River Falls journal. [volume], November 09, 1911, Image 6

About River Falls journal. [volume] (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1872-2019

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HEN a king’s love is mentioned,
"w MJ t tlle mind flies t 0 the morgan
"W W j atic.
/ «» S 1D Amer}ca the word has
f~~7 AAI been misused for seemliness in
. J yjW mentioning the usual heart as-
V- fairs of royalty, but it Is an ex-
i|[jj Ki act term of purely German
KBy ]r I genealogical law, and means a
: yj illh 7 I legal and binding marriage that
I " J does not raise an un-royal wife
to royal rank.
Now, if a false morganatic
marriage is the easiest thing imaginable and a
true one disadvantageous but quite possible,
low shall we sufficiently admire an emperor
■who lifts a little countess to be empress beside
him? Add an unstable throne, new in itself,
newly mounted, in sore need of royal alliances;
add the bitter opposition of his family, the
laugh of the world, the contempt of statesmen,
and the estrangement of partisans; make the
beloved one a foreigner completely unpopular
with his people, and you will have the ele
ments of Napoleon Ill’s heroism in loving
Eugenie.
Few kings since Cophetua have loved like
this.
Among so many royal loves that lacked de
votion, it shines like a star.
It begins with a gypsy at Madrid. Eugenie’s
mother, a widow, camarera mayor to the
-queen, lived in her own house in the Plaza del
Angel.
One day—Eugenie being thirteen and a tom
boy—they refused to take her in the Prado
carriage promenade, which, with the opera,
still remains the common ground where poor,
proud families meet the great ones of Madrid
as equals. The Countess de Montijo clung to
iher carriage and her opera box.
.Alone, Tomboy Eugenie was sliding down
the banister. She slid too strong, banged
against the fly-screen front door, and fell inani
mate. A gypsy woman, passing, took the girl’s
head in her lap and brought her to. Then she
I’.oofcefl attentively at her and said:
"The senorita was born under the open sky,
the night of a battle.”
“What!” exclaimed the countess, returned
with the carriage. She was struck by the
truth of the words. Thirteen years ago, at
•Granada, an earthquake had forced them to
■camp a night in the garden, and Eugenie was
rthere prematurely born.
“What will be her future?” asked the super
stitious mother.
"She will be queen,” said the gypsy.
The prediction was bold, and beauty only
could lift the thirteen-year-old girl to its
realization; but beauty had already done much
•for that family.
So dreamed the mother. She herself had
‘been a really poor girl, daughter of a British
subject who had failed in business in Malaga.
His name was Kirkpatrick, and he had long
been American vice-consul. He had married
one of two beautiful sisters, yet still poorer—
see how hereditary beauty will force its way,
•through four generations, from its unadorned
self to a throne!
The first was a poor Spanish girl, Gallegros,
whose sole possession was her beauty. Gre
vigne, French wine merchant of Malaga, mar
ried her and had two lovely daughters; and
two foreign consuls, French de Lesseps and
Scotch Kirkpatrick, lifted them by marriage to
-the first rounds of the social ladder. F-om the
De Lesseps alliance came the “grand Frauscais”
of Suez and Panama: but Kirkpatrick’s wife
gave him a daughter of such rare charms that
a Spanish grandee, with a place at court
and of considerable family, married her for
Jove.
He was a duke, a marquis, a viscount and
-a baron, but the title by which he had been
■known to the world was Count de Montijo.
He had two daughters fairer yet than mother,
grandmother or great-grandmother, and he
died. Eugenie was one, her sister Pacca was
the other.
On the thirteen-year-old girl the gypsy’s pre
diction made a formative impression. Con
firming it, as she grew up she saw her elder
sister Pacca (Maria Francisca) make an un
precedented match even in that family. Pacca
caught the rich and mighty Duke of Alva.
Higher than the Duke of Alva could only be a
king.
Eugenie, growing up, refused brilliant Span
ish offers; first the Duke of Ossuna, then the
rich and handsome young Duke of Sesto.
