Summary
Appeal from the Circuit Court of Cook county; the Hon. Charles G. Neely, Judge, presiding.
The appellee, Frank T. W. Palmer, filed his bill in the court below to set aside the last will, and probate thereof, of his mother, Anna M. Benedict, deceased. Said will is as follows:
“In the name of God, Amen: I, Anna M. Benedict, of the city of Chicago, in the county of Cook and State of Illinois, of the age of sixty-one years, and being of sound mind and memory, do hereby make, publish and declare this my last will and testament, in manner following,— that is to say:
“First—It is my will that my funeral expenses and all my just debts be fully paid.
“Second—I give and bequeath to Pordyce G-. Bradley the sum of $25,000, and in addition thereto an annuity of $1000 during his natural life, and upon his decease the said annuity to be paid to his wife, Carrie E. Bradley, during her life, if she shall survive him.
“Third,—I give and bequeath to my sister, Mrs. Oricia E. Ogden, all my wearing apparel of which I may die possessed, except as herein otherwise disposed of.
“Fourth—I give and bequeath to' the said Carrie E. Bradley my two white-centered India shawls, (one large and one small,) and also my black cameo set of jewelry, (pin and earrings, now set up as sleeve buttons.)
“Fifth—I give and bequeath to Etta Hall Benedict, the daughter of Mrs. Hall, the locket worn by Russel Benedict on his watch chain during his lifetime.
“Sixth—I give and bequeath to Watts Gardner the medallion of his deceased wife cut by Cooper, of Florence, and also the fitted traveling bag carried by the said Russel Benedict in his lifetime.
“Seventh—I give and bequeath to Mrs. May Austin, daughter of my deceased brother, Miner M. Watkins, my gold watch and chain.
“Eighth—I give and bequeath to Lucia C. Bradley, daughter of the said Pordyce G. Bradley, my little black set of diamonds.
“Ninth—I give and bequeath to the said Lucia C. Bradley all my household furniture, useful and ornamental, including all my pictures, (with the exception of the two portraits hereinafter mentioned,) bronzes, clocks, silverware and chinaware; and I also give her the care of the portraits of Azariah R. Palmer, deceased, and of myself, both painted by Mr. Healy, and the gold watch of the said Azariah R. Palmer, to keep the same until my said son reaches the age of sixty years, and then to deliver the said portraits and watch to him if he is competent to take care of them, otherwise, or if my said son dies before reaching that age, I give and bequeath the said portraits and watch to the said Lucia C. Bradley, absolutely.
“Tbrai/i-^Subject to the above and foregoing provisions and bequests, all the rest, residue and remainder of my estate, real, personal and mixed, and wherever situated, I give, devise and bequeath to the said Fordyce G. Bradley, his successors and assigns, in trust, first, to sell and dispose of all my real estate and all my diamonds, and convert the same into money, in such way and manner and npon such terms as he may think best; and second, of my moneyed estate to keep invested the sum of $200,-000 in United States government interest-bearing bonds, when obtainable, and the remainder to loan out and keep loaned out on good real estate security, at current rates of interest, and from the net interest and income arising therefrom to pay to my said son, Frank T. W. Palmer, the sum of $5000 annually, in quarterly payments, during his life; and to pay to the widow of my deceased brother, Miner M. Watkins, th'e sum of $300 annually during her life; and to pay to Mary Jane Knox, wife of Washington Knox, the sum of $300 annually during her life; and to pay to my sister, the said Mrs. Oricia E. Ogden, the sum of $200 annually during her life; and also to pay annually to the Graceland Cemetery Company such sum as shall be charged by it for the care of my lot in said Graceland cemetery during this trust, and at its close to make suitable provision for the care of said lot for all time to come, and the balance of such income to pay to the said Frank T. W. Palmer, annually, during his life. 1 especially direct that it shall be in the absolute discretion of my said trustee, his successors and assigns, to stop the payment of all sums of money coming to the said Frank T. W. Palmer, as aforesaid, it being my wish that the part of the income of the said trust intended for my said son shall be used for his individual and separate support, and in no case shall any of such income be applied to the support or maintenance of my said son’s wife, and the same shall never be amenable to any order or judgment of a court which his said wife might obtain for alimony, support, or for any other cause. My said trustee, his successors and assigns, shall also stop all payments to my said son in case his conduct becomes bad. And in case my son shall at the time of my death have alienated, charged or disposed of, or shall at any time thereafter alienate, charge or dispose of, the income to which he, but for this proviso, would be entitled, or any part thereof, then he shall from thenceforth not receive any further income from this trust. Any unpaid income shall be accumulated and added to the capital, to be distributed as a part thereof, in the manner hereinafter provided. Upon the death of my said son, and when all the other trusts shall have been executed and performed as herein expressed, it is my will, and I direct, that all that remains of my said- estate shall be paid, distributed, and divided between my then living lawful heirs, computed according to the laws of descent of the State of Illinois, and Lucia 0. Bradley aforesaid, in equal shares, among them, share and share alike. Upon the death of said Pordyce G. Bradley, or in case of his inability to act, or should he not survive me, the court shall appoint two trustees in his stead, and thereafter there shall always be two acting trustees, who shall be compelled to give proper security.
“Lastly—I hereby nominate and appoint my brother-in-law, the said Pordyce G-. Bradley, of Chicago, Cook county, Illinois, (hereby waiving all security on his qualifying bond as such,) to be the executor of this my last will and testament, hereby revoking all former wills by me made.
“In witness whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and seal the twenty-ninth day of March, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and ninety-five.
Anna M. Benedict. (L. S.)
“The above instrument, consisting of three sheets, was now here subscribed by Anna M. Benedict, the testatrix, in the presence of each of us, and was at the same time declared by her to be her last will and testament, and we, at her request, sign our names thereto, in her presence, as attesting witnesses.
William P. Kiel,
62 Boulevard Haussman, Paris.
Dr. Eugene Dupuy,
53 Avenue Montaigne, Paris.
Henry Cachare,
101 Avenue des Champs Blysees, Paris.’’
The value of Mrs. Benedict’s estate was about $500,-000. It consisted of real and personal property, all in Cook county, this State.
The bill alleged that at the time the will was made the testatrix was not of sound mind and memory; and in addition, that at the time of and for several years prior to the making of the will she was in ill-health and suffered great bodily pain, and that she traveled from place to place in Europe in search of relief; and was continually, until she died, under the medical treatment of Dr. Eugene Dupuy, a physician, who resided in Paris, France; that when she executed the will she was of about the age of sixty-one years, and was greatly enfeebled by age and disease, and was subject, mentally, to the control and influence of those persons who surrounded her; -that prior to and at the time of the execution of the will said Fordyce G. Bradley and Eugene Dupuy, and each of them, by false and malicious statements concerning the habits and conduct of the complainant and his wife, Mary A. Palmer, imposed upon and deceived Mrs. Benedict, the testatrix, and so influenced and poisoned her mind against the complainant and his wife as to create upon her part an unreasonable, unnatural and unjust prejudice against them, and that by reason of such prejudice and the unsound mind and memory of the testatrix said pretended will was executed. It was further alleged that while Mrs. Benedict remained unsound in mind and memory and subject to the influences aforesaid, said Dupuy, through his agents and servants, prevented the testatrix from seeing persons other than his own immediate family, her nurses and such other persons as were in sympathy with him and said Bradley, and hindered and prevented all communication between the complainant, who then resided in America, and his mother, the testatrix, and that said Dupuy and Bradley deceived the complainant concerning her condition of health and concealed from him her critical condition, of which he remained in ignorance till her death.
Answers were filed, denying the allegations of falsehood and misrepresentations and all acts of alleged undue influence on the part of said Dupuy and Bradley, and denying that the testatrix was of unsound mind and memory. Upon replication being filed, an issue at law was made up and submitted for trial to a jury whether, or not the said instrument set forth in the bill, dated March 25, 1895, and admitted to probate in the probate court of Cook county as the last will and testament of Anna M. Benedict, deceased, is her last will and testament. After a trial of upwards of five weeks the jury returned their verdict that said instrument was not the last will of said deceased, and the court, after overruling a motion for a new trial, entered a decree setting aside-said instrument as such will, and the probate thereof, and declared the same to be null and void. From this decree Fordyce G. Bradley, as executor of said will, and Oricia E. Ogden, one of the legatees, prayed and obtained separate appeals to this court, which have been taken by the court and considered together.'
The testatrix was the widow of Azariah R. Palmer, who died in Chicago in 1874, leaving a large estate to her and their' only son and heir, Frank T. W. Palmer, then of the age of about nineteen years. In 1877 said widow, Anna M. Palmer, married a Mr. Benedict, of Chicago, and went abroad with him. Mr. and Mrs. Benedict thereafter lived in London, Paris and other places in Europe until his death, in 1892, and she continued to live abroad (returning to this country on occasional visits) until her death in Paris on the 12th of February, 1896. The appellant Fordyce G. Bradley had married a sister of the testatrix, but she died soon after such marriage, without issue, and Bradley married again, and Lucia 0. Bradley mentioned in the will, named after his first wife, is his daughter, the issue of his second marriage. Fordyce G. Bradley had been the business manager of testatrix in Chicag'o for many years, and she reposed the utmost confidence in him. Before the death of Azariah R. Palmer he and his said wife consulted with and received medical treatment from Dr. Brown-Sequard, of Paris, and after Mr. Palmer’s death she, as she had occasion, continued to receive treatment from the same physician for certain physical ailments until his death, in 1889. Eugene Dupuy, against whom the charge in the bill of undue influence is chiefly made, was a student of medicine in the office of Dr. Brown-Sequard and became his assistant, and hence became acquainted with the Palmers and formed ties of friendship with them. After the death of Dr. Brown-Sequard Mrs. Benedict always consulted Dr. Dupuy when needing medical advice or treatment. Within three years after the death of his father the complainant, Frank T. W. Palmer, received from the estate upwards of §120,000, and within seven years from his father’s death had squandered and expended the whole of it in reckless and extravagant living and speculation. He became addicted to drunkenness and spendthrift habits, and while leading a life of this kind married a woman of similar characteristics in New York City, from whom he afterward was divorced. He afterward, in 1894, married his present wife, Mary A. Palmer.
Besides the certificates of proof and probate- of the will in the probate court the proponents of the will, the defendants below, called and examined witnesses before the jury and read in evidence the depositions of many witnesses to prove that the testatrix was of sound mind and memory when she made the will, and also, as bearing upon her mental condition and the reasons for her acts, gave in evidence many letters written by the testatrix during the period in controversy, (mostly to Fordyce G-. Bradley,) with others from the complainant himself. Some of such letters, and excerpts from others, are here given for a better understanding of the case. On April 23, 1881, Mrs. Benedict, the testatrix, wrote and sent to Fordyce G. Bradley concerning her son, the complainant, who was then in New York, the following letter:
“Heidelberg, Apr. %Srd, 1881.
