hunters, my claws to thieves; and, to a certain cook, whom I won’t mention by name, I bequeath the cord and stick which I brought with me from my oak-grove to the stye, in hopes that he may take the cord and hang himself with it,
“I will that a monument be erected to me, inscribed with this, in golden letters:
M. Grunnius Corocotta Porcellus, who lived 999 years,—six months more, and he would have been 1000 years old.
“Friends dear to me whilst I lived, I pray you to have a kindness towards my body, and embalm it well with good condiments, such as almonds, pepper, and honey, that my name may be named through ages to come.
“O my masters and my comrades, who have assisted at the drawing up of this testament, order it to be signed.
| “(Signed) | Lucanicus. | Celsanus. | Cymatus.” |
| Pergillus. | Lardio. | ||
| Mystialicus. | Offellicus. |
Whilst on this subject we might say a word about the epitaph on the mule of P. Crassus; or about that written by Papin on the ass, which, poor fellow, was eaten whilst in the flower of his age, during the siege of Paris, in 1590; or about Joachim du Bellay, who composed an epitaph on his cat; or about Justus Lipsius, who erected mausoleums for his three cats—Mopsus, Saphisus, and Mopsulus: but we are not writing on epitaphs or grave-stones.
We proceed to give a few instances of animals which have received legacies.
If it is a keen trial for a husband to leave his wife, for a young man to be taken from his pleasures, or a commercial man from his business, can we wonder at old ladies feeling the wrench sharp which tears them from the society of their dear cats—the companions of their spinster- or widowhood; or at old bachelors being distressed at having to part with their faithful dogs?—to part with them for ever, too, unless we believe in Bishop Butler’s suggestion, that there is a future for beasts, and enjoy the confidence of Mr. Sewell, of Exeter College, who dedicated one of his published poems “To my Pony in Heaven.”
The Count de la Mirandole, who died in 1825, left a legacy to his favourite carp, which he had nourished for twenty years in an antique fountain standing in his hall. In low life we find the same love for an animal displayed by a peasant of Toulouse, in 1781, who doted on his old chestnut horse, and left the following will:
“I declare that I institute my chestnut horse sole legatee, and I wish him to belong to my nephew N.”
This testament was attacked, but, curiously enough, it received legal confirmation.
The following clause from a will was in the English papers for March, 1828:
“I leave to my monkey, my dear, amusing Jackoo, the sum of 10l. sterling, to be enjoyed by him during his life; it is to be expended solely in his keep. I leave to my faithful dog, Shock, and to my beloved cat, Tib, 51. sterling, a-piece, as yearly pension. 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 two, to the last, be he who he may. After the decease of all parties, the sum left them shall belong to my daughter G, 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.”
But a more curious case still is that of Mr. Berkey, of Knightsbridge, who died May 5th, 1805. He left a pension of 25l. per annum to his four dogs. This singular individual had spent the latter part of his life wrapped in the society of his curs, on whom he lavished every mark of affection. When anyone ventured to remonstrate with him for expending so much money on their maintenance, or suggested that the poor were more deserving of sympathy than these mongrel pups, he would reply: “Men assailed my life: dogs preserved it.” This was a fact, for Mr. B. had been attacked by brigands in Italy, and had been rescued by his dog, whose descendants the four pets were. When he felt his end approaching, he had his four dogs placed on couches by the sides of his bed. He received their last caresses, extended to them his faltering hand, and breathed his last between their paws. According to his desire, the busts of these favoured brutes were sculptured at the corners of his tomb.
In 1677, died Madame Dupuis, who, under her maiden name of Mademoiselle Jeanne Felix, had been known as a great musician. Her will was so extraordinary and malicious, that it was nullified. To it was attached a memorandum, which is still more extraordinary. We shall not quote the passages wherein she vilifies her son-in-law, imputing to him every vice she can think of, but translate the final clause:
“I pray Mademoiselle Bluteau, my sister, and Madame Calogne, my niece, to take care of my cats. Whilst two live, they shall have thirty sous a month, that they may be well fed. They must have, twice a day, meat soup of the quality usually served on table; but they must be given it separately, each having his own saucer. The bread must not be crumbled in the soup, but cut up into pieces about the size of hazel-nuts, or they cannot eat it. When boiled beef is put into the pot with the soaked bread, some thin slices of raw meat must be put in as well, and the whole stewed till it is fit for eating. When only one cat lives, half the money will suffice. Nicole Pigeon shall take care of the cats, and cherish them. Madame Calonge may go and see them.”
Certainly people show their love in different ways. Counsellor Winslow, of Copenhagen (d. June 24, 1811), ordered by will that his carriage horses should be shot, to prevent their falling into the hands of cruel masters.
We only mention the “cat and dog” money, which is yearly given to six poor weavers’ widows of the names of Fabry or Ovington, at Christ Church, Spitalfields, and which, according to tradition, was left in the first instance for the support of cats and dogs; and remind our readers of the cow and bull benefactions in several English parishes, where money has been left to the parish to provide cattle whose milk may go to the poor. The poor have been often remembered by testators, as our numerous alms-houses, benefactions, and doles prove.
It were difficult to choose a better sample of a charitable bequest, which could properly come