WILLS IN FICTION AND POETRY
“This brief abridgment of my will I make,
My soul and body to the skies and ground.”
ON WILL-MAKING
An excellent treatise on the foibles of testators and the motives which
prompt devises, legacies and bequests, is to be found in the work of
William Hazlitt, “Table Talk or Original Essays,” under the title, “On
Will-making,” a portion of which is here subjoined. The fame of the
author and the merit of the essay justify its introduction.
“Few things show the human character in a more ridiculous light than the
circumstance of will-making. It is the latest opportunity we have of
exercising the natural perversity of the disposition, and we take care
to make a good use of it. We husband it with jealousy, put it off as
long as we can, and then use every precaution that the world shall be no
gainer by our deaths. This last act of our lives seldom belies the
former tenor of them, for stupidity, caprice, and unmeaning spite. All
that we seem to think of is to manage matters so (in settling accounts
with those who are so unmannerly as to survive us) as to do as little
good and to plague and disappoint as many people as possible.”
* * * * *
“The art of will-making chiefly consists in baffling the importunity of
expectation. I do not so much find fault with this when it is done as a
punishment and oblique satire on servility and selfishness. It is in
that case _Diamond cut Diamond_--a trial of skill between the
legacy-hunter and the legacy-maker, which shall fool the other. The
cringing toad-eater, the officious tale-bearer, is perhaps well paid for
years of obsequious attendance with a bare mention and a mourning-ring;
nor can I think that Gil Blas’ library was not quite as much as the
coxcombry of his pretensions deserved. There are some admirable scenes
in Ben Jonson’s ‘Volpone,’ shewing the humours of a legacy-hunter, and
the different ways of fobbing him off with excuses and assurances of not
being forgotten. Yet it is hardly right after all, to encourage this
kind of pitiful, bare-faced intercourse, without meaning to pay for it;
as the coquette has no right to jilt the lovers she has trifled with.
Flattery and submission are marketable commodities like any other, have
their price, and ought scarcely to be obtained under false pretences. If
we see through and despise the wretched creature that attempts to impose
on our credulity, we can at any time dispense with his services; if we
are soothed by this mockery of respect and friendship, why not pay him
like any other drudge, or as we satisfy the actor who performs a part in
a play by our particular desire? But often these premeditated
disappointments are as unjust as they are cruel, and are marked with
circumstances of indignity, in proportion to the worth of the object.
The suspecting, the taking it for granted that your name is down in the
will, is sufficient provocation to have it struck out; the hinting at an
obligation, the consciousness of it on the part of the testator, will
make him determined to avoid the formal acknowledgment of it, at any
expense. The disinheriting of relations is mostly for venial offences,
not for base actions: we punish out of pique, to revenge some case in
which we have been disappointed of our wills, some act of disobedience
to what had no reasonable ground to go upon; and we are obstinate in
adhering to our resolution, as it was sudden and rash, and doubly bent
on asserting our authority in what we have least right to interfere in.
It is the wound inflicted upon our self-love, not the stain upon the
character of the thoughtless offender, that calls for condign
punishment. Crimes, vices may go unchecked, or unnoticed: but it is the
laughing at our weaknesses, or thwarting our humours, that is never to
be forgotten. It is not the errors of others, but our own
miscalculations, on which we wreak our lasting vengeance. It is
ourselves that we cannot forgive.”
* * * * *
“An old man is twice a child: the dying man becomes the property of his
family. He has no choice left, and his voluntary power is merged in old
saws and prescriptive usages. The property we have derived from our
kindred reverts tacitly to them: and not to let it take its course, is a
sort of violence done to nature as well as custom. The idea of property,
of something in common, does not mix cordially with friendship, but is
inseparable from near relationship. We owe a return in kind, where we
feel no obligation for a favour; and consign our possessions to our next
of kin as mechanically as we lean our heads on the pillow, and go out of
the world in the same state of stupid amazement that we came into it!...
Cetera desunt.”
Human nature is ever the same: William Hazlitt wrote the above lines one
hundred years ago, and yet as we read them, there appears an emphasized
truth in the sentiment contained in a verse from “Mortality,” a
composition by William Knox, which was the favorite poem of Abraham
Lincoln:
“For we are the same our fathers have been,
We see the same sights that our fathers have seen;
We drink the same stream, and view the same sun,
And run the same course our fathers have run.”
It is said of Hazlitt that his domestic life was infelicitous; that he
had a temperament which was erratic and self-tormenting and estranged
him from his friends, even for a time from Charles Lamb. He died on
September 18, 1830, with Lamb at his bedside, and though disappointed
and harassed by anxiety and suffering as he had been, yet his last words
were: “I’ve had a happy life.” How many of us would have said as much!
WILLS OF THE NOVELIST
The _Green Bag_ says:
“Where would the novelist of the period be without the disinheriting
will, the manipulated will, the secreted will, and all kinds of wills in
every style of obliteration and in every stage of destruction? Why, he
would be nearly as bereft of staple stock in trade as if he had lost the
lovelorn maiden, the tender-hearted soldier, or the grand old hall of
our ancestors. Even writers of a higher grade find it convenient to make
use of such machinery to help make the story go.”