“My Dear Brother—Have just received the enclosed letter, and can think of only one way to solve the matter. Will you go at once to New York, and see him? I would like his doctor’s bill paid, so that in case he needs him again nothing would stand in the way. His other debts I know nor care about. They can wait for father investigation at some future day. They may be some of his wifé’s making. Let them go; only what are necessary pay, and then find out about what will be necessary for them to live on, not in New York City but in the country, where rents are cheap and good air and food. I think if they are really anxious to do as they pretend they can not object to that. I think almost any one would go out of New York to be supported. I want them to live comfortable but not in any way extravagent. When he gets well he must take care of himself or come to me, as-1 have always said, but until that time -he must be taken care off. I do not know how much of the letter is true. Of course, it is made much off. We must investigate in order to find out, and that is what I want you to do. • I wish you to leave everything and go at once and see just how he is situated. I know how hard it is for you to get away, and if I was able I would not ask you, but it would be simply madness for me to try. I can ride about two hours in a carriage without being very tired, but not longer. We took six days to come from Nice, riding four hours a day, which made it very easy. I have improved very much since we came. Can be on my feet at least three times as long every day as in the winter. I have, in fact, improved more than the doctor thought I would in the time. I need time, only; but this kind of a worry does not help it any. It will relieve me so much if I know you will attend to this at once,—and I know you will, knowing how much I depend upon it. If Frank is so sick I do not think he will want money to do business with so soon. The two stories don’t jibe, but knowing- how impatient and impulsive he is, and so loth to wait for results, I can understand it perhaps more than others. I shall rest ashured that you will attend to it at once. I shall write him Sunday—this is Friday—and tell him I cannot let him have the money, but if his means are all gone I will give him a small income until he is well. This is the only best thing I can think of at present. I should not allow him more than a thousand or fifteen hundred dollars. They could live in the country well on that. I fear his wife might object to that, but she, of course, could say but little. I want you to tell me just what you think of the matter, and if I am rong tell me so. I depend upon your knowledg of the case and your judgment. Do not hesitate to tell me if you do not agree with me. You know I have no feeling that way. It is only his best good I study, all feeling put aside—that you know; and if you think a better course is possible, let me know it. I am anxious to do what is best for him. Perhaps I am unconsciously hard with her. If so, I want you to say so. You know we are not always good judges of our own actions. We are apt to be governed by our predujest. In other words, we cannot see ourselves as others see us.
“I think the letter was written by Frank in spite of his confidential friend. Love to you all.
Anna.”
And the next day the following:
“Heidelberg, April gJtfh, 1881.
“My Bear Brother—I have just written Prank asking him to come over and spend the summer, staying three months; telling him, should he conclude to come you will go and'see him off and make arrangements for his wife’s board; that Mr. Gardner is coming" in May and Mr. Puller’s family on June the 10th, if he wants company; if not, get a servant. All of which you can do. You poor man! how we do pull you around. But never minde; when you die we will make a saint of you, like St. Lawrence. The difference is, it is worse than a gridiron. I don’t know what to compare it too, but if I only could get him here for three months I believe it would restore his health entirely. You know I don’t believe about his being helpless, nor do I believe anybody but himself wrote the' letter. When will that boy cease to misrepresent? Nobody but he or his mother ever made letters like those in the letter. The I’s were disguised, or tried to be. I am very sorry for him. I do not doubt he thinks. I wonder what he would have done if he had done what thinking you and I have! But that cannot be helped. We must do what we can for him. The first thing is his health. I wrote him kindly, asking him only for his own good to come; that we would all go to Karlsbad, which is world renown for that cure. I presume I know personally ten people who have been entirely cured by going there for six weeks, drinking the waters and taking mud baths. I told him his debts could wait. I had known such things to happen. I should not be willing his wife’s expenses to be more than $75 a month. That will board her and keep her well in the country. If Prank does not do this I shall let him wait until he conseeds to me at least one point. If I am rong tell me. I cannot see it. If he is as he sais he is I think he would be glad to, and should be willing to do as I wish him in this. I do not think I am rong. He has never given up a point. He will never know what it is to come in contact with the world and be successful until he has had to give up a few times —enough to know he cannot always have things as he wishes.
“Hoping that you have seen him even before you get this, I am, with love to all,
Anna Benedict.”
Afterward she wrote:
“Paris, October 19th, 1881.
“My Dear Brother—I wrote you a short, hasty letter this morning on the receipt of your long one in regard to Prank. I am so glad to know the truth. I hope if there is anything more to tell you will not hesitate to tell me. I know now just what to do. Before, with his letters asking for money, I did not know whether he was telling the truth or not. Now I believe he is writing at the instigation of his wife, and at the same time I fully understand him, and as hard as it is to say it, I believe he would deceive me in every way possible. I do not wish you to let him have money on my account, neither on your own. Keep yourself clear by all means. I think you perfectly understand me. If he is sick and in need of the necessaries of life I want him made comftable, but then I propose to do the dictating. He must come to that before I do anything for him. As to his wife or his family, that he puts such stress upon, she must never come to me. That is too much. If he loves her, the best thing for them to do is to remain together and work for each other if he is well enough, but if I support them it must be as I think best for all. I think they will take good care of him, for he is the connecting link between a fortune and poverty. I am sorry and ashamed that Prank should write you such a letter, still, I cannot be surprised at anything he does. I hope you will consider where it came from, and that the boy is almost lost to everything sensitive or delicate. Everything in the least way pertaining to that "must be blunted, if not dead, in him. It is hard, as you well know, to have to write this; but it is the truth, and that is what we have got to deal with,—not only surmise, but to talk it in order to understand each other. Ag'ain, I must tell you how much good it done me to know the truth. It confirms my fears, but a certainty is always better than suspense, for then one knows exactly what to do. I feel better.
“You have done exactly right in regard to him. I think you can understand how I feel. I know and realize how you are situated. It is a hard place, but do not mind the boy. I do not consider him responsible for anything. Mr. Benedict said it was the most unwise thing for him to write you an impolite letter (a milde way to put it). I told him he did not know the boy; that he never thought or studied his own interest; that he had shown that through life.
“Will close fqr this time, but shall hope to hear often. Love to you all. Ann „
It appears that afterwards, in 1881, Mrs. Benedict, through. Dr. Brown-Sequard, obtained information, derived from medical examination, which she transmitted to Mr. Bradley, that her son had been in a state of “general paralysis from alcoholism; he was unable to move either upper or lower extremities, not because the movements caused pain, but from absolute paresis.” She furnished money to relieve his necessities, from time to time, and continued to write her requests that he should come to her, that she might aid him in restoration to health. In 1883 the complainant went to Europe, but returned to New York without going to see his mother, but writing to' her from Florence, under date of July 11, 1883, that he was called home by cablegram; that he was sorry he could not see her, but that his first duty was to his wife, and that if he could arrange matters he would return. In September after his return to New York he wrote his mother the following letter:
“New York, Sept. 22nd, 1888.
“My Dear Mother—1 have written you time and time again since my return from Europe, and you have not paid any attention to my letters. If you do not care any more for me or do not intend to help me, please at least let me know and I will not trouble you again. In the first place, let me explain. When I went to Europe there was (at least so my wife thought) a chance of your helping me, and when I returned without money I was barely tolerated. You see I tell you the whole truth. If you do not help me I do not know what will become of me. My wife has been advised to close the house and kick me into the streets and let me get along the best I can. (I get this from good authority.) She says openly and above board that she does not care what becomes of me, and hopes that she will yet see me in the gutter. You have no idea how she treats me. I have hardly a decent suit of clothes to wear and she will give me no money. I have and am trying to get something to do so that I can leave this cursed house, where my life is nothing but a hell on earth. Please, mother, for God’s sake, help me and I will do anything you wish me to. As I said before, I am nearly destitute. She spends lots of money, coming home under the influence of liquor very, very often. Only help me, and I do not care to ever look on her face again unless she be a corpse. Let me hear from you at once, and give me this one more chance. You can cable Bradley to send me enough money for me to leave New York. I don’t care where I go, and there I’ll await your orders. Once again, mother, for the sake of the past help me, and I will redeem myself in your eyes and in the world’s
estimation.
“Your heart-broken son,
Prank
“N. B.—I am in earnest about what I have written. Help me this once, and if I fail you again may God Almighty fail me. F.”
In response Mrs. Benedict provided means and the complainant went to her in Prance. Soon after, Mrs. Benedict wrote the following letters to Bradley:
“Nice, Jan. 27th, 1884.
“My Dear Brother—Just a word to tell you I shall want another letter of credit. You may send it at once. I have drawn £610, but with the expense of having Prank here, and the doctor’s bills, I find I shall want a good deal. We see the doctor every day, which means $12 every visit. I am so glad to have him with us. You can never realize what a comfort it is to me and to think I can do for him. The doctor does not say he will get well, but hopes so. He is all torn to pieces. His nervous system is all shaken and gone. I do not know what to think. He has nervous attacks. Sometimes they last all day and some days he passes without any. The doctor has taken all stimulants away from him. Not even smoking is allowed. What he has told me of his wife is worse than I supposed. I do not want she should know where we are. Do not tell her, should she write. We shall travel as soon as he is able to leave the doctor. Etta remains the same. Expects to be confined in March, and after that she will leave to go away again to be tréated for the tumour. She is very uncomfortable, small as she is, with both tumour and child, but she writes plucky letters and has lots of courage. Love to all. ^
“Do not speak to any one of what 1 wrote you of Prank’s health.”
Paris, May 28, 1884.
“My Dear Brother—I drew the last of my letter of credit to-day. Prank is giving me trouble. Yesterday and to-day has been drunk all the time—the first time he has tasted liquor of any kind since he came. I do not feel well; very nervous; and for fear I might be ill, have drawn the letter for Mr. Benedict to use. Will write soon when I feel better, but send me another letter of credit at once.
Ann.
“Send the next letter of cfedit in Mr. Benedict’s name, R. Benedict.”
“Paris, May 27th, 1884-
“My Dear Brad—Pay Frank two hundred ($200) dollars a month until further orders, and pay also all reasonable bills for clothing, and all necessary expenses in case of illness. Love to you all. Anna m. Benedict.
Hotel Dominici, 7 rue Castiglioni, Paris, Prance.
“Paris, May 29th, 1884.
