Happily, the ills and strifes of conjugal life are not the most frequently remembered incidents of a man’s life; its felicities, its joys and tender experiences, the fidelity and devotion of a true partner, are often most vividly and fondly cherished at death, and touchingly alluded to in a man’s last will. In this manner, Sharon Turner, the eminent author of the “History of the Anglo-Saxons,” and other works, who died in London in 1847, at the age of seventy-nine, and whose will was proved in that year, delights to speak of his wife’s affection, and is particularly solicitous that she should not suffer in her personal appearance by the unskillfulness of the persons who had taken her portrait. Speaking of his wife, who was dead, he says: “It is my comfort to have remembered that I have passed with her nearly forty-nine years of unabated affection and connubial happiness, and yet she is still living, as I earnestly hope and believe, under her Saviour’s care, in a superior state of being.... None of the portraits of my beloved wife give any adequate representation of her beautiful face, nor of the sweet, and intellectual, and attractive appearance of her living features, and general countenance, and character.”
Too often testators place all the obstacles they can in the way of their widows marrying again, as will appear more fully in another part of this work. The following instance is one of the few exceptions, and it contains, besides, the most graceful tribute to a wife’s character, as given in a will, that we know of. Mr. Granville Harcourt, whose will was proved in March, 1862, thus speaks of his wife: “The unspeakable interest with which I constantly regard Lady Waldegrave’s future fate induces me to advise her earnestly to unite herself again with some one who may deserve to enjoy the blessing of her society during the many years of her possible survival after my life. I am grateful to Providence for the great happiness I enjoy in her singular affection; and I pray and confidently hope she may long continue to possess the same esteem and friendship of those who are intimate with her, and can appreciate her admirable qualities, and the respect of all with whom, in any relation of life, she is connected.”[3]
Ladies have not the same opportunity and privilege of restraining their husbands from marrying again, and we cannot call to mind a single case of a married woman attempting to do so in a will, but on the contrary, we have the case of a lady recommending marriage to her husband. Mrs. Van Hanrigh, whose will was proved in December, 1868, leaves all her property, which appears to have been considerable, to her husband. Endorsed on the back of the will is a memorandum, stating that she wishes her clothes to be sold to pay her funeral expenses, which are to be as small as possible, and after commending her husband to the care of her brother, she adds: “It is also my earnest wish that my darling husband should marry, ere long, a nice, pretty girl, who is a good housewife, and above all, to be careful that she is of a good temper.”
Theologians have speculated and differed upon the nature of Heaven’s happiness, but John Starkey, whose will was proved in November, 1861, had no doubt of its character, for he states: “The remainder of my wealth is vested in the affection of my dear wife, with whom I leave it in the good hope of resuming it more pure, bright, and precious, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where there are no railways or monetary panics or fluctuations of exchange, but the steadfast though progressive and unspeakable riches of glory and immortality.”
The disappointments of life, the inconstancy of friends, and the slights of the world have so wrought upon some minds as to cause them to record in a will their estimate of all earthly things, and enlighten posterity by revealing to it the last impressions of either a cynic or a philosopher. Soured and chagrined, they rail at what they deem the folly and hypocrisy of the world, and in a last utterance freely express themselves upon subjects upon which, perhaps, the proprieties of life made them silent while they lived. The following document, penned by an Earl of Pembroke who lived during the political turmoils of the seventeenth century, testifies to a singular shrewdness and knowledge of character, with a considerable amount of dry humor. As a literary and historical curiosity, we may be justified in giving it at length. The copy from which it is taken bears the signature of the keeper of the records in Doctors’ Commons, Nathaniel Brind, beneath the words “Concordat cum originali.” It is as follows:
“I, Philip V, Earl of Pembroke and Montgomery, being, as I am assured, of unsound health, but of sound memory, as well I remember me that five years ago I did give my vote for the despatching of old Canterbury, neither have I forgotten that I did see my king upon the scaffold, yet as it is said that death doth even now pursue me, and, moreover, that it is yet further said that it is my practice to yield under coercion, I do now make my last will and testament.
“Imprimus: As for my soul, I do confess I have often heard men speak of the soul, but what may be these same souls, or what their destination, God knoweth; for myself, I know not. Men have likewise talked to me of another world, which I have never visited, nor do I know even an inch of the ground that leadeth thereto. When the King was reigning I did make my son wear a surplice, being desirous that he should become a bishop, and for myself, I did follow the religion of my master; then came the Scotch, who made me a Presbyterian; but since the time of Cromwell, I have become an Independent. These are, methinks, the three principal religions of the kingdom. If any one of the three can save a soul, I desire they will return it to him who gave it to me.
“Item: I give my body, for it is plain I cannot keep it, as you see the chirurgeons are tearing it to pieces. Bury me, therefore; I hold lands and churches enough for that. Above all, put not my body beneath the church porch, for I am, after all, a man of birth, and I would not that I should be interred there where Colonel Pride was born.
“Item: I will have no monument, for then I must needs have an epitaph and verses over my carcass—during my life I had enough of these.
“Item: I desire that my dogs may be shared among all the members of the Council of State. With regard to them, I have been all things to all men; sometimes went I with the Peers, sometimes with the Commons. I hope therefore they will not suffer my poor curs to want.