OLD NOIRTIER’S WILL
Romancers and writers of fiction have taken much interest in, and
considerable liberty with, wills; for instance, old Noirtier, a
character in the “Count of Monte Cristo,” the great novel by Dumas,
wrote his will. He was paralyzed, and his only means of communication
was by the eye: to shut the eye, meant “yes”: to wink the eye, meant
“no.” His granddaughter had no trouble when the notaries appeared in
convincing them that her grandparent knew exactly what he was doing; so,
in spite of opposition and in the presence of seven witnesses, the will
was executed; and as no signature was required under the French law, the
act was legally accomplished.
DR. JEKYLL’S WILL
Then there was the famous will in “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde”: the very
worthy lawyer, Mr. Utterson, who was “lean, long, dusty, dreary and,
somehow, lovable,” refused to write this will, wherein Dr. Jekyll left
his possessions to his friend and benefactor, Edward Hyde. Mr. Hyde was
also to be the possessor of this property if Dr. Jekyll should disappear
for a period exceeding three calendar months, the same to be free from
burden or obligation, beyond the payment of a few small sums to members
of the Doctor’s household.
THE WILL OF LORD MONMOUTH
In “Coningsby,” by Disraeli, the reading of Lord Monmouth’s will is a
feature. The document is lengthy, and numerous codicils have been added
from time to time, involving many modifications. The last codicil of
all, however, was the most startling, for under it all former
dispositions were upset.
MR. CASAUBON’S WILL
In George Eliot’s “Middlemarch,” we find the will of Mr. Casaubon. This
gentleman had married a girl, Dorothea Brooke, who was very much younger
than himself. By his will, he very properly gave her all his property.
However, on reflection, and for reasons best known to himself, he added
a codicil and placed the legacy given to his wife, upon the condition
that she did not marry one Ladislaw.
It would further appear that until the reading of this codicil, it had
not occurred to Dorothea that Ladislaw might be a possible lover; but he
became one, and the very suggestion of the testator caused the defeat of
the latter’s wishes.
ANTHONY TROLLOPE’S “ORLEY FARM”
Our author tells us of a forgery of a codicil by the second wife of the
testator: a son by a first wife is cut off, and the farm is left to a
son by the second wife. This codicil is in the handwriting of the
widow, witnessed by an attorney whose daughter received a handsome
legacy, the other witnesses being a clerk and a maidservant. The widow
swears that the codicil was drawn at the attorney’s dictation, in the
husband’s hearing, and that she was present when it was signed by all
the parties. The witnesses gave evidence as to the due execution of the
codicil. The instrument was admitted to probate. It developed, however,
that there was another paper, a dissolution of partnership, signed on
the same day by the same witnesses. The result was, that the charming
widow was found guilty of perjury.
MR. MEESON’S WILL
The following description of this famous will is taken from the _Green
Bag_:
“In ‘Mr. Meeson’s Will,’ Rider Haggard tells of a fiendish publisher and
a lone island and a tattooed will. It is the particular delight of this
issuer of books, though he largely sends forth works of a religious
cast, to crush all the originality out of his authors and turn them into
literary hacks, so that they may become dreary drudges in his vast
establishment, sinking even their names in numbers, and losing every
atom of individuality and every symptom of spirit. He makes a
shamelessly cruel contract with the heroine, who writes novels; and the
hero, his nephew, protests and is driven out of the concern. But he is
driven into love with the reciprocating maker of manuscript. Then the
heroine embarks for distant lands; and it happens, to the great good
fortune of the inventor of the story, that the publisher sails on board
the same vessel. The vessel is wrecked and these two are cast on a
desert island, where they manage to get along after the style of
‘Robinson Crusoe’ with variations. But the publisher, upset in body and
mind by these experiences, dies, pursued by ghastly visions of the
suffering authors he has driven to desperation.
“Yet these very visions make him see the error of his ways, and prompt
him to do justice. It is plain to him that he must set all things right
by making a will in favor of the nephew whom he had disinherited. But
how to carry out the plan on this spot is the question. At last a happy
thought strikes the lady. The will shall be tattoed across her
shoulders, and this is done, though she endures no end of agony, and
faints away when the job is over.
“Of course she is rescued by a passing vessel, rejoins her lover, and
seeks to establish his rights. For this purpose the will must be
probated, and the law requires the original will to be filed in the
office. But the Registrar, touched by ‘Beauty in distress,’ allows a
photograph of the will to be filed. The will is contested by the other
heirs, but after an exciting trial, described at length in the story,
victory perches on the shoulders of the lady.
“This is the real climax of the story, but we are carried on through the
ringing of the marriage bells, to learn that they lived happy ever
after.”
HIS REQUEST DISREGARDED
Horace Walpole writes that a certain testator who was apprehensive that
his will would not be upheld, prefaced that document with these words:
“In the name of God, Amen! I am of sound mind. This is my last will and
testament, and I desire the courts not to trouble themselves to make
another for me.”
His request seems not to have been taken in his favor, for the courts
did make another will for him.
In ancient Greece, it was quite usual to introduce into wills the most
formidable imprecations on those who should attempt to violate the
wishes of the testator; in modern times pecuniary penalties, instead of
curses, are more in favor with distrustful will-makers.
