Newspaper Page Text
the sunny south
&(INTH PAGE
Royal Moving"
Cleaning v*
ONDON, March iL—King
L Edward VII haa proba
bly sat for hla photo
graph oftener than any
tnan living, but for
eotae raaion or
other ha haa alwaya
bean ahy about letting
photogra phers Into
Marlborough houa^ the
reatdanca that aaw the
moat of him aa prince
of Walaa, and that la
even now a more per
sonal home for him
than any of the places
that he Inherited from
” his august mother. He
entertained his chums in Marlborough
bouse, but preferred to transact business
elsewhere whenever it was possible.
Across the narrow street at old dingy
3t. James’s Paiace he was prince of
Wales, and, later, king of England. It
Iras there that he formally acceded to
the throne, and thence he was first pro
claimed; but oyer at Marlborough house
he was. as much as possible, Mr. Albert
E. Wettin, real estate owner, sportsman
and gentleman farmer. If any one want
ed to know what the inside of his house
looked like, the distinguished occupant
had to be told and wherefore. Conse
quently outside of the “Marlborough
house set” the general public had little
Idea of the appearance of this famous
mansion, and by the same token it was
only after considerable negotiation that I
was 'enabled to get the accompanying
views of the interior of the place.
The energetic little duchess of Marl
borough, Consuelo Vanderbilt that was,
wanted this house more than she wanted
anything cjse in England, and at one
time some of the dollars that the Ameri
can traveling public has put Into the
Vanderbilt pockets came near being
transferred to the exchequer of the prince
of Wales who occupied the house on some
sort of a lease from the government and
who at that time could have put an ex
tra million to particularly good use. But,
and Spring' House
By CURTIS BROWN
Marlborough Hows*, from which ih. King I* proporlag to mow*
•fl*r hawing mad* it hi* London r**M*nc* for SO ymn
George,” the duke called him—was east
lnglorlously Into the shade. The duke
held the property on a lease from the
crown and when the lease expired In 1817
our old friend George III turned the
house over to Prince Leopold of Saxe-
Coburg, who occupied It until he became
King Leopold I of Belgium, In 1831. Queen
Adelaide, widow of William IV, lived
the present duke of Cornwall and York
probably takes a keen Interest Is an un
commonly good wine cellar. Of late years
the present king has had to be rather
careful of his health owing to gouty ten
dencies and has had precious little to
drink except light German wines and a
trifle of Scotch whisky, but he has as
pretty a taste in wines as any man llv-
they belong to the government, the reign
ing monarch occupies them on a life lease,
rent free, and It Is distinctly understood
that any interior repairs have to be made
at the occupant’s expense. On the other
band, Sandringham. Osborne and Balmo
ral are the private property of the royal
family and the king can do ae he llkee
with them inside and outside and pay
accordingly.
The repairs end bouse cleaning at
Windsor are on so great * scale that It la
thought the castle will not be ready for
occupation for fully a year. Buckingham
palace will not be ready for official oc
cupancy for a long while, either, and In
consequence the court is going to And res
idence at Frogmore house, close to the
mausoleum at Windsor. Hundreds of
workmen have been rushing about there
for the last few weeks bringing the beau
tiful place up to date. Telephone and tel
egraph instruments have been put in and
electric light installed, and everything is
now In readiness for their majesties.
The royal moving fever has even af
fected Clarence houee, the stiff gray pile
next to St. James palace In London.
The late duke of Edinburgh. Queen Vic
toria’s second son, used to have It, and
his haughty Russian widow has Just been
over here to pack up the belongings he
left behind. As soon as It Is put into
good condition the king’s only surviving
brother, the good-natured duke of Con
naught. Is to move In.
CURTIS BROWN.
SAD STORY of First
^ Southern Girl
to Wed Royalty ^
Written for the Sunny South
By JVDSON CARLISLE
T this period when so
his unchangeable love; but events dis
proved bis loyalty. For in less than four
years after his nuptials In Baltimore
hie final abandonment of his faithful
American bride was confirmed by his
marriage to Princess Catherine of. Wur-
temberg. The marriage was celebrated
with great pomp and the open approval
of the emperor. The newly married couple
Immediately proceeded to Westphalia, of
which Jerome had only recently been
made king.
