Originally published in Pearson's Weekly (C. Arthur Pearson Ltd.) vol.1 #16 (08 Nov 1890).
Legacies to animals are by no means uncommon, nor are they unnatural. There is gratitude as well as humanity in the desire a person has that the favourite horse, dog, cat, or bird shall be properly cared for when its owner passes away. It happens, however, that many bequests of this kind involve curious conditions, and are therefore classed amongst the oddities of wills.
Not that such bequests are altogether laughable. Many of them are undoubtedly comical; but there are others which claim notice because of the considerateness they manifest for services rendered by the creatures concerned, and because of the touching way in which the memorial for such services is secured.
Of this class is the will made by Mr. Berkey, of Knightsbridge, who died in 1805, leaving a pension of £25 a year to four dogs. Thin was done by the testator because, as he used to say, men assailed his life but a dog preserved it. Mr. Berkey had on one occasion been travelling in Italy, when he was attacked by brigands, and would probably have been killed had not his dog come to the rescue. This dog died before its owner, but it left four descendants, and it was upon them the annuity was bestowed.
So far the arrangement was simply that of a man on whose mind the fidelity of a favourite hound had made an unusually strong impression; but that the impression had reached the point of absolute foolishness was seen rather during the life than after the death of the testator. He made the pups his friends, and sought no better society; and when his end approached he had the animals brought to his bedside, that one by one he might bid them farewell.
His annuity to the dogs was but a trifle compared with the two hundred guineas a year the widow, Elizabeth Ovley Hunter, of London, left to her parrot, which had been "her faithful companion for twenty-four years." Mrs. Hunter had evidently obtained legal help to draw up the bequest, so carefully was it guarded against possible fraud or misappropriation of the trust.
Thus the parrot was to have its identity established twice a year, and all payments were to cease upon non-production of the bird. It was provided also that if any substituted parrot was produced in the event of the death of the original, action was to be taken by the heirs and executors of the will against "whoever could be base enough to do so."
A friend, also a widow, was named as the first custodian of the bird, and this lady was authorised to will and bequeath and annuity to whomsoever she pleased, "provided that person is neither a servant nor a man." The bird was always to pass into the charge of "some respectable female." Mrs. Hunter evidently knew that parrots are long-lived.
It was ordered further that the sum of twenty guineas should be given to the first caretaker, to be by her expended "on a very high, long, and large case for the aforementioned parrot." The parrot was not to be taken out of England, and any person benefiting from the estate who should put a hindrance in the way of the payment of the annuity to the bird was to forfeit all claim under the will.
A citizen of Copenhagen saved all trouble and expense by directing that his carriage horses, great favourites, should not be allowed to outlive him, but should be shot dead to prevent their falling into a lower estate, and possibly into the possession of a cruel master.
A French lady made a will in which she bitterly attacked her son-in-law and other relatives, and showed she had more regard for brutes than human beings by making liberal provision for her cats. So long as two cats lived they were to receive a certain sum each
month, the amount to be reduced by one-half on one of the cats dying.
The cats were to have twice a day meat soup of the quality usually served at the table; "but they must be given it separately, each having its own saucer. The bread was not to be put into the soup after the French style, "but cut up into pieces about the size of hazel-nuts, or they cannot eat it."
It was ordered further that when boiled beef was put into the pot with the soaked bread some thin slices of raw meat were to be put in as well, and the whole stewed till fit for eating.
In another instance—an English one—the bequest was not to be reduced as the animals died off, but to go on in increasing amounts to the survivors. There was left "to my monkey, my dear amusing Jackoo, the sum of £10 sterling, to be en joyed by him during his life," and to be expended solely in his keep. Half of this sum was thought enough "for my faithful dog Shock," and "my beloved cat Tib," to be paid as yearly pensions.
But "in the event of the death of one of the aforesaid legatees, the sum due to him shall pass to the two survivors, and on the death of one of these to the last, be he who he may." And then, "after the decease of all parties," but not till then, the sum left was to pass to a daughter, "to whom I show this preference above all my children, because she has a large family, and finds a difficulty in filling their mouths and educating them."
There is more sense in the bequests that are occasionally made in support of institutions for the care and treatment of animals, and we know that some animals, as in the cage of the notable Jumbo, have been made the recipients of curious and extravagant gifts.
A stranger mode of providing in a wholesale way for animals was never devised than that laid down in the will of a native of Columbus, Ohio, for the establishment of a cat infirmary. This individual not only left money for the purpose, but plans and specifications. The infirmary was to be an institution in which the cats, after recovering from illness, were to be cared for in the convalescent stage, and it was to possess a training-achool in which the younger cats might get practice in mice-hunting, and the older ones in rat-killing.
Then there was to be a promenade, to which the cats were to have free access at all times, so that they might indulge without dread of boot-jacks, brickbats, flat-irons, or old boots in their choicest orchestral effects. And not only so, but the testator made provisions for the purchase of musical instruments to accompany the cats, the playing to be kept up night and day. These latter provisions would have upset such a will if the earlier clauses were not thought sufficient proof of sanity on the part of the testator.
A native of Toulouse, who made his chestnut horse his sole legatee, had his will disputed because of its apparent absurdity. There was a clause, however. directing to whom the horse should go, and the will was sustained. Otherwise it must have been nullified.