Sesto in truth inspired her with “a certain
■sympathy and admiration. He was so attrac
tive!” But it was not love. Deep in her heart
she loved a dream prince, the unknown of the
gypsy, endowed by her girl’s fancy with a thou
sand charming attributes. She smiled at the
absurdity of it. Where could such a prince be?
Yet she held off from all other suitors.
When her mother took her to Paris her
heart leaped at an unexpected premonition.
The handsome, dark-browed, careworn man,
still young, who, as French president, received
at the Elysee, became a romantic figure in her
eyes. Eugenie wished to attend a presidential
reception. Her mother hesitated. It would
make them ridiculous with the mildewed smart
set.
“But my father was an officer of the great
Napoleon,” said Eugenie, and she had her way.
The priace-president, weighed down with the
Woodpeckers Are Deceived
JHummlng-of the Wind Over Telegraph
Wires Sounds Like Insects
Inside the Poles.
How far the woodpecker’s good work
outweighs his bad work is discussed
by the Apartment of agriculture in a
bulletin just issued by W. L. McAtee.
The bulletin is an interesting volume
for bird lovers, being illustrated with
■colored pictures of the birds, many of
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dangerous and complicated details of his plot,
was struck by the girl’s beauty. That evening
he sought her out a second time. He was
touched and flattered by the romantic interest
she showed in his person and his cause. The
beautiful girl stuck in his mind. He felt as if
he had always known her. He knew that he
would meet her again.
Eugenie felt the same mysterious attraction.
“Ah, would that I could help him!” She
thought of the lonely prince and his risky
ambitions that were being laughed about in
Paris as an open secret. At the moment of
the coup d’etat she fairly burned with anxiety.
She dashed about the little flat like a tigress.
“What can I do?” she asked herself. “What
can I do to aid him?”
That night Napoleon received a letter. It
was from a romantic, inexperienced girl, but
ardent and sincere. It gave him her good
wishes and audaciously offered him all she
possessed should his projects need ready
money.
After December 2 it was the Empire in fact
if not in name. Napoleon gave hunts like a
sovereign, at Fontainebleau and Compiegne.
At these he met again the beautiful Spanish
girl, fearless horsewoman, tireless dancer. He
remembered above all her letetr written in
that dark hour of his wavering chances.
His love at first sight for Eugenie was soon
noticed, showing itself full-blown in the most
open attentions. The girl and her mother had
continual invitations to Compeigne and the
Tuileries. *
Napoleon soon found the uselessness of
throwing his handkerchief at the beautiful
foreigner.
Yet he felt —he knew —that she loved him
passionately. It was a desperate situation for
the girl, and his heart swelled with love and
pride and admiration of her. Once Eugenie
and her mother were bidden to a parade re
view at the Tuileries. In the courtyard Napo
leon drew up his horse under the windows of
the first floor to salute the ladies. He wished
to dismount and go up to them.
“Mademoiselle,” he said, addressing Eugenie,
“which way shall I take to get to you?”
“He was almost as new to the Tuileries as
any of us,” told the Eugenie of eighty-three
years. “He did not know his way about the
palace.”
“Sire,” she called down to him, “you must
come by the way of the chapel!” As a fact
the corridor leading to the chapel was the
shortest route to these rooms, but Napoleon
understood her hidden meaning. Again, one
afternoon at Compeigne, when the flower of
the brand-new emperor’s court was idling
around his vingt-et-un table, she made the sit
uation clear to him. Seated at Napoleon’s
right, she consulted him from time to time as
to her play. She found two picture cards in
her hand, counting twenty out of twenty-one
possible points. “Stand on that,” said the em
peror, “it is very high.”
“No,” said Eugenie, “I must have all or noth
ing!”
Every morning old Jerome Bonaparte, his
uncle, last surviving brother of the great
Napoleon, would arrive, confidential, flattering,
giggling and a-gog with bad insinuations:
them showing the destructive work of
both woodpeckers and sapsuckers on
trees and buildings.
