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Jmi
“l scorn to fly like a criminal or an
assassin!’ 7
“Fool!’ 7 ejaculated the other. “Your
obstinacy will mar all, and bring your
head to the block. Do you not compre
hend that a storm will burst forth, upon
tho dead body of the Baron being discov
ered? My kinsman was in favor with
the Emperor. An inquiry will bo at
once set on foot, which will be fatal to
you.’ 7
“ But I am innocent, ” reiterated
Frankc.
“That is of little import; appearances
are against you. Do not hesitate. For
my cousin’s sake, I conjure you too seek
safety in light. 77
Ilerberger was loth to follow the ad
vice of his guilty companion, who, cun
ning and crafty by nature, did not fail
to make use of every specious argument
be was of a serve his purpose,
until, at length, he succeeded in per
suading Frank© to seek safety in digit.
The latter returned to Wiesbaden, and
made his father acquainted with the fatal
issue (f the conflict. As the bitter
tend between the houses of Iforbergers
niid Altenfeldts was but too well known,
and would, doubtless, be brought for
ward as a proof of Franke’s gulit, his
father wisely determined upon sending
him away. Consequently the young
man was constrained to be at hide and—to
seek for several successiv e weeks. This
afforded ample opportunity for Gilbert
to toil his own story. He boldly declar
ed that the Baron had been slain in an
unfair fight by young Ilerberger. This
version of the tale gained universal cre
dence. The Emperor issued orders for
the arrest of the fugitive. A reward
was offered to any one who might be in
strumental in bringing him to justice.
For many months, however, Franke suc
cceeded in eluding the vigilance of his
enemies. At length, however, his
whereabouts was discovered. He was ar
rested, and put on his trial the chief wit
ness against him being the gulity Gil
bert, who postively swore that he saw
the sword of Herbcrger pass through the
body of the ill-fated Baron. In the days
of which we are writting, justice was not
very impartial; and the scales she is sup
posed to carry were not all times evenly
ballanced. Poor Franke was found
guilty upon the charges upon which he
had been arraigned; and although there
never was at any time any pretence that
the case was either murder or homicide,
he was condemned to death. While
these events had been taking place, poor
Odelia was subject to a species of per
secution which was ardious and well-nigh
insupportable; her cousin Gilbert pester
ed her with his attentions, and declared
that the Baron, her father, had express
ed a wish that he should be her husband
end protector. But, despite his machina
tions, the guilty wretch was not destined
to triumph or reap any benefit from his
iniquity. A short time before the day
appointed for the execution of Franke
Ilerberger, anew light was thrown upon
the matter. A Jew peddler came for
ward and deposed to the fact that he was
traveling over the mountains with his
wares, on the night of the murder, and
he distinctly saw Gilbert slay the Baron
Von Altenfeldt. An inquiry was set on
foot by order of the Emperor, and the
Jew gave so circumstantial an account
of the events on the night, as toindece a
free pardon being granted to Franke
Herbcrger' together with an order for the
arrest of Gilbert. Two days after this,
the body of the last named was found
floating on the surface of the Rhine, the
guilty man having, in a fit of despair,
thrown himself from the recks. It will
perhaps be needless to say that Frank
and Odelia were married; and, for many
years afterward, it was asserted that the
form of the old Baron was to be seen af
ter nightfall, hovering round St. Jerome’s
Cross.
From the New York World.
NAPOLEON IN HOBOKEN
REMINISCENCES OF THE EMBRYO EMPEROR
IN HIS DAYS OF EXILE —HIS HABITS
AND HAUNTS —THE STUDENT AND WRI
TER —POLITICAL ASPIRATIONS AND FEEL
INGS — CONFIDENCE IN HIS STAR.
A few years ago it was announced
through the newspapers that a present
of a golden chalice had been sent by Na
poleon lll—the Emperor of the French
—to the llev. Fr. Cauvin, of Hoboken.