JEROME ON WILLS
Mr. Jerome K. Jerome, after months of study, inspired by a determination
to get to the bottom of Stage law, mentions among the few points on
which he is at all clear, the following:
That if a man dies without leaving a will, then all his property goes to
the nearest villain.
But that if a man dies and leaves a will, then all his property goes to
whoever can get possession of that will.
MUST NOT REMARRY
“Iris,” in one of Pinero’s plays of the same name, is a beautiful young
widow of twenty-one. She finds herself much hampered by the terms of her
husband’s will, which deprives her of its benefits if she remarries.
Such a provision is in law perfectly legal and its use much indulged in
by dying husbands, but whether wisely or justly is a matter of serious
doubt.
“THE THUNDERBOLT”
Pinero’s latest play, “The Thunderbolt,” is a study of the manners and
respectability of the middle-class of England. The play was not received
with favor in London, but has been granted a hearing by the “New
Theatre” of New York, and by competent judges is said to be the
masterpiece of its author.
The play is based on a stolen will: the first act shows a family
gathered around the bier of Edward Mortimore, who had accumulated wealth
in the brewing of beer, which, during his life, was regarded by his
family as rather a disreputable business. There is absent from the
gathering, only one interested person, and that is an illegitimate
daughter, Helen Thornhill, who is an art student in Paris. Helen arrives
and is much surprised that her father has not remembered her, for the
announcement is made that he left no will; and she wishes that “every
ill that’s conceivable” should come upon the heads of those who will
inherit. It quickly develops, however, that the father did leave a will,
in these words:
“I leave everything I die possessed of to Helen Thornhill, spinster,
absolutely, and she is to be my sole executrix.”
A confession discloses the fact that the will has been destroyed by
Phyllis, wife of Thaddeus, a brother of the testator. Helen refuses to
bring disgrace on the family by a prosecution, and a compromise is
effected, by which she receives a substantial portion of the estate.
DICKENS A WILL-MAKER
Dickens was a great will-maker. We know that if Dick Swiveller had been
a steadier youth he would have inherited more than one hundred and fifty
pounds a year from his Aunt Rebecca. The loyal-hearted lover, Mr.
Barkis, made Peggotty his residuary legatee. The litigation in Jarndyce
_v._ Jarndyce arose out of a disputed will. The various wills left by
old Harmon in “Our Mutual Friend” bring about no end of complications,
there being at least three wills in existence at one time, and each one
believed by the person discovering it to be the final will.
Mr. George W. E. Russell says that perhaps Dickens’s best piece of
will-making is given in the case of Mr. Spenlow, who, being a
practitioner in Doctors’ Commons, spoke about his own will with “a
serenity, a tranquillity, a calm sunset air” which quite affected David
Copperfield; and then shattered all poor David’s hopes by dying
intestate.
PERPLEXITIES OF POOR CECILIA
All the perplexities and distresses of poor Cecilia, in Frances Burney’s
“Memoirs of an Heiress,” grew out of a clause in her uncle’s will,
imposing the condition that if she married, her husband should take her
family name of Beverly. Poor Cecilia! What doubts and difficulties beset
her by reason of this unfortunate provision; and too, it gives the
authoress an excellent opportunity to harrow up the reader on account of
these delicate uncertainties and distresses.
OLIVIA’S WILL
It was suggested to Olivia in “Twelfth Night,” that her graces would go
to the grave and no copy be held; she responds:
“O, Sir, I will not be so hard hearted; I will give out divers schedules
of my beauty; It shall be inventoried, and every particle and utensil
labelled to my will; as, item, two lips indifferent red; item, two gray
eyes with lids to them; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth.”
_Portia and Nerissa_
In the “Merchant of Venice” Portia is much concerned over the will of
her father with reference to the caskets:
“_Portia._ But this reasoning is not in the fashion to choose me a
husband.--O me! the word choose! I may neither choose whom I would, nor
refuse whom I dislike; so is the will of a living daughter curbed by the
will of a dead father.--Is it not hard, Nerissa, that I cannot choose
one, nor refuse none?
“_Nerissa._ Your father was ever virtuous, and holy men at their death
have good inspirations; therefore, the lottery, that he hath devised in
these three chests of gold, silver, and lead (whereof who chooses his
meaning, chooses you) will, no doubt, never be chosen by any rightly,
but one whom you shall rightly love. But what warmth is there in your
affection towards any of these princely suitors that are already come?”
WILL OF NICHOLAS GIMCRACK
The will of Nicholas Gimcrack, Esq., is a curious document, and reflects
the mind of the worthy virtuoso, and in it his various follies,
littlenesses and quaint humors are contained in an orderly and distinct
fashion. This will appears in the _Tatler_, Vol. IV, No. 216, and is
here written, minus certain parts which are of no great concern:
“THE WILL OF A VIRTUOSO
“I Nicholas Gimcrack, being in sound Health of Mind, but in great
Weakness of Body, do by this my Last Will and Testament bequeath my
worldly Goods and Chattels in Manner follows:
“Imprimis, To my dear Wife,
One Box of Butterflies,
One Drawer of Shells,
A Female Skeleton,
A dried Cockatrice.
