The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, October 23, 1898, Page 19

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, OCTOBER 23, 1898. 1v BARE-FOOTED KNEIPPISTS WALKING THE WET GRASS IN GOLDEN GATE PARK Every morning several score of enthusiastic Kneippists gather in nooks of Golden Gate Park about suprise. They pull off their shoes and stockings, tuck up their garments and frolic over the wet sward for fifteen or twenty minutes. O and wash seven times in the * Jordan and thy flesh shall re- cover health and * - shalt be clean.” So sayeth Holy Writ. “Go and walk barefoot in the gewy grass and thy flesh shall recover health and thou shalt be clean.” So say Father Kneipp and his disciples. Just now there is a band of Kneipp- who daily tread the dewy grass in lden Gate Park. With a severe headache, I sought out the leader of the dew-treaders, A. Will- hydropathist, graduate of the system. He diagnosed my case ut asking a question. He labeled tly and unquestionably as ‘and told me that I suffered ous headaches and now and aid Herr Willman. Xa.’ ed “To-morrow morning at half-past 6 "k you will be at the park and I *h you to get rid of all that.” my brows in horror at the hour, but Herr Willman set- te spirit by saying: “It the dew is best then st of them will be hat hour \an was already at the >t in the park when I at 6:30 in the morning. So of them.” They were regarded me with has begun the ked Herr Willman, 5, then,” said a ng at my feet r. Not being 1 meekly asked 1e old gentleman. e I noticéd that which they uble while I estrings. - wear shoes?” T asked atching me tug at ) was mal occasions. more comforta- had left the benches the dressing-room for or, rather, sandals. I swish of the women’s ft patter-patter of the I was too busy to pay ntion to them. At length, I got up from the bench, un- and ready to m re with all 16 the ‘“barefoot act.” But ugh! ‘When my feet touched the wet grass tk v icy numb and as T sank back d up my feet un- the first time, I took in the We were on a plat of unded by trees and flowers. ght the children’s playhouse ed through the trees. The air was faint elusive perfume iew, disappears with the ome of the Kneippists ng slowly, others were scur- d fro, back and forth, hither but all the while on the grass tramped the barefoot of Father Kneipp. Willman walked now beside now beside another, advising as one, ecame necessary a change-of pace or ction. 'he enthusiastic Kneippoists were of es, sizes and descriptions. The wo- r the most part held their skirts out of {he wet grass, but one or two had dropped them and were in bloom- e There was one child and she led an old lady who walked with faltering steps and took deep breaths of the fragrant air, her bright, unseeing eyes gazing steadfastly ahead, but seeing nothing. The child tripped along light- ly, her little white feet looking like huge butterflies poised for a moment on the green grass. The woman fol- lowed as blithely t is so geod I heard her say, “I have not had a hemorrhage in my eyes since I began. I smell violets. They must be blooming near here. Can you emell them?” “No,” said the child. ““Ah, but you can see them!” and the blind woman sighed and hastened her steps. Herr Willman spled me and came over to me. “Get up,” he said, “and walk quick! For this first time you pnust not stay on the grass, though, more than five minutes; the others are used to it and may take from 10 to 15 minutes.” ous that the gray-haired man g my cowardice disapproving- d up my flickering cour- tangled my cold feet and rted along the dew damp sward, Herr Willman beside me the while. After the first icy thr e the cold, tingling sation. We ed out the patches of ass that were in the path of the rising sun. The sensation was like yet unlike the ting- Mng touch of electricity. The dewy grass was softer than velvet and un- hampered by shoes we walked with an elasticity and lack of jarring impossible on pavements. Yet there was some- thing fascinatingly irritating in the electric pricking, tingling, tickling sen- sation of the dewy grass. “Run,” said Mr. Willman, “and you can stand it better.” So for the remaining three minutes I played a game of tag with the gray was ey 1y, I summon dise 11 T began to L R L L RBERRRRRURNBRURRRS Special to the Sunday Call. N the 10th of the present month there appeared a small three-line notice in our daily papers. No doubt its very Insignificance caused It to pass unnoticed, or at least to inspire merely a tran- elent thought or two of curlosity. It ~an as follows: BERLIN, Oct. 9.