Chapter 14

The First Consul had their marriage annulled by his council of state, and forced Jerome, who was his youngest brother, to marry the daughter of the King of Würtemberg. Six days after the ceremony the young prince was made King of Westphalia.

Joseph Bonaparte, a brother, one year older than the emperor, was by him invited--or, rather, compelled--to accept the kingdom of Naples in 1806, and the kingdom of Spain two years later.

After Wellington's victory at Waterloo, Joseph, with leave of his brother, quitted France, and coming to the United States as the Comte de Survilliers, he purchased an estate of fifteen hundred acres of land in Bordentown, New Jersey, and settled down to the life of an opulent gentleman and philosophical student. He also established a summer residence at Lake Bonaparte, in the Adirondacks. In 1832 he returned to France to aid in sustaining the pretensions of his nephew, Louis Napoleon, to the throne, and failing in this he went to Florence, where he died in 1844.

Three other Bonaparte princes who crossed the Atlantic were Charles Lucien, Pierre, and Antoine, sons of Lucien Bonaparte, Prince of Canino, and nephews of the great emperor. Pierre--best remembered, perhaps, as the man who shot Victor Noir in a duel--and his brother Antoine were mere transient visitors, but Charles Lucien lived in Philadelphia for half a dozen years. He was a man of quiet tastes, and an enthusiastic student of bird-life. He devoted most of his time to the preparation of a revised and enlarged edition of Alexander Wilson's "American Ornithology." The work appeared in three volumes, from 1825 to 1833, with both Wilson's name and that of Charles Lucien Bonaparte upon its title pages. Before the third volume was issued the prince had returned to Europe, where the rest of his life was spent.

The Two Sons of Murat.

Two sons of Joachim Murat, who married the first Napoleon's sister, Caroline, and was proclaimed King of the Two Sicilies in 1808, settled in Florida a few years after their father was shot by the Neapolitans. Napoleon Murat was of a scientific turn of mind, and took great interest in our educational institutions. He married a grandniece of George Washington, and died in Tallahassee in 1847.

His brother, Napoleon Lucien Charles, came to America in 1825, and married a Miss Frazer, of Bordentown, New Jersey. He went to France in 1848, and received the title of a prince of the imperial family.

In 1836, Charles Louis Napoleon, the late Emperor of the French, was banished to the United States for attempting to gain the throne of his uncle, the first emperor, by revolutionary means. He landed at Norfolk in March, 1837, and then came to New York, where he remained until May, when he sailed for Switzerland to see his dying mother.

Two visits to this country were made by the Prince de Joinville, third son of Louis Philippe, and brother-in-law of the late Dom Pedro, Emperor of Brazil. On the first he arrived in New York in 1842, where he met with a reception due the son of a king of France, who had also been the custodian of the remains of the great emperor when they were brought from St. Helena to Paris.

On the second visit, made in 1861, the Prince de Joinville was accompanied by his son, the Duc de Penthièvre, and his nephews, the Comte de Paris and the Duc de Chartres. He placed his son in the naval service, and accepted for himself and nephews commissions on General McClellan's staff, as the Army of the Potomac was about to resume the march upon Richmond. After the removal of "Little Mac" the prince returned to France.

The Prince of Wales's Tour.

In September, 1860, the Prince of Wales, traveling as Baron Renfrew, with his tutor, the Duke of Newcastle, arrived at Detroit, after a tour through Canada. He received a most generous series of ovations in the United States, going as far west as Illinois, and while in Washington he was the special guest of President Buchanan.

Shortly after the departure of the Prince of Wales we had a visit from Prince Napoleon and his bride, the Princess Clothilde, daughter of Victor Emmanuel II, and aunt of the present King of Italy. This prince was a son of Jerome Bonaparte and his second wife, Catharine of Würtemberg. The couple made many friends during their brief sojourn.

Queen Emma, widow of a former king of the Sandwich Islands, landed at San Francisco in 1866, and, after making a thorough inspection of our religious and educational systems, she went to England via New York.