“Dear Brother—Frank left for Chicago yesterday. I broke down completely, and the doctor thought best for him to go to you and Vine. My nerves are in such a state that for him to be here kept me excited, and BrownSiquard said I could not get well unless all care was taken off my mind, so for his good, for I consider my health very necessary to him, hard as it was I let him go. It is the understanding that he has nothing to do with his wife or his friends or family, and as long as he does well and as I wish,—and he has promised, that is, to stop drinking, conduct himself like a gentleman,—I pay him $200 a month and pay for his clothes besides, but should he stop in New York and send for money do not give him a dollar. He must keep his word with me or I shall do nothing for him. I dislike very much to have him go. He is not at all well. The doctor says he is well physically, and if he follows his directions he will be a perfectly well man. Should he be ill, I know you and Vine would do everything for him. It is only that beliefe which reconsiles me to his g'oing. Love to all.
Anna M. Benedict.
“He has promised he will not stop in New York but go directly to Philadelphia on landing. Make the letter of credit ten thousand (10,000) instead of five, and in Mr. Benedict’s name. I never go to the bank, and it saves bringing home the checks to sign.
Anna M. Benedict.”
“Hotel Dominici, Paris, July 2nd, 1884.
“My Dear Brother—I want you to write me at once how Prank is doing. Do not hesitate to tell me the truth, and all of it. I am prepared to know the worst—just how he is going on. I shall have him with me as soon as I am stronger. I have no faith in his reforming, and I must know the truth, to know what to do.”
“Dieppe, Aug. 18th, 1884-
“My Dear Brother—Your letter of July 30th came Thursday, and I should have answered it before but have been changing hotels and getting settled,, and also some friends came to spend a few days. I am not at all surprised, or should I be at anything. I know just how you feel about telling me, but I asure you it is all lost, for I know so much, and surmise, I presume, more that what you tell me, that nothing seems strange. I will write Vine in a few days, but if you see him tell him to keep the watch ch,ain and locket and sleeve buttons, unless he redeems them in a business way. While I do not think anything would be a lesson to him, I sometimes wonder what he would say to meet me without them. If he comes over here without redeeming them, Watts can bring them," without either Frank’s knowing it or Watts knowing what the package contains. I only regret it seemed necessary for him to go back, but at the time neither the doctor or Mr. Benedict could see no other way. I should feel very different, I think, another time, and not allow myself to get run down and get into such a nervous state again. I think with a home we could take care of him here, where he cannot speak the language and where he is more dependent than there. I do not think he can live long and continue this life. If he lives, he will either be insane or paralised. The doctor says he will not last long if he continues to drink, and we have told Frank just as it is, and what I cannot understand is his being such a coward, and fully believing everything the doctor says, as he believes in no other medical man, that he continues to go on the same. I do not know what you will do with him if he comes to Chicago. I think he will have to be sent over here at once unless he can behave himself, and stay until Mr. Benedict and Watts come back, which will be in October or the first of November. Should he come before, send a man to the ship with him, buy his ticket and give him his money,—just enough for his expenses, which ought not to exceed $50 for crossing, with a draft on some London or Liverpool house for a hundred more. That is what Seward done—sent him his ticket at the last moment, with money to cross, and his check, which he could not use until he arrived in London. I fully appreciate how you have fought this thing off, but it must be met, for he must be taken care off, and it is best for me to know everything in order to meet him on all points and not be deceived. I can do better for him and all. I do not think the woman was his wife. She would have taken his jewelry instead of putting it in pawn. I do not think she wants anything to do with him. I think unless she thought he had money she will give him no trouble. I fear perhaps she might try me, but she would have a hard time getting anything. He has disgraced us all he can. Now there is nothing more to dread and nothing more to do except to take care of him and make him comfortable, if he conducts in a way so I can have him with me. I am looking every day for a reply to my last, where I asked about the business and for a statement of everything. I do not know anything, and I am uneasy and feel that I must not allow things to go so far. It worries me, and I cannot afford to have anything, any more than I can help, give me uneasiness. I have never been told a word whether it was a stock company or not, and I don’t like it. I wish to understand something what is going on.
“I tried to get this letter all on one sheet, but I find I have, woman like, a little more to say. Do not make any change in the business without first letting me know. Things have gone on so quietly without my knowing that I begin to feel I had some rights left. Love to you all. I send Lucia a little album of pictures to color. She sent me some of her work last winter, which was very nicely done. It is not much, but just a specialty of Dieppe, with the costumes of this Normany coast.
“Your sister,
. _ Anna M. Benedict.
“I shall never tell Frank what you have written me. You can see it would be a most unwise thing to do. He has every confidence in you and Vine, and it is his only safegard to have him always feel so. Do not exceed my instructions about money for Frank. Pay a reasonable tailor’s bill, and if he comes over buy his ticket from Chicago to Paris if you can, but if not, this hundred dollars check will pay his fare from Liverpool to Paris and have some left. The fare from Paris to Liverpool is $15.”
“London, Sep. 20th, 1884.
“Almond’s Hotel, Clifford Street. Bond Street.
“My Dear Brother—* * * We came yesterday and am very tired, but could not postpone this. .1 shall write Frank a short letter as soon as I am rested. I hope he will come back willingly with Mr. Benedict and Mr. Gardner, as I feel it the best 'thing for him and all the rest of us. When you see Mr. Benedict and have a good long visit with him you will understand just how I have enjoyed having some one who was always ready with sympathy, to appreciate all the situations in which I have been placed,* and that is not a few, and you will understand how perfectly I have rested in you, if that is necessary after all the proofs I have already given; but one does like to have it expressed occasionally, as well as to depend entirely upon actions alone.”
“Dorset Square, Oct. 14,1884.
“My Dear Brother—Frank came Sunday and he is very bad. The doctor tells me he does not think he will ever be any better. I hope he has more strength than they think, however. I should like to get him to Paris, but as yet he cannot sit up a moment. His heart is badly diseased, also his kidnies and liver, and has no strength. He was not out of his berth during the voyage. I am not well, but only hope I will last until he needs me less than now. Frank says Lizzie was waiting for money to pay her first three month. I wrote her to go and send you the bills, but perhaps it is better to send her a hundred dollars at first and then tell them to write when she want more. I see by the catalogue that it is not an expensive school, and I hope she will be able to teach after. Love to you all.”
, The following is a letter of Frank T. W. Palmer to Mr. Bradley:
“10 Dorset Square, Sept. 20tli/85.
“My Dear Uncle—In the first place, excuse writing, as this is my first attempt since I came over. Mother has just written a letter at my request to you in reg'ard to your writing to Howe & Hummel, (lawyers in New York who have the reputation of taking almost any kind of a job,) to see what they can do in regard to getting me a divorce. I wish that you would attend to it right away, —won’t you?—as I shall feel so much better when that is once started, as I have no fears but what they could work it some way. There is no need of any concientious scruples on my part. What I want is a legal divorce, and the quicker the better. With a woman like her we must fight fire with fire. Shé will stop at nothing to gain her ends. Neither will I, where she is concerned. Now you know how I feel, and it will lift a great load off my shoulders to be free from that woman. ■ It is up-hill work trying to get well with that on my mind, and I know I shall feel a great deal better when the legal separation business is started. I will accept nothing but an absolute divorce, which ought to be easy to get (for I am not fool enough to believe that she is streight) if gone about in the right way. Love to all your family, kind remembrances to Flaherty, and believe me ever yours, as of old.
Frank T. W. Palmer.
“Let me know from time to time how the divorce gets on, whenever you have any news. F.
“If Howe & Hummel agree to take the case, perhaps I may be able to give them some useful suggestions in regard to some of her associates’ names, etc. F.”
In January, 1888, while residing at 10 Dorset Square, London, in another of her letters to Bradley Mrs. Benedict wrote: “My heart is anywhere but here. Frank is very ill with delirium tremens. He has been drinking since two weeks before Christmas. I have two strong men all the time, and at times it needs them. ' I think there must be a change in a week. I fear his heart when the delirium leaves him; but we can only wait. * * * We have four nurses in the house all the time—three with him all the time, and they relieve each other to turn. He is' gentle with me and knows me all the time, but I cannot be with him at all; I am not well enough. We cannot see the result, but whatever it is must be met in the best way. He may have to be put into an asylum, but I hope and pray it will never be necessary;—rfar better death.”
Many other letters were given in evidence written by Mrs. Benedict from 10 Dorset Square, London, up to May, 1889, some relating to business affairs, and others to the condition of her son. Abstaining from the qse of intoxicating liquor he. greatly improved in health and conduct, and regained to some extent his mother’s confidence. In a letter from Paris in January, 1891, she wrote: “Frank is anxious to go into business another year. He has found a good man, we think—a man of experience, who is at the head of Mudie’s Library, the largest library in London, and who has had seventeen years’ experience in books, He is thirty-three years old; very bright; has no capital, but a worker. He thinks a good business in a quiet way could be started for $15,000. I have not much faith in Frank’s application, but it is the only chance I can see for him, and I do not give him this chance I might regret it. The business would be a limited company,—limited to just the paid-up capital, • so in case of a failure there would be no debts left. You can see how much faith I have, but he must have something to do.” And ag'ain, from London, in August, as follows: “Frank is about going into business. His partner, Mr. Everets, gave notice to his employers the first of the month, and next month he will be at liberty, when they will begin to organize. They have found a store in Oxford street which they hope to get. The rent is $1500 a year. It is a splendid location and a new building. He will want some money as soon as you can send it. It is understood that he is to have $15,000 to invest in the undertaking. That is what Mr. Everets said would be sufficient, and they understand I will invest no more. They will make it a limited stock company. Mr. Benedict will take a few shares—just enough to make the company. I have nothing to do with it except loan them the money, take their notes secured by insurance and mortgage on the stock. I am entirely an outsider. I do not know what will come of it, but I am anxious to give him this chance. His partner has been with Mudie since he was seventeen years old; a man who is thouroughly steady, has no bad habits,”
Later that year, when about to engage in the business in London mentioned in these letters, Palmer fell again into his drinking habits, and Mrs. Benedict wrote the following letter concerning the matter:
“80 Avenue Kleber, Paris, Nov. 2nd, 1891.
