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THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, THURSDAY, MARCH 3, 1898. 20000000000000000000000000 Marie Jos 0000000000000000000000000 March = Vg LML commonphace . announce- 1th of ‘@ man well known all over California is the strangest story; a story that begins in Par f a century ago and ends on a farm far out here in the West; a story dealing: Wwith Emperors and | Princ political sit- 1 of the apoleon’s time, with - and intrigue, with youth and nd vows broken and vows re- ending - in poverty and st 5 o 2 SACRAME Bx-State O O Benator Josey at his O D home néar ti morning. O 0 He came ity from O O “France in 1833, and was the ploneer O o ore nere. . In 1 he was O 0 ame of the Asse o| © following sessien served o O ate. : he served four O | O years at the head of the State Fish 0 O and Game Commission o O Mr. Rou member of a O C- noble nis full o o o o o ° [ [ [ o [ o | summer with Joseph Routier, it was understood that you would issue, in wns: and the French tants tripped over in their anxiety to set on the and his as: each other's he: serve Routie gue | "It was a princely, more than that, it was a beau ul hospitality. But it ame to an end—and so, unluckily, did Routier’s fortune. The civil records of Sacramento | County show that in 1866 Joseph Rou- | tier received from the estate of L. L. Folsom a deed to the land which sub- sequently made him rich, and later on | left him in poverty. The first mort- | Sl A NATIVE FRANCE. He Chose America as His Place of Banishment Because Another Choice Meant Death. your name and his, invitations to a congenial company, and that all to- | gether you would descend upon your host. There was room for all of you, | and if the great dining room could not modate the whole party, tables Poor Madame Charles Marie Joseph Timoleon de Bullemont! Her father was the senior member of the Royal Guard to Charles X. He accompanied the exiled King of France to Cherbourg in 1830. He wore upon his breast the insignia of knighthood. He passed his last days upon the bounty of a nation whose people respected him for the re- lations he bore to one who was once :(heir King. And his daughter has been | compelled to seek refuge in a place for | the homeless. Proud Madame Timoleon Routier de | Ridge Hcme, Where Mm e. Routier Must Spznd Her Da ys a Recipient of Charity. d old age and the hapless lot v left todive out her rem- | s a dependent upon the angers. very way sthe friends of e nator Routier speak his name there lation of the dead man’s cha »seph Routier was one of tho whom wealth meant merely en means, not an end. His genero was incapable of harboring a money; the pos ion of it eemed in his mind only by the .r made of it. And that whole life 1s the expres sentiment in the matter— spending of it, freely were re use its owr with unstinted, ungrudging ope handedne This was Joseph Routie: creed as aplified not alotie by faith, but by works. Up in the miost fertile part of the Sacramento Valley s a country- estate that is still known a: Here Joseph Routier and his wife lived as a marquis and his noble lady might bt lived th the ancient regime, before even the first Napoleon had been heard of. Madame Routier was clever, well educated, a. delightful musician. Al the latest music found its way up to “Routier's.”” Monsieur, the husband, was a man of the world, a connoisseur of the good things material and im- | is between the s = r gage bears date of September, 1894. It | is made to Willlam Land the present | Mayor of “Sacramento, secures $18,500, | angd is signed by Joseph and Leonide | Routier. | In January, 1897, there transfer which completes the story. 1e parties, and for and in consideration of $10 what was once a principality pa to an un- willing owner, is another | 1t | his loan. The fine orchard, farm that Routier had spent thirty years in improving, the home endeared to him as the place where his man- hood had been spent, where, practi- cally, his life work was embodied, pass- ed out of Joseph Routier’s pos ion. And the man who had once been the genial lord of all took his place meekly on the.lower rung of fortune's ladder, and, like Hardy's Mayor of Caster- bridge, gave his services for hire to his suc T. Joseph Routier's days were ended here. One evening in the early part of Februa from the po: office at Patterson’s road house, his horse became unmanageble, | and as he turned through the gateway over which there is an arch bearing the word “Routier,” the vehicie in which MME. TIMOLEON CHARLES MARIE JOSEFH ROUTIER DE FULLEMONT. From a portrait in the possession of her granddaughter. 