“Item, To my Daughter Elizabeth,
My Receipt for preserving dead Caterpillars,
As also my preparations of Winter May-Dew, and Embrio Pickle.
“Item, To my little Daughter Fanny,
Three Crocodiles’ Eggs.
And upon the Birth of her first Child, if she marries with her
Mother’s Consent,
The Nest of a Humming-Bird.
“Item, To my eldest Brother, as an Acknowledgment for the
Lands he has vested in my Son Charles, I bequeath
My last Year’s Collection of Grasshoppers.
“Item, To his Daughter, Susanna, being his only Child,
I bequeath my English Weeds pasted on Royal Paper,
With my large Folio of Indian Cabbage.
* * * * *
“Having fully provided for my Nephew Isaac, by making over to him some
years since
A Horned Scarabæus,
The Skin of a Rattle-Snake, and
The Mummy of an Egyptian King,
I make no further Provision for him in this my Will.
“My eldest son John having spoken disrespectfully of his little sister,
whom I keep by me in Spirits of Wine, and in many other instances
behaved himself undutifully towards me, I do disinherit, and wholly cut
off from any Part of this my Personal Estate, by giving him a single
Cockle-Shell.
“To my Second Son Charles, I give and bequeath all my Flowers, Plants,
Minerals, Mosses, Shells, Pebbles, Fossils, Beetles, Butterflies,
Caterpillars, Grasshoppers, and Vermin, not above specified: As also all
my Monsters, both wet and dry, making the said Charles whole and sole
Executor of this my Last Will and Testament, he paying or causing to be
paid the aforesaid Legacies within the space of Six Months after my
Decease. And I do hereby revoke all other Wills whatsoever by me
formerly made.”
EUSTACE BUDGELL
Pope was an excellent satirist; he writes:
“Let Budgell charge lone Grub Street on my quill,
And write whate’er he please,--except my will.”
Eustace Budgell was born at St. Thomas near Exeter, England, in 1685,
and died in 1737. He was an essayist and miscellaneous writer, and a
friend and kinsman of Joseph Addison, who was for a time Secretary of
State for Ireland: he accompanied Addison to Ireland as Clerk, and later
became under Secretary of State: he was, however, forced to resign his
post, and returned to England.
Budgell is said to have lost a fortune in the notorious scheme known to
history as the “South Sea Bubble.” He published the _Bee_, a periodical
which brought him into considerable notoriety. He studied law and was
called to the bar, but attained little success. By the will of Dr.
Matthew Tindal, who died in 1733, he was left a legacy of 2000 Guineas:
it was claimed that Budgell himself inserted this legacy in the will,
which was successfully disputed by the heirs to the Tindal Estate: his
prospects and future being ruined, he fell into disgrace and debt, and
determined upon self-destruction. Accordingly, 1737, he took a boat at
Summerset Stairs, after filling his pockets with stones, and drowned
himself in the Thames. On his desk was found a slip of paper on which
were written these words:
“What Cato did and Addison approved cannot be wrong.”
WILL OF A CHILD
In “Little Women,” by Louisa M. Alcott, we find Amy’s will, and it is a
pretty reflection of the sweet and ingenuous spirit of a child. And
humanity would be the happier for it if we could take with us into
maturer years, the open hand and the self-forgetfulness of childhood.
Amy decided to follow the example of her Aunt March in will-making,
though it cost her many a pang to part with her little treasures. Here
is the paper Laurie was asked to read:
“MY LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT
“I, Amy Curtis March, being in my sane mind, do give and bequeethe all
my earthly property--viz. to wit:--namely
“To my father, my best pictures, sketches, maps, and works of art,
including frames. Also my $100, to do what he likes with.
“To my mother, all my clothes, except the blue apron with pockets,--also
my likeness, and my medal, with much love.
“To my dear sister Margaret, I give my turquoise ring (if I get it),
also my green box with the doves on it, also my piece of real lace for
her neck, and my sketch of her as a memorial of her ‘little girl.’
“To Jo I leave my breast-pin, the one mended with sealing wax, also my
bronze inkstand--she lost the cover--and my most precious plaster
rabbit, because I am sorry I burnt up her story.
“To Beth (if she lives after me) I give my dolls and the little bureau,
my fan, my linen collars and my new slippers if she can wear them being
thin when she gets well. And I herewith also leave her my regret that I
ever made fun of old Joanna.
“To my friend and neighbor Theodore Laurence I bequeethe my paper
marshay portfolio, my clay model of a horse though he did say it hadn’t
any neck. Also in return for his great kindness in the hour of
affliction any one of my artistic works he likes, Noter Dame is the
best.
“To our venerable benefactor Mr. Laurence I leave my purple box with a
looking glass in the cover which will be nice for his pens and remind
him of the departed girl who thanks him for his favors to her family,
specially Beth.
“I wish my favorite playmate Kitty Bryant to have the blue silk apron
and my gold-bead ring with a kiss.
“To Hannah I give the bandbox she wanted and all the patchwork I leave
hoping she ‘will remember me, when it you see.’
“And now having disposed of my most valuable property I hope all will be
satisfied and not blame the dead. I forgive every one, and trust we may
all meet when the trump shall sound. Amen.