“My Dear Brother-11 wrote you a short letter from London, but was to tired to enter into explanations. As I wrote Carrie, I had a little trouble and got 'nervous over it and came to Dupuy, and was improving as I had not done in years in'the length of time (three weeks), when a telegram came to Dupuy from Frank’s partner saying, ‘Palmer been drinking for three weeks,’ We took the train next morning and was in London the same evening. Found Frank quite sick, and had been on a drunk the most of the time we were away. In fact, he left us in Paris Sunday morning and the same evening began to drink, so I found out by the landlady where we left him. I thought, and so did Mr. Benedict, that if ever he would keep straight that it would be then, for they were to commence to make arrangements to go into the store to get their furniture and arrange for the shelving and get their circulars out, (which they did,) and in fact keep him so occupied that he would not have time for anything else, but instead he let everything go and went on what you might call a drunk. His partner, Mr. Everett, stayed with him all the time, but of course he could not controll him, and at last neither could the doctor,' and they were obliged to telegraph to me. I soon closed up the business, and I shall never try to interest him again, for no one could have had a better chance. His partner, so far as we could find out, is a splendid man. His references could not have been better. He left a situation that he had held since he was a boy, to go into this; a man with no bad habits; a prompt, upright fellow. To tell you of his disappointment and wounded pride I could not. I felt sorry for him. He could not go back to his old situation, for it is one of the rules of the house not to take a man back. They had some stock bought. He took that, and I let him have $1500, and he is agoing to begin in a small way. It was the best thing to do and the cheapest way out. I have good lawyers, an old, responsible firm, who arranged the notes and payments. It ties up about $3500 for four years, but the money being in books I should not have realised anything for them. That winds up the show. I have been quite sick since we came back to Paris but am on my feet again, and now I am agoing to live and study myself. I have made all the sacrifices of my comfort I ever shall. He must conform to my wishes. I must do it if I ever expect to get well. You can send on the rest of the interest notes for me to sign whenever you wish.
“We are at 80 Avenue Kléber, where we now expect to stay this winter. Do not tell Vine or any one of this. I wanted you to know it. Frank tells his friends that at the last he and his partner did not agree when they come to arraing their partnership papers, and they thought it best to stop where they were. I am so sick of all this tying and trying to cover up painful truths. It is not my way.”
Afterward, in April, 1892, she wrote from Paris: “Frank is splendid. He never has been the man he is now. He has not drank since we came to France—not once. I think it sobered him the course I took when I wound him up so quick in London. He was not expecting it. He takes, as good care of me when I am ill as a daughter. I could not ask any more. He takes the care off from me in every way possible. Do not mention anything of this when you write, for he thinks you know nothing of the London affair.” And later, from Germany:
“Wildbad, Baden, Aug. nth, 1892.
“My Dear Brother—Frank has written you all the particulars of Mr. Benedict’s death. I think it came so suddenly that we can hardly realize it yet. Only three days ill, with very little suffering; sleeping most of the time; ‘only tired,’ as he always answered when I ask him if he was in any pain. The first two days we had hopes that he might get better, but on Sunday he seemed so much more feeble that the doctor said we must expect the worst, which came Monday morning. I do not think he realized his condition, as he never spoke of it in any way. I shall miss him terribly. He was with me so constantly, and always kind and thoughtful in everything.
“We are in Wildbad just to rest. We expected to go to Switzerland for baths after the cure at Marienbad, but after the journey to Hamburg I was too tired to go father, and I am just resting until it is time to return to Paris, which will be about the 15th of September. But you can send your mail the same as usueal. The bankers will forward them wherever we are. Frank is doing all that is possible. I feel I can depend upon him. He done everything possible for Mr. Benedict. I do not think he has drank anything since we were in London. He seems to realize fully what his conduct was there, and has done everything possible to show it since, Love to you all.
A. M. Benedict.”
“Hotel Klumpp, Wildbad, Germany, 8-24-92.
“My Dear Brother—I suppose I must face this subject of Mr. Benedict’s will, and all the business pertaining to it, some time, and the sooner it is over the sooner I shall cease to worry. You will, of course, go on in the proper way to have the will probated,'without feeling it necessary to hear from me. I depend entirely upon you, for you know his wishes and you have everything necessary in your hands. You have had some heavy bills to pay, I realize. At the time of Mr. Benedict’s death I drew two hundred pounds. Frank opened his letter in Heidelberg for forty pounds, and the 20th I drew one hundred pounds. I suppose you sent ■ Orrin Benedict the $500 I telegraphed you to send him. I hope it is all right, but it is a month to-morrow and I have not heard a word from any one except from the Benedict family; not a word from Chicago. Of course, I am anxious. I know you would see to it all if you got both telegrams,—the one of his death and the one asking you to send Orrin the money,.
“Have you put the deed of Frank’s house on record? If not, I think you may at once; and I think I ought to give him one or two other pieces of real estate. I have thought of the piece at Forty-seventh street, I think it is, and the piece by the Story building. I think he has judgment enough to keep them now, and I want him to get use to feeling that he has some responsibility, and also to feel if he has money he need not necessarily spend it. He has acted much more manly and self-reliant since I gave him the old home. I would like you to make the deeds at once and I will sign them in Paris. We shall be there, I expect, by the 20th of September. Frank has not drank at all since in London. He said last week that he was never so disappointed and surprised—completely taken off his feet—as when I stopped his going into business; that he did not, expect me to take such severe and swift grounds. I think he fully feels that I am in earnest. I do not expect but what he will drink again, but for the present I think he has had a lesson that he won’t forget in a hurry. He was very brave in Mr. Benedict’s illness, lifting and taking all the care off of me possible. He had never faced death before, except when his father died, but he held Mr. Benedict’s hand to the last and shielded me in every way possible. He said last night, in speaking of it, that he never thought he could face such a scene, but a man could do much if he was obliged to.”
About this time she wrote Bradley from Paris that she wished to make some changes in her will and wished to devise less in trust, and said: “I feel if Frank cannot take care of his property now he never will. I hope you will be able to see to it for the next hundred years. I should then feel I had something better than all the trusts in the good old Quaker State.” In this letter she enclosed a draft of a will in pencil, in the complainant’s handwriting, which she wanted him (Bradley) to draw and send to her for execution. It gave $100,000 to Bradley, executor, in trust, income to Frank for life, and at his death the principal to his child or children, if any surviving, and if none, the income to his widow during widowhood. The sum of $200,000 was bequeathed to Frank absolutely, and $25,000 to Bradley. Other bequests were made to Lucia C. Bradley and Oricia E. Ogden, sister of Mrs. Benedict. In other letters by her during the year 1893, dated at 80 Avenue Kléber, Paris, she wrote in complimentary terms of her son and his conduct, but on October 8, 1893, she wrote, “He is drinking again, after stopping for two years,” and she directed Bradley to cancel any letter of credit which he had sent in her son’s name. On March 14, 1894, she wrote from Paris the following letter:
“My Dear Brother—I write you our present address, but do not send your letters here, as we may change anytime. I expect you will get tired of making wills, but I want another one as soon as I can have it. Ever since Frank drank last fall I have been thinking that I ought to change the will and tie everything up as tight as possible, for when he drinks he flings his money away terribly,—spends everything he can get his hands upon,— and I begin to fear he will always have those times. When I made the last one I thought he had gotten over "all that and I hoped he would never try it again, but the experience of last fall has quite cured me of that, and now I must do what is best for him. He has not drank a drop since, but I shall never believe but what he will. I want everything in trust, instead of his haveing it under his controll. What I have given him is enough to risk and all the rest I want tied up. I want the two hundred thousand in governments always invested in the safest government securities, and the rest as the last will directed, and all the rest of the will, that is, the jewelry for Lucia, the $25,000 for you, and the other little details the same. I only want to change it so he will have no controle over anything but the income. And now I want another clause added, and will tell you later why. It is this: In case he marries and dies without children his wife will have half the income, but if there are children they will, after an allowance for their being brought up, inherit the estate when they are twenty-five years old, but should there be no children, then my heirs, including Lucia C. Bradley, would share equally.
“We have met a Mrs. Fletcher and her daughter, a girl of nineteen, from New Orleans. Frank admires the mother. She is five months younger than he. I like her. She is like all Southerners—bright and lively. He wants to marry her, but has promised me he would wait until we come home, in September, and we find out all about her, for, of course, we know nothing of her, and I promise you, if I can help it, he will never marry until I know all about the woman. You see my point in wanting another will. In case of my death they might make way with it in a short time, and I cannot afford to wait until we come home. Do not tell anybody we are coming home, or anything about what I have written. Send the will and anything pertaining to it to Dr. Dupuy, 53 Avenue Montaigne, Paris. I do not want Frank to know a word about it. I shall have the same witnesses, and just as soon as it comes we shall go to Marienbad. It is only that which keeps us here in Paris. I must have it done here. Love to you all. A_ M_ Bbnedict.»
On May 16, 1894, Mrs. Benedict made a will conforming to her instructions to Bradley as to its preparation, revoking all former wills, and after a bequest of $25,000 and an annuity of $1000 to Bradley, a legacy of $5000 to Dupuy, a bequest of diamonds to Lucia Bradley, and other small bequests, she devised her estate to Fordyce G. Bradley in trust, to pay the income, annually, to her son for life, and after his death, if childless, one-half of such income to his widow during widowhood. If her son should leave a child or children born in lawful wedlock surviving him, one-half of such income to be used for its or their support and education until twenty-five years of age; at that age all of the estate to be delivered to such child or children, subject to the support of such widow during widowhood. Provision was also made for an annuity of $200 to Oricia B. Ogden, sister of Mrs. Benedict, and for other minor bequests; and the will provided that in case her son should leave no such child or children, then, after the execution of the trusts, the estate was to be divided between the then lawful heirs of the testatrix according to the laws of descent of Illinois, and Lucia C. Bradley,, in equal shares. This will was made shortly before the complainant’s marriage with his present wife, and did not differ very materially from the later one, now sought to be set aside, hereinbefore set out, except in the provisions it made for the wife and for Dupuy, and the spendthrift features of the trust. In each of the wills Bradley was nominated as executor and given $25,000 and an annuity of $1000, and his daughter, Lucia, was also made a legatee.
. Mrs. Benedict acóompanied her son and his fiance, Mary A. Fletcher, to the United States and was present at their marriage. She was satisfied with the marriage and much attached to her son’s wife. Soon after the marriage the three returned to Europe, and on June 12, 1894, Mrs. Benedict wrote from Marienbad, Bohemia:
“My Dear Brother—We arrived just a week ago and found the letter of credit here. * * * I had time to give some thought to what I wished done with my household goods at my death, when I was on the ship. While I have the kindest feeling for Mary, I should not want, in case Frank had no children, for those things to go among strangers, as her children are to me. And as 1 said, Frank having no children, I want Lucia C. Bradley to have all my pictures, including Frank’s father’s portrait painted in oil by Mr. Healy, and mine by the same artist, all my bronzes and clocks, and everything pertaining to my household goods. * * * I want Lucia O. Bradley to have all my valuable china and. silver, as I think she will appreciate for the love she has for me, —not for its value.