The disconsolate bride and her infant
eon had returned to Baltimore. Her life
embittered and her aplrit envenomed, she
found no satisfaction In living except
In ambitious hope for the offspring of
her treacherous royal husband.
Her love for Jerome was transformed
into hate and contempt. Jerome offeree)
her a title as princess and a dower of
two hundred thousand francs, which she
refused. When he learned that she had
accepted a smaller pension from the
emperor and rejected one from him so
much larger, he requested a reason fop
her doing so. She replied sarcastically:
“I prefer to hide under the wing of an
eagle rather than hang from the neck of
a gosling.” Again Jerome advised her
that she might have a home in West
phalia. She seat him the reply: “Your
kingdom may be large, but' It ia uot
laiga enough for two queens.’’
Her fame for wit and repartee was
international. There was a cutting veil)
of sarcasm and a pithiness of humor
that made her conversation Interesting
by its brilliant and reckless malicious
ness. When she was ruthlessly shut
out from the regal circles to which her
husband belonged it embittered ber
against the democratic herd. Neverthe
less, when she visited Europe she was
the toast of the salons and the center
of attraction In court and diplomatic
circles.
She never saw her husband but once
after he left her at Lisbon. Years af
terwards Jerome was in the gallery of
the Pittl palace, at Florence, when Mme.
Bonaparte was also a visitor. Jerome
recognised her as she silently walked
by. and he whispered to his other wife,
Catherine: "That lady is my former
wife.” The recognition was mutual, but
no words were Interchanged and they
never saw each other again.
Her son developed a wonderful like
ness to his famous uncle, the emperor,
and the fitful history of France was
watched by her to her death in the vain
hope that the revival of the
would reinstate the Napoleonic
and that her son would be accorded bis
Just position in the ‘royil household.
When the republic was overthrown In
1852 and the empire re-established she
made a desperate effort to secure the
recognition of the validity of her mar
riage and the legitimacy of her son. Je
rome entered a plea to the conned of
state demanding that ’’Jerome Patter
son” should be prohibited frota using the
name of Bonaparte. The council decided
that he was a legitimate child and, enti
tled to the name, but did not recognize
him as a member of the royal family.
Mme. Bonaparte lived to the ripe oM
age of ninety-four and her tatter yearg
were characterized by ecoenl I khks liuHt"
merable. By parsimonious economy she
accumulated a large estate, but ber vit
riolic temperament held at “a dtatanoo
many who admired her beauty, virtue
and even her vaulting ambition.
I stood beside her grave only a-few
hours after she was laid to rest end t
could not help contrasting her madly
romantic mesalliance with a royal traitor
with the sweet love matches
made the happy
public.
Bits k nghsm Palec*, tH* town resid*nc* to which th* King sommrhtt reluctantly moves
from Marlborough Mouse
owing probably to a negative from Queen
Victoria, the negotiations fell through
and the money presented by William K.
Vanderbilt to, provide, his daughter with
equitable home In London went for the
purchase of a historic chapel In Curzon
street, which has been torn down, and on
— 1 ~ttl xiievt which a little army of workmen
la ’today laying the foundations-of a pal
ace that shall console the duchess for the
los) of Marlborough house.
And now the king Is preparing to leave
this favored mansion for the vast and
outwardly ugly pile at the farther end of
St. James's park, a quarter of a mile
sway, which Is to be his town residence
henceforth, and Marlborough house Is to
become the home of the prince and
princess of Wales—as the present duke
and duchess of Cornwall and York are
there for a while afterwards, and then the
prince of Wales moved in, when he was
married, in 1863.
Although the house has been considera
bly altered since the first duke of Marl
borough’s day, one of its chief decorative
features still remains, the great series of
mural paintings depicting the old war
rior’s victories at Blenheim, Ramilies and
Malplaquet. There are a good many other
relics of him about the place, too, so we
can readily understand why the present
duke would gladly give half his Ameri
can wife’s fortune for the privilege of
making Marlborough house his home.
