Personal Sketches of His Own Times, Vol. 2 (of 3). Jonah Barrington
that he was actually dead; every melancholy reflection crowded upon him; he totally relapsed; and I firmly believe that paragraph was his death-blow. After lingering several months longer, he returned to England, and I received a letter requesting me to meet him without delay at Bristol, and stating that he had made his will. I immediately undertook the journey, and took him over a horse which I conceived adapted to him at that time. His sister (the present Mrs. Bowen, of Rutland-square) was with him. His figure was emaciated to the last degree, and he was sinking rapidly into the grave. He was attended by a very clever young physician of that place, a Doctor Barrow, and I soon perceived that the doctor had fallen a victim to the charms of Miss Hartpole.
The patient had, however, declined but little in appetite, when the disorder fixed itself in his throat, and he ceased to have the power of eating: he now entirely gave himself up as a person who must die of hunger. This melancholy scene almost distracted me. The doctor gave us little consolation; and Hartpole himself, though reduced to such a state, was really the most cheerful of the party, evincing a degree of resignation at once heroic and touching. His will had been prepared by Mr. Lemans of Bristol, (to me a perfect stranger,) and executed whilst I was in Ireland: he informed us all that I was joint executor with two of his uncles.
On the morning of Hartpole’s death he sent for me to rise and come to him. I found him in an agony of hunger– perspiration in large drops rolling down his face. He said neither food nor liquid could descend into his stomach; that his ribs had contracted inward, as if convulsively drawn together; and that he was in great pain. I cannot describe my emotion! He walked about his room and spoke to me earnestly on many subjects, on some of which I have been, and ever shall be, totally silent. At length he called me to the window: – “Barrington,” said he, “you see at a distance a very green field?” “Yes,” I replied. “Well,” continued George, “it is my dying request that I may be buried there to-morrow evening.”
He spoke so calmly and strongly, that I felt much surprised. He observed this, and said, “It is true: I am in the agonies of death.” I now called in the doctor and Hartpole’s servant: the invalid sat down upon the bed; and when he took me by the hand, I shuddered, for it was burning hot, whilst every nerve and sinew seemed to be in spasmodic action, then iced and clammy. I never had been in collision with a dying person before: he pressed my hand with great fervour, and murmured, “My friend!” – these were the last words I heard him utter. I looked in his face: his eyes were glazed – his lips quivered – he laid his head on the pillow, and expired.
This awful scene, to me so perfectly new, overpowered me, and for a few minutes I was myself totally insensible.
I disobeyed Hartpole’s injunctions respecting his funeral; for I had his body enclosed in a leaden coffin and sent to be interred at Shrewl Castle, in the cemetery of his ancestors, wherein his remains were not admitted without much reluctance by his ungrateful sister and her husband, who resided there in his absence.
On the reading of the will, his first bequest appeared to be to “his friend Barrington, six thousand pounds,” together with the reversion of his landed estates and collieries, by moieties, on the death of each of his sisters without children: one had been some years married and had none; the other was unmarried, but soon after made a match with a respectable gentleman of very considerable property, but whom I should think few young ladies of fortune would have fancied.
The uncles would not act as executors; considered me as an interloper; and commenced a suit to annul the will, as prepared under undue influence. Fortunately for my reputation, I had never known or even seen the persons who prepared it. I was in another kingdom at the time, and had not seen Hartpole for many months before its execution: his sister was with him; not I. – I was utterly unacquainted with his will or its contents.
I got a decree without delay. The family of Stratford, who preferred law to all other species of pastime, appealed. My decree was confirmed, and they were burdened with the whole costs; and in effect paid me six thousand pounds, on an amicable arrangement. My reversion yielded me nothing; for I fancy the sisters have since had nearly twenty children between them to inherit it.
Thus ended Hartpole’s life, and thus did a family become extinct, of the most respectable description. I neither looked to nor expected any legacy from my friend, beyond a mourning-ring. He left numerous other bequests, including a considerable one to Mary Sleven, whose fate I never heard.
The sequel of Maria Otway’s history was not much less melancholy than that of her unhappy partner, as she died prematurely, by the most affecting of all deaths, some time after – childbirth. I saw her after the separation, but never after George’s decease. As I predicted, her style of beauty was not calculated to wear well; and even before she was out of her teens, Maria Otway had been much handsomer. Her manner became more studied – of course, less graceful: and that naïveté, which had rendered her so engaging to my friend, was somewhat superseded by the affectation of fashionable manners.
Maria, I think, never had been attached to Hartpole; and within two years after his decease, she made another and a most unexceptionable match – namely, with Mr. Prittie, the present member for Tipperary: but Providence seemed to pursue fatally even the relict of my friend; and, at the age of twenty-three, death cut off the survivor of that union which an unconcerned spectator would have deemed so auspicious. It was said and believed, (but I do not wish to be understood as vouching the report,) that after Mrs. Prittie’s death a prediction of that event was found written by herself six months before it occurred, designating the precise time of her departure.
I have been diffuse on the memoirs of Hartpole, because I felt myself interested in almost every material event of his career. To overlook our friendship, indeed, and his liberality, would have been ungrateful, in any memoir of myself.17
Before I quit these “records,” and the associations which they excite, I am tempted once more to revert to the peculiarities of the Stratford family, which indeed present an ample field for anecdote. More curious or dissimilar characters never, surely, bore the same name.
Earl Robert, one of those who declared war against me on Hartpole’s death, was surnamed “The Peer of a Hundred Wills;” and it is matter of fact, that, upon a trial at law in County Wicklow, since his Lordship’s death, fifty-one different wills were produced, together with a great number of affidavits, &c., also signed by the Earl. Several of these documents are of the most singular description, highly illustrative of the Earl’s character, and I should think among the most extraordinary papers existing.
It was a general rule with this peer to make a will or codicil in favour of any person with whom he was desirous of carrying a point, – taking especial care that the party should be made acquainted with his proceeding: no sooner, however, was his end accomplished, and other game started, than a fresh instrument annulled all the provisions of the preceding one! Thus, if desirous of obtaining a lady’s regards, he made a will in her favour, and let her find it by accident. He at length got 50,000l. with a grand-daughter of the Duke of Chandos, and brought her over to Belan.
In the cause before mentioned I was specially retained by the late Earl John, to argue that his brother was mad, and Mr. Plunkett was retained specially as my opponent, to argue that he was sane. In support of our positions it was that the fifty wills were produced; and I hesitate not to say, that either of them, had it emanated from any other individual than his Lordship, would have been deemed conclusive of insanity. But the jury had known the party whose vagaries they were summoned to decide upon; and therefore found, as usual, in favour of his Lordship’s last will. I subsequently asked one of those gentlemen the grounds of their verdict; and his answer was – “We all knew well that the testator was more * * * * * than fool: did you ever hear of any body taking him in?” – and, the truth is, the jury were right; for I never met with a man who had more worldly tact than Robert, Earl of Aldborough, and, owing to my close connexion with his nephew, Hartpole, I had abundant opportunities of judging, as well as by his extraordinary correspondence and transactions with myself.
The present Countess Dowager of Aldborough was in the habit of uttering jeux d’esprit with more spirit and grace than any woman
George Hartpole was sponsor to my only son.