“This is all I can think off just now. We are having a very pleasant time here. The country is lovely and Prank and Mary are very happy, and that, of course, is very gratifying to me. Prank has been alone so long that he fully appreciates his wife, and he ought to, for she does everything to make him happy. Love to you all.
Anna M. Benedict.”
And three days later a letter, in part, as follows: “Prom what I can see I think her policy now is to get Frank to work. . That means, to get back to America. I think you can see the point. I told her this morning that when she got him to doing anything I would have her canonised, if I had any power. * * * Now to business. I told you I thought my will would last a year, but when I tell you I think you will agree with me that a new one is best. I had a lot of time to think on the ship, and I "am going- to begin at the beginning. According to Mary’s story Prank has been half drunk ever since they were engaged, and they both kept it from me all they could, although I knew he was drinking some. He was. drunk the most of the time in New York, and in Dubuke he was so drunk the morning they left for Elkhorn that it took three men to get him into the omnibus and on thfe cars. He was drunk in Boston, and the day I arrived in New York I took my satchel in my hand and walked to the hotel in the evening; found there was a Mr. Palmer there, bnt I had no room engaged, and Mary had been ill in bed all day and had gotten up when he came in at six o’clock, and went out to ride in the park to sober him up before he saw me. He was out drunk all day Friday, and I was glad to get him on to the ship Saturday. Mary had to see to everything for them and I looked after myself. If he goes on in this way he will not last long. He has been sober now just ten days. He has had delirium tremens four times and he would not stand many more. You know in the will I gave him the income during his life and the half after his death. He has provided for her, and she has her income from the Fletcher estate, and that is enough. I want a will giving him, if there is enough left (after you have had yours) $5000 a year; and if there is any left I want Miner’s wife to have $300 a year, and also Mary Jane Knox, wife of Washington Knox, during their lives, and, of course, Oricia, and all the rest of the will just as it was. I got to thinking on the ship should Frank and I both die the property would only go to strangers. If there is any more income, of course I want Frank to have it during his life. I think you get my meaning*. I discovered last February a large, hard lump in my right brest, about the size of half a heu’s egg cut in to the long way, and another smaller one under the arm. The first, I think, was caused from the buckle on a pair of suspenders I wore to support my belt. At the time we left Paris, Dupuy seemed to think it was from the weight of the brest on the muscles. They have always been more or less congested from the spine, but the two weeks past I have had considerable pain, and seeing Dr. Herzig last week he advised me to have them cut out; said when we left here to stop in Heidelburg as we go through and see Dr. Czerny, a very celebrated serjeon. I know him well. He lived in the same house with us when we lived there, and he was then considered the coming man in all Germany. I shall write to Dupuy and do as he thinks best. If he advises me to wait until I get to Paris I shall do so. Why Herzig advised Heidelburg was that wounds heal better in small towns, and the air is purer and milk and everything is better. If I should have it done Dupuy would be with me as long as I stayed. I think as soon as you get this you had better send the will. It won’t do any harm, and I feel you will agree with me about the distribution of the property. I want to do what is right, and so far as I can see I feel I am. The next one I want the thousand dollars to continue during Carrie’s life as well as yours. Send any private letters to Dupuy, 53 Avenue Montaigne, Paris. I am agoing to write to Dupuy what Herzig advises, and I will let you know what he thinks of it. Herzig says it is a simple tumor now, but it is such a small thing to have them out and then the danger is over, for sometimes they turn very quickly to something bad.”
About this time Dupuy wrote the following letter to Mrs. Benedict: .
“53 Avenue Montaigne, June 23, ’9J..
“Dear Mrs. Benedict—If I am to judge from the prescription of your doctor your illness is not very serious. He has prescribed laurel water, and you say that has helped you! However, when you are in Heidelberg do see Czerny. Altho he is rather great with the knife his advice is worth having, and you can surely depend upon my doing all in my power to help you, no matter where you may be if within my reach, and in this instance I should. I must be much happier for the occasion of seeing Germany through another opportunity than that of an illness of yours! The heat is terrible here to-day and the air so close we can hardly breathe. Pauline seems to be having a nice time in Brighton, and Anna left day before yesterday for the springs in Burgundy, together with Mr. Webber, so my wife and I are the only company for Eugene, and he decidedly makes us appreciate our good fortune of being devoted to him! Our love to you all.
“Your sincere friend, Eugene Dupuy.”
Endorsed on foregoing letter, in Anna M. Benedict’s handwriting, is the following:
“My Dear Brother—The enclosed letters just came from Watts. I should like you to send the release as soon as convenient. I send this letter from Dupuy knowing you would want to see how the matter stands in regard to my going to Heidelburg. If Dr. Czerny advises having them out I shall send for Dupuy and have it done at once, but if he thinks I can wait a few weeks I shall go to Paris and await the will. That will, of course, all depend upon circumstances, but in any way I shall keep you informed. Frank and Mary seeme very anxious when they speak "of it. I never told them until yesterday. I had a letter from Dupuy, and he ask to read it and I would not let him, and he went on like a madman; said I liked Dupuy better than my own son, and I told him he had always shown me more consideration than my own son. Then I made him read the letter, and told him that whatever happened I should always like Dupuy, and instead of his disliking him he ought to like him for the care he took of me when he was away drunk and left me alone in the apartment for a week. I gave them both good advice and felt much better in my own mind. Everything is pleasant, seemingly, and I think we shall make it go off all right when they know just how far they can go. Love to all. AlTN-„
Afterward these letters followed:
“Marienbad, June SO, 189J/..
“My Dear Brother—We leave here Monday for Heidelburg, where I shall see Dr. Czerny, and then I shall know what we are agoing to do. If he advises 'an operation I think I shall stay right there and have it done. I will let you know just as soon as I possible can. Frank is not drinking now, but I never know how long it will last. I like Mary the more I see of her. She has no easy task, I can tell you. However, I shan’t worry about them. I have enough to do to take care of myself, and I have come to the conclusion that is what I am agoing to do. I wish I had tried it before. I have realy have nothing to write about, but after my letter telling- you of the trouble in my brest I'thought you would like to hear, if it was only ‘three pages of nothing.’ We have been there four weeks—the usual time for the waters. Frank has lost about thirty pounds and is looking very well. I drew fifty pounds since I have been there. Love to you all.
Ann.”
“189b, Heidelberg, July 7th, Germany.
“My Dear Brother—I have just come from Dr. Czerny. He advises having those tumors taken out at once. He says while there are no signs of cancor now they might degnerate very quickly into that, and the sooner they are out the better. But I am very nervous now. Frank has been drinking, and is all the time just enough to be ugly and cross. I pity his wife. She has lots of pacients with him. I never expected he would have any one who would bear with him as she does. He does not deserve it. I like her the more I see of her. She is just as thoughtful as possible for me. The doctor wants me to go to Wildbad for ten days and take baths for my nerves, and come back the 20th and have the cutting done. I could have done it at once had Frank not been so cruel in his treatment of me. His talk to me is something terrible at times. He is determined that I shall give up Dupuy, and he goes on like a madman about him almost every day. Mary is perfectly scared. She stired up more than she thought for, and I think she is frightened at the' fuss she has made. I told them last night I had written you all about it; that you knew everything. They were both uneasy and rather scared, and Frank was completely taken back. He never thought I would tell; let him do whatever he wished. I told him I was not alone; that you and Vine and Mr. Fuller was always- ready and would take my version of the case. I shall have Dupuy come,-—■ not that I think it necessary, biit it is only seventeen hours from Paris and the change will do him good; and another thing, Frank swears every time I say I shall send for him, and I want him to feel I must do as I think best. If I get along well I shall be in the hospital twelve days. The expense will be about $150 all told. I think I have told you all for now. I shall write again in a week and tell you if there is anything new.”
In a letter from Wildbad, July 16,1894, she complained that her son had paid the expenses of his step-daughter from money supplied by her, and further said: “Frank used $2300 in nineteen days. I gave him $1000 for his wedding trip, to last a month, but he had my money for the rest, and when I got to New York and had a talk with him, and told him what he could and could not do, he has been ugly mad and half drunk the most of the time since. When I told him he would be taken care off as long as he behaved himself he was more than disappointed. I think her object is to get away from me with an allowance, so she can have the children with her. I do not think her bad, but her whole interest is with her family, which is very natural, only I do not want to be-the cat’s paw to pull the chestnuts out of the fire. I may misjudge her. I hope I do, for his sake. I think no one ever took such a talking to as I gave Frank when in New York. I told him he had no right to use my money for such purposes; that the thousand dollars I gave him he had a right to do what he pleased with, and he owned that she used it, but I said he had no right to use mine, and he was not honest; that it had always been my pride in him, but I would never trust him again; that I had lost all confidence in him and now I would handle the money. He feels guilty and knows he has done a mean thing; and also he represented that we were worth more than we are, and, I am sure he made her think he could do everything for the children. I am confident of that, and when I told her that I was sorry Frank had deceived her; that he promised me he would tell her just how we were situated; that while we could and wished to take good care of her, I said I told Frank he must tell her we could never have the children with us or support them. She has an income, I think, from what was once said, of $200 a month, and will take care of them, and she has also a little stock, as I told you. I think the whole trouble hinges upon his misrepresenting our wealth. I am sorry to have to tell you this, but you ought to know. I feel I can leave all to you, knowing you will overlook his faults, and if for no other reason, for my sake always have an interest in him. I worry some about Lucia’s silver that I took to have a case for, but I hope she will get it. About the last will, if it does not come I shall leave notes, one for Aunt Ette and Jane Knox of §5000, and a note to Watts Gardner for §500, to be used for a monument to be put where Mr. Benedict is buried. I am ashamed of the present one. His memory is worthy of a better one, and that is no credit to me. Watts will select it and see to it. I have all confidence in his judgment in that respect. I think I have said all that is necessary and will close. Love to you all.”