On January 21, 1870, Prince Arthur, third son of Queen Victoria, who is now the Duke of Connaught, arrived in New York from Montreal, whither he had been ordered on military service. Three days later he was introduced to President Grant by the British minister, and was honored with a grand ball in the Masonic Temple in Washington.

Early on the morning of November 19, 1871, the Grand Duke Alexis, son of the Czar Alexander II of Russia, appeared in his flagship in the lower bay of New York Harbor. His reception was of a dual character: first as an officer of the Russian navy, and then as the son of an imperial father.

Kings and Princes From Many Lands.

Kalakaua, King of the Hawaiian Islands, stepped ashore at San Francisco, in November, 1874, visited our chief ports, examined our industrial resources and capabilities, and endeavored to hasten the negotiation of a commercial treaty between his government and that of the United States.

The Emperor of Brazil, Dom Pedro, visited the United States in 1876, during the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia.

Queen Liliuokalani came to plead her cause after she was deposed from the Hawaiian throne, during President Cleveland's second administration.

The Comte de Paris, accompanied by his son, the present Duc d'Orleans, again came to the United States in 1890 to visit the grave of General McClellan, on whose staff he had served during our Civil War.

In 1893 the Princess Eulalia, daughter of the late Queen Isabella of Spain, and aunt of the present king, came to the United States as the official representative of the queen regent at the time of the World's Columbian Exposition, held in Chicago.

The Crown Prince of Siam, Somdetch Chowfa Maha Vajiravudh, with his brother, who is next in succession to the throne, visited this country on his way home from his ten years' college life in England, in 1902. In that same year the Grand Duke Boris, of Russia, cousin of the Czar, and Prince Henry of Prussia, brother of the German Kaiser, also visited us.

His Highness the Maharajah Gaekwar of Baroda, Hindu prince of the first rank, came to the United States in May of this year. He was chosen ruler when a boy of twelve, and he began at once the careful study of the needs of his state and people. Under his rule the slovenly Hindu town of Baroda became a fine modern city with colleges for men and women, and a technical school.

THE AGE OF THE EARTH.

On this Subject Our Planet Is as Secretive as a Woman, and Inquisitive Scientists Can Do Nothing More Than Guess at It.

The earth is almost as secretive on the subject of its age as is a woman who has passed the thirty mark. Several years ago Richard A. Proctor, the celebrated astronomer, addressed himself to an investigation of the subject, and then wrote as follows:

The age of the earth is placed by some at five hundred millions of years; by others, one hundred million years; and still others, of later time, among them the Duke of Argyll, place it at ten million years. None place it lower than ten millions, knowing what processes have been gone through.

Other planets go through the same process. The reason that other planets differ so much from the earth is that they are in so much earlier or later stages of existence. The earth must become old. Newton surmised that it would lose all its water and become perfectly dry. Since then other scientists have confirmed his opinion.

As the earth keeps cooling, it will become porous, and great cavities will be formed in the interior, which will take in the water. It is estimated that this process is now in progress, so far that the water diminishes at the rate of the thickness of a sheet of paper each year.

At this rate, in six million years the water will have sunk a mile, and in fifteen million the water will have disappeared from the face of the globe.

The nitrogen and oxygen in the atmosphere are also diminishing all the time. It is in an inappreciable degree, but the time will come when the air will be so thin that no creature we know could breathe it and live; the time will come when the world cannot support life. That will be the period of old age, and then will come death.

AN ANTHOLOGY OF THE LINKS.

Flowers of History, Philosophy, and Mendacity Culled by Caddies to the Muse Whose Metrical Feet Have Wandered Into the Debatable Territory That Lies Between Fiction and Fact.

THE FANTOM OF THE LINKS.

By Jessie Pope.

When morning crowns the distant downs With veil of azure gossam; When black bat wheels, and twilight steals The blush from every blossom-- Hist! to a sudden mysterious click, The caddie shudders and shrinks, The scarlet-jacketed heart beats thick-- 'Tis the fantom of the links.

The first was he on the family tree Of canny professional laddies, In Pluto's halls he hungers for balls-- They say he's a weakness for caddies. Hist! when you feel a thrill in the breeze, A whisper that rises and sinks, When there looms a shape by the misty trees-- 'Tis the fantom of the links.