Many no doubt care but little to inquire
the motive of this freak of generosity—
expressions of gratitude it should be
called. The ruler of France no doubt
has many faults, but a lack of grati
tude, since he has obtained means of
showing it cannot be fairly imputed to
him. Since rising to his present dazzl
ing position he has never been unmind
ful of benefits received in the hour of
adversity, and of this the above-mention
ed present is an instance. I was sent
the good father in return for kindnesses
and hospitality received at hands in the
swampy town of Hoboken, when Na
poleon 111. was a wanderer in America,
poor, and comparatively friendless, not
knowing often where to get a bed or a
breakfast, in unhappy days of his youth,
long before the covp d'elat , when he
was plain Louis N. Bonaparte. The
good Catholic Priest of Hoboken can
even now in his declining years be made
to light up and sparkle into something of
the bygone French vivacity of his youth
when the name of Napoleon 111. is men
tioned. He has many anecdotes of the
modest and somewhat taciturn young
man—even then so fond of smoking—
whom he received often at his house, and
who often sat at his board and drank a
bottle of his modest claret, before import
ed wines reached the exorbitant figure
they have to-day. The writer has often
seen the French Emperor riding on
horseback with his guard, in an open
barouche with the Empress, or saunter
ing apparently alone in the gardens of
the Tuilerics,
CONTRAST.
What a contrast the biVcolored, to
bacco-stricken. pallid countenance of the
ruler of 70 with the reins of an empire
in his hands, and that small gray, pas
sionless eve, that never "learned orbrigh
tened, and seemed capable of but one ex
pression, and that as if it was never look
ing at anything near, but straining and
peering at something in the distance—
the heavy, long nose—the heavy-jawed,
sensuous, but clever mouth—the square,
rather low forehead—the long body—big,
laborer’s hands—the stumpy, bowed
legs and small feet—the square set of
the shoulders, to which a short thick neck
attaches a head covered with auburn
hair—what a contrast to the young man
who spent so many years of his life a
wanderer and an outcast in America.
And yet the man has changed but little
iu reality since he ascended the throne;
and instead of speaking of contrast, we
perhaps could note more marks of simi
larity between Napoleon 111. of the
Tulleries and Louis N. Bonaparte of Ho
boken.
SKETCH OF THE YOUTH.
He was then as now taciturn with
strangers to an embarrassing degree, but
with any with whom he was intimato and
whose confidence he relied on, he was as
free of speech as man need be. He was
never then without his cigar or cigarette
and was fond of smoking ou the streets
or in a ramble on the Bergen Heights,
lie was never weary of admiring the
view of the Hudson, Staten Island, Long
Island, and the Bay, that was to be ob
tained from a spot here and there. One of
the greatest privations of his royal or
imperial state is that which compels him
on so many occasions during the day to
forego his cigar. Os his own will, it
would never be out of his mouth.
HIS RESIDENCE IN IIOBOKF.N.
He lived in Hoboken at a time when
Hoboken had not attained its present
dimensions, and did not even seem like
ly to rise at any time from its quiet
duck like rest on the sea shore, to ex
pand its wings over the swamps to the
beyond—when in fact it was a mere
village and nothing more. Ilis abode
was for many years on Bloomfield street,
or what is now Bloomfield street—in
quarters of no preteusons to aristocracy
or even gentility. His rooms was on
the attic of a large frame building, the
first basement and first floor of which
was occupied by stores, and the interven
ing stories by mechanics’ boarkiug and
lodging rooms.
The room looked to the east. There
were no decorations on the wall but such
as the plain boards afforded, and no furni
ture except a small iron bedstead, three
chairs—two small ones and a kind of
arm-chair, in which he sat when he
wrote.
HIS WARDROBE
was of the scantiest material, and some
time he presented as sorry a specimen of
seedy gentility as you need look at, in
worn-out and thread-bare coat. How he
succeeded in appeasing the wants of the
inner man was a mystery that soon at
tained solution in the neighborhood
when he was seen under cover of night
to steal out and buy some loaves of bread
at the adjoining baker’s.
WINE AND TOBACCO.
He always managed—how, few could
tell—to have good bottle of wine in his
room, and never to be out of tobacco.
Ah! this inveterate smoker—nephew of
his uncle—-in this respect, too, how dif
ferent from the man who drew the smoke
of the Persian ambassador’s chilbook
into his etomach, and was laid up for a
week in consequence of that solitary at
tempt at smoking.
A FAVORITE HAUNT.