While she was at Wildbad, in July, under the advice of the physician, endeavoring to increase her strength preparatory to the surgical operation she was to undergo at the hospital on the 20th of that month, she wrote a letter to her sister, Mrs. Oricia E. Ogden, and endorsed it, “To be given to her in case of my death.” It contained explanations of her disposition of personal effects, clothing, etc. In this letter she also said: “I have given Lucia Bradley a great deal. I think she will appreciate what I have more than any one of that generation. She has been brought up to love me, I fully believe, for myself alone, and if any one can appreciate that I can. You may think it strange I did not tell you of this, but I thought it best, as I knew how it would worry you, and I did not know when it would be necessary to have it out. Frank has made it very hard for me. He has been determined I should give up Dr. Dupuy, not but what he thinks him the best doctor I ever had, but since his marriage I think Mary has been afraid I would depend too much upon his opinion and perhaps make him too many presents.. Anyway, this is the first trouble we have ever had, and all about my giving up the only doctor that ever done me any good. I think she shows a disposition to seperate me from old friends. She has certainly set Frank against all of our old friends. I am sorry, for I like her, and he certainly loves her truly. She does not mean to do those things, but she likes to be first, and, of course, wants her children to be all in all. I do not think she expected such a fuss, but when I told them what they could and could not do I think it frightened her. I was more decided than she had expected. However, let it all go. I only wanted you to know just how I had been anoyed, and just at a time when everything should have been made easy. I never should have lived with them. I told them both so, and I think it rather pleased them, provided I supported them in a way to pleas them. I do not feel Frank has any excuse for his conduct, and I do not wish you to take any excuses. I am sorry, and no one can imagine what I have borne. I took a maid or sewing girl we used to have when we lived in Heidelburg, and came for a rest and to get away by myself. I have had a quiet week, or, rather, we have been twelve days. We go to H. to-morrow, and I expect to have the operation on the 20th. Dupuy will come from Paris, and I shall do as he thinks best, as he knows my constitution best of all. Love to you both.”
Watts Gardner had married her step-daughter—the daughter of Mr. Benedict,—and she had been dead several years when Mrs. Benedict wrote him the following letter:
“Wildbad, July 16th, 1894-
“My Dear Son Watts—I send you this note of $500, wishing you to use it for a monument to be put up in Danbury in the place of the present one. I am very sorry I had not seen the present one before. I am mortified and ashamed that there has not been a better one before this, and I feel it is no credit to me. I always understood from Mr. Benedict that it was a fairly good one,, but our dead are worthy of a better one. I know you will do just what is necessary. I have all confidence in your taste.
“With love, your affectionate mother,
A. M. Benedict.
For Watts Gardner.”
Letter to Bradley:
“Schloss Hotel, Heidelberg, Aug. 10th, 1894.
“My Dear Brother—This is my second letter since I left, the hospital, which was on the 30th of July,—almost two weeks. I am getting on fairly well. The wound is almost healed—only one little place where the last drainpipe was taken out. They told me yesterday when I went to have it dressed it would not be necessary to come only once more, which will be next Monday. I shall stay here until the first of September, both to get up my strength and to see the doctor who made the operation. He is away now on his vacation and will not return until September. He wishes to see the condition of the wound. It was a little swolen when he went away. I tell you, Brad, if I ever appreciated money it was when I could have Dupuy come and stay a week with me, and I heard his voice and had hold of his hand the last thing when I was being put under the influence of the ether, such a feeling of security, and the first thing when I come too. Prank made great protestations, and said he should go and hold my hand all through the operation in spite of all the doctors; that it was his place and his right, as my son; but when the time came I noticed he did not say anything about it, and he was drunk from the time I went to the hospital until the day I left. They spent in all the time I was there just one hour and twenty minutes with me. I was able and giad to see anybody the long, hot days, commencing at daylight and lasting until ten at night. They were in a hotel near, and nothing to do but to ride out and drink iced champagne, order good dinners, and so on. But I must do Mary justice. She tried to sober him, and-she dare not leave him alone, not knowing what he might do. She had not learned him, and he threatened to kill himself, so she said, if she left him. I know she must have gone through a great deal. One night she told me she did not dare to undress. The day I left they came after me. We came to a hotel higher up for the air and better for me. He stopped drinking, and in a day or two commenced at me again, and I told him I had changed my will and if I died now he would not get a thing. I g-ave him a good talking to and scared him well. Since then he cannot do enough. He is just as he was before his marriage—all kindness—-and so is she. They are going home this fall to live. He is agoing to work to redeem himself. He is agoing to show people what his father’s son can do. When he leaves me he will leave for good. I do not give him anything. He takes his money and supports himself. He ask me for an allowance, and I told him he was not a poor man, and if he went away he went on his own responsibility; if he was agoing to work" he would need no help from me. He ask me for the things at home to commence housekeeping, and I told him he could have what belonged to him and nothing else. I think I made it plain to him. He seemed to understand it. His wife heard all the talk, and I think she knows, too. I shall stay for the present in Paris, either in Dupuy’s family or near him. I shall have a good girl with me—the one I had in Wildbad. She is thoroughly responsible and I think attached to me,—a woman of forty-four years, a dress-maker. Etta and I used to have her when we lived here. I do not think I have received a letter from you since I left you. I wrote you when we first went to Marienbad about changing my will and sending it to the care of Dupuy. It is more than two months and I have not heard a word. I am afraid you sent it to Marienbad and it has been tampered with. I was anxious for it before the operation. I will write again in a few days.”
“Heidelberg, Hotel Sohreider, Aug. 28th, 1894.
“My Dear Brother—-Your letter is just received, and I have just sent off the two releases, togather with the interest check endorsed to you, in a registered letter. I took off all bandages yesterday and do not expect to go to the hospital but once more, to say good-bye and pay my bill. I have been out four weeks yesterday, going every other day to have the wound dressed, but yesterday found it all healed. I expect to stay in Germany through September, as Paris is hot and dusty through that month, and I am only consulting my own pleasure now. Prank and Mary are very pleasant, but, Brad, if I live a hundred years I could never forget and forgive, nor do I wish to, the treatment I received in Marienbad, and ever after, until I was out of the hospital and told him I had changed my toill. That compleetly sobered them and brought them up short. Since then they can not do enough. It all answers my purpose for the present, but I shall be glad tó have peace. Frank was so mad when he could not go on and have all the money he wanted, and encouraged by her that he ought to have it for his father made it, and I added in one of our fights, ‘and his mother would keep it, if she knows herself.’ Now I pay the expenses and he handles no money except his allowance, and they do not seem to like it. Of course, it all keeps me more or less anoyed, but after what has happened I rather take a grim delight in making them feel there is a head to everything, and especially this family. If I can only have my health, or a quarter of it, I can manage very well. Mary is expecting a baby. She is quite large—at least three months along. I think they expect to go home as soon as we go to Paris, but they do not say anything, neither do I. How different it all ought to be, Brad, when you think of it. Now I do not take the least interest in anything they do. I feel they are not poor and they must take care of themselves. I have no more strength to spend on him. I think of what Kate told Oricia once: ‘He had killed his mother, and she guessed he would kill his Aunt Oricia. ’ Aunt Kate gets . it very near right sometimes with her rough guessing, but I never thought Prank would be so heartless, but one never knows. I am glad Carrie is having an outing. I wish she could be kept away from her house-keeping half of the time, it seems to worry her so. If she could only realize how little real care and anxiety she has had for the last thirty years she would hardly credit it, but I suppose it seemed mountains to her. I wrote you in my last about a new will, which I think you will approve. I hope I shall find it at Dupuy’s when I get to Paris. Love to you all. Anna.”
“Hotel Schreider, August SI, 189A “My Dear Brother—Yesterday Prank and Mary left for Paris. He has his letter of credit, which I presume he will use and you will charge to his account; so take care you make yourself all right, for I am quite out of it, as you will see. Day before yesterday Frank went with me to see Czerny, who had just gotten home, to see if I was all right and the wound properly healed. When he went away he was anxious about a swelling back of the wound. He feared it had healed too fast and had left pus behind, and that there might have to be another operation,— small, of course. He found that was all right, but the wound under the arm had been three weeks longer healing than it ought to have been, owing to bad weather, for it rained every day and I was in bed all the time, for with the dampness I took cold every time I dressed. In that way I did not get any strength and all around the shoulder became soft and congested, and healed more like an indolent ulcer than a healthy wound. Czerny said I must go to Wildbad for two weeks for the baths, for my strength must be gotten up at once to' overcome any tendency of its breaking out again, and after Wild-bad to Baden Baden for two weeks, and not going to Paris before the first of October. It is always so hot and dusty and no one can sleep there that month. When I come home I told Prank and Mary. It was then eight o’clock in the evening, for I had to wait three hours to see the doctor. Prank said, ‘We are going to Paris in the morning, ten minutes before seven; you can come if you wish.’ I said, ‘Why, Prank, you would not leave me alone and sick in a strange hotel?’ (we had been here two days;) ‘won’t you wait a day to see if I can find some one to go to Wildbad with me? I cannot be left alone.’ He said, ‘Then come to Paris; if I should wait a day you would only sit around and cry and not do anything, and that would make my wife nervous; no, you are better apart; you can get the girl you took to Wildbad before.’ I told him, as I told him before, she could not go; she had a house and lodgers, with no one to leave it with. He said, ‘Then get Mrs. Schottler (my old German teacher) to get you a maid; you are a rich woman and can take care of yourself.’ I hope and pray I may never suffer as I did then. Better a thousand deaths. What I had been through, I assure you, Brad, was nothing compared to my desolation then. I have not been up more than five hours a day, and that but a few times. I was not dressed at all Tuesday, and Wednesday, the day he told me, only in time at five o’clock P. M. to see the doctor. I had never been downstairs without Prank’s help, and always two to help me into the carriage when I go to the hospital. After that conversation he stayed in my room asking all sorts of questions, as though nothing had happened; asking addresses for Mary for wrappers, and the best and cheapest hotels, and wanted I should send their washing by express, which I have just done. I shall go directly to Dieppe, to Dr. Dupuy’s family. I shall have every care and attention. I shall, so far as that goes, be much more happy; but I realize I ought to do as Czerny says, for what does an operation amount to if one does not recover properly? But I cannot stay here alone or go farther away from Paris, entirely in a strange country. There is no other way but for me to take my chances. The girl I had is going with me, as it will take her only four days, so you see I depend upon wholly upon strangers for care and sympathy. You can read this to Vine, if you wish. I think he ought to know it. I hope you will all ask Frank where he left his mother and who was with her.”
“L. F. Rostan, Trocadero, Champs Elysees.
