work; sometimes she sent him to the kitchen on menial errands, when he would address the servants there assembled in such a speech as this: "My wife, Jane, desires me to count the pots and pans, as you are all robbing us!" and, said the inflamed relations in a passionate protest against such treatment of their dear friend and patron, "It would appear from his manner and expressions on such occasions, that he acted as a mere instrument in the hands of a domineering and tyrannical woman; awed and used by her as she felt necessary, for accomplishing her design of totally depriving him of free agency of thought and independent action." If the poor man gave an order, she countermanded it, telling them to do as she told them. Once more, "her frequent and familiar expression" was, "by God it shall be so, and by God it shant be so"—and he was seen trembling before her. A sympathising builder said he seemed "as a child under a parent."
The instructions and "general orders" of those who managed the case are highly characteristic, and give an idea of the strategy by which great cases are carried. A gentleman with a "J.P." and "D.L.," hanging like decorations at the end of his name, was specially recommended to the judicious handling of counsel. " Mr. 's description of the complete subjugation of testator to the domineering will of his wife, is inimitable. His cowardice in her presence cannot be expressed in its true light, except by the production of Mr. on the witness table." But they bewailed the fact that he was suffering from "a personal and inconvenient complaint," which would prevent his attendance. This distinction of a "personal complaint" is rather good; and the writer may have been nearly related to another solicitor, who, when places of resort were being compared, protested that, as to natural charms of scenery, &c., "he gave his veto"—pronounced "vaito"—"for Switzerland." This witness was able to report conversations dramatically, and the House of Lords must have had great amusement reading over this odd chronicle:
Mr. Coclough. My dear fellow, what can I do? My wife says she won't remain; she will leave me.
Mr. . It is not to be expected she would remain in a rat-hole like this. You must build a proper house and make it comfortable, and then she will remain.
Mr. C. Why, my dear friend, I told her I would expend ten thousand pounds on a house if she would consent to live with me in it; but she would not on any terms. What am I to do?
Mr. . Never mind that. Build the house first, make the house suitable, and, having done your duty, you will know how to insist quietly that your wife shall do hers.
Mr. C. My motto is, "Peace before Prosperity."
At this point Mrs. Coclough entered the room unexpectedly. The husband at once repeated the good advice he had received.
Mrs. C. Mr. ! Mr. ! what can my husband do by residing with his tenantry? What good can he do? What good can he do?
She went over this question many times. Mr. Coclough was then prudently withdrawing, when she turned on him. "Mr. Coclough! Mr. Coclough! what good can you do?—what can you do?" &c. Mr. Coclough made her the next retort, that she might do good by letting him remain. But Mr. stated that "he then withdrew as quickly as possible." When Mr. was living in London as a bachelor, his old friend often came to see him, but never was permitted to go up-stairs without his wife.
At last it came to the year 1842, when the testator began to fail, and there seemed a chance that all his wife's schemes—if schemes they were—were to be crowned with success. He was busy with his chemicals and experiments when he felt sick. On the 4th of August the will-making began, perhaps the most unique series of these documents yet known. On that day it was settled that the wife should have the handsome jointure of five thousand a year, while the estates were to go to his heir-at-law. This document was put by carelessly in an open wardrobe. Then a doctor, acting, perhaps, in the interests of the future widow, suggested that the Cheltenham mansion, Boteler House, might be advantageously bequeathed to her. And on the next day, August 4, will number two was prepared and duly signed, in which the alteration was made.
Now came the most sudden change. Early the following morning the same solicitor was sent for. The night before, as the signature was affixed, it was remembered that he said to the solicitor that his wife was to have no more than her annuity. Perhaps some of her allies reported this speech to her; however this was, some bold course of action, some prompt coup de main, reversed all. The night before, the needy relations were secured a fine estate; the next morning, when the solicitor returned, the testator walked into the room and announced that he had made up his mind to leave everything to his wife. It was accordingly so done. Three weeks later he died. The lady kept strict guard over him lest a fourth will should come into existence, and though witnesses about his bed heard him utter faint wishes that his "own people" were with him, the vigilant lady was at hand to interpret these sounds as some of his old French speeches, and "as a request for his pocket-handkerchief." It was he who made a most dramatic sick-bed complaint "that it was dreadful when two burning pains meet." Finally, he gave up the ghost, and the baffled relatives had to pass through that terrible interval of suspense between the death and the opening of the will. It is far more intense and protracted than the time for the gambler between setting down his money, and the turning of the card. Then they learned the worst, and we may suppose, bowing their heads, uttered certain expressions, not loud, but deep.
The heir-at-law at first seemed to accept his