The King's Priwat* D*n
For the last third of a century the
prince, who is now King Edward VII,
transacted most of his personal business,
worked up most of his speeches from the
Ing and his cellars have been stocked
with care, and incidentally at considera
bly less expense than would have been
Incurred If he had been a private citizen,
for the royal family imports its wines
duty free.
'Ovwrhaaliittf Windior Cutl*
The late Queen Victoria clung more
tenaciously than her son and heir to the
old order of things, and so It was that
Windsor castle, which is soon to become
the chief official residence of the new
king and queen was. In the matter of
many household conveniences, less up to
date than the average American flat. The
king is changing all that as fast as he
can and the work is being done under his
personal supervision. Separate suites ot
rooms are being provided for the king and
Windsor C*•«!•' in which Edward VII i* maklntf greet chengee before it b*com*s bi* r**id*nc*
to be called after they return from their
tour In Australia.
We may be sure that the king, although
he Is not strong on sentiment, rather
hates to leave Marlborough house, for
he has had some Jolly times there In the
thirty-eight years that he has occupied
It. and the comfortable, easy-going din
ing room has seen some lively little din
ner parties in its day. By the same to
ken, Queen Elexandra will leave the place
without a sigh of regret, for It Is prob
able that her memories of It are not al
together pleasant. If she. could have her
way, she would hasten to Sandringham,
her cherished country home, and stay
there for the rest of her days with her
beloved horses and dogs, and her person
al friends.
Happiest of all concerned, however. Is
the queen’s ambitious, strong-willed
daughter in law, who expects to succeed
her some dav as queen of England. The
timid, shrinking violet is nol the fa
vorite flower of the duchess of York, and
abe has beer, restive enough under the
necessity of bringing up her brood of little
royalties In the depressing surroundings
of St. James's palace, one gloomy wing of
which was the best that she could get
for a royal residence, despite protests,
which It is said, were often repeated to
Queen Victoria, of whom the princess
stood less In awe than any one else in the
family. She has obtained a good deal
of Influence over her royal father in law,
and that may partly account for the fact
that sh* Is about to become mistress of
Marlborough bouse.
Msrlboroofha Had It One*
The duchess of Marlborough wanted
Marlborough house not only because of
Its royal prestige. Its fashionable loca
tion and Its lnterpa! splendors, but be
cause as the name implies. It was once in
the family- Sir Christopher Wren built
It nearly 200 years ago for that first duke
of Marlborough on the strength of whose
valor In the Spanish wars the family
haa been flourishing ever since.
waM a. palace Indeed for those dajs.
and the doughty duke swelled eu‘so roy-
.. (hit the king across the way, of all the Russias, wrote -Nicky.
*j ,Jr Jgy st . James’s—"Neighbor J A feature of Marlborough house In which
notes supplied by his secretaries and dic
tated most of his heavy correspondence In
his comfortable little den in Marlborough
house, at an unpretentious mahogany
desk and seated In a rather stiff-looking
chair that stood uncompromisingly on its
four legs and was unprovided with any
such modem luxuries as swivels or tilt
ing appliances. Since the prince became
king this chair has been his actual work
ing throne, for contrary to his previous
custom, his majesty has had to transact
a large share of his official business at
Marlborough house, and has spent on an
average three hours ot each morning that
he has been in London In this little den.
When the royal moving day comes the
king will probably strip this den bare.
He will take with him, too, most of his
personal belongings up the mall to Buck
ingham palace, including probably the
wonderful collection of precious old In
dian swords and jeweled daggers and
other relics which were given to him on
the occasion of his visit to India, and
which have been brought together into
one room set apart for that purpose.
Included In the five acres of ground
around Marlborough house is a private
cemetery in which rest the bones of Joss,
the queen's pet Japanese dog, who en
tered into his rest more than thirty years
ago, but whose memory is still preserved
by a tablet. Muff, his successor in the
queen's affections, is buried by his side.