—Princess Trou- betzkoy, under arrest here on ex- traditfon demanded by Italy for forging documents, committed sui- cide In the police station in which she was detained.” Among the many tender or tragic life histories of noble life in Europe, that lie locked up in letters, in trifiing newspaper notices or in bosoms that are never prompted to permit them to es- cape, few perhaps can prove as inter- esting as that of the sol-disant Princess Troubetzkoy. It is the story of a beau- tiful peasant princess’ revenge for very substantial wrongs done her. Marfa Robolska was born of Polish ’rfs in Russian Poland. The hut in Which she first saw the light was on the estate of a grand lord of the land, the Prince Pignatelll, and her parents were bound serfs of this nobleman. Never could a thought or hope have entered her little head in those days that her fate was to be other than what Was destined for her girlish playmates. She was taught that the aim of her life Was merely to be the Joan of some in- dustrious, work-scarred Darby of her own station in the worid. Beautiful she was, with that delicate, flower-like beauty seen sometimes among the lower women of that wintry land. As a child she was the fame .of the village; as a maiden ghe became the belle of the countryside. Her ro- mantic companions often told her that such loveliness as hers was given byl haired gehtleman, who puffed as be- came his years. Just when we were getting our sec- ond wind and one by one the others were joining in the game, Herr Will- man ordered me to “keep off the grass,” and on no account to dry my feet. “But see all this grass that is stick- ing to them,” I.protested. “Brush that off but don't dry your feet. Be sure and put your stockings on your wet feet.” Since I was with the Kneippists I did as the Kneippists do. My feet were now deliciously warm, and I had the same delightful refreshed feeling that fol- lows a cold sho % “You think it strange that we don’t dry our said a woman, thrusting hers into her sandal “But we never Wwipe off the water, not even after a bath.” “Don’t your clothes get wet?"” “Oh, no; we never wear thick woolen clothing next to the skin. I wear linen, but strong hemp cloth is still better, because it never effeminates the skin. Father Kneipp says that woolen ma- terials next to the body suck the fluids and warmth and are the cause of the weak and miserable blood of this gener- ation.” “But why not wipe the body after a bath?” I asked. My lady was busy with her sandals and did not deign to answer. “Twenty minutes’ walking for every- body to get thoroughly warm,” com- manded Herr Willman. I fell into step with him and again put the question about drying the body. “No,” answered our leader, “‘after a cold application the body must not be wiped, except the head and the hands as far as the wrist, the latter in order not to wet the clothes when dressing. The wet body is at once covered with dry underlinen and other articles of clothing. This must be done as quickly @ ible, so that all wet spots may >d hermetically. “Wiping is rubbing, and as it cannot be done quite equally on every spot it produces disproportionate nat- ural warmth. This is not of much con- sequence with healthy people, but of What they think of the cure and how they go about taking it is told in the following article. R sl Ay " s S ‘/'//Hl*‘l/) -z 4 EQ\\\ ¢ \{ e = Enthusiastic Kneippists in Golden Gate Park Taking Their Daily Morning Walk Over the Dewey Grass. great moment with sick and weak ones. The non-wiping helps to the most reg- ular, most equal and most speeedy nat- ural warmth. It is like sprinkling water in the fire. The interior warmth of the body uses the water clinging to the ex- terior as material for speedily bringing forth greater and more intense heat.” “Are there many followers of Father Kneipp in San Francisco?” I asked. “Nor as many as there ought to be. There are fifteen who come out here with me. In New York there are a great many, and in Worishofen, where Father Kneipp built the sanitarium for the water cure, thousands come every vear. 1 studied the system thoroughly there.” “Does it consist entirely in walking on wet grass?” I queried. “No. That is the first thing and one of the most important for hardening the flesh. Sometimes we walk on wet stones, new snow or cold water. Ac- cording to the disease, there are show- ers for the different parts of the body, all carefully anplied. We also cure by wet sheets, baths, vapor shower baths, ablutions, wet bandages and drinking water.” “What effect does the water have on sickness 7 ‘“What is sickness?” returned Herr ‘Willman, quickly. “Is not the euphony and harmonv of the body called good health? When this is disturbed by different causes we call the disarrange- ment disease. All these diseases, what- Cold