1 material of life. An epicure and a man | of taste, his table was ordered and served in the way that makes catering a fine art. And this, as well as any | other of the good things of life, in Sen- | atar” Rontier's possession, was at the service of his friends. . Who can num- ber them? “At least, who could have numbered them In the days when the | spirit of the old Fremch hospitality | reigned supreme in the modest West- ern chateau up in the Sacramento Val- |food for the few sad years remaining la¥2{ If you weére bidden to spend the !l he rode upset. The old man was thrown violently to the ground, and though he | afterward regained consciousness, he survived his fall but a few days, and | was soon laid to rest. S g I And Madame Routier? Madame Routier last week became | an inmate of the “Ridge Home,” an asylum for aged waifs, who, homeless and penniless, find here shelter and who was compelied to | accept the security he had taken for | the beautiful old | when returning home | | Jadin, | tions surviving him to this day, has be- Bullemont, whose grandfather was a | royal governor under the same King | and who wore upon his breast the dee oration of the Legion of Honor and the Cross of St. Louis, is now a humble | occupant of a house of charity. Madame Timoleon Routier de Bulle- | mont, the niece of Godfrey Louis Jadin, | the celebrated French artist, and | | Here Deserted Home and Honor for His Sake, and Now Eats the Bread of Charity. The history of this woman's life reads like a work of fiction. Whether the in- cidents of her wonderful career have been preserved in oral transmission by those in whom she had confided frag- ments of her strange past, or whether gleaned from her own account of them, they are abundant in romantic and adventurous features and carry with them all the passions of the heart. There are two accounts to be given. The one comes from the whispering echoes of that mysterious chamber without lock or key, where family skeletons revel and reveal secrets of their keeping. The one tells of an un- holy love, of children born in unlawful wedlock, of a deserted home, of social ostracism,and a life in exlie. The other comes from the lips of Mme. Timoleon Routler de Bullemont herself, and pic- tures just the reverse—two lives of sa- cred devotion, a love constant and pure, a hearthstone without stain, and a family name that Is her boast and pride. PP S e ' Just at the time when the tragic events of the French Revolution were drawing to a close, on the evening of the very day when Louis Napoleon is- sued the memorable decree which ex- pelled from France the ex-Representa- tives who resisted and denounced the proclamation of December 2, 1851, there were assembled at 16 Rue d’Assas a company of young men. They were in the main representatives from the French conse tories of art, most of them being painte sculptors and musiclans. But there was also an at- tache of the General Assembly, a porcelain D , and the man from whom this story takes its source, Timoleon Charles Marie Joseph Routier de Bullemont. This merry company young men were drinking to the health | yresentatives whose ban- ishiment had been proclaimed and post- ed that very day on the walls of Paris. They did more; they shouted lustily for the republic. “Lopg. live the republic!” “Long live the constitution!” “Down with Bona- parte, the t‘ral(m’f" they cried. The | sound of their revelry reached the ears of a passing commissary of police, their arrest ‘followed, and hardly had the echoes of their patriotic shouts died | away before the prison van backed up of the ex-R JOSEPH ROUTIER From a porirait in the possession of a g THE LATE SENATOR TIMOLEON CHARLES MARIE DE BULLEMONT. randdaughter living in Sin Francisco. | The Woman Whom He Married |ing. Altogether, it was not a satisfac- tory one. The elder, who was the clerk, rebuked his brother for the part he was evidently taking in the revolu- tion. The younger chafed under the censure, and the brothers parted that night in anger. Joseph being left alone, for the first time made a survey of his surround- ings. The cell he occupied was small, dark and dismal in the extreme. Th= only light he had struggled in through the iron grating which formed a little window in the door. The walls once JOSEPH ROUTIER, BY NAPOLEON’S ORDER, AN EXILE FROM HIS seph Routler de Bullemont will be bet- ter off in America.” He said no more and Mme. — knew that there was no hope. ties broke with the dawn of the day. Mme. — had left the palace and was just entering her carriage when she heard her name called in a whisper. Lookfhg around she saw Joseph Routier de Bullemont. She motioned to him. He quickly entered her carriage and -they drove away. Next morning Mme. — sought another interview -with the Emperor. “Why do you take such an interest in this man? You have a husband and a family,” the Emperor said when the purpose of her visit was made known to him. She made no reply and simply stated that Routier de Bullemont had accept- ed the terms of the decree which made The festivi- | S DEATH REVEALS A LIFE'S ROMANCE have come to secure from you a bi- ography.of yourself and Senator Rou- e - ' The poor old eyes filled with tears at the mention of that name. But con- quering her distress. Madame Routier listened to the questions, to which the following statement is her answer: “My malden name was Jadin. My father was a bodyguard to Charles X. In 1830 he accompanied the King to Cherbourg. He was afterward retired on half pay. My grandfather was gov- ernor of the pages who sang in the royal chapel. He composed many operas and music of a sacred order. He was a man of great renown in his time. Mv family were all Legitimists, supporters of the crown. We have re- ceived much for our loyalty to the King. And yet here 1 am to-day without a penny in this world.” The old lady again broke down, and for. many minutes not a word was spoken. Finally the interpreter sald: “We should like to know something about your life. madame.” “My life,”” she answered, then shook her head. ‘““Ah, mv life does not amount to muc! “Oh, but it does,” replied the inter- preter. “Senator Routier was a very prominent man, and the public is in- it " aN“w[‘ N N L‘“;! 