Another occupant of this royal burying
ground Is Queen Alexandra's pet rabbit,
and no doubt some of the pets of the York
children are also buried there, for the
lawns behind the high brick wall that al
most hides Marlborough house from view
have always been their favorite play
ground when they are in town.
One room in Marlborough house has
been kept locked for eleven years, ex
cept when the king and the queen made
sad pilgrimage thither. It is the room
that was occupied by the duke of Clar
ence, their eldest son, when he was a
boy, and it remains just as he left It. full
of the things that a boy prizes. On one
of the windowpanes of the mansion the
Ill-fated prince scrawled ’’Eddy,” and
underneath it his boy guest, now the czar
of all the Russias, wrote "Nicky.”
for the queen, a splendid billiard room Is
being arranged for his majesty's pet di
version and the rooms occupied by the
prince consort and left untduched since
his death by the queen's express wish are
being overhauled and redecorated. Elec
tric lights, against which her late ma
jesty persistently set her face, are also
being installed. The private apartments
of the late queen, however, are to be left
exactly as they were. Victoria and the
prince consort hated the smell of tobacco
and their son and heir Is said to have
learned to smoke out In the royal stables.
Even in later years, when he was at
Windsor castle, he had to retire to some
remote portion of the palace to enjoy the
cigar to which he is addicted. All that
is being changed now, and the smoking
rooms are to be some of the most luxu
rious of the palace apartments.
Buckingham palace, to which most ot
the king's personal belongings will be
removed from Marlborough house. Is like
wise undergoing a royal house cleaning,
and it Is as much under the sway of
decorators and paper hangenj as if it
were a plain two-story cottage getting
ready for a new tenant. Queen Victoria
frankly abhorred Buckingham palace and
staid there as little as she possibly could.
Probably the king and the present queen
have no personal fondness for it, either,
but they are determined to make the
best of It.
Like Marlborough house, Buckingham
palace was a ducal property before it
became royal. It stands on the site of
the famous old pleasure grounds that
used to be known as Mulberry Gardens
in the days when Pepys wrote about It
in his diary. The land was bought by
the duke of Buckingham, who built a
palace on it. Later on It was purchased
by George HI for *300,060. Ten times that
sum would not buy the land alone now.
The palace built by the duke of Bucking
ham was greatly enlarged and almost en
tirely rebuilt when Queen Victoria was
about five years old. When she acceded
to the throne Buckingham palace became
her official town residence.
A11 these changes in Buckingham pal
ace and Windsor castle have ip be paid
out ot the king’s own pocket, for while
many aUlances are pro
jected between the
daughters of America’s
financial nabobs ar.d
the scions of European
royalty, the mind nat
urally reverts to possi
bly the first, and un
doubtedly the most fa
mous and romantic,
marriage of this char
acter that the social an
nals of this country
records.
Just a century ago.
lacking two years, Je
rome Bonaparte, the
burner oi -no great Napoleon, was on a
pleasure tour in America. A dashing
captain of the French navy, bearing a
name surrounded by a halo of witchery
which was then exciting the Interest and
awe of the political world, young Jerome
was necessarily a social lion. While his
emperor brother was planning military
and diplomatic enterprises which were
destined to change the political geography
of the world, this unsophisticated youth
was unwittingly succumbing to the win
some wiles of a brilliant and ambitious
American girl scon to become his
estranged wife—a wbman who. It haa
been brasely asserted, would have
changed the fortunes of France had she
been the consort of the emperor himself.
This girl was Elizabeth Patterson, the
daughter of William Patterson, of Balti
more, one of the wealthiest citizens of
this continent. Vivacious, beautiful, ac
complished, ambitious, headstrong, she
was accorded the foremost place among
all the belles who graced the many so
cial functions at the national capital and
other centers in that historic period.