80 Avenue Kleber, Paris, le Sep. 9,1891/..
“My Dear Brother—Your letter of the 25th has just come. I wrote you from Heidelberg after Frank and Mary left me. I took a maid and came to Paris just a week ago. I arranged all our things, seperating Frank’s from mine, and on Thursday sent for Frank to come and get his things. Of course they were surprised to find me here, and came in as though nothing had happened, ignoring all they had done. I treated them as though every thing was all right, feeling my time would come later. When Mary was alone with the maid she asked her if I was very angry at the way they left me, and the woman said Mrs. Benedict felt it very much being left sick and helpless amongst strangers, and Mary said, ‘She might have come with us then; she belongs to us, not to those disgusting Dupuy’s, who make of her just to get her money;’ but the maid said all the doctors said she must go to Wildbad for the baths, to get her side, where the cutting was, into a healthy circulation, otherwise it might brake out and be worse than it was before; that an operation was worse than nothing unless one made a healthy recovery. She said, ‘Well, she did not go to Wildbad.’ I am sorry to have such a feeling, but I guess I can stand it. I ha've never seen the will, and I wish you would send another at once. Send all my mail to the care of Dr. - Dupuy, 53 Avenue Montaigne. I think as you do, that Frank has opened and kept my letters this summer. Of course, I should like to be near all my friends. It is terribly lonely, but you can understand that I would be anoyed all the time by them. It would be wild for me to go away from Dupuy until I am better. The left hand I have no use of yet. I expect to have electricity and massarge and baths before I get the use of it. It was bound down so firm that all circulation was stopped in the fingers and thumb. However, there is a goodeal left of me yet, and lots of grit and fight. The best part of it is, they are paying their own bills now, and it hurts. They are living cheap in a little hotel, and when they left Heidelberg in such "a hurry Frank said he should take the fastest boat and get home as soon as possible. Now, none of the steamboat lines did not know that F. T. W. Palmer wished to go home this fall and so did not keep any rooms for him, and consequently they have been obliged to take tickets on' one of the slowest boats and wait until the 29th, for all of which I am very glad. I think in time he will begin to see the world was not made for him alone, as Dupuy told him once, and it made him very mad. Mary begins to look quite large. I think she will be confined in January, and I do not want to be there. I am looking forward to a good rest. Lots of love to you all. ■ Ann.
“Do not worry about me. I shall be well looked after by Dupuy and his family.”
“L. F. Rostan, Trocadero, Champs Elysees.
80 Avenue Kleber, Paris, le Sep. 80th, 1894.
“My Dear Brother—Frank and Mary sailed yesterday from Antwerp, so I will let you know their plans, so far as I can, by sending some of their letters. They are nothing but a mess of childish twaddle, but none the less trying. Frank will have to sell notes, and you can buy just as you would from a stranger. I do not wish you to favor him in any way. Charge his letter of credit to him and deal with him like a perfect stranger. They both want a lesson. What Frank says about Dupuy, saying I done just as you said, was this: When I was in the hospital they three were at the hotel, and they were at him all the time to influence me to go home, and he told them he was only my medical adviser, and he most certainly declined to discuss buisness with anybody; that Mr. Bradley was the man to go to for that, as I had, as also had Frank, always expressed the utmost confidence in him, and turning to Frank, (for he was talking to Mary, as she was the moving power,) he said: ‘Why, Frank, I am surprised; I have always heard you speak of your Uncle Bradley with the greatest love and confidence, and would have thought he would have been the one to rest in, in regard to buisness;’ and so the matter dropped, and you see how they have turned it. Keep these letters. They may be worth reading some time.”
“L. F. Bostan, Trocadero, Champs Elysees.
80 Avenue Kleber, Paris, Oct. 2nd, 1891f.
“My Dear Brother—I wrote you Sunday and sent the wonderful letters that I received from Frank and Mary. They are worthy of children of ten years,—so perfectly childish. I want to tell you, so you may be prepaired if . Frank says anything about wills. When I told him I had changed my will he expressed himself very strongly, and I told him I had equal rights with him; that he made his will, of course; and he said, ‘Did Uncle Brad tell you I had made my ivill?’ and I said, ‘Uncle Brad never spoke the word will in connection with you; I simply conjectured you had, for you willed all your property to that New York woman before you was married, and naturally I knew you would do the same now.’ If you remember, you simply answered ‘yes’ to a question I' asked. I thought I would tell you, in case anything was said. I am very comfortable. You see my nerves are not strong yet, but I hope with care they will be in time. Love to you all. Anna.”
“26 Avenue Friedland, Paris, le 18 Oct., 189If.
“My Dear Brother—Just a word to tell you I have moved. You see I am at Avenue Friedland,—No. 26,—a very nice place. Am just as comfortable as possible. I think you can send your mail direct here for the present. I hope you enjoyed the last package I sent you. Not so elegant as it might be, but I wanted you to know what you had to deal with. I am gaining in strength all the time, but slowly. I cannot expect it otherwize. It was a serious operation, and if I get my strength back in a year I shall be satisfied. My trip from Heidelberg was very trying. It set me back at least six months. The only thing is how I stood it at all, but one never knows what they can go through until they are tried. I sewed a little yesterday for the first time. My hand is a little better, but it is a step in the right direction. I get tired of reading all the time. I ask Dupuy yesterday how long it would be before my hand was well, and he said it would get well, he was sure, but it was not a contract for a limited time; that it could be cured at all, he was only too glad to say, but we must have patience. He always tells me the truth. I have electricity every day and sulphur baths twice a week, so you see I am doing all I can. That my nerves are better you can see by my writing. I suppose you will have seen the children before this. Tell me the outlook—what they say for themselves. Love to you all.
Ann.”
“9 Rue Freycinet, December #4, 1894.
“My Dear Brother—‘The plot thickens,’ as I suppose Lucia will say. I hardly know what to call it,—comedy or tragedy. Whatever it is, it justifies the saying that truth is stranger than fiction. When I received your letter my first thought was to leave Paris, but I- am not well enough to be away from the doctor, neither do I wish to be driven away from my comfortable home. I shall stay here and refuse to see them, and if I know Frank he won’t stay here long under such circumstances. I expect she will persist, but I can soon shirt her off. Had I been well enough I should have taken the first steamer home, but that is simply impossible. It will be better to fight it out here. Frank just lets me get a start and then does something to set me back. If he was planning to kill me he could not do it better. However, I hope to get on some way. I certainly shall not see them if I can help it, and if they come upon me unexpectedly I think I can settle them. Any way, I shall try. You see by Oricia’s letter what she said about Aunt Ette going to the poor farm. It fairly took my breath away. I should not think Vine would allow it, but perhaps he has his reasons. I must think so, and they must be good ones. Love to y°u alL Ann.” •
The following is a letter from F. T. W. Palmer to Anna M. Benedict, in F. T. W. Palmer’s handwriting, upon which appears an endorsement in Anna M. Benedict’s handwriting:
“Nice, January 8, 1895,
“My Dear Mother—You have no doubt been informed that we were again abroad. We arrived on the Fulda on the 23rd of December, at Genoa, and as Mary was not feeling at all well, we came directly here instead of going to Florence and Venice, as we originally intended. We expect to remain here a little longer and shall then come to Paris, 'and we hope to see you then,—providing, of course, should you care to see us. Lucile is with us, as she now makes her home with us, and we are all very happy. She is a lovely girl, as you know, and I am very fond of her, and also very proud of my step-daughter, and you can imagine she is very happy to be again with her mother. We are a very united and happy little family. As for me, I never expected to be so happy and blessed as I am in the love and devotion of my beautiful, beautiful wife, and I consider myself the most fortunate of men in having won the love of my Mary. You no doubt think you know her, but you do not, nor can you or any one else have any idea of her lovely character. The longer I live with her the more I love her, and you, of all people, ought to be pleased and love her for making your son so, oh! so happy. I feel now that I never knew what loving was until she came into and brightened my life. Every time I pass the West End Hotel it brings up pleasant memories, for there, you know, I first met her. It seems too bad that you feel as you do, for we might all be so happy, and it grieves us all to think you prefer strangers to your own family. My Mary has written you time and again and has received no answer in return. Therefore we can put only one construction on your silence, viz., that you do not wish to hear from us, but I thought I would try this once. All join me in love to you.
Prank.
“My address is, care Vew Lecroix & Co., Bankers.”
Endorsed on the foregoing letter, in the handwriting of A. M. Benedict, is the following: “I think it must have cost about three bottles of champagne for this gush. A reglar maudeling, drunken letter. ‘His beautiful, beautiful wife.’”
“My Dear Brother—This is the last. I have nothing to say, and I think that makes them about as mad" as they can be. There is no jaw-bac7c in me, but they must let me alone, and that won’t suit them. I do not think they will stay long under the circumstances. Mary will want to see her children again. Gardner was here last Sunday and said if I wanted any backbone he and all the rest of my friends were ready. Their conduct has been fully discussed in the American colony. Por a small thing it has made a lot of gossip, and everybody seems to blame her, but I blame him the most. I think he is far the most contemptible. Love to you all.
Anna.”
The following letter is endorsed on a letter from Melville, Fickus & Co. to A. M. Benedict, dated January 12, 1895:
“9 Rue Freycinet, Jan. 20th, 1895.
“My Dear Brother—I just send you this so you may see how much confidence I have in my children. It came to me a few weeks ago that Frank could write to Melville Fickus to have my mail sent with his to him-, as he had always done so ever since we had been abroad, so I wrote them never to send my mail to any one but P. G. B. or myself, as my son had gone to America to live,—and you can see they took it all in. Your letter came this morning. It takes a little longer now, as the fast steamers have been taken off on some lines. I have sent you all the news I have had from Bice. Bo doubt they will be here soon, but I am getting stronger every day and feel myself equal to the meeting if I am obliged to see Frank. She I will never see if I can help it, and I think I can settle him for the time. I shall have no jaw with him, only tell him I am agoing to abide by his decision in Heidelberg that we will stay apart; that I made her nervous and I never shall again; that that was his wish then and it is mine now, and I am only carrying out his wishes only three months old; that they both said they would take the future into their own hands, and I guess they find it a handful. I am afraid it is going to be hard on the tioins. I don’t hear any more about them. This is the month they were to arrive. I am afraid we shall have to do without them. Did you ever know of such a fool as she has made of herself? Ann ”
In a letter of- March 27, 1895, just before the making of the will in controversy, she wrote that “after a consultation with the best surgeon have decided to go to a private hospital next Saturday to have the wound opened under the arm and free the nerves, which must have been caught in the wound in healing, so they think from all symptoms. All owing to the nervous way I was kept in by Frank and Mary after the operation. But it cannot be helped now, and I must get out of it the best I can. The surgeon is considered the best in Paris. I think it will cost more than the first operation. I shall know this evening. Mr. Gardner has just been here and tells me the sergeon said if there was no more to be done than he thought it would be for himself $600 and $40 for the assistant; but I think we can count, all told, $1000. I pay $250 a month for room and all attendance, everything included. I shall sign my will to-morrow. I made a new one. I think you will like it better. I do. It gives you more power. I only want Frank supported—not Mary; not a dollar; and I don’t want her to have it to spend for him. It is only for him. And. the lawyer thought he dare not ma¡ke it any stronger, fearing the sympathy of the courts, for, of course, they will try to brake it. If I ever come home I will make a good one.”
The record shows many other letters written by her up to a few months of her death, February 12,1896, showing substantially the same mental characteristics and purpose. She received many letters from her son and his wife, but refused to answer any of them, and refused to see them when they went to Paris to see her.
