

Parliament was passed declaring such marriages void in future.

The last existing disability which we shall notice is that of being

married already. A married person cannot legally marry again until the

first marriage is dissolved, either by death or by a judicial decree.

On this subject much misapprehension exists. Many persons believe that

a wife who has been deserted by her husband for seven years or upwards,

without hearing from him, or knowing whether he is alive or dead, may

marry again; but this is a mistake. Such a marriage would be void if

the former husband should be proved to have been alive at the time it

was celebrated. Probably the delusion had its origin in the fact, that

in those circumstances the woman could not be convicted of bigamy. For

that purpose alone, the presumption of the husband’s death after seven

years of absence without any information as to his continued existence,

would be recognised by the law, and might be pleaded as a defence to an

indictment for bigamy.

Formerly, an engagement to any other person was a bar to marriage. If

A promised to marry B, he could not marry C unless B absolved him from

his promise. But this disability has long been abolished, though B

might sue A for breach of promise.

The next consideration is, ‘How to marry.’ Excluding the Royal Marriage

Act, and merely drawing attention to the fact that a marriage between

two members of the Society of Friends (or Quakers) at a meeting-house,

or between two Jews either at a synagogue or elsewhere, were not

affected by Lord Hardwick’s Act, and are not affected by the Acts which

are now to be referred to, we will next briefly epitomise the most

important provisions of the Marriage Act of 1823. This Act confirms

the power which had long previously been enjoyed by the Archbishop of

Canterbury of granting special licenses, by virtue of which parties

may be married at any place specified therein and at any hour of the

day. These licenses are issued at the Faculty Office, on sufficient

cause being shown, and verified by affidavit. It is not very difficult

to find a reason which will be satisfactory to the officials, if an

applicant be willing to strain his own conscience. A special license,

however, costs about thirty pounds.

An ordinary license can only be issued for solemnisation of matrimony

in a parish in which one of the parties has resided for at least

fifteen days previously; and if what is termed a caveat should have

been entered against the granting of a license, the objection raised

thereby must be disposed of by the Court, or the caveat be withdrawn,

before the license can be granted.

If the marriage is to be performed in an Episcopal church by license,

one of the parties must attend at the vicar-general’s office, the

diocesan registry, or before a surrogate—a clergyman appointed by the

bishop for the purpose of granting ordinary marriage licenses—and

swear that there is no impediment of kindred or alliance, or other

lawful hindrance to the marriage; and also as to the residence in the

parish, and the consent of parent or guardian if necessary. It will be

remembered that an infant widow or widower may remarry without such

consent.

A cheaper way of being married according to the rites of the Church

of England is after publication of banns. This consists in reading

the names of the parties publicly on three successive Sundays at a

prescribed part of the service. If both parties do not reside in one

parish, the banns must be published in both their respective parishes;

and if either of the parties be a minor—not having been previously

married—his or her parent or guardian may publicly declare his or her

dissent, and thereupon the publication of banns is void.

Marriage, whether by license or by banns, must be celebrated within

three months, or the whole of the preliminaries must be gone through

anew. All marriages in England must be between eight o’clock in the

forenoon and twelve at noon, except marriages by special license.

Questions often arise as to the name in which a person should be

married. As a general rule, the same name should be used for this

as for the ordinary business of every-day life—the name by which

the person is generally known. If John Jones has called himself John

Robinson, and has been so called by other persons so long that his

original name has been forgotten, the publication of the banns of

marriage between John Jones and Mary Smith would not answer the object

of the statute, for it would not inform the parishioners that the

person known by them as John Robinson proposed to get married. Accuracy

in name is now, however, of little importance, because the use of a

false name no longer renders a marriage null, unless both the man and

the woman are parties to the fraud, and so a favourite device of a

hundred years ago is legally impracticable.

It is not necessary to dwell upon the form of the service used in the

solemnisation of matrimony. It is, or may become, familiar to all

persons interested. But perhaps it may not be universally known that

the celebration of marriage without license or due publication of banns

is a criminal offence, punishable by penal servitude or imprisonment

with hard labour. In addition to the clergyman, there must be at least

two witnesses present, and the marriage must be registered. The subject

of registration of marriages will be most conveniently considered

hereafter, in conjunction with the laws relating to registration of

births and deaths.

