"Write, Peter, that I, Anthony George William Charles Huskisson Kearney,
(my father's name was Anthony, Peter; I was christened George after the
present Regent, William and Charles after Mr Pitt and Mr Fox, who were
my sponsors; Huskisson is the name of my great uncle, whose property
devolves to me; he's eighty-three now, so he can't last long,)--have you
written down that?"
"Yes, sir."
"Being in sound mind, do hereby make my last will and testament,
revoking all former wills."
"Yes, sir."
"I bequeath to my dearly beloved wife, Augusta Charlotte Kearney (she
was named after the Queen and Princess Augusta, who held her at the
baptismal font), all my household furniture, books, pictures, plate, and
houses, for her own free use and will, and to dispose of at her pleasure
upon her demise. Is that down?"
"Yes, sir."
"Also, the interest of all my money in the three per cents reduced, and
in the long annuities, and the balance in my agent's hands, for her
natural life. At her death to be divided into equal portions between my
two children, William Mohamed Potemkin Kearney, and Caroline Anastasia
Kearney. Is that down?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, then, Peter, now for my real property. My estate in Kent (let me
see, what is the name of it?)--Walcot Abbey, my three farms in the Vale
of Aylesbury, and the marsh lands in Norfolk I bequeath to my two
children aforenamed, the proceeds of the same to be laid up deducting
all necessary expenses for their education, for their sole use and
benefit. Is that down?"
"Not yet, sir--`use and benefit.' Now it is, sir."
"Until they come to the age of twenty-one years; or in case of my
daughter, until she marries with the consent of my executors, then to be
equally and fairly valued and divided between them. You observe, Peter
I never make any difference between girls and boys--a good father will
leave one child as much as another. Now I'll take my breath a little."
I was really astonished. It was well known that Captain Kearney had
nothing but his pay, and that it was the hopes of prize-money to support
his family, which had induced him to stay out so long in the West
Indies. It was laughable; yet I could not laugh: there was a melancholy
feeling at such a specimen of insanity which prevented me.
"Now, Peter, we'll go on," said Captain Kearney, after a pause of a few
minutes. "I have a few legacies to bequeath. First, to all my servants
50 pounds each, and two suits of mourning; to my nephew, Thomas Kearney,
of Kearney Hall, Yorkshire, I bequeath the sword presented me by the
grand Sultan. I promised it to him, and, although we have quarrelled,
and not spoken for years, I always keep my word. The plate presented me
by the merchants and under-writers of Lloyd's I leave to my worthy
friend the Duke of Newcastle. Is that down?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well; my snuff-box, presented me by Prince Potemkin, I bequeath to
Admiral Sir Isaac Coffin; and, also, I release him from the mortgage
which I hold over his property of the Madeline Islands, in North
America. By-the-bye, say, and further, I bequeath to him the bag of
snuff presented to me by the Dey of Algiers; he may as well have the
snuff as he has the snuff-box. Is that down?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well then, now, Peter, I must leave you something."
"O, never mind me," replied I.
"No, no, Peter, I must not forget my cousin. Let me see, you shall have
my fighting sword. A real good one, I can tell you. I once fought a
duel with it at Palermo, and ran a Sicilian prince so clean through the
body, and it held so tight, that we were obliged to send for a pair of
post-horses to pull it out again. Put that down as a legacy for my
cousin, Peter Simple. I believe that is all. Now for my executors, and
I request my particular friends, the Earl of Londonderry, the Marquis of
Chandos, and Mr John Lubbock, banker, to be my executors, and leave
each of them the sum of one thousand pounds for their trouble, and in
token of regard. That will do, Peter. Now, as I have left so much real
property, it is necessary that there should be three witnesses; so call
in two more, and let me sign in your presence."
This order was obeyed, and this strange will duly attested; for I hardly
need say, that even the presents he had pretended to receive were
purchased by himself at different times; but such was the force of his
ruling passion even to the last. Mr Phillott and O'Brien used to come
and see him, as did occasionally some of the other officers, and he was
always cheerful and merry, and seemed to be quite indifferent about his
situation, although fully aware of it. His stories, if anything, became
more marvellous, as no one ventured to express a doubt as to their
credibility.
I had remained in the hospital about a week, when Captain Kearney was
evidently dying: the doctor came, felt his pulse, and gave it as his
opinion that he could not outlive the day. This was on a Friday, and
there certainly was every symptom of dissolution. He was so exhausted,
that he could scarcely articulate; his feet were cold, and his eyes
appeared glazed, and turning upwards. The doctor remained an hour, felt
his pulse again, shook his head, and said to me in a low voice, "He is
quite gone." As soon as the doctor quitted the room, Captain Kearney
opened his eyes, and beckoned me to him. "He's a confounded fool,
Peter," said he: "he thinks I am slipping my wind now--but I know
better; going I am, 'tis true--but I sha'n't die till next Thursday."
Strange to say, from that moment he rallied; and although it was
reported that he was dead, and the admiral had signed the acting order
for his successor, the next morning, to the astonishment of everybody,
Captain Kearney was still alive. He continued in this state, between
life and death, until the Thursday next, the day on which he asserted
that he would die--and, on that morning, he was evidently sinking fast.
Towards noon, his breathing became much oppressed and irregular, and he
was evidently dying, the rattle in his throat commenced; and I watched
at his bedside, waiting for his last grasp, when he again opened his
eyes, and beckoning me, with an effort, to put my head close to him to
hear what he had to say, he contrived in a sort of gurgling whisper, and
with much difficulty, to utter--"Peter, I'm going now--not that the
rattle--in my throat--is a sign of death: for I once knew a man--to
_live_ with--_the rattle in his throat_--for _six_ weeks." He fell back
and expired, having, perhaps, at his last gasp, told the greatest lie of
his whole life.
Thus died this most extraordinary character, who, in most other points,
commanded respect; he was a kind man, and a good officer; but from the
idiosyncrasy of his disposition, whether from habit or from nature,
could not speak the truth. I say from nature, because I have witnessed
the vice of stealing equally strong, and never to the eradicated. It
was in a young messmate of good family, and who was supplied with money
to almost any extent: he was one of the most generous, open-hearted lads
that I ever knew; he would offer his purse, or the contents of his
chest, to any of his messmates; and, at the same time, would steal
everything that he could lay his hands upon. I have known him watch for
hours, to steal what could be of no use to him, as, for instance, an odd
shoe, and that much too small for his foot. What he stole he would give
away the very next day; but to check it was impossible. It was so well
known, that if anything were missed, we used first to apply to his chest
to see if it were there, and usually found the article in question. He
appeared to be wholly insensible to shame upon this subject, though in
every other he showed no want of feeling or of honour; and, strange to
say, he never covered his theft with a lie. After vain attempts to cure
him of this propensity, he was dismissed the service as incorrigible.
Captain Kearney was buried in the churchyard with the usual military
honours. In his desk we found directions, in his own hand, relative to
his funeral, and the engraving on his tombstone. In these, he states
his age to be thirty-one years. If this were correct, Captain Kearney,
from the time that he had been in the service of his country, must have
entered the navy just _four months before_ he was born. It was
unfortunate that he commenced the inscription with "Here lies Captain
Kearney," etcetera, etcetera. His tombstone had not been set up
twenty-four hours, before somebody, who knew his character, put a dash
under one word, as emphatic as it was true of the living man, "Here
_lies_ Captain Kearney."