Untitled article | AdventAI

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Third-day, September 24, 1867

FromAdvent Review and Sabbath Herald, Vol. XXX, No. 15

BE YOUR OWN EXECUTOR.

The following suggestions seem to us so eminently sensible, that we cannot forbear laying them before our readers, and commending all whom they may concern, to act upon them at once. The N. Y. Tribune from which we quote, under the heading of “Dubious Devices,” says:—

The setting aside of a will is about the most melancholy of legal transactions, because the poor testator is so completely helpless. There he lies in the cold and quiet sepulchre, without one word to say for himself, while his relatives squabble about his estate, real, personal, and mixed; while judges drone out decisions, and make up his mind for him; while witnesses insinuate their opinion that the dear departed was not exactly right in his upper story; while the papers accumulate, and lawyers grow pursy, and the property in dispute is transmogrified into costs. It has always seemed to us to be a dubious stretch of bench authority to set aside any will, except in clearly proven cases of mental unsoundness, sufficiently marked to have subjected the testator, if living, to legal restraint. A zoological or ornithological spinster may keep and feed, while she is still in the flesh, forty cats, or as many parrots; but there is no mercy for the beasts or for the birds if she happens to provide for them by her will. Mouser must go without her meat, and pretty Poll learn to live without lumps of sugar. No single eccentric action sends the actor to a mad-house; but an odd bequest, however small, creates (among lawyers and relatives) the gravest doubts of the intellectual steadiness of the bequeather. Poor man! he never seemed exactly like other people. “Was he in your opinion insane?” asks the Proctor. The memory of the witness is instantly quickened. He remembers that the testator frequently did strange things. Had no partiality, perhaps, for clean linen. Always lived alone, with cats and dogs. Refused to see his affectionate nephews and nieces when they brought him sponge-cake and roasted partridges. Locked the door in the witness’s face, and swore at him out of the window. Insane! why, Sir, he was as mad as a brace of March hares—you really could n’t desire to have anybody crazier than he was.

But strange liberties are sometimes taken with wills, even when there is no question of sanity. One G. Roberts, for instance, lately died in England, bequeathing to the President of the United States and the Governor of Pennsylvania a certain amount of stock, which was to accumulate until it should amount to $100,000. Then the whole sum was to be applied to the endowment of a college in Pennsylvania, in which college (among other things) should be inculcated and advocated “the natural rights of the black people of every clime and country, until they be restored to an equality in civil rights with their white brethren throughout the Union.” Now here, it seems to us, was a bequest as wise and benevolent as that of Smithson. But the President, it appears, disclaimed the trust. So did the Governor of Pennsylvania. Then the Vice-Chancellor held that, as slavery had been abolished in the United States, the blacks were already restored to an equality of civil rights. Then the American Government would not take charge of the education of colored students in Pennsylvania; and so the legacy became void, and the money went to increase the residuum of the estate. Poor Mr. G. Roberts might have been expected to thump with his spiritual knuckles a protest under the very spectacles of the Vice-Chancellor; but he strangely failed to make himself heard on the occasion, having probably gone on a visit to some sphere where news from our mundane chancery arrives but seldom.

Of the law of this case we have nothing to say. The testator evidently meant to be benevolent, and to assist a class of Americans who are much in need of aid, and have just claims upon the sympathies of the charitable. He failed, because he did not fully acquaint himself with the technical difficulties in the way of carrying out his charitable intentions. He has afforded, if it were needed, another illustration of the shrewd wisdom of Mr. George Peabody in arranging his own charities and benevolences, and in leaving nothing over which the chancery lawyers of future ages might do desperate battle. Such an example as that of the London banker ought not to be disregarded. If this article should happen to catch the eye of any old gentleman who has determined to die, and has already done something handsome in his testament for any church, or society, or mission, or asylum, or library, or dispensary, or college, or hospital, we would fain impress upon that old gentleman’s mind the exceeding economy and safety of being his own executor, and of leaving as little as possible for the attorneys to wrangle over. If he is wise, he will appoint his trustees and execute his trust deeds this very day, and even send off a few checks for worthy objects by the next mail.