Then fly the green tho' fit and keen To drive like soaring rocket, You'll search till dark for balls you mark-- They're in his intangible pocket. Back from the cliff and the shimmering bay, The dune and the pebble-strewn brinks, Mortal, you'll get the worst of the play With the fantom of the links.

When through the gray the dawning day Slants over gorse and heather, When sun has set and grass is wet. And mist-wreaths twine together-- List to a sudden mysterious click, The caddie shudders and shrinks, The scarlet-jacketed heart beats thick-- 'Tis the fantom of the links.

_London Queen._

THE LOST BALL.

Standing one day on the golf-links, I was weary and ill at ease; And I baffled and foozled idly Over the whins and tees. I know not what I was dreaming, Or where I was rubbering then; But I swiped that ball, of a sudden, With the force of two score men.

It sped through the crimson twilight Like a shot from a ten-inch gun; And it passed from my fevered vision To the realm of the vanished sun; It chasséed over the bunker, It caromed hazard and hill; It went like a thing infernal-- I suppose it is going still.

It shied each perplexing stymie With infinite nerve and ease; And bored right on through the landscape As if it were loath to cease. I have sought--but I seek it vainly-- That ball of the strenuous pace, That went from the sole of my niblick And entered into space.

It may be some blooming caddie Can sooner or later explain; It may be that only in heaven I shall find that ball again.

_Smart Set._

GOLF IN CACTUS CENTER.

We were propped against the 'dobe of that joint o' Poker Bill's, When a tenderfoot was spotted, actin' queerlike in the hills; He'd a ball of gutta-percha, and was puttin' in his licks, Jest a-knockin' it to glory with a bunch o' crooked sticks.

Well, we went up there quite cur'us, and we watched him paste the ball, 'Til a itchin fer to try it seemed to get a holt of all. And at last Packsaddle Stevens asked to give the thing a swat, And we gathered round to see him show the stranger what was what.

Well, the golfer stuck the speroid on a little pile o' dirt, And Packsaddle swiped and swatted, but he didn't do no hurt. He barked his shins terrific, and he broke his little stick, And when he heard a snicker his guns came out too quick.

We dropped behind the cactus, with some holes clipped in our clothes, While the golfer for the sky-line wagged his checker-boarded hose; And when we took home Stevens and three others that was hurt The golf-ball still was settin' on its little pile o' dirt.

So we ain't no new St. Andrews, and we hope no golfer thinks He can cut loose here in Cactus with a set of oatmeal links; We go in fer games that's quiet, and stir up no blood and fuss, And down in Cactus Center poker's good enough for us.

_From an Old Scrap Book._

WHEN MACLAREN FOOZLED OUT.

The links were bright and bonny wi' the tartan and the plaid When the pride o' Skibo village met the best St. Andrews had; The play was fast and furious, and sair the ball was thwacked, And in the final test o' skill one point Maclaren lacked.

The caddies stood wi' bated breath, and every face was set, For not a man was in the crowd but had his siller bet; And one lad cried, as wi' his stick Maclaren loomed up tall: "Hoot, mon! now show 'em hoo Old Skibo kills the ball!"

The gowlfer lookit at the sky, and then doon at the dirt, And cannily he weighed his stock and loosed his plaided shirt; He slowly planted both his feet, and then replanted each, And dinna doot he swung his arms as high as he could reach.

Grim death at just that moment would have been Maclaren's wish, For the atmosphere resounded to that mighty empty swish; His stick flew like a rocket, but, alas! the wo decreed! The ball rolled two feet sickly, when it just lay doon and deed.

Oh, somewhere in our bonny land the pipes skirl all the day, And somewhere lads and lassies shout, and men are passing gay; But we are dour in Skibo, and no joy is hereabout, Since the day when, like one Casey, our Maclaren foozled out.

_Denver Republican._

THE LOST GRIP.

It was a joy to be alive, When I could always see My golf-ball, from a slashing drive, Go soaring off the tee; When, as my lowered handicap Fell ever nearer scratch, I held my own with any chap In medal play and match.