“To this will and testament I set my hand and seal on this 20th day of
Nov. Anni Domino 1861.
“AMY CURTIS MARCH.
“_Witnesses_: { ESTELLE VALNOR,
{ THEODORE LAURENCE.
“Postscript: I wish all my curls cut off, and given round to my friends.
I forgot it; but I want it done, though it will spoil my looks.”
THE WILL OF DON QUIXOTE
“I feel, good sirs,” said Don Quixote, “that death advances fast upon
me. Let us then be serious, and bring me a confessor, and a notary to
draw up my will, for a man in my state must not trifle with his soul.
Let the notary be sent for, I beseech you, while my friend here, the
priest, is taking my confession.”
The priest, having listened to his dying friend’s confession, came out
of the room and told them that the good Alonzo Quixano was near his end,
and certainly in his right senses; he therefore advised them to go in,
as it was full time that his will should be made. These tidings gave a
terrible stab to the overcharged hearts of the two ladies and his
faithful squire, whose eyes overflowed with weeping, and whose bosoms
had well-nigh burst with a thousand sighs and groans; for, indeed, it
must be owned, as we have somewhere observed, that whether in the
character of Alonzo Quixano the Good, or in the capacity of Don Quixote
de la Mancha, the poor gentleman had always exhibited marks of a
peaceable temper and agreeable demeanor, for which he was beloved, not
only by his own family, but also by all those who had the pleasure of
his acquaintance.
The notary entering the apartment with the rest of the company, wrote
the preamble of the will, in which Don Quixote disposed of his soul in
all the necessary Christian forms; then proceeding to the legacies, he
said:
“Item: Whereas, Sancho Panza, whom, in my madness, I made my squire, has
in his hands a certain sum of money for my use; and, as divers accounts,
disbursements, and pecuniary transactions have passed between us, it is
my will that he shall not be charged or brought to account for the said
money; but, if there be any overplus after he has deducted the payment
of what I owe him, the said overplus, which must be a mere trifle, shall
be his own, and much good may it do him; and as, during my disorder, I
contributed to his being made governor of an island, I would now, while
I enjoy my perfect senses, confer upon him, were it in my power, a whole
kingdom, which he richly deserves for the innocency of his heart and the
fidelity of his service.”
Then turning to the disconsolate squire, “Forgive me, friend,” said he,
“for having been the cause of thy appearing in the eye of the world a
madman like myself, by drawing thee into my erroneous notions concerning
the existence and adventures of knights-errant.”
“Gentlemen,” said Don Quixote, “let us proceed fair and softly. I was
mad, I am now sane; I was Don Quixote de la Mancha; I am now, as
formerly styled, Alonzo Quixano the Good. And may my repentance and
sincerity restore me to the esteem you once had for me. Now let the
notary proceed.
“Item: I bequeath to Antonia Quixano, my niece, here present, all my
estate, real and personal, after the payment of all my debts and
legacies; and the first to be discharged shall be the wages due to my
housekeeper for the time she has been in my service, and twenty ducats
besides for a suit of mourning.
“I appoint for my executors signor the priest and signor bachelor
Sampson Carrasco, here present.
“Item: It is also my will that, if Antonia Quixano, my niece, should be
inclined to marry, it shall be only with a man who, upon the strictest
inquiry, shall be found to know nothing of books of chivalry; and, in
case it appear that he is acquainted with such books, and that my niece,
notwithstanding, will and doth marry him, then shall she forfeit all I
have bequeathed her, which my executors may dispose of in pious uses as
they think proper.
“And, finally, I beseech the said gentlemen, my executors, that if haply
they should come to the knowledge of the author of a certain history
dispersed abroad, entitled, ‘The Second Part of the Achievements of Don
Quixote de la Mancha,’ that they will, in my name, most earnestly
entreat him to forgive me for having been the innocent cause of his
writing such a number of absurdities as that performance contains; for I
quit this life with some scruples of conscience arising from that
consideration.”
The will being thus concluded, he was seized with a fainting-fit, and
stretched himself at full length in the bed, so that all the company
were alarmed and ran to his assistance. During three days which he lived
after the will was signed and sealed, he frequently fainted, and the
whole family was in confusion. Nevertheless, the niece ate her victuals,
the housekeeper drank to the repose of his soul, and even Sancho
cherished his little carcass; for the prospect of succession either
dispels or moderates that affliction which an heir ought to feel at the
death of the testator.
At last Don Quixote expired, after having received all the sacraments,
and in the strongest terms, pathetically enforced, expressed his
abomination against all books of chivalry; and the notary observed, that
in all the books of that kind which he had perused, he had never read of
any knight-errant who died quietly in his bed as a good Christian, like
Don Quixote; who, amidst the tears and lamentations of all present, gave
up the ghost, or, in other words, departed this life. The curate was no
sooner certified of his decease, than he desired the notary to make out
a testimonial, declaring that Alonzo Quixano the Good, commonly called
Don Quixote de la Mancha, had taken his departure from this life, and
died of a natural death; that no other author, different from Cid Hamet
Benengeli, should falsely pretend to raise him from the dead, and write
endless histories of his achievements.
