It was one day in October that a distinguished-looking gentleman of
about fifty-five entered my office, introduced himself as Mr. Crabshaw,
and asked me to take the following case.
An old woman named Nancy Blake had recently died in Virginia, leaving a
large amount of property. This Nancy Blake had lived for over half a
century all alone, and almost entirely secluded. She had left neither
will nor near relatives, and the question was, who is her nearest of
kin? My visitor informed me that long ago he had known of the existence
of an eccentric woman in Virginia,--a great-aunt of his now deceased
wife. Nothing had been heard from her, however, for twenty-five years,
and it was supposed that she was dead; but he had just received
information that led him to believe in the identity of the old lady
Blake with the aforementioned great-aunt. If the relationship could be
established, then his daughter Cecilia would be the true heir. Her claim
had been brought to the attention of the court, and she bad been
informed that there was another claimant. Would I undertake the case?
After a long talk with Mr. Crabshaw, I decided that I would do so. I
agreed to call at his house the next day and have another talk with him,
and also meet his daughter, preparatory to my trip to Virginia.
Mr. Crabshaw, who, as I subsequently learned, was descended from an
English family which had been represented in this country for two
generations only, lived in the famous and once aristocratic quarter of
Boston known as West End. A short residence on our republican soil had
done little to Americanize the Crabshaw family, who lived in true
English style. The household consisted only of Mr. Crabshaw and his one
daughter, Cecilia, and a small retinue of servants, although he was not
possessed of any very large wealth. My first meeting with Miss Crabshaw
was at once a pleasure and a surprise; the first because she was a most
charming young lady, and the latter because she was the original of the
picture shown me a few months before by Christopher Gault. I did not
mention the coincidence, however, but proceeded directly to the business
in hand. Miss Cecilia was an exceedingly sensible and intelligent young
lady and I could get more needed information in ten minutes from her
than in half an hour from the old gentleman.
The last time that I met Mr. Crabshaw before going to Virginia, I
mentioned having met Mr. Gault the summer before.
"You got acquainted with him then, did you? I am very glad to know it.
He is a fine young man--a very estimable fellow, sir. I have always
known the family, and always liked Christopher. As you are very likely
aware, he thinks a great deal of Cecilia, and she is a pretty firm
friend of his. Now that is all very well, sir, as long as they don't get
sentimental, or anything of that kind."
"We are constituted so as to grow a little sentimental when the occasion
presents itself, Mr. Crabshaw," I remarked.
"Yes, yes, I understand, but my daughter knows quite well that there is
no occasion for her yet. I might as well tell you," he continued, after
a pause, "that, although it is nothing against Christopher himself,
there is a streak of bad blood in the family. His great-grandfather
_turned traitor_; yes, sir, _committed treason_ against the
crown of England, and then fled. To be sure," he added, "Christopher
Gault is no more responsible for the crime of his ancestor than am I
myself; but the question of blood is an important one, and these traits
are very liable to crop out; if not in one generation, then in another."
"You believe, then, in the law of heredity as affecting moral
character?"
"Certainly. Physical and mental traits are inherited; why not moral?"
A few days later I was in the city of Richmond, and from there I
proceeded directly to D---- county, where, at the November term of
the county court, I intended to present Miss Crabshaw's claim to the
property in question. Meantime I devoted myself to the preparation of
testimony relating to the case. I visited the place where old Nancy
Blake had lived, situated about twelve miles from D---- court-house.
The property left by her consisted of the old house, fallen badly into
decay, a small amount of land, and a large sum of money deposited in
the bank. Little was known about "Old Nancy," as the few people in the
thinly settled locality called her. The most information that I could
glean was from an old negro who had been her neighbor for the most of
his life. He said that he could well remember her father, who had been
dead for fifty years. He was a man of military look and an Englishman.
His name was John Blake. He could remember nothing about his wife, but
he had at least one son and a daughter besides Nancy. When he was about
to die his son came to see him. He was much older than either daughter,
Nancy being the youngest. Eleanor died not long after, and Nancy was
left alone. She was very eccentric and seldom saw any one.
Such was the story, in brief, as I was able to obtain it from the old
negro.
The details of the case, as it was brought out in court, do not need
special mention, and it will be sufficient to merely state the basis of
the claim.
Although Mr. Crabshaw was very proud of his descent, and traced his
lineage back some hundreds of years, and was very particular to have the
family coat-of-arms always made conspicuous, yet he had married a lady
whose ancestry was not clearly known. Mrs. Crabshaw, who had died when
her daughter was a mere child, was a beautiful and accomplished woman,
whose grandfather, on her father's side, she had never seen, and of whom
she knew no more than that his name was Thomas Blake, and that he died
in the town of S----, Connecticut, in 1832, at the age of forty-nine
years.
The one important thing that I wished to prove was, that Thomas Blake
was the brother of Nancy Blake, and that Cecilia Crabshaw was thus
great-grand niece of said Nancy. The court pronounced itself satisfied
as to this, and Miss Crabshaw was declared the nearest of kin, and hence
heir to the property.
The case had required the presence of my fair client, so she had made
the journey to Washington a week previous, where she visited an uncle,
and came out to D---- county to be present at the hearing.
It was necessary for me to remain in Virginia some little time on
account of other business, and it was arranged that I should see what
could be done towards effecting a sale of the real estate. Accordingly,
soon after the case had been decided, I went out to look over the
premises.
The house was very old, and showed no signs of any improvement having
been made for at least half a century. The furniture was of little value
and there were but few other things. A rusty sword, a few old books, and
some odd trinkets comprised about all. As Miss Crabshaw did not care for
these they were given to a negro woman who had rendered some assistance
to Old Nancy in the last years of her life.
The house itself contained none of those mysterious passages or hidden
closets which the imagination so readily connects with such old
habitations. There was a kind of small locker, however, opening from a
large closet near the ceiling. This little recess contained nothing but
a package of old papers and worthless letters, faded and mouldy. On
looking them over, one in particular attracted my attention on account
of an official seal which it bore. It proved to be a document
commissioning Richard Anthony Treadwell as Major in the Seventh Regiment
of Cavalry in the Royal Army of his Majesty King George III. The date
was June 12, 1793. But who was Richard Anthony Treadwell, and how
happened his commission to be here? A discovery made a few minutes later
served to throw some light on the mystery. Among the few books found in
the house was an antique volume of Shakspere's plays, which, judging
from the thick net-work of cobwebs encircling it, had not been touched
for years.
Curiosity led me to open the book. On its fly-leaf was the inscription:
"A present to Thomas from his father, Richard A. Treadwell." A curious
fact was that this name had been crossed and recrossed with a pen, and
underneath had been written as a substitute in the same handwriting:
"John Blake." The ink used at the _first_ writing had retained its
blackness in a remarkable degree; while that used at the time of the
_erasure_ and _for the substitute name_ had so faded that the
first name was much plainer than the second. The natural inference,
then, was that the father of Nancy Blake and the great-great-grandfather
of Cecilia Crabshaw had, at some time, changed his name from that of
Richard Anthony Treadwell to that of John Blake. Why he should have done
so was an unexplained problem, and whether it was my duty to inform Miss
Crabshaw of the fact or not was not quite evident to me. What I really
did, however, was to put the old document in my pocket and forget it.
The place was soon after sold for a few hundred dollars, and after
attending to my affairs in the locality I returned to Boston, but not
to remain.
A leading lawyer in Washington, an old and esteemed friend of my father,
and a former adviser of mine in the matter of studying law, had offered
to admit me to partnership in a lucrative practice which had become too
large for his advancing years. I accepted, and bade good-by to dear old
Boston.