Mr. McAtee says that the general
good done by the woodpeckers largely
outweights the harm. The birds nest
as a rule in trees that are already
dead or dying, and in their attacks on
the live trees they rid the forests of
some of the worst insect tree pests
and get the sort of boring and other
insects that ordinary birds cannot pos
sibly reach.
It is not generally known that wood
peckers in some regions do material
damage to telegraph and telephone
lines, boring the poles until they are
so weakened as to break off in a wind.
They are known to bore the sort of
holes they habitually make hunting in
sects In sound poles where there is not
a trace of insect life. It is thought
that the humming of the wind in the
wires attracts them, sounding like in
sects inside the pole. In Texas, Ari-
“Have you got her?” ,
Hoary old sinner, unrepentant of his deser
tion, fifty years ago, of his true American wife
in Baltimore, he had the court ladies in full
slander of Eugenie before Napoleon had made
up his mind, and he exercised a diabolical in
genuity in trying to prevent an honest mar
riage.
Those first ladies of the Second Empire had
extraordinary manners. One evening, at Com
peigpa, when Eugenie was going in to dinner
on the arm of Colonel de Toulongeon, a slight
confusion permitted him to whisk Eugenie
ahead of Madame Fortoul, wife of the minister
of that name.
“How,” exclaimed, audibly to her cavalier,
“do you permit that creature to push
past me?”
The next morning Mlle, de Montijo, with
tears in her eyes, stood on the terrace apart
from the others. It was no ruse to attract
Napoleon’s sympathy, the girl saw her prince
hero disappearing in a nightmare of hateful
gossip. Napoleon, who had sought her, asked
the cause of her sorrow.
“I must leave Compeigne,” she faltered —
and told of the slights and insults to which
she was subjected.
The emperor listened to the beautiful girl.
Then, when she had finished, he tore a green
string of ivy from a park tree, deftly twisted
it into a crown, and said loudly—that all might
hear —as he placed it on her head:
“Wear this one—meanwhile.”
It is a twice-told anecdote, but, as it was
Napoleon’s proposal of marriage, I see no way
to omit it. He never actually asked her hand
—he took it. Not another murmur arose from
the court ladies. At once they flocked around
Eugenie
It was another matter, however, for Napo
leon to force his choice on the statesmen and
soldiers backing his still risky empire. Opin
ions were divided on what royal alliance he
should make. Some were for a princess of
Sweden: some for a Braganza. some for the
Hohenzollern. Then, suddenly, Napoleon,
speaking of Eugenie, sprung the mine by say
ing, “There is no question but the right of
hand.”
“No question but the right of hand!” The
words ran through his backers like an alarm
of fire. One with the strongest hold upon
Napoleon—De Persigny, his minister of the in
terior —was sent to tell him in the name of all
that it would not do.
De Persigny, mixed up with Napoleon in
many an adventure, had kept his old-comrade
liberty of speech. He joked hbout Napoleon’s
admiration for Eugenie; surely the emperor
must amuse himself. When he noticed that
Napoleon’s face grew stern, he rose to fighting
arguments, brutally accumulating proofs and
reasons why a marriage would be idiotic, both
dynastically—and otherwise. He sneered at
the Montijo title; brought out the grandfather,
Kirkpatrick, bankrupt Malaga raisin merchant;
and then he took up Eugenie’s roving life,
“What was the girl doing here in Paris?”
“Did you ever hear of the young Duke of
Sesto?” asked De Persigny. “Did you ever
hear of Merimee?”
"Merimee Is a great writer,” said Napoleon.
"Surely—for he writes Eugenie’s letters to
you!” laughed De Persigny. “Mother, daugh
ter, and newspaper man sit round the table
and concoct the beautiful letters that you cher
ish. Really, it was not worth risking the coup
d’etat to arrive at that!”
What a triumph for the aged lady to recall
Napoleon’s steadfast love in face of both policy
and slander! It was always known why Eu
genie hated De Persigny, Prince Jerome and
the Princess Mathilde. She could forgive po
litical counselors who pressed the royal prin
cesses upon Napoleon; she could not forgive
the powerful ones who sought take away
her character behind her back.