Then foozles never made me groan; Then, gripping like a vise, I swung my club; then all unknown Were top and pull and slice; Then all my deft approaches sped Directly to their goal; Then all my longest putts lay dead, Or fell into the hole.

Oh! cruel Fate that bade me look, On one ill-omened day, Upon the pictures in the book Of Vardon's hints on play! For, though I quickly laid it by, That one unlucky dip Into its pages made me try The overlapping grip.

Now all my fingers are like thumbs, My club turns round and round; And divots, as it downward comes, Fly upward from the ground. My golf-ball skips to right or left A few short yards and stops; Or, with its surface deeply cleft, Into a bunker drops.

And though I swear and fume and fret, My efforts are in vain; And, what is worse, I cannot get The old style back again. So now with sighs and tears and frowns I curse the diagrams That cost me numberless half-crowns, And ah! so many--regrettable comments.

_Punch._

THE WORLD'S GREAT OPERAS.

Wagner's Rienzi--No. 1.

This is the first of a series of articles upon the great operas of the world offered to the readers of THE SCRAP BOOK. To the out-of-town devotees the echoes from stageland sound only remotely as they are given forth by the press. Moreover, the critics deal with the specific production, not with the opera itself in relation to the history of music, or the conceptions of the composers. It is our purpose in these articles to look at the opera from a different point of view, and to glimpse the minds of the great men who have developed the art of the music drama. Even those familiar with the subject may find new light here.

Rienzi.

The fourth opera written by Wagner. The first three, "The Wedding," "The Fairies," and "The Novice of Palermo" are scarcely known to-day. The music of "The Wedding" was never completed; "The Fairies," although finished in 1833, was first produced in 1888, five years after Wagner's death, when the theater at Munich obtained sole rights for its production. During the tour season it is still frequently placed on the boards of that theater, with all the scenic appurtenances of an operetta. Neither Wagner himself nor the admirers of his later work could claim for it any strong originality or power.

"The Novice of Palermo" had only one performance. That was conducted under Wagner's own direction, in 1836, in Magdeburg. The best comment upon this occasion was made by the succeeding performance, when the audience consisted of three persons--Wagner's housekeeper, her husband, and one Polish Jew!

After this discouraging event, Wagner abandoned Germany for Paris, and there wrote his five-act opera, "Rienzi," which was shortly afterward accepted by the Dresden Theater. Its success was immediate and brilliant, and this notwithstanding the fact that its performance lasted six hours.

The opera is still occasionally produced in Germany, but it is practically unknown to the lyric stage in the English-speaking countries.

Wagner.

Born in Leipsic, in 1813. He was a child of tastes and enthusiasms, but of no apparent genius. He loved philology, history, and mythology; but, most of all, he loved the drama. His early associations were musical, and at the age of sixteen he resolved to become a musician.

During his period of apprenticeship he wrote a few concert pieces, but his love of drama led almost at once to his real vocation--the opera. In 1836 he married an actress, Minna Planer, who, despite beauty and a talent for her art, and despite a faithful nature, failed to comprehend Wagner's genius, or to make him happy.

For twenty-five years they struggled to appreciate each other, then separated. Wagner subsequently married Cosima, daughter of Liszt, and divorced wife of Von Bülow. The union was one of ideal happiness.

Argument.

The scene is laid in Rome of the fourteenth century, when the patriot, _Rienzi_, is leading his insurrection against the nobles. The first act represents a street riot, occasioned by the patricians, under _Orsini_, who have scaled _Rienzi's_ house by a ladder and are seeking to abduct his sister, _Irene_.

While _Irene_ struggles for freedom, a rival faction of patricians arrives, led by _Colonna_, whose son, _Adriano_, is in love with _Irene_. _Adriano_ fights his way to her side and protects her. Then, in the midst of the disturbance, _Rienzi_ appears and the crowd scatters.

A prelate, _Cardinal Raimondo_, asks _Rienzi_ how soon he is going to begin his warfare upon the nobles, and _Rienzi_ replies that when he hears a long trumpet-note sound across the city the hour will have come. He turns to _Adriano Colonna_, and fervently beseeches him to forsake his party and to join the popular cause of Roman freedom. Remembering _Irene_, _Adriano_ pledges his loyalty to _Rienzi_.