This was the end of that extraordinary gentleman of La Mancha, whose
birthplace Cid Hamet was careful to conceal, that all the towns and
villages of that province might contend for the honor of having produced
him, as did the seven cities of Greece for the glory of giving birth to
Homer. The lamentations of Sancho, the niece and the housekeeper, are
not here given, nor the new epitaphs on the tomb of the deceased knight,
except the following one, composed by Sampson Carrasco:
“A doughty gentleman lies here,
A stranger all his life to fear;
Nor in his death could Death prevail,
In that last hour, to make him quail.
“He for the world but little cared;
And at his feats the world was scared;
A crazy man his life he passed,
But in his senses died at last.”
WILLS IN POETRY OR RHYME
The disposition of one’s worldly possessions by a testamentary document
in poetry or rhyme, appears incongruous, yet there are numerous
documents of this nature: a brief, but striking example of such, by an
attorney named Smithers who resided in London, follows:
“As to all my wordly goods, now or to be in store,
I give them to my beloved wife, and hers forevermore.
I give all freely; I no limit fix;
This is my will, and she’s executrix.”
WILL OF MOTHER HUBBARD’S DOG
“This wonderful dog
Was Dame Hubbard’s delight;
He could dance, he could sing,
He could read, he could write.
“She went to the druggist
To get him a pill;
And when she came back,
He was writing his will.
“So she gave him rich dainties
Whenever he fed;
And put up a monument
When he was dead.”
On Tremont Street, in the busy heart of Boston, is the beautiful little
“burying ground,” called the “Granary”; Paul Revere, John Quincy Adams,
John Hancock, and other distinguished citizens of New England rest here
under trees which have shaded their graves for more than a century.
There is also shown the visitor the grave of “Mother Goose,” the alleged
author of the Mother Goose Rhymes. It may be iconoclastic to shatter a
legend, but the truth is, the Mother Goose Rhymes had been jingling for
a century and more before this good lady was born; it appears that in
ancient times, the goose was a famous story-teller for children, and the
Goose Melodies are an adaptation from the French. The monument in the
“Granary” is erected to Mary Goose, wife of Isaac Goose; it would seem
that her claim to fame rests entirely upon her recitation of the Hubbard
Melodies to such an extent that her son-in-law, Thomas Fleet, who was a
printer, issued a special edition for her.
PIERS PLOWMAN
Piers Plowman, in the fourteenth century, thus made his will:
“And I wish ere I wend, now to write out my will.
In God’s name, amen! lo! I make it myself.
May God have my soul who hath saved and deserved it,
Let the kirk have my carrion and keep well my bones.”
WILL OF PAUL SCARRON
The will of Paul Scarron, which he chose to write in verse, is not a
particularly attractive production. It consists of about two hundred
lines; the following may be taken as a specimen:
“Premièrement je donne et je légue
A ma femme, qui n’est point bégue,
Pouvoir de se remarier,
De crainte d’un plus grand désordre.
Mais pour moi je crois que cet ordre,
De ma dernière volonté
Sera celui le mieux exécuté.”
As is well known, Scarron was a French author and playwright. In 1652 he
married the beautiful Francine d’Aubigne, afterward Madame de Maintenon.
He died on October 6, 1660.
FRANÇOIS VILLON
François Villon is an unique character in history, romance and poetry.
He died about 1484. “The Poems of Master François Villon of Paris done
into English Verse by John Payne,” contain his two chief compositions
entitled, “The Lesser Testament,” and “The Greater Testament”: they are
satires of considerable merit and length, and a verse from the first and
two from the last will suffice to show their character and his style.
From the first:
“Item, my gloves and silken hood
My friend Jacques Cardon, I declare,
Shall have in fair free gift for good;
Also the acorns willows bear
And every day a capon fair
Or goose; likewise a tenfold vat
Of chalk-white wine, besides a pair
Of lawsuits, lest he wax too fat.”
From the last:
“The Register of Wills from me
Shall have no quid nor quod, I trow:
But every penny of his fee
To Tricot, the young priest, shall go;
To whose expense gladly eno’
I’d drink, though it my nightcap cost:
If but he knew the dice to throw,
Of Perette’s Den I’d make him host.”
“EPITAPH
“Here lies and slumbers in this place
One whom Love wreaked his ire upon:
A scholar, poor of goods and grace,
That hight of old François Villon:
Acre or furrow had he none.
’Tis known his all he gave away;
Bread, tables, tressels, all are gone.
Gallants, of him this Roundel say.”
WILL OF SIR THOMAS DENNY
Thomas Denny (son and heir of Sir Edmond Denny of England, one of the
King’s Exchequer), 10th May, 1527, wrote his will in manner following:
“ ... My body to be buried in the parish church of Cheshunt, where I
dwell, and I will that a stone be laid on me, and that a picture of
Death be made in the stone, with scrolls in his hand bearing this
writing thereon:
“As I am so shalle ye be,
Pray for me of yr Charity,
With a Paternoster and an Ave,
For the rest of the soul of Thomas Denny.”
Then follow sundry bequests and legacies.