Napoleon heard them all alike. He answered
nothing. Fould and most of the military back
ers. with Edward Ney and Toulongeon for
their spokesmen, formed rapidly “The Clan
of the Lovers.” In vain did Mathilde drag her
self at Napoleon’s knees, begging him to re
nounce a marriage that would be the ruin of
them all. The emperor had decided. “You will
give a great ball to announce the engagement,”
zona and New and Old Mexico the a’
tacks of woodpeckers on telegrap 1
poles have been extensive and serious
and the Southern Pacific has suffered
a great deal in this way.
The bulletin states that it is bad
policy to kill the birds, as the good
they do the forests largely outweighs
the harm. One method of protecting
poles or anything else attacked by the
birds is to furnish them with a ready
made nesting box. These boxes are
made from a short length of natural
limb with a hole bored fur th® nest
he said to his weeping cousin. And she did It
Napoleon acted toward Eugenie with chival
rous loyalty. He laid before her all the disad
vantages of the brilliant yet uncertain posi
tion he was offering her. He explained to her
his unpopularity with the old French aristo
crats, the bad will of certain great powers, the
possibility of his being assassinated by some
secret ociety of which he had become a mem
ber in his adventurous youth. There were hos
tilities even in the army, in his opinion the
most serious danger; but he could cut them
short by declaring a war.
“I would not have it otherwise,” she an
swered. “I will take my risks beside you. So
may I be worthy!”
As a queen she lacked dignity. She had
not been born to the solemn self-appreciation
of royalty; and she was a mixture of lightness
and austerity, generosity and sense, kindness
and indifference, in which the transitions
were abrupt and disconcerting to French order
liness.
Alone among the sovereigns of Europe
Queen Victoria had received her cordially;
more, she had taken up Eugenie and imposed
her on the courts of Europe. Yet even at
Windsor, where the imperial couple were re
ceived with extraordinary pomp, Eugenie’s in
souciance threatened to play her a bad turn
that would have illustrated her un-imperial
attitude.
A quarter of an hour before they were to be
received by Victoria and her beloved consort
in the throne room, Eugenie discovered that,
among the hundred trunks of the French visi
tors, hers alone had not arrived! The em
peror was deeply mortified that the discovery
should have been made so late, as showing
lack of discipline and serene orderliness, and
on his advice Eugenie had already begun to
pretend a headache due to suppressed seasick
ness when one of her ladies dared to offer
her a choice of gowns.
A blue dress of the simplest description
seemed the only one that promised well. Great
ladies and maids fell upon it deftly, and In a
few minutes the blue gown was readjusted
the empress. So Eugenie—without jewels,
flowers at her corsage and flowers in her hair
—appeared before the British court in her own
dazzling beauty. She made an immense suc
cess.
What most touched Victoria’s heart, it may
be told, was the pathetic and pretty way in
which the young couple spontaneously confided
certain doubts and fears to her as an expe
rienced matron and mother of eight. They
had been married two years, and as yet there
was no heir. When the little prince-imperial
was born, one lady only was permitted to be
present with the doctors and the serving
women all the time. This was the Countess of
Ely, Queen Victoria’s intimate frletd, sent over
from England to help along.
As had been done for the King of Rome, it
was announced in advance that should the in
fant be a boy, cannon would fire, not twenty
one times, but a hundred.
It happened after midnight, and the Paris
ians, awakening, counted the cannon-shots.
When they got past twenty-one, the Parisians
rolled over in their beds and yawned: “Well,
she is lucky!”
The bigamous old Jerome had bitterly per
secuted her as an Interloper. His son, Plon-
Plon, her hater and detractor by inheritance,
was not persona grata with Eugenie. So Na
poleon, who enjoyed smoking cigarettes with
the reprobate father of the present pretender,
Victor, was forced to visit him secretly. One
day, some time after the marriage, he fame,
sat down, and said:
“Prince, does your wife make you scenes?"