In addition to the depositions of witnesses taken in England, Germany" and France, and to the testimony of other witnesses, the contestant called five eminent physicians of Chicago having knowledge and skill as alienists, all of whom testified, in answer to the hypothetical question put to them, that, assuming the facts as stated to be true, it was their opinion that Mrs. Benedict was insane when she made the will in question of March 29,' 1895. This hypothetical question, containing, as it does, a sufficient statement of the evidence on behalf of the contestant, except the expert testimony, is given here in full:
“Question—Assume that a woman forty-seven years old, residing in London with her husband in 1881; that she then had a son by a previous marriage, ah only child, residing in New York; that he took up his residence with herself and her second husband in London in the summer of 1885, and that in the summer of 1886, after going out to make the various household purchases, she would return and want to sit down, and complain of headache, and that this occurred three or four times each week; that from the fall, about September of 1886, having passed the period of change of life, she was forgetful of orders given regarding" the preparation of meals and for the performance of other household duties, and that from 1886 to February, 1889, she was addicted to the daily use of beer in quart bottles, and brandy, and would consume at night, after retiring, a pint and a quarter of Martell’s brandy; that this was a daily occurrence; that during this period she was slovenly in her habits, while previous to 1881 she had been scrupulously neat; would not change her stockings, underclothing" or linen ofténer than once a month, and upon one occasion when her maid attempted to remove her stockings, which had no feet in them and had ‘live-stock’ on them, attempted to strike her, and, upon the stockings being removed, cut the feet out of the clean pair given her, and told her maid that they did not wear stockings in her country with feet in them; that she would cut the fingers off her gloves, buy new garments, bring them home and pick them to pieces; that she was very dirty in her person, and would lie in bed naked when her maid came to rub her; that she would go into the kitchen and cut a slice from the ‘joint’ or a fowl from the oven that was being prepared for dinner, and eat it, and would also go to the pantry and cut off large slices of cheese and eat it like cake; that she was forgetful regarding household affairs, would direct the servants to pay the bills, and would claim that she had given them money for that purpose when in fact no money had been given; that during the night, after retiring, she used to walk about a great deal; that upon the one occasion she came into her maid’s room, who said to her, ‘What’s the matter?’ and she replied that she thought that there was some one in the house after her; that upon these occasions of restlessness she would say to her maid, ‘Bring me some more powder and I will feel better;’ that she would go to bed and the maid would bring her water and she would put a powder into the glass; that she used to put that into her arm to make her sleep; that during all of this period, from 1881 to 1889, she manifested the greatest affection for her son, and wrote and spoke of him in the most affectionate terms, although his habits had been, at intervals, intemperate; that from 1886 to 1889 he was her constant attendant; that she traveled from place to place in Europe until 1891, when she went to reside with her son and husband in Paris, at 80 Avenue Kléber, where she came as a very ill woman; was so sick that her son put her to bed at once; that she was confined to her bed about two months; that her appearance was one of suffering; always uneasy; that she was constantly in pain, clasping her hands, stretching out her hands, drawing her legs up and down; that she would go to sleep while talking, during a conversation, and would forget from one time to another what she had been saying; was rambling in her conversation and was affected with loss of memory; that her son was her constant attendant, caring for her health and attending upon her needs during this period; that she spoke of him and wrote concerning him in the most affectionate manner; that she left 80 Avenue Kléber in 1892, with her son and husband, and went to Marienbad; that she returned in October, 1892, to 80 Avenue Kléber, her husband having died in the interval; that she continued to suffer upon the second occasion from October, 1892, until June, 1893, as she had in the first instance, with pain and stiffening in the fingers; that she would go asleep while talking, in the middle of her conversation, and was slovenly in her habits and was affected with loss of memory; that she spoke in an exaggerated manner regarding her son and their family, their standing and ability; that her son, during this period, was her constant attendant and their relations were most affectionate; that she left with her son in June, 1893, going with him to Marienbad, returning in October, 1893, to 80 Avenue Kléber; that she had the same aches and pains, the same suffering, as on the other two occasions, appeared weaker from day to day, and was slovenly in her habits and person; that during all of this period her son was most attentive to her and their relations were those of affection; that she was afflicted with loss of memory and would go to sleep in the middle of a conversation, had difficulty in holding her water, and would forget in one conversation what she had said in another; that while in Paris, during the absence of her. son upon short excursions, she cried, and said that she had not any friends any more; that upon one occasion she went upon the balcony of her apartment, overlooking a public street, in the middle of the day, while people were passing, to view a procession, and while there she gathered up her clothes and threw them up over her head; that upon the occasion of her being in Paris at that time she appeared very much more feeble and showed more decided loss of memory; that she appeared at times dazed, as though she did not realize much; that she and her son and his intended wife returned to America, where they were married in New York in April, 1894; that she showed the greatest affection for her son during all this period, was pleased and satisfied with his marriage to the lady in question, and exhibited affection for her; that upon the occasion of their marriage in New York, while residing at a hotel, she would lie in bed while visitors called, and would talk to herself and laugh, and say things that could not be understood; that she would laugh out find say, ‘It was the funniest thing,’-—sort of laughed and talked to herself; that while her son and his wife were absent on their honeymoon she accompanied the daughter of her son’s wife to Chicago, and while there appeared to be depressed, and said upon one occasion to the daughter of her son’s wife, when interrogated as to the cause of her depression, that her son and his wife wanted to get her out of the way; that she returned with her son and his wife to Heidelberg, Germany, in June, 1894, and went from there to Wildbad to recuperate for an operation for a cancer of the left breast; that she appeared much shortened and thinner than she had up to this time; that her legs were bent out, which made a difference in her height; that she remained in Wildbad about eight days with a woman attendant, and that while there she complained of her son and his wife, and said that she did not think that they were as nice as they should be; that she said, ‘You do not know Prank,’—meaning her son; ‘you know, one day he tried to poison me at Carlsbad;’ that she returned to Heidelberg, and that her physical condition was the same as previously; that she was there operated upon in July, 1894, for cancer of the left breast; that she remained in the hospital eleven days, and went from there to Schloss Park Hotel, in Heidelberg", with her son and his wife, where she remained until August 26, 1894; that while at the Schloss Park Hotel the attendant who had gone with her to Wildbad called upon her; that there was food on the table, and the attendant asked her why she did not eat it, and she said she did not want it; that she said, ‘I am so afraid of getting poisoned,— always afraid of getting poisoned;’ that the food on the table had been cooked at the hotel, where her son and his wife were residing; that she did not eat the food, but required food to be brought to her by the woman who had accompanied her to Wildbad from the village; that upon one occasion she asked the proprietor of the hotel if he had observed a large letter sent by her the day before, delivered to the post; that she told him that it was the draft of a will, and that if her son had seen what was written in it he would not have sent it away; that she was afraid she might be poisoned by her son and his wife, but that she would ‘ihnen einen Strich durch die Rechnung machen,’ which, literally translated, means, ‘But I shall make a stroke through their account;’ that after a short time the proprietor of the hotel observed that the woman who had accompanied her to Wildbad brought her soup and meat from the town, and he asked her if Ms cooking did not please her, and asked her to tell him what was wrong and he would try to please her; that she again repeated that she was afraid she would be poisoned by her son and his wife; that she repeated this several times after,—that she was afraid she might be poisoned by her son and his wife; that she was slovenly and careless in her habits, and that while staying at the Schloss Park Hotel she would lie in bed with her person exposed, in the presence of the proprietor of the hotel, and engage in conversation with him for periods of from ten minutes to an hour; that she was never out of bed except the last four or five days before she left the hotel, in August, 1894; that she followed her son and his wife to Paris the next day after they went, accompanied by the woman who had accompanied her to Wildbad; that she was afraid they would take her things; that she would go at once and follow them; that she said, ‘I have a great many things there, and they may take them;’ that upon returning to Paris, to 80 Avenue Kléber, for a week or ten days, she then removed to 26 Avenue Priedland; that she remained there a few days and then removed to rue Freycinet; that she was able to be out from October until the second week in November, 1894; that she took to her bed the second week in December, 1894; that from the first of October to the second week in December, 1894, she refused her fresh eggs, also her milk, which had been her diet; that she would go to her bed, would get up, dress, then undress and go to her bed, all on the same day; that she got up during the night as well-as the day; that after taking to her bed the second week in November, 1894, she was up occasionally until the middle of December, when she was confined to her bed for six weeks without being up, except to be moved while her bed was. made; that she was unable to care for the natural functions of the body without assistance; that at this time, on one occasion, she complained to the woman of the house, ‘Your two boys wanted to see me naked;’ that said children referred to were of the ages of four and six years, respectively; that she said that they came into her bed-room to see her naked, and looked at each other and langhed; that the woman referred to took her two boys to her bed where she was lying, and said, ‘Boys, how did you see her nude, and what have you seen? Tell mamma, and she will not whip you;’ that the boys answered, ‘Mamma, we did not come to the room and we did not see her nude;’ that the woman said to her, ‘Well, you are never without a night chemise, and I always help you out of your bed and help you in;’ that she said in reply, Well, it is so;’ that during this period she had milk brought to her from the Jardín d’Acclimitation, and at once gave it up and took milk from a farmer; that she said, ‘The milk from Jardín d’Acclimitation is very bad;’ that she then took milk from a farmer for two or three days, but would not touch that; that she said it was not good; that when she had been about a week in bed on this occasion she showed a loss of memory; that after returning from Heidelberg, such food as she could eat she prepared herself; that from the time she saw her son and his wife in Paris, after her return to Heidelberg, to the date of her death, she refused to see or communicate with him; that in December, 1894, her son and his wife arrived in Paris, and that on learning of their arrival she begged the woman with whom she lived to take her to Nice, in order that she might avoid her son; that upon the refusal of the woman to accompany her there she begged to be taken to the Latin Quarter of Paris until her son was out of the city, where she would live under an assumed name; that on the 29th of March, 1895, she executed a will; that she was taken from her bed and dressed for the occasion; that she had to be assisted in dressing and placed on a reclining chair, to be ready when the will was executed; that her condition of health was the same as it had been since her return from Heidelberg; that upon the day following the 30th of March she was taken to a House of Health at Néuilly, near Paris, where she was operated upon three or four days thereafter for the removal of ganglions in the left arm-pit, as the result of the first operation; that her health progressively failed from the date of the operation in April, 1895, until she died from the effects of said cancer, in February, 1896. Assuming all of the foregoing facts to be true, state whether or not, in your opinion, the person mentioned in the question was of sound mind and memory on the 29th day of March, 1895?”
Syllabus and headnotes are prepared by the reporter or publisher, not the court, and are not part of the opinion.
