“Wearied of anarchy, they sought the repose of a despotism. With monarchy, too, came back all the illusions of pomp and splendor, all the tastes that wealth fosters and wealth alone confers. Carew, who had never bewailed his condition when a 'sansculottes,' now saw himself degraded in the midst of the new movement. He knew that he had been born to fortune and high estate. He had heard of the vast domains of his ancestry, from his cradle. He had got off by heart the names of townlands and baronies that all belonged to his family; and though, at the time he learned the lesson, the more stern teaching of democracy instilled the maxim that 'all property was a wrong,' yet now another impression had gained currency in the world, and he saw that even for the purposes of public utility, and the benefit of society, a man was powerless who was poor.
“Alas, however, for his prospects! every document, every letter, every scrap of writing that could have authenticated his claim was gone. Of the very nature of these papers he scarcely retains a recollection himself; he only knows that Madame de Gabriac, whose name I have already introduced to your notice, deemed them all-sufficient, if only backed by one essential document,—the certificate of his father's marriage with his mother. To obtain this had been the great object of her whole life.
“With a heroic devotion to the cause of her friend's orphan child, she had travelled over Europe in every direction, and during times of the greatest peril and disturbance. Accompanied by one trusty companion, Mr. Raper, she had never wearied in her pursuit.
“Probably, if the occasion permitted, the story I could tell of her efforts in this cause would surprise you not less than that of my client himself. Enough that I say that she stooped to poverty and privation of the very severest kind; she toiled, and labored, and suffered for years long; and, when having exhausted every resource the Old World seemed to offer to her search, she set out for the New! Since that she has not been heard of. The solicitors with whom she had corresponded have long since ceased to receive tidings of her. The belief in her death was so complete that her father, a well-known citizen of Dublin, who died two years back, bequeathed his vast fortune to various charitable institutions, alleging his childless condition as the cause.
“I have told you how, originally, my client, then a mere boy, became separated from her he had ever regarded as his mother; I have traced him through some, but far from the whole, of the strange incidents of his eventful career; and it now only remains that I should speak of the extraordinary accident by which he came upon the clew to his long sought-for, long despaired-of, inheritance.
“A short statement will suffice here, since the witnesses I mean to call before you will amply elucidate this part of my case. It was while travelling with despatches to the North of Europe my client formed acquaintance with a certain Count Ysaffich, at that time himself employed in the diplomatic service; and though at the period a warm friendship grew up between them, it was not till after the lapse of many years that the Count came to know that a large mass of papers—copies of documents drawn out by Raper, and which had come into the Count's hands in a manner I shall relate to you—actually bore reference to his former acquaintance,—the casual intimate of a journey.
“These two men, thrown together by one of the most extraordinary chances of fortune, sit down to recount their lives to each other. Beside the fire of an humble chalet, in a forest, Carew hears again the story he had once listened to in his infancy; the very tale his dear mother had repeated to him in the midst of the Alps, he now hears from the lips of one almost a stranger. Names once familiar, but long forgotten, come back to him. The very sounds thrilled through his heart like as the notes of the Swiss melody awaken in the far-away wanderer thoughts of home and fatherland. In an instant he throws off the apathy of his former life, he ceases to be the sport and plaything of fortune, and devotes himself heart and soul to the restitution of the ancient name of his house and the long dormant honors of a distinguished family.
“We cannot,” writes the journalist, “undertake at this late hour to follow the learned counsel into the minute enumeration he went into, of small circumstances of proof, memoranda of conversations, scraps of letters, allusions in the course of correspondence, and so on; the object of which was to show that although the late Walter Carew had some secret reason of his own for maintaining a mystery about his marriage, that of the fact of the marriage there could be no doubt,—nor of the legitimacy of him who claimed to be his heir; neither are we able to enter upon the intricate question of establishing the identity of the present claimant; suffice it to say that he succeeded in connecting him with a number of events from the days of his earliest childhood to a comparatively recent period, all corroboratory of his assumption; the possession of the seal and arms of his family, his name, and, above all, the unmistakable traits of family resemblance, being wonderful evidences in his favor. Indeed, we are not aware of a more dramatic incident in the administration of justice than our court presented yesterday, when, at the close of his seven hours' speech, full of all its details, narrative and legal, the able counsel suddenly paused, and, in a voice of subdued accent, asked if there chanced at that moment to be present in the court any of those who once enjoyed the friendship or even the acquaintance of the late Walter Carew. He was one, continued he, not easily to be forgotten, even by a casual observer. His tall and manly figure, the type at once of dignity and strength, his bold, high forehead, his deep-set blue eyes, soft as a child's in their expression, or sparkling like the orbs of an eagle; his mouth more characteristic than all, since, though marked by an air of pride, it never moved without an expression of genial kindliness and good-humor,—the traits that we love to think eminently national; the mingled nature of daring intrepidity with a careless ease; the dash of almost reckless courage with a still milder gayety,—these were all his. Are there not some here, is there not even one who can recall them? And if there be, let him look there! and he pointed to the gallery beside the jury-box, at the end of which was seated a young man, pale and sickly-looking, it is true, but whose countenance at once corroborated the picture. The vast multitude that filled the body of the court, crowding every avenue and space, and even invading the seats reserved for the Bar, rose as one man, and turned to gaze on the living evidence of the description. It would be difficult to conceive a more striking scene enacted within walls where the solemnity of the law usually represses every semblance of popular emotion; nor was it till after several seconds had elapsed that the judges were enabled to recall the Court to the observance of the rigid propriety of the justice-seat.
“Himself exhausted by his efforts, and really overborne by feeling, the counsel was unable to continue his address, and the Court, willingly granting an indulgence that his exertions amply deserved, adjourned till to-morrow, when at ten o'clock this remarkable case will be resumed; though it is believed, from the number of witnesses to be examined, and the necessary length of 'the reply,' the trial cannot be completed before Saturday evening.”