“No,” replied the husband of Clotildi , the
daughter of Victor Emmanuel.
“There is no living with Eugenie,” sighed
Napoleon. “The moment I give audience with
another woman I risk a violent quarrel.”
“Crack her on the side of the face the next
time she makes you a scene,” suggested Plon-
Plon.
“Don’t think of it,” exclaimed the emperor
“You don’t know Eugenie; she would open a
window of the Tuileries and cry ‘Police!’”
To the end women took advantage of this
breezy independence, natural exuberance, and
ineradicable unconventionality of Eugenie tc
lay traps for her. Hers was a continuous per
formance of the Lady walking amid the rout oi
Comus. Among others, Mme. de Metternich
wife of the Austrian ambassador, seemed tc
have vowed Eugenie’s destruction. Once, at
Fontainebleau, she almost led her Into going
to the races in short skirts.
"My dear Pauline,” someone asked her
“would you jounsel your own sovereign tc
get herself up fn short skirts?”
“That is different,” replied the Metternich’
“my empress Is a royal princess, a real em
press, while yours, my dear. Is , . . Mademol
selle de Montijo!”
Was she only Mademoiselle de Montijo?
Did she not keep her w’ord: “So may Ibe
worthy!” to the Empire and to France?
Twenty years later, in her dealings with
Bismarck after the Franco-Prussian war, Eu.
genie had practically concluded a treaty while
refusing to concede “an inch of French terri
tory.” The Republicans, taking the deal out of
her hands, agreed to the loss of Alsace and
Lorraine.
he ends of the section are cut dlag*
'nally at right angles to the length of
he limb so that it can easily be fas
tened with two nails, top and bottom,
upright to the side of a tree or pole
to be protected.
* —— -
A Contrary Cass.
“Don’t you think it is ndd that you
have to pay for batteries in electric
lamps?”
"Why so?
“Because they talc* lhe tP
h»Ye then? charged,*
WHAT’S THE MATTER
WITH YOUR BABY?
The young mother—and many an old
one, too—is often puzzled to know the
cause of her child’s ill nature. The
loudness of its crying does not neces
sarily indicate the seriousness of its
trouble. It may have nothing more the
matter with it than a headache or a feel
ing of general dullness. It cannot, of
course, describe its feelings, but as a
preliminary measure you are safe in
trying a mild laxative.
Nine times out of ten, you will find it
is all the child needs, for its restlessness
and peevishness are perhaps due to ob
struction of the bowels, and once that
has been remedied the headache, the
sluggishness and the many other evi
dences of constipation and indigestion
will quickly disappear.
Don’t give the little one salts, cathar
tic pills or nasty waters, for these will
act as purgatives, and they are too
strong for a child. In the families of
V
W. W-‘“W
You cannot expect to have clean
clothes if you do not use clean
water.
Nor will you get rid of the dirt,
without injuring the clothes, if you
do not use good soap.
Lenox Soap is good soap.
Lenox Soap
“Just fits the hand”
Idaho Public Land
Water Right $50.00 per Acre
IN TWELVE ANNUAL INSTALMENTS
The Wood River Project began its annual run of water for irrigation on
March 29th, 1911. There has been no interruption in the service sinca
the run began. There is no shortage of crop on this project this year.
Some Things You Can Find on Wood River Project
Your choice of 20,000 Acres of new land. The best water right any
where. Markets for everything you can raise. Good fruit land. Sheep
and hogs to feed and feed for all of them every year.
Good Dairy Country
Market for one million pounds of butter. Market for all the chickens
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complete and fully tested by two years use. Ample water, splendid soil.
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IDAHO IRRIGATION COMPANY, Limited
Wnfe me a personal letter RICHFIELD, IDAHO
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In numerous finishes and styles, each the 1
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Ask your dealer to show you his line of Rayo Lamps and SW, >
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How Much of Your 'BadLuck' is Due
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only laxative given is Dr. Caldwell’s
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recommend it especially for the use of
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