IN LATIN VERSE
There is on record the following history of a versified will. It is that
of François Joseph Terrasse Desbillons, born at Chäteauneuf, in Berry,
in 1711, who became a Jesuit, and, after the suppression of the order in
France, principal of the College of Mannheim. He was so remarkable for
the elegance and purity with which he wrote in Latin that he obtained
the sobriquet of “The last of the Romans.” Owing, perhaps, to this
facility, he wrote his will in Latin verse. The sight of it in this
singular form somewhat startled his executors; but as all the necessary
formalities had been observed, no difficulty occurred, and it was
carried out in entire conformity with his wishes, without any
interference on the part of the law.
A WILL IN RHYME
Another poetic will, that of John Hedges, late of Finchley, Middlesex,
was proved in an English court on July 5, 1737, and is worthy of a place
among quaint and eccentric wills. It reads as follows:
“This fifth of May,
Being airy and gay,
To trip not inclined,
But of vigorous mind,
And my body in health,
I’ll dispose of my wealth;
And of all I’m to leave
On this side the grave,
To some one or other,
I think to my brother.
“But because I presaw
That my brother-in-law
I did not take care,
Would come in for a share,
Which I noways intended,
Till their manners were mended--
And of that there’s no sign.
“I do therefore enjoin,
And strictly command,
As witness my hand,
That nought I have got
Be brought to hotch-pot.
“And I give and devise,
Much as in me lies,
To the son of my mother,
My own dear brother,
To have and to hold
All my silver and gold,
As the affectionate pledges
Of his brother,
“JOHN HEDGES.”
WILL OF WILLIAM HICKINGTON
William Hickington, who died in the year 1770, wrote his will in rhyme,
as follows:
“This is my last will,
I insist on it still;
To sneer on and welcome,
And e’en laugh your fill.
I, William Hickington,
Poet of Pocklington,
Do give and bequeath,
As free as I breathe,
To thee, Mary Jarum,
The Queen of my Harum,
My cash and my cattle,
With every chattel,
To have and to hold,
Come heat or come cold,
_Sans_ hindrance or strife,
Though thou art not my wife.
As witness my hand,
Just here as I stand,
The twelfth of July,
In the year Seventy.
“WM. HICKINGTON.”
This will was admitted to probate at the Deanery Court in the City of
York, England, 1770.
WILL OF WILL JACKETT
This will was proved at Doctors’ Commons, London, on July 17, 1789, and
runs as follows:
“I give and bequeath,
When I’m laid underneath,
To my two loving sisters most dear,
The whole of my store,
Were it twice as much more,
Which God’s goodness has given me here.
“And that none may prevent
This my will and intent,
Or occasion the least of law-racket,
With a solemn appeal
I confirm, sign, and seal
This the true act and deed of Will Jackett.”
Mr. William Jackett, it appears, was a faithful and trustworthy as well
as a thrifty fellow, for he remained for thirty years in the service of
Messrs. Fuller and Vaughan as manager of their business. He resided in
the parish of St. Mary, Islington.
WILL OF AN IRISH SCHOOLMASTER
The following is the will of Pat O’Kelly, an Irish schoolmaster, who
wrote, on the leaf of a copybook which he had just finished ruling (thus
exemplifying the ruling passion strong in death), the lines here
transcribed:
“I, having neither kith nor kin,
Bequeath all I have named herein
To Harriet my dearest wife,
To have and hold as hers for life.
While in good health, and sound in mind,
This codicil I’ve undersigned.”
RATHER SACRILEGIOUS
The spirit of sacrilege is shown in an old quatrain to be found in the
books:
“In the name of God, Amen:
My featherbed to my wife, Jen;
Also my carpenter’s saw and hammer;
Until she marries; then, God damn her!”
WILL OF WILLIAM RUFFELL, ESQ.
William Ruffell of Shimpling, Suffolk, England, was a gentleman of an
ancient and highly respectable family; he is said to have been a good
specimen of an old-fashioned gentleman farmer. His will, which was
written in 1803, is as follows:
“As this life must soon end, and my frame will decay,
And my soul to some far-distant clime wing its way,
Ere that time arrives, now I free am from cares,
I thus wish to settle my worldly affairs,
A course right and proper men of sense will agree.
I am now strong and hearty, my age forty-three;
I make this my last will, as I think ’tis quite time,
It conveys all I wish, though ’tis written in rhyme.
To employ an attorney I ne’er was inclin’d,
They are pests to society, sharks of mankind.
To avoid that base tribe my own will I now draw,
May I ever escape coming under their paw.
To Ezra Dalton, my nephew, I give all my land,
With the old Gothic cottage that thereon doth stand;
’Tis near Shimpling great road, in which I now dwell,
It looks like a chapel or hermit’s old cell,
With my furniture, plate, and linen likewise,
And securities, money, with what may arise.
’Tis my wish and desire that he should enjoy these,
And pray let him take even my skin, if he please.
To my loving, kind sister I give and bequeath,
For her tender regard, when this world I shall leave,
If she choose to accept it, my rump-bone may take,
And tip it with silver, a whistle to make.
My brother-in-law is a strange-tempered dog;
He’s as fierce as a tiger, in manners a hog;
A petty tyrant at home, his frowns how they dread;
Two ideas at once never entered his head.
So proud and so covetous, moreover so mean,
I dislike to look at him, the fellow is so lean.