He was the very best customer of a
litttle Alsatian Frenchman named Sang-
fMIfSgS If fll WiMl
lot, who kept a tobaccco store opposite
him, and many a discussion took place
between them. Napoleon, who is, per
haps, in temperament the least of a
Frenchman of all men to-day living,
seemed to take huge delight in drawing
out his excitable neighbor on topics that
were likely to excite him.
It was amusing to see even then the
quiet mastery with which the young con
troller of men, because controller of him
self, preserved his empire in discussion
with his white headed but highly irras
cible opponent. Os all things under the
sun, M. SaDglot loved the exiled Bour
bon family, and though he could not
hate the Little Corporal who had done so
much for France, yet he found much dif
ficulty in reconciling his love for the
Bourbons with the hero of L >di and the
conqueror of Austerlitz.
And the contradiction in which he in
volved himself so unwittingly gave in
tense amusement‘to the quiet young
man, who puffed away at his cigar with
scarcely a change on his countenance, if
we except a gleam of laughter lighting
up the small, expressionless eyes. His
favorite lounge of an evening, for a
long time, was into the Alsatian’s to
bacco store where would sit, a I’Ameri
caiu with his legs cocked upon a chair,
for hours, plunged in reverie, or draw
ing out, by the most suggestive and
brief questions, ail the little French
man’s information on any topic they
conversed nn. At this time lie spoke
but litttle English, and notwithstanding
his subseque it residence here, and for
many years in England, he cannot be
said to speak English well. He inherits
we imagine, a little of his uncle’s inap
titude for the languages—though not
his contompt for men of letters and
literary pursuits. Perhaps in his younger
days, with the great Napoleon, he would
have passad for one of those “man
geurs de mots’ 7 whom he so heartily de
spised,
He was then as now, fond of billards,
and many an old table in Hoboken, re
novated and redressed and repainted can
claim the honor of having rolled balls
impelled by his cue.
A STUDENT AND WRITER.
He was thon as he has ever since con
tinued a very hard student—never let
ting dissipation interfere with his read
ing and his writting—of the latter he
has done a vast deal iu his life time and
has had a good deal, witness his life of
Cm?ar, ; done for him and so skillfully re
touched that it will readily pass for his
own. And it is no easy matter to imitate
his style, so terse, epigrammatic, and
telling. His worst enemies as a ruler
cheerfully concede his merits as a writer.
In fact it would be impossible not to ad
mire his pointed and brilliant way of
saying things, in his speeches, proclama
tions, and in fact in everything distinc
tively waitten by himself. He is, it is
true, the most laborous corrector of
manuscript—except, perhaps, M. Thiers
—in the French empire- As many as
twelve or fifteen times has a word been
put in or left out, a sentence remodelled
or altered wiihout satisfying the Em
peror’s literary taste. During his stay
in Hoboken ki3 pen was not idle a whit
more than it has been since.
HIS WRITING DESK.
in the very elevated quarters he occupi
ed, was made with his own hands, which
understood the use of the saw, plaue and
chisel as well as artists who boast more
of their skill in this matter. It was
kept sacredly in Hoboken by an admirer
of the Emperor until within a few years,
and then sold under the auctioneer’s
hammer for a very low sum, it being
impossible to persuade the bidders that
his august Majesty, the present Em
peror of the French, could have ever
been so good a mechanic as to make it,
and hence they believed it was an effort
of the auctioneer to practice on their
credulity. Yet there it was, a bona fide
genuine emperor-made desk of
plain pine wood, held together by a few
nails and covered on top with a piece of
green baize.
HIS DIARY.
During his stay in Hoboken, and in
fact nearly all his wanderings, he most
assiduously kept a diary in which only
the most leading occurrences of his daily
life are noted down, but in which every
reflection of any importance on govern
ment or war that passed through his
mind, or came under his notice are most
carefully noted down. Mere gossip,
Boswellian, Ac , are most carefully es
chewed, or rather omitted, because pos
sessing no interest for a man who when
uncertain as to where be should get his
breakfast, found a more pleasing topic
of thought in planning out an empire
than listening to the craving ol his
stomach.
LITERARY CONTRIBUTIONS.