3 Akw‘.\\ \ Removal of Mme. Routier’s Effects From the Old Homestead, Showing the Rear of the Mansion. coated with thin whitewash were now | him an e streaked with yellow, and dotted here | privilege-of visiting his family in Bel-| In one | gium. He wanted a suspension of the and there with green mold. corner hinged like a shelf was a brack- | decree until the month of November. et seat. ding. The floor, constructed of red crumbling bricks, stcod on end, was damp and foul smelling. The first day spent in this awful place found young Joseph less defiant. That night he slept but little, and when for breakfast he was given a pewter bowl of sour and sticky soup, his heart failed him, and | he longed for another talk with his brother. His brother had anticipated as much, and when Joseph was taken out in the morning for his daily exer- cise the clerk of the Prefect saw him again, and agreed to go to his cell that night. When he did go, he told Joseph that at the end of the fifth day he would be taken to the office of the Pre- fecture of Police, and asked the ques- tion. whether or not he would prefer Belgium or America as a place of exile. Joseph's face lightened, and he prompt- 1y replied: *“I will choose Belgium.” “No,” said his brother; “you must not make that reply. “Why?” “Those who prefer Belgium, never reach there,” was the significant an- swer. “From Belgium, it is too easy to return to France, and Louls Napoleon does not want his exiles to return.” “I prefer Belgium and will so de- clare,” sullenly replied Joseph. Very well, then,” sald his brother, “I have warned you, and if you make that request—" There was the sound of the firing of guns in the dark corridor. “Did you hear that?” Joseph asked. “Some poor devil has asked to be sent to Belgium,” said his brother, as he left Joseph once more alone. Five weary days passed and Joseph had plenty of time to think over the admonition of his brother. No day | passed that he did not hear the shots echo through the corridors. When his time came to appear before the pre- fecture of police, and the question of the place of his exile was asked him, he replied—"America.” Think what exile to America means to a Frenchman—a Parisian. And think what it must have meant to Routier to come not only to America but to granddaughter of Louis Emanuel the famous musician of Ver- saille: the renowned composer of thirty-nine operas and other composi- come a public charge upon strangers with whom she cannot converse, be- cause she speaks no language but her own. Brilliant Madame Timoleon Rou- tier de Bullemont, who has sung and played for the pleasure of kings in their palaces, and who has received tokens of esteem and reward from the hands of the Dauphin, now takes her meals at the paupers’ table, accorded no distine- tion beyond that which infirmity and age command. Aristocratic Madame Timoleon Rou- tier de Bullemont, whose features even now have the delicacy and high-bred daintiness of an old miniature, whose ancestors were Royalists, Legitimists and supporters of the crown—loyal Madame Timoleon Routier de Bulle- mont, who despises republics and loves monarchy, has been compelled to sacri- fice her home to a man who peeied po- tatoes while she was treading the car- pets of the Tuileries. Broken in spirit, helpless from infirmity, weeping in old age and despairing widowhood, she has been turned out of the home where for years she lived in uninterrupted happi- tc them. 5 nesa ~ to the door of 16 Rue d’Assas and they | were hustled off to the Mazas. | The Mazas, a very tall, old, red | building, still stands near the ter- minus of the Lyons Rallway, near the | Faubourg Saint Antoine. It was then | the largest prison in Paris. Six nar- | row four-story wings radiate from a central court or rotunda. Within this court was the office of | the registrar, and when the prison van | drove into the inclosure the occupants were “lined up” and marched through a long hallway which led up to the of- | fice from the outside. As each was in | turn registered and numbered he was told to “file on.” A clerk stood at hand, and as each prisoner passed him he shouted out to the turnkey, who stood at the end of this long hall, “Re- | ceive number s0-and-so,” the turnkey responding, ‘“‘Send him along.” It so happened that young Routier de Bul- Jemont ‘was the last in the line. As he approached the young clerk a cry of surprise and Joy escaped from his lips. = The clerk to the prefecture of police was his brother. | Following the recognition was a mo- tion of caution by theelatter, and young Routier de Bullemont passed on to 'his:cell. % | That night the brothers had a meet- California in '53 with the horde of ad- venturers who sailed on the ships the French used to call “I'Ingot”—the in- got—for the new El Dorado. Think of the wilderness he came to. Think of the height of culture and civilization he left behind, and forever. On the night of January 20, 1852, there was a