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About The banner of the South. (Augusta, Ga.) 1868-1870 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 27, 1870)
'9 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