Besides his “journal” he was an inces
sant exponent of I'idee Napoleonienne
m newspapers, magazines and reviews—
nay, even books. He made it the rule
of his life, when not in exile, to spend
two or three hours daily in writing, and
he carried it out with the pertinacity of
purpose that characterizes him beyond
all men of his age—a pertinacity that
ouldnotbc shaken by defeat, or, what is
harder to bear, ridicule.
YOUTHFUL URBANITY.
There are many old residents of llo*
boken, and even of Hudson countv gene
rally, who remember him quite well, and
there are several French families in Ho
boken with whom he has lived for spells.
They delight just now to recall incidents
of his ways, his sayings and his doings.
You can find none of them to speak of
him as bein<* other than a young man
calculated to win the respect if not the
love of all with whom he came in contact.
If, as has been alleged, he was never
known to say an angry word in his life
time to any one, his urbanity when he
was young was sometimes exquisite. Or
dinarily taciturn, when he entered into
conversation it was done with such an
apparent frankness and abandon as to
win all hearts. And. then there was
nothing at all of that self-assertion which
at many times has been fouud so disagreea
ble a trait iu his uncle.
HIS STAR.
_On one thing all agree, and that is
his outspoken belief that he was the
predestined ruler of France. He has de
clared repeated in his moments of confi
dence, to men here on whose word most
implicit reliance can be placed, that he
was sure that “at some time a Bonaparte
would be again ruler of France, and that
he was that Bonaparte.”. He set him
self to work laboriously to train himself
lor his destiny, as if he was already gov
erning . France. One of his favorite
books in English was “Adam Smith,”
and of our American writers and states
men he entertained a very high opinion
of Hamilton. In truth, one of his favor
ite walks was to the famous duelling
ground of Weehawken, where Hamilton
fell in his encounter with Burr. Os
Washington he never could be found to
entertain a high opinion; and this per
haps is not singular. To his subtle and
scheming, if not brilliant mind, there could
be nothing very great in a man like
Washington, whose greatness was of char
acter, aud not of intellect. Major-Gene
ral Nathaniel Green was, he thought the
soldier of our Revolution ; aud the states
manship of the movement, when fairly
agoing, lie credited to Franklin and
Hamilton. At the time he was, or pre
tended to be, a most thorough going Re
publican—and we hardly think it fair to
question the honesty of his then profes
sions in view of his subsequent changes
of opinion and conduct.
LIBERTINISM.
No one denies, or attempts to deny, that
lie was as fond of women then as he is
now, even in his old age; but his libertin
ism was never coupled with too deep po
tations, as in Bismark’s university aud
wild oats’ days. Os cards, he never was
fond, and is not to-dav fond of the
insane freaks of dissipation related to
his rival perhaps because his blood never
ran hot or high enough.
EARLY RISING.
Laying in bed of late in the morning is
not a luxury 7 that the ruler of France
in the Nineteenth Century could well
indulge in, and from his boyhood Napo
leon has been such an early riser as if
he were impressed in the highest degree
with the truth of the old rhyme.
“Earlv to bed and carlv to rise,
Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.”
A long stroll through Hoboken to the
Elvsian Fields—over the ferry sometimes
to New York—an ascent up the hundred 1
stairs to that part of Jersey City called
Washington Village, then a beautiful and
extensive wood. There are many living
who can relate the pleasure of having
enjoyed it with him, and in view of com
ing and actual events take great delight
in telling of it.
I’HOTEL NAPOLEON.
One of his fsvorite resorts was a tavern
well known to the pleasure-loving llo
bokenese, since called “L’Hotel Napo
leon.' 7 It was kept at the time by a
Frenchman, and was a favorite resort of
the small French colony in the town.
AN EMPIRE AT STAKE.
One evening they were all playing
piquet —and drinking quite freely. At
last the company 7 , among whom Bona
parte's opinions were well known, and
by some not a little ridiculed, began dis
cussing politics. The talk ran high. At
last, one more excitable than the rest,
wagered heavily, the wager to be decided
by a game of cards—“that a Bonaparte
never would never ascend the throne of
France.” Qualify it by saying, “Be at
the head of the French Nation, and Til
take you.” said Louis. “I'll take the
as you put it first,” said a f t ; ( n q
of the Emperor's. He won it, and to day
the winner occupies one of the most lu C - a ’
tive inferior positions in the Irnper
gift in the Department of the
“And now I wager you all the money I
have, 77 said Napoleon, when the bet w a <
won, “that I will be, before I die, at th'
bead of the French Nation as the chvi
pion of Democracy, and that I will
the l ight construction in the interest ( ,f
humanity and civilization to niv uncle -
prophecy of 1821, at St. Helena
sixty years Europe will be Republican or
Cossack.” “What do you mean by rir»ht
construction ?” asked one.” You have
to take my wager as I offered it,” re .
sponded Louis.