He ne’er behaved well, and, though very unwilling,
Yet I feel that I must cut him off with a shilling.
My executors, too, should be men of good fame;
I appoint Edmund Ruffell, of Cockfield, by name
In his old easy chair, with short pipe and snuff,
What matter his whims, he is honest enough;
With Samuel Seely, of Alpheton Lion,
I like his strong beer, and his word can rely on.
When Death’s iron hand gives the last fatal blow,
And my shattered old frame in the dust must lie low,
Without funeral pomp let my remains be conveyed
To Brent Eleigh churchyard, near my father be laid.
This, written with my own hand, there can be no appeal,
I now therefore at once set my hand and my seal,
As being my last will; I to this fully agree,
This eighteenth day of March, eighteen hundred and three.”
TWO ENGLISH WILLS
The following is a copy of the will of the late Mr. Joshua West, of the
Six Clerks’ Office, Chancery Lane, dated December 13, 1804:
“Perhaps I died not worth a groat;
But should I die worth something more,
Then I give that, and my best coat,
And all my manuscripts in store,
To those who shall the goodness have
To cause my poor remains to rest
Within a decent shell and grave.
This is the will of Joshua West.
“JOSHUA WEST.
“Witnessed R. MILLS.
J. A. BERRY.
JOHN BAINES.”
Mr. West died possessed of property, and some valuable manuscripts,
which were conveyed by the above will.
The following will in rhyme was written by William Hunnis, a gentleman
of the chapel under Edward VI., and afterwards Chapel Master to Queen
Elizabeth:
“To God my soule I do bequeathe, because it is his owen,
My body to be layd in grave, where to my friends best knowen;
Executors I will none make, thereby great stryfe may grow,
Because the goods that I shall leave wyll not pay all I owe.”
WILL OF JAMES BIGSBY
The following is a curious testamentary paper of a North Essex laborer,
who resided at Manningtree, England:
“As I feel very queer my will I now make;
Write it down, Joseph Finch, and make no mistake.
I wish to leave all things fair and right, do you see,
And my relatives satisfy. Now, listen to me.
The first in my will is Lydia my wife,
Who to me proved a comfort three years of my life;
The second my poor aged mother I say,
With whom I have quarrelled on many a day,
For which I’ve been sorry, and also am still;
I wish to give her a place in my will.
The third that I mention is my dear little child;
When I think of her, Joseph, I feel almost wild.
Uncle Sam Bigsby, I must think of him too,
Peradventure he will say that I scarcely can do.
And poor Uncle Gregory, I must leave him a part,
If it is nothing else but the back of the cart.
And for you, my executor, I will do what I can,
For acting towards me like an honest young man.
“Now, to my wife I bequeath greater part of my store;
First thing is the bedstead before the front door;
The next is the chair standing by the fireside,
The fender and irons she cleaned with much pride.
I also bequeath to Lydia my wife
A box in the cupboard, a sword, a gun, and knife,
And the harmless old pistol without any lock,
Which no man can fire off, for ’tis minus a cock.
The cups and the saucers I leave her also,
And a book called ‘The History of Poor Little Mo,’
With the kettle, the boiler, and old frying-pan,
A shovel, a mud-scoop, a pail, and a pan.
And remember, I firmly declare my protest
That my poor aged mother shall have my oak chest
And the broken whip under it. Do you hear what I say?
Write all these things down without any delay.
And my dear little child, I must think of her too.
Friend Joseph, I am dying, what shall I do?
I give her my banyan, my cap, and my hose,
My big monkey-jacket, my shirt, and my shoes;
And to Uncle Sam Bigsby, I bequeath my high boots,
The pickaxe and mattock with which I stubbed roots.
And poor Uncle Gregory, with the whole of my heart,
I give for a bedstead the back of the cart.
And to you, my executor, last in my will,
I bequeath a few trifles to pay off your bill.
I give you my shot-belt, my dog, and my nets,
And the rest of my goods sell to pay off my debts.
“JOSEPH FINCH, Executor.
“Dated FEBRUARY 4th, 1839.”
FROM MISSOURI
Under the spell of the Muse, Joseph Johnson Cassiday, a well-known
farmer of Jasper County, Missouri, prepared his will in rhyme; for
several years this document answered the purposes of the testator; just
prior to his death, however, in March, 1910, more serious thoughts seem
to have come over him, and Mr. Cassiday executed a different will, the
last being done in the usual prose form. The will in rhyme is given
below:
“I, Joseph Johnson Cassiday,
Being sound of mind and memory,
Do hereby publish my intent,
This my will and testament,
That all my just debts first be paid,
Expense for burial and funeral made,
And all expenses made of late,
Out of my personal and real estate.
I do bequeath, devise and give,
As long as she, my wife, shall live,
Lot six in the original town of Lever,
To her assigns and heirs forever.
To my adopted daughter Marie,
I do devise and give in fee,
The southeast quarter of section seven
Township nine and range eleven.
To my two sons Josephus and Reach,
I do devise one dollar each.
The residue of my estate,
I do bequeath to Mary Kate,
And I hereby appoint her for,
My last will, executor.
This eighteenth day of May was done,
In the year of our Lord, Nineteen One.”