Mutual admiration was the result ot
the first meeting oi Jerome and Miss
Patterson. Soon fhe courtship excited
the attention ot the young lady’s family,
and her father’SSlgRiSBed his disap
proval by sending her away. Separa
tion did not prevent frequent communi
cation between the lovers: and the de
termined young woman made known her
purposes to her irate father by stating,
“I love Jerome Bonaparte, and I would
rather be his wife, if only for one day,
than make the happiest marriage In the
wcrld.” She soon returned to Baltimore
and within four months after they first
raw each other, on December 33d, 1808,
the youthful lovers were married by the
Catholic bishop of Baltimore.
The wedding was an international sen
sation and was followed by festivities and
hospitalities planned on a royal scale. An
extensive tour (for those days) through
the New England and middle states was
signalized by unexampled ovations In the
fashionable world. In the glamor and en-
Ithurfasm of democratic festivities tne
eventuality of royal disfavor was aadly
discounted.
The father of the bride had already re
ceived warnings that the marriage would
rot meet with Napoleon’s sanction, and
that his approval would be necessary to
ary happy or peaceful alliance. _
The brother of the bride was immedi-
atelv dispatched to London and Paris
armed with necessary credentials from
Washington to invoke the aid of our rep
resentatives abroad to effect a concilia
tion -with Emperor Napoleon. James
Monroe, the minister at the Court of St.
James, and Livingston, at Paris, ex
hausted the agencies of diplomacy in
their efforts, but to no avail. Proposals
were made to the emperor that a munifi
cent bounty would be provided for Je
rome. Finally a promised reconciliation
was secured from Jerome s mother and
all the family, except that most important
personage, the emperor, who remained
ominously silent. This silence was pain
fully broken in about four months, when
the emperor sent peremptory orders to
the French consul general in America
to withhold Jerome’s supplies, and pro-
h'biting all French vessels from receiv
ing on board the “young person” with
whom Jerome was consorting. He sent
word to Jerome that if he would return
to France without Miss Patterson "the
error of the moment” would be over
looked. „ _ .
In the meantime the brother, Robert
Patterson, wrote home and warned Eliz
abeth firm coming to France, as the
wrath of Napoleon was very bitter. Be
fore the warning was received the young
couple had already sailed for Portugal.
French and English vessels, which had
for weeks watched for every ship which
might possibly have the young couple
on board, were fortunately evaded.
Jerome left his young bride at Lisbon
and proceeded to Paris alone. History
is merely conjectured a3 to how he was
received. Very soon the young wife left
Lisbon ,under advice from Jerome anu
sailed for Amsterdam in the same vessel
In which she left America, Her vessel,
the Erin was not allowed to land. After
week’s waiting the Erin sailed for
England and the fair but disconsolate
bride was landed at Dover. From thence
she went to London, and on July 7th,
1805 she gave birth to a son. After many
months of harrowing suspense she began
to realize the treachery of her husband.
Napoleon absolutely refused to ac
knowledge the marriage as valid and of
fered a pension of sixty thousand francs
a year for the support of "Miss Patter
son ” as he called her. If Jerome would
persuade her to retire to America and
abandon the name of Bonaparte.
The emperor had already requested the
pope to publish a bull annulling Jerome’s
marriage. This the pope refused to do.
Immediately Napoleon had the Imperial
council to pass a decree of divorce. Je
rome was created a prince of the empire
and advanced to the rank of admiral.
Efforts were made to marry him to a
European princess.
As late as October. 1805, Jerome still
continued to write to his bride avowing.
Duchesa of Bavaria
EW names are graven
on the rolls ot royalty
whose bearers have
elected a life-work oth
er than that to which
their lineage has made
them heirs. The most
conspicuous instance of
this In modern history
Is Dr. Karl Theodor, as
he chooses to be called,
otherwise Duke Charles
Theodore, of Bavaria,
head of the side line cf
the kingdom's royal
house, who has abdi
cated In favor of his
younger brother. In or
der that he may the more completely
give himself up to scientific pursuits. By
rigid devotion to the study of medicine,
and in particular the science of ophthai-
mogy, he has attained such rank In his
profession -that his clinics are known to
scientific men all over the world. These
cClnlcs are conducted Irrespective of
financial considerations, and any worthy*
man can have the benefit of the ducal
doctor’s skill and.knowledge without cost.