Water Drenches for Special Cases. ever their names, have their origin and germ in the blood. Order consists in proportion, and too much or too little tempo in the circulation of the biood, or the penetration of foreien elements, disturbs the peace and concord and changes health to sickness.” “But how is the cure effected?” “Don’t you see,” replied Mein Herr, “how easy the cure is as soon as we know that every disease is caused by disturbances of the blood? The work of healing can only consist in one of two tasks: Either to lead the irregularly circulating blood to its normal course or to endeavor to evacuate the bad juices, the morbid matter, which dis- turb the right combination of the blood.” ““And does water really accomplish this?"” “Undoubtedly, by dissolving, evacu- ating—washing off as it were, and by strengthening.” “Would you undertake to cure any disease by the water cure?” “We believe that water, in particular Father Kneipp's water cure, will heal any disease that is in any way curable. We insist on simple nourishing house- hold fare not spoiled by art or strong spices. The drink should be the genu- ine one offered by God in every well or spring. But we do not forbid an occasional glass of wine or beer.” “Do you use any medicine?” “Only teas, extracts, oils and pow- ders made from medicinal herbs by R/ O e N Ve ———— Sketched by a Call artist. Father Kneipp.” I talked with every one of these ard- ent Kneippists who each morning come to the park to walk in the grass wet with the dew. They all claimed that they were infinitely better. Their dis- eases ran from giddiness to gout, from malaria to mumps, but the walking in the dew was prescribed for all. ‘“‘Have you lost your headache?” ask- ed some one. ‘‘Blessing of Father Kneipp and his system, yes! But who would dare to have a headache on such a morning in such a place?” “If you cannot sleep at night get up and take an all over cold ablution and without drying go back to bed. Repeat this if you wake up again,” advises Herr Willman. We had now walked the required twenty minutes and were back at the grass plat which the policeman in that vicinity call the “feet plat.” We found him standing by one of the benches. “Sorry I came too late to see you walk this morning,” he remarked, jo- cosely. The Kneippist exchanged greetings with him and then passed on. ‘When we parted at the entrance of the park the blind woman raised her sightless eyes and said, “Thank God for the dew, which has cured the hem- orrhages of my eyes.” “Aquae omnes laudent nomen Dom- ini,”” responded Herr Willman. Which the gray haired man kindly translated for me as “All ye waters, praise the name of the Lord!” 2 B It is said Mr. Drexel, the banker, is contemplating the sale of his yacht, the Margarita, to the King of the Belgians. The yacht is painted snow-white, with the exception of the lower part, which is a vivid emerald green, and the contrast between the blue Mediterranean sky and sea is exquisite. It is a big boat, with perfect fittings, built more for comfort than for a large number of passengers. The owner's cabin is a handsome apart- ment, large as an ordinary bedroom, en- tirely upholstered in white, the hangings and bed coverings being of white velvet. In the fascinating little kitchen two chefs are always hard at work. The crew is composed of over fifty men. The agitation in regard to wearing os- prey feathers has had one effect in Eng- land. The War Office has issued orders furl_)lddlnfi the use of osprey feathers on military helmets, though it may be some time before a substitute can be found. 8883888833838888823839328888123233853883982828288883288898888898388898989fi&fi@&&&&sfi&&&&?&&fi&gflfiug& range otory of the Princess: Troubetzkou, Born a Polish Serf God to those only who were to wear a crown. When about 18 years old her many housewifely talents gained her a posi- tion in the chateau of the Prince, who was already a man of about the middle age. She was blessed with a wondrous versatility and she became almost in- dispensable in the Prince's household. Moreover, her comeliness made her the rarest treasure that the castle ever knew within its old gray walls. She was frequently noticed and talked of by the many nobles that now and again gathered at the chateau to spend por- tions of the summertime in those fes- tivities for which the Prince was fa- mous. The little housekeeper, fired by that secret ambition which every girlish heart well knows, began to dream of better things than what her humble birth could promise her. Before she had passed her twentieth year Maria’s beauty had made captive a prize even she could hardly imagine within her siren powers to