sound of revelry within the Ely- see. Louis Napoleon was supreme. Gathered around him were those who had contributed to the glory of his achievements, and who now shared his fortunes. About him sabers glistened and drums beat. Presidents of repub- lics now accepted and honored the au- thority of his Embassadors; Kings bowed to him, and all the world ac- knowledged his triumph. On the night of the 20th of this month and year there was to be a grand fete at the palace. All the musicians of Paris had been summoned to the court of Napo- leon. Among them was beautiful Mme. —, the celebrated pianist, the wife of a noted lawyer. Her playing charmed Bonaparte. He naid her a compliment and offered any reward she might claim. Without a moment's hesitancy she pleaded for the freedom of Joseph Routier ~de Bullemont. ' Napoleon called his Minister of the Interior, De Morny, and made some inquiries con- cerning JO"PI.L o Mme, —. There was no furniture or bed- | “Nine months is a leng time,” said Napoleon. “But he will virtually be in exile,” | repeated Mme. —. | Belgium.” | Napoleon finally consented. - Joseph Routier de Bullemont did not sail from France until November 9, 1852, and when he did beautiful Madame. —— | accompanied him. It was on the 3ist day of May, 1853, when they landed in “He will be in | xile,_and only asked for the|terested In you both.” Madame Routier then asked if what she was going to say would be pub- lished. When told that it would be, she looked out of the little window by which she was sitting and thought for a long time. Finally she said: “I was educated at the Royal Convent at Ver- sailles.. I afterward taught music in Paris. I was teaching music when I met Joseph. His real name is Timoleon Charles Marie Joseph Routier de Bulle- mont. In France the higher up.they dre the more names they have. He came from a grand family, and was the Gateway Leading to the Routier Homestead, Where Senator Routi.r Met His Death. San Francisco. Six months had elapsed since their elopement, and, disregard- ing the ties which bound Madame— to her husband under the laws of France, she became the wife of Routier de Bullemont under the apparent sanc- tion of the laws of California. It will be noticed that the name ac- quired by marriage is omitted. The woman would have it so now,.and good taste suggests this course. There is no reason why the reproach she brought upon her children should be- come an open shame. On a hot summer afternoon in the month of September, 1870, Joseph Rou- tier, as was his daily custom, sat in the shade of the trees at Patterson’s Inn, waiting for the arrival of the evening mail. . When it came it brought the news of the surrender of Louis Na- poleon to William of Prussia. “Thank God!" exclaimed Routler, as his eyes met the announcement. “Now I can return to France.” Then he seemed to fall into a deep study, and after a time shock his head and mut- tered: “No; all the barriers are not yet removed.” Joseph Routier never returned to France. “My husband was generous. Now I am left in poverty,” sighed Madame Routier, when she was seen by a Call correspondent just prior to leaving her old home forever. Madame Routier is very, very old. Her hair is quite white. She has been broken by age, by the loss of that dear companion for whose sake she gave up what women hold most precious. Yet, despite all, despite the poverty which makes her now a helpless charge upon her old friends' sympathy, she still re- tains the charm, the oid-time grace of the Parisian grande dame. he_gald_at lensth, “Jo=! 4 “Madame,”, said the interpreter, “we only republican. - His family were all legitimists. ' My husband was an aris- tocrat in breeding, -but not in belief. His people had many offices under the crown.. His brother was secretary to the Prefecture of Palice at the ciose of | the revolution which restored Louis Napoleon. Joseph was Very homely when I first saw him in '48,” she con- tinued with a sad smile. “I met him first in Paris. He.was not handsome, but very proud and fearless. He took sides against Napoleon, and since he and I have had many very warm dis- cussions over our different vigws on the subject.” When pressed upon the question of their relations she hesitated for a time then replied: “We left Paris to- gether in November, 1852. We landed in San Francisco in the following May. I remember we were six months com- ing. When we arrived we went before some Judge or official of some kind, T do not remember now, and were mar- ried. We then came here, where I have lived to see the day I prayed God would never come. I never wanted to survive my husband.” The tears of old age are the most ter- rible to witness. A portrait of Victor Hugo hung upon the wall, and to dis- tract poor Mme. Routier from the sor- rowful memories that rise and master her the interp: er said hastily: “Tell me, Madame, do you remember Victor Hugo?” Instantiv the little French woman brightened up. “Ah, yes, I remember him well. He lived at the Palace Royal, one square from the Bastile. 1 was to play one night at his house, but was taken sick just before the time when I was to go. I remember how disappointed I was. It was an honor to be at the house of the great republican; and legitimist though I was, I appreciated it. He