Here there was some wrangling and
at length he explained that by “the%i<rht
construction” he meant “republican.”
The wager was taken for a small amount,
lost, won the second time, lost the third
time, wen, won, and won—four games
of piquet out of six.
CHARLESTON (S C)CORRESPONDENCE ;
OF THE BANNER OF THE SOUTH.
Charleston, S. 0., August 17th, 1 >7O,
Lear Bannor:
The belief that many of your readers :
would be pleased to learn how affairs arc
progressing in the “City by the sea,” !
has induced me to jot down a few items
in the hopes that you will “prent ’em.'’
The weather has been quiet warm and
many of our citizens have left for the
fashionable watering places of the north
—the votaries of pleasure for Saratoga
and Long Branch, health seekers for
the Virginia Springs. The former will
have the honor (“honors .are easy”) of
meeting Grant, whose motto is “by
these presents greeting,” and witness
Bonner display his dexter- ity on Mon
mouth race course. The latter can for
get the care and turmoil of life in the
enjoyment of grand mountain scenery,
and invigorating atmosphere, drink at
the “fountain of health” and be made the
recipients of Virginia’s far-famed hos
pitality. Apropos of watering places.
Why will Carolinians go North when
they' have such a splendid summer resort
at Sullivan’s Island? where they can have
surf bathing scarce equalled in America, a
glorious sea breeze fresh from the
broad Atlantic, and within but a few
miles of the city. The close of the war
found the Islaud with scarce a house left
standing, all sacrificed to the red de
mon ol bloody 7 strife, but during the
past three years quite a numb r of fine
residences and places of retreat h rve
sprung up, and if affairs iu Caro
lina prosper, and we have every rea
son to suppose licit they will, Sul
livan's Island will present attraction
such as it did not possess even in its pal
miest days. Steamers leave the foot of
Market street several times during the
day, under the surperintendeuce of
John H. Murray, Esq., the polite and
efficient Agent or the Company.
The political thermometer has run up
to fever heat—and the politicians are in
a feverish state of anxiety. The friends
of Bowen aud DeLarge, the rival aspi
rants for Congressional honors (?), arc
waging a fierce war against each other.
The adherents of DeLarge, aided by
Doctor R. K. Scott and his organ in this
city, are making strenuous efforts to defeat
Bowen. A skirmish takes place at nearly
every meeting. The famous T. J. Mac
key 7 who, while a member of Council,
indulged in the innocent pastime of Pis
tol shooting at one of the regular meet
ings—(T. J. was fertile in reports and
resolutions, and on the night in question
the members objected to hearing a volu
minous report he wished to make,
whereupon he drew a Navy*Revolver and
fired at random the report was then heard)
--scatters the seeds of discord in
every asssemtdage of the Bowen fac
tion. So far Bowen has the inside track.
His campaign is ably managed, the
affable Tim Hurley, who claims that his
people “vote early and often, and who
when arranged as a great lobbyist exclaim
ed: “Thank God my constituents can t
read,” is chief manipulator. The enem’.ty
existing between the rival clans is
characterized by the most unrelenting
hatred. To defeat Bowen the other wing
would be willing to see a Democrat elect
ed. Let them fight it out. “If Cassio
kill Rodrigo Ac.”
The success of the Reform Movement
is a fixed fact. The predjudice it at
first met with from many of our peep.e
has been overcome, and if the citizen
only discharge their duty 7 , the Ides <>t
November will behold Carolina, ‘-redeem
ed, regenerated and disenthralled.
What true Carolinian can withold his sup*
port from a movement endorsed and ad
vocated by' such sterling, seif-sac; .a-ing
men as, Kershaw, Bonham, Com wo
Garey, Ilagood—the venerable Chic:
Justice Duuk'ii, Shannon, V aid lav. an)
I others, whose names occupy au honored