entrap. Her master, the Prince, insensibly had fallen into the most passionate love for her. He was, although a man in his prime, as yet unmarried, and Maria could therefore hope for the best. Before the expiration of another year Pignatelli, despite the vigorous protests of his haughty relatives, wedded his humble born servant. This step changed her whole life, and from that time she became a subject of public in- terest. The marriage was brief and childless. | The Prince died after three years of extremely happy life, and left Maria a widow just in the blossom of beautiful womanhood. According to his will his immense estates and his fortune were bequeathed to his wife, Hardly had the Prince been en- tombed, however, before the relatives of his blood, angered to think that a peasant stranger should hold the an- cestral estates, instituted proceedings to set aside the will. Alone and unadvised, Maria made but poor resistance to her all-powerful foes, and she soon saw herself dispos- sessed of the fortune which was rightly hers and with nothing in the world save her title of “Princess Pignatelli.” Then she made a fatal step. Burning with revenge, she resoived to bring dis- honor on that name and all who bore it. She hastened across the borders to Berlin. In that city she studied for the stage and soon appeared as soubrette on the stage of the Friedrich Wilhelmstaed- tisches and the Adolph Ernest theaters. Her name and title being blazoned on_ the programmes, she created an im- mense furor. Unhapplly, due, no doubt, to the unwholesome environment of the stage, the Princess’ life began to as- sume such an immoral aspect that pro- priety became offended. This, together with the fact that the resentment of her late husband’s relatives begah to make itself strongly felt in official cir- cles, produced her banishment. One day the Princess was ordered by the police to leave the empire. But her de- sire to become an actress was whetted and she determined to stick to the foot- lights. Next she appeared at Parls in the Theatre Folles Bergeres, where her success was repeated. To conceal her identity so as to divert all suspicion by the police, she assumed the name and title of Princes Dolgorouki. She usually appeared in light-tinted tights, and the faultless figure of the beautiful Pole soon won the hearts of the frequenters of that ultra pleasure house. It was said at the time that several gilded gallants, through unre- quited love, were driven to suicide b; her siren eyes. & Her Parisian experiences, however, made her so notorious that it was not long before the history of her life be- came revealed. Again she was forced by the authorities to change her resi- dence. Thereupon she repaired to London, where she introduced herself as the Prince Troubetzkoy. It was by this title that she was usually known after- ward. Her life in London was some- what more retired, although the name she assumed flgures very prominently in several scandals of that time. Tiring of the quiet life that circum- stances necessitated in the English cap- ital, the Princess was next seen at Rome. Her old life as an actress and cantatrice was continued. Such deli- cate blonde beauty as the Princess pos- sessed was somewhat novel on the Italian stage, and her notoriety became unbounded. While in the Eternal City she met with a class quite new to her. Of all cities for resourceful and noble adventurers Rome perhaps should take precedence. It was among this strange gentry that she first received instruc- tiog in the arts that gave her name its present pre-eminence. That she was ambitious to be queen of all adven- turesses very soon became apparent. Having evolved a plan for the better- ment of her fortune she once more as- sumed an alias, terming herself Arch- duchess of Austria-Este, and re-entered Berlin on a tidal wave of success. She rented a mansion in the highly aristocratic West End of the city and furnished it most sumptuously. A lady of most distinguished manner posed as her mother and lent to every festivity ‘hopelessly in love with her. a certain dignity which warded off all suspicion of Maria being a counterfeit Archduchess. Moreover, the guests were as a rule of the younger set of the nobility, and young nobility does not nsll; many questions if it is enjoying it- self, Several suave and handsome gentle- men were employed by the designing lady to act as promoters of her well laid scheme. The duty of these gentle- men, all of most sociable character, was to suggest after the dances a little game, usually rouge et noir. By their astute manipulation of the cards they made the tide of luck run deep and strong in favor of their fair