It was the Franoo-Prussian war that
first turned the duke’s mind to the pro
fession of a physician. He took an act
ive part In many of the battles, and be
came particularly Interested In the hos
pital service, and at the close of the war
he announced his intention of studying
medicine. Naturally this resolve aroused
much opposition in his family. The
strongest pressure was brought to bear
opon him, but he \va3 steadfast Wil
lingly foregoing his political rights he en
tered the clinic of a distinguished Rus
sian professor at Mentone, whither he
had gone for his health. Thereafter he
assisted at various clinics in Vienna, In
all of nrhich he was noted for his Inde
fatigable industry and patience and
whole-souled devotion to his work. Event
ually he became an independent operator
in eye surgery, In which branch he soon
grlned a high reputation.
Haying given his time, the duke now set
Carl, DuRe of Bavaria, Put
accepter to
Take Up ^
the iScalpel
By
THEODOR
EDWARDS
*
about giving his money to his profession.
On Lake Tegemsee, at the foot of the
Bavarian Alps, he built and endowed a
large hospital. In this building is main
tained one of the duke's famous ophthal
mic clinics, to which the afflicted gather
from far and near. At Munich, Merane
in Austria, and near Mentone, he estab
lished other clinics, spending part of the
year at each. But It Is the hospital on the
Bavarian lake that he loves the best, and
there most of his time is spent. While
spending a few weeks on the shore of the
lake opposite the village In which the hos
pital stands, I became acquainted with
the duke through an accident to my little
brother, who Injured his arm at play.
Asking our hostess tor the best physician
In the vicinity, I received the reply:
"Oh, you must go right over to our Her
zog; he is at the hospital as surely as the
church clock strikes ten.”
Accordingly we rowed over to Tegem
see, and, upon stating the case to a sister
of charity, we were taken Into a room
containing some simple pieces of furni
ture. a few books and various surgical
Instruments In a glass case. After a short
time a refined looking and amiable old
gentleman appeared, and asked in a most
kindly way what had brought us to him.
My brother showed him his arm, and the
amiable old gentleman after having duly
examined it, pronounced the radius brok
en near the wrist, and prepared to band
age It, praising the little fellow much
meanwhile for his manly endurance of
pain, and asking whether all American
boys were equally brave. After my broth
er had been made more comfortable, I
expressed roy great satisfaction at meet
ing & man whom I had for many years
esteemed so highly, but expressed my as
tonishment at his attending to such un
important cases as that of my brother.
The almable old gentleman looked up at
me and said with a somewhat puzzled
“Why, did you ever hear of me before
coming to Germany?” "Most
said I "Who has not heard of Herzog
Karl Theodor, the altruist?”
“Oh,” said the kind old doctor, you
are mistaken. I am not the Herzog, I
am Hofrath Rosner, and have charge
of the hospital when he Is not here. But
If you wish I will take you Into his
rooms; he will be pleased to see you.’
Then I had my first sight of the duke-
doctor. and I was impressed by his grav
ity of manner and a certain air of
thoughtfulness which seemed to pervade
his presence. Dr. Karl Theodor is a
spare, scholarly man. He- Is tall and
decidedly lean, his step and athletic
movement, however, betraying the influ
ence of those manly exercises of horse
manship and hunting to which he Is de
voted in his hours of leisure. His face
is earnest but kindly, his eyes large
and blue with brows prominent and
arched, above which rise* a peculiarly
broad lofty forehead which is, perhaps,
his most distinctive feature. This notable
forehead and the expression of concen
trated attention with which he listens to
what Is said to h’— “bout a case arp
the characteristics which strike the vis
itor most forcibly.
His altogether pleasing and unaffected
manner immediately put us at ease, and
Inspired a confidence that made a begin
ning to our conversation both easy and
pleasant. Afterwards I was under his
care for some little time for an affection
of the eyes, and I thus had a chance to
observe him In his professional charac
ter, and also to note his consideration
and gentleness toward various other pa
tients, manv of them of the peasant class,
some of whom had long needed aid but
were too poor to employ a physician.