He is then left alone with the beautiful girl, and they sink into the tender ecstasies of love, till they are roused by the ominous sound of the trumpet-call which heralds the uprising. The day dawns, and within the church the organ and chorus simultaneously break out to greet it.

Borne in by the populace, _Rienzi_ arrives. The people seek to crown him king of Rome, but the only title he will accept is that of tribune. A great composite voice rises from the piazza, swearing vengeance on the nobles.

_Rienzi's_ cause triumphs, and in the hall of the capitol the patricians are forced to do homage to the victor. Goaded by wounded pride, _Orsini_ forms a conspiracy to stab _Rienzi_ during the festivities which are in preparation.

_Adriano_ hears the plot, and warns _Rienzi_, who consequently wears, when he appears at the festa, a steel breastplate.

This scene commences in an abandon of joyousness. The crowd cheers a pantomime, and knights fight in tourney.

Suddenly _Orsini_ presses his way to _Rienzi's_ side, and draws his knife. But _Rienzi_ is saved by his breastplate. He sentences all the nobles to death, and the festa ends in tragedy. But _Adriano_ pleads for his father's life, and finally _Rienzi_ pardons all the conspirators on their oath of submission.

The third act is ushered in by alarm-bells. The nobles are again in insurrection; the people clamor for _Rienzi_, who appears, swearing to exterminate the faithless patricians. He goes out to victory, and presently the body of _Colonna_ is borne past his son, _Adriano_, who forthwith deserts _Rienzi's_ cause.

_Adriano_ finds his opportunity for revenge in confirming a story which gains credence with the fickle Roman populace; he declares that _Rienzi_ is a traitor to his country, and meant himself to become a noble through the marriage of his sister with _Adriano_.

_Rienzi_ appears in a procession, marching toward church. As he places his foot on the steps, a malediction sounds from within the sanctuary. _Cardinal Raimondo_ steps to the door and pronounces upon him the ban of excommunication. The nobles have won victory for their cause by an alliance with the Church.

In the hall of the capitol, _Rienzi_ prays that his work for freedom may not be undone. _Irene_ and _Adriano_ enter, and _Rienzi_ begs them to flee together from danger. But _Irene_ refuses to desert her brother's cause. The noise outside the besieged capitol increases.

The scene shifts to the open square, where the populace, deaf to _Rienzi_, who from a balcony seeks to address them, sets fire to the capitol. _Adriano_, darting in and out among the mob, sees _Irene_ arm in arm with her brother, within a huge flower of flame which curls about them.

Through the fire he rushes toward her; at that moment the capitol collapses, and he is caught with _Rienzi_ and _Irene_ in its ruins. The nobles turn upon the people, and with drawn swords cut them down like blades of grass.

WHERE ROOSEVELT USED THE PHRASE "THE STRENUOUS LIFE."

In speaking to you, men of the greatest city of the West, men of the State which gave to the country Lincoln and Grant, men who preeminently and distinctly embody all that is most American in the American character, I wish to preach, not the doctrine of ignoble ease, but the doctrine of =the strenuous life=--the life of toil and effort, of labor and strife; to preach that highest form of success which comes, not to the man who desires mere easy peace, but to the man who does not shrink from danger, from hardship, or from bitter toil, and who out of these wins the splendid ultimate triumph.

Theodore Roosevelt in a speech delivered before the Hamilton Club of Chicago, April 10, 1899.

SYMBOLISM OF PLAYING-CARDS.

Soldier Arrested for Shuffling the Pasteboards in Church During Divine Service Won His Liberty by Convincing Magistrate That They May Be Utilized as Pages of a Prayer-Book.

If the devil invented playing-cards, as more than once has been asserted, he was a very cosmopolitan devil; for cards have been used in every country whose people were intelligent enough to play with them. There is evidence that the Egyptians played cards in the days of Joseph. Later, the Hebrews brought cards into Palestine when they returned from the Babylonian exile. The Chinese played cards at a period when western Europe was a wilderness inhabited by wild beasts and prowling barbarians. In India the pack contained ten suits, each being symbolic of an incarnation of Vishnu.