employer. Months slipped by and Maria's man- slon became a favorite resort for the young noblesse who desired to spend a few hours at a private gaming table. Fate was literally showering gold on the beautiful adventuress. Among the guests at her house one evening was a certain young gentle- man by the name of Carl Ritter. He ‘was the son of an eminent professor at the Royal University, who had amassed considerable riches and had retired from active life. His son was a hand- some man, universally liked not alone for the money which he lavished on all around him but also for his genial ways and splendid talents. No sooner had Carl let his eyes fall on his radiant hostess than he fell So perse- vering was he in his attentions to her that Marla, ever alert, quickly discov- ered the state of his feelings for her. She encouraged young Ritter in his attentions and appeared on her part to lx;eclrn-m:ate the affection he felt for er, She made private disclosures of a fictitioys character, which deeply im- r the youth with the nobility and the greatness of his beloved. She had several interviews with Ritter’s father, during which she made him also a vic- tim of her fascinating personality. He gave full credence to her alluring story. Once a week at least the pair of sup- Posed lovers were seen in their carriage on the Unter den Linden, and every- Wwhere it began to be whispered that Yyoung Ritter was surely most fortunate in belng the favored one of the beauti- ful Archduchess. Finally, when matters had progressed to a fairly favorable point, Maria in- duced her fond dupe to advance various sums, supposedly to assist her In fight- ing for her rights in an Austrian court. She had divulged the facts of her early life, merely transposing names and places. If her lover ever proved re- luctant when a fresh demand for money was made she always gained her point by holding out the tempting bait of a speedy marriage upon conclusion of the litigation. 7 At last, when their fortunes were ruined, the Ritters discovered the bit- ter truth. They attempted to obtain redress through the courts, but their efforts proved futile. Before revenge of another character could be taken the wily “Archduchess” had hastened to foreign flelds. The Princess then became one of those noble nomads which are met with in Europe, ever on the watch for a;x opportunity to accomplish their evil alms, Her suicide cannot be a matter of surprise to those who have heard of her strange life. —— For the first time an English raflway company. has printed a twenty-four-] time table. his is the é‘u?iffl"u'i&‘f{ Company’s table of the new direct serv- ice to Spa. Thus we read that the serv- 1ce from Spa leaves at 44 past 14 and it ar- Ready for His Walk. BRI BRI&S rives at Antwerp at 38 past 18. The Great Bastern is obliged to print its time ta- es, as far as they concern the Belgian lines, in this way, because the twenty- four-hour system has been made compul- sory on the Belgian state rallways. The system only came into operation _this year, and the Belgians have settled down to it. The faces of the railway clocks have been altered to bring them into har- mony with the time tables, and while the old enumeration to 1z(o'clock is retained, 2| there is a second circfe of figures carry- ing on the time to 24 o'clock.—Birming- ham Gazette. —_——— “A good general never overlooks a point in the game,” said an ex-army officer who grieves because time has ruled him oyt of the service. “Nothing escapes him, and that should be re- membered by these curbstone and cor- ner grocery strategists who gather a little surface information and then howl because campaigns are not car- ried on in accordance with’ their plans. “'Apropos to this I recall what seemed a little thing that happened before we attacked Fort Donelson, and yet there is no measuring ihe effect it may have had upon history. . General Grant called a council of war to consider whether they should attack at once or give the troops a few days’ rest. The other offi- cers favored a rest, while Grant smoked and gave no opinion. ‘ ‘There was a deserter brought in | this morning,’ the general finally said. ‘Let us see him and hear w] -t he has to say.’ “The first thing Grant did when the fellow came in was to open up his knapsack. ‘Where are you from?’ the general then asked. “‘Fort Donelson. ““You have six days’ rations, I see. ‘When were they served? “ ‘Yesterday morning, sir.” “ ‘“Were the same rations served to all the troops? A Yes, sir.’ “ ‘Gentlemen,’ sald Grant, ‘troops do not have six days’ rations served out to them in a fort if they mean to stay there. These men mean to retreat, not to fight. We will attack at once.””