Dr. Theodor neither receives himself nor
permits his assistants in his various
clinics to accept material payment of
any kind from his patients, regardless of
their position. Those who desire to do
so can deposit money in a box for that
purpose which hangs in the clinic for
the benefit of needy sufferers.
A helpmate of rare value Is the devoted
wife of Dr. Karl Theodor, who has so
far mastered the details of the clinical
practice as to he to him an Invaluable
assistant. She Is accustomed to spend
certain hours dally with her husband In
his clinic, and bv the peasantry Is regard
ed as a ministering angel. Before her
marriage she was the Duchess Maria
Carl Theodor*! DakaofBevsris
Josefa of Braganza and Infanta of Portu
gal. She Is a beautiful woman, and
singularly vouthful in her appearance as
almost to excite the envy of her own
beautiful daughters. At the clinic she
wears a black worsted dress which,
though perfect In fit, is of the simplest
make. She is an excellent shot, both she
and her husband taking a keen Interest In
everything which tends to keep up and
promote national life. The children of the
ducal household are often sent to take
part In the village festivities and sports,
and the duke offers prizes, and even com
petes himself, occasionally.
The duke's three daughters
for their beauty. The oldes
Elizabeth, recently has been
Prince Albert, son of the count of Flan
ders. and heir to the throne of Belgium,
and another daughter. Princess Marla
Gabriele. Is betrothed to Prince Ruprecht.
son of the heir presumptive to the throne
of Bavaria. She resembles her mother,
whereas the eldest sister resembles
duke. All of the girls have traveled much
and speaks English fluently. There are
two
ters.
Written for THE SUNNY SOUTH
The Royal Stables of Vienna
m
a man or woman born in
the Blue Grass of Ken
tucky there Is nothing
more interesting than his
majesty’s horses and their
apartments. The first Im
pression is disappointing—
there Is nothi/g grand,
spacious or Imposing—our
own stables are often more
luxurious and elegant. But
the Interior Is unique and
most attractive. They are
Wonderfully clean, each stall as careful
ly kept aa a lady's boudoir, and the en
tourage proclaims discipline and order.
Over each horse is the harness or bridle,
dazzling and shining, and the name of
each animal In polished brass lettering.
The stable boys are proud and pictur
esque in their costumes de l’ecurle, with
a manifest air of rivalry- Each horse
has his long and shining mane and tail,
very much clipped. We were amazed
at the length of the tails of the funeral
horses. Their eyes were solemn, mournful,
and their geperal blackness was In har
mony with their particular service. They
had just returned from the funeral of a
noble relative of the royal family—an
aunt in Prague—and we fancied they
looked grief-stricken and subdued. The
coaches are a dead black, a trifle orna
mented in splendid wood carving.
The Arabian, horses are beautiful, with
perfect contour, graceful and gay, always
black or gray In color, with their pretty
manes over their heads. ’’Pomare” won
my heart, such a beauty, carefully
tended and somebody’s darling and pride.
A white kitten was frolicking over her
satiny back, and they were evidently
dear friends and intimates. Cats are
plentiful In these stabled, for their gen
tle Influence, and the most vicious horse
Is said to be kind to the small domestic
animal. The English horses are all
bays, with short tails. They look haughty
and arrogant, with swelling nostrils, their
coats shining and well groomed. Their
Jockey Is lofty, British and most supe
rior.
The guide calls our especial attention
to the Spanish horses—all white or black,
with large Roman noses and absurdly
long tails, tied up and beribboned Uke
the plaits of the Austrian madchen. I
don’t like the eyes of these creatures, they
look mean and treacherous. The hunters
are In their stables, the priceless pets
of the martyred Elizabeth. Their homes
are grand efid luxurious, and on dit,
every horse a grand prix animal. The
empress was always a great lover of
horses, and she owed, probably, her
reason to the distraction afforded her by
her tremendous long rides through the.
many countries, carried away from her
sorrow by her beautiful comforters. She
was a constant visitor to her stables,
end the horses knew and loved her. She
was a daring and perfect horsewoman,
and never more beautiful than when
dashing through the forests of Ische. on
one of ber favorites.