Previous to 1st March 1837, the only marriages recognised by the law

in England were those above referred to; but on and since that date,

it has been allowed for Nonconformist ministers to celebrate marriages

in places of worship duly registered for that purpose; and for persons

to be married without any religious ceremony at the office of the

Superintendent Registrar of the district. If the marriage be intended

to be by license, notice must be given to the Superintendent Registrar

of the district in which one of the parties has resided for fifteen

days previously. After an interval of one clear day, the license is

issued, and the marriage can then be celebrated. In case of a marriage

without license, seven days’ residence before notice is sufficient;

and if the parties reside in different districts, notice must be

given to both Superintendent Registrars. Twenty-one days afterwards,

the Superintendent Registrar issues his certificate, authorising the

celebration of the marriage. When the parties do not both reside in

one district, it sometimes happens that the non-resident party comes

without the requisite certificate, when the wedding has to be postponed

to another day.

The notice of intention to marry, whether with license or without, has

a statutory declaration—equivalent to an affidavit—subjoined, to the

same effect as is required before the granting of an ordinary license

by a surrogate.

The form of marriage service at a Nonconformist place of worship is

usually somewhat similar to that used by the Church of England; in

some cases more concise, in others more diffuse. It is essential that

in some part of the ceremony both parties should declare that they

respectively know of no lawful impediment; and that each should take

the other to be his or her lawful wedded wife or husband; and that a

Registrar of Marriages should be present, in addition to the minister

and two or more witnesses.

The form of marriage at the office of a Superintendent Registrar,

or what may be called a purely civil marriage, is very short, being

practically confined to the declarations of no impediment and the

mutual taking. The Superintendent Registrar, Registrar of Marriages,

and two other witnesses, must be present.

The notice of marriage without license, which is equivalent to

publication of banns, has the advantage of comparative privacy; it is

suspended in the register office twenty-one days, but is not otherwise

published.

In some cases, marriages may be celebrated in an adjoining district in

which neither of the parties resides; that is, when they belong to any

body of Christians who have not a place of worship within the district

of residence.

Licenses and certificates for marriage are only good for three calendar

months from the date of the notice; and any person unduly celebrating a

marriage under these Acts is declared to be guilty of felony.

Marriages of citizens of this country abroad are generally celebrated

at the British consul’s office, and had better, in cases of doubt, not

be entered into without his advice, especially if one of the parties

to the proposed contract be a foreigner. Indeed, even in this country

it is hazardous to marry a foreigner without knowing the law of the

country of which he is a citizen, and fully ascertaining that it would

bind him to the proposed marriage if carried out. For example, it

may happen that a Frenchman has married an Englishwoman, and that,

for want of some of the consents required by the French law, he may,

though bound in this country, be able to return to his own, and plead

successfully that his marriage here was entirely null. Indeed, many

aliens can do this and the like of it; and all Englishwomen ought to

know how little the law of England can do for them in a foreign country.

‘A settlement’ may be made either before or after marriage. The former

is properly called a Marriage Settlement; the latter, a Post-nuptial

Settlement. The rules of law by which these two classes of settlements

stand or fall are essentially different; the former being made for

valuable consideration, are good against all the world if the property

settled be the settler’s own. This is reasonable; for it may be that

the lady would not have accepted the gentleman if the settlement had

not been made in her favour, and it would be unjust to deprive her of

that for which she had bargained, as it would be impossible to place

her in the same position as if the marriage had not been celebrated. A

marriage settlement which comprises personal chattels is also exempted

from the operation of the Bills of Sale Act, and does not require

to be registered. But a post-nuptial settlement of movable goods

must be registered as a bill of sale; and it is void if the settler

becomes bankrupt or files a petition for liquidation within ten years

afterwards, unless the parties claiming under the settlement can prove

that the settler was at the date of the settlement able to pay all

his debts without resorting to the property settled. In any event,

bankruptcy or liquidation within two years is fatal to a voluntary

settlement—in which class post-nuptial settlements are comprised.

The trusts of a settlement vary greatly according to the nature and

value of the property settled and the position of the parties. But

all settlements have this in common—the property to be settled is

conveyed or assigned to trustees, upon certain trusts for the benefit

of the husband and wife—or one of them—and all or some one or more

of their children; power being often reserved for the parents during

their joint lives, or the survivor of them, to direct what share each

child shall have. This power is often very useful in keeping the young

people out of the hands of money-lenders. So long as the share which a

young gentleman is to receive after the death of his parents remains

uncertain, his reversionary interest is not a marketable security.

In England, marriage operates as a revocation of a will made

previously; but in Scotland it only partially revokes the will. The

reason of this difference is, that by the law of England, a testator,

whether married or single, may devise and bequeath all the property

of which he may be possessed at the time of his decease; while the

testamentary powers of a person whose domicile is in Scotland, if he

be a married man, or a widower with children, are to a certain degree

restricted.