The armories above the stables are
rarely interesting. They are arranged with
much taste, and great, fierce. 3tuffeu
eagles are guarding each collection. They
are so natural, their eyes so fierce and
claws so savage, that one distrusts and
stands aloof. The arms arranged on the
walls, old and strange to my unaccus
tomed eyes, were wonderful indeed. Some
of the swords and fowling pieces were
too heavy for human credulity; but there
were "giants 'n those days.” There were
many recent Inventions, cruel and deadly
—much of the ‘‘machinery” of warfare—
1 for men made weak by modern luxury.
Maxlmilllan’s saddle was a pathetic
thing to our trans-Atlantic and sympa
thetic eyes. It was of velvet (made In
Mexico), heavily embroidered in gold and
mounted In silved. The bridle wasof asort
of rope fiber, like the native lasso, and
mounted In silver; the stirrups heavy and
clumsy—all too heqvy for man or beast.
We have finished the stables and are
Just a trifle homesick with the reminders
of their horses and homes; but this is a
great day on the Prater, and the fine peo
ple and their coaches and splendid horses
will be in parade. We drive through the
ring, past the new theater of white mar
ble, a monument for the centuries. Vien
na has grouped her flue buildings to pro
duce an effect of splendid power In repose.
The parliament house and the park spaces
are very effective and grand. We drive
up the road by the Danube over the
bridge, guarded by Ilona, near the new
opera house, whose unfortunate chief ar
chitect killed himself under the weight of
woe caused by criticism of hla work. The
public found the front too low—and when
too late to alter or to save his life. The
Danube is swift rolling, graceful, beauti
ful, tout never “blue,” unless It borrows its
colors from the sky. In winter the Ice Is
magnificent but a menace to boats, and
there are great gates to control It.
This Is a fete day on the Prater. AU
classes are out today. Punch and Judy,
Flying Dutchman, fair lotteries, the Joy
of the people. Such ugly creatures! Not
a beauty among the women, and the men
coarse and red, with slouch hats and
“beer In the eye.” The harness of the
work horses and mules la elaborate with
hanging brass and many buckles, with a
saddle of skin and a brass curry comb
attached. Our eyes are dazzled with gor
geous epuipages drawn by priceless
horses, proud-spirited and restless. Occa
sionally a handsome woman passes with
high color and blonde hair. The Viennese
ladles have fine coloring and a beautlfdl
charm of manner. The men, alas! are not
so good to look at as their coachmen.
Many of them are splendid creatures,
heavily bearded, unlike the English or
French coachmen. The officers are well
built, well dressed, but even the gran
dees wear the eternal slouch hat, so Inele
gant, though comfortable. We are again
reminded of our distant and dear, faulty
Kentucky.
The English minister in his coach of
ceremoDy goes rushing by, his four horses
taking the road (very English), being
solid—the horses and the minister. Back
to our palace, now a hotel, we drive hi
the garden with the silent, disdainful
goddesses in marble about us. The stair
case Is very grand, with the seven wise
virgins lighting the way with their fa
mous lamps. The prince uncle, who built
this house and proposed to live here, un
fortunately loved his cards, not wisely,
but better than his inheritance. He was
obliged to convert the palace Into a ho
tel (on the canova gosse) not a very
good one. but legendary.
The coffee is remarkably good—strong,
stimulating and moves one to immediate
action. Our last and most vivid impres
sion of Vienna is the horse. We ordered
a carriage, and being departing guests, a
very sorry affairs was sent—old, shabby
and unsafe. Rut oh, the poor beast
which was expected to carry away two
substantial travelers and their substan
tial trunks! There was no time for
another. The poor, miserable creature,
whose bones and general misery filled our
hearts with Indignation and (almost) our
eyes with tears, did manage to drag us
to the station through much labor and
tribulation. We dared not whisper to
him of our own Kentucky—our Blue Grass
Paradise ot Horses’.
/