The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, May 26, 1901, Page 9

THE SUNDAY CALL. weeks and “Ed- * exile, foot- pan and 1f a century he hes 1 torture. nce, poverty, con- two smell for- perfidy of his hu iation, In 1856 a s the csuse of a between two men of Uhlan regiment. The resulted in the death of the officer, Major Count Ponita, and the exile of the victor, Lieutenant Count Edmund Heinecke von Larisch, of noble birth. He fled to America, landing at New COrleans. To keep from death by starvation the nobleman became dishwasher in a French quarter res- taurant. Later he became a watch- maker. He was compelled to serve in the Confederate army. Subsequently he went to New York, where he took the name of Edmund Heinecke. During absence from Prussis a court-martial sentenced him to forty-five years’ expatriation. That period expires on June 14 next. On hat day the exile will sail for his tive land to reassume the status which his birth, education and ritage entitle him. Conservative rion places the value of his estates 2t $5,000,000. ut despite his sufferings here th= Thlan has learned to love America. Next sutumn he purposes to return hither and at a banquet at the Wal- dorf-Astoria in December he will dis- tribute the sum of $25,000 to his old friends and patrons in token of his gratitude end regard. He tells the story of his life abroad and his long cxile here, during which not evey his wife and family knew of his identity, in the following words: fle own have a By EDMUND HEINECKE (Count von Larisch) N the great medley of nations, as found in & New World metropolis, I doubt not that every third man, could the mecrets of his bosom be unvefied, would prove himself the hero of an interesting story a thousand times more thrilling and remarkable than even my own. I take to myself no credit save that I have fought a good battle against more than ordinary adversities, and to confess myself but one more of that army of in- CcOg have struggled on against va- ried fortunes—exiles, like myself, from the land of their birth and for reasons more or less serlous—whose real identities have remained secrets from their dearest friends and even their own families. For forty-five years I have known what 1t is to be an expatriate—known what it is to feel that there is one broad spot on the globe where to set foot means imprison- ment and perhaps death. For two score of years I have been a soldier of fortune emid surroundings as far at variance with my early condition as it is possible for man to be, to bear a name which my mother never gave me, and to lock in my heart the secret of my family, my early career and the tragedy which changed the whole course of my life in the twinkling of an eye—or rather, with a single thrust of a sword. But now that the seal of nearly half a century’s expatriation is broken, and within a few weeks I shall stand at the frontier of my native land, awaiting the stroke of moon when I shall cross the border and claim my own, which has so long been kept from me, I feel free to ce, and the world may judge as it A Romance in High Life. If the love of money e root of all evil, it is wom t is at the bottom of half the tragedy. I was 22 when the first great episode of my life changed the whole course of n dangerous destiny—that age of which Byron susc longed to perpet e imMto eternity. Nobly born in a country where the nobility were fairly worshiped, impetuous, ambitious and courting danger so long as it led to glory, 1 was reared in Castle Dernbach, in Thuringla, destined to fulfill a high es- tate. My father was Count Wiiliam Charles von Larisch, my mother a famous beauty of her time, Countess Antoinette von Heinecke, who became heiress of vast mining properties in Silesia. When I was & lad of 17 years my moth- er died, and from that time the direction of my education devolved upon my moth- er's most imtimate friend, the Grand Duchess Sophie of Wei It was under her tutelage that I was permitted to en- joy more than glimpses of the grand world into which my title exalted me, and it was under henfpenign roof that I acquired the graces and chivalrous sentl- ments which characterize the proud bear- ers of a feudal escutcheon—that chivalry soon to be my ruln. After several years at both the universi- ties of Heidelberg and Bonn I became an officer in one of the finest regiments of the land, the Fourth Uhlans, all the of- ficers of whicn were, like myself, noble- men. After a year's service I was pro- moted to first lieutenant and stationed at Salzwedel, in the province of Magdeburg. The commander of the garrison was Ma- jor Count von Ponita, a man of great force of character, but selfish, domineer- ing and headstrong. the neighborhood and hi: these of the n@ble fami min-Boitzenburgs, with whose daughter and heiress—one of the most beautiful women I ever beheld—half the garrison was in love, and noné more, I dare say, than the commander and myself. The officers were in the habit of fre- quenting a certain casino at Salzwedel and exchanging pleasantries, garrison chatter and theories about war, for which we were ever eager. On one of these oc- casions, May 22, 1856, Major von Ponita, evidently in & spirit of pique to goad into a quarrel his most promising rival, ut- tered a remark reflecting upon the fair Countess—an observation so brutal and uncalled for that my young blood warmed to the boiling point. Although doubtless I should have called the officer to account then and there had not others of my fel- lows restrained me, ignoring the uniform of a superior in my sudden hatred for the man who wore it, matters did not reach a climax untfl the following day at drill. After a sleepiess night, filled with right~ eous revenge, I resolved to make Count von Ponita eat his words if it took half a lifetime, but J little expected that he would follow the indignity cast upon a mar. estates adjoined WhY Don’t Rble- HEN a brute of 2 woman abuses a defenseless man it' pity if some other woman can’t thrash her. Heaven knows it's hard enough to be & mam anyway. 1f you're a man you have to pay for frills end furbelows that you never have the privilege of wearing. If you're a man you have to spend long, tiresome even- ings at the club just for policy, though you're achine to be at home. If you're a man you bave to bother with yoting. Heaven knows it is all hard enough with- out being imposed upon by women. A man's chivalry makes him helpless and he needs somebody to take his part. It is several weeks now since the last Gemise in our city of the late Camille, erd I still swell like a fighting bantam every time I think of the woman in 47. It was at & matinee performance, where men are as bad form as they are in church. Nevertheless if a man chooses to pay for a seat he has a right to it. 1 was sitting in 43. The next seat, 45, was empty, and she sat in 47, the next beyond. Just before the curtain rose an usher leaned over from behind me and lowered the next seat. He was too busy to take time to hand the check to its owner; in- stead, he dropped it into the seat, and as it lay there I mechanically compared it with the number on the back of the seat. Both read “4.” The boy in the red coat snatched a’ moment from his strenuous life to shout, “Seat where the check is!” and to fling the man a backward gesture as he flew off. The man had been buttonholed by a friend in the aisle and they were busy choosing our next President. The occupant of 47 saw her chance. (= The major lived in | y of the Vonder- | ~ e &8t The Count at bis | Watc hmaker, hop stainless name by direct attack upon the man who felt bound to preserve it from such villainy at all hazard. The drill was a severe, commanding officer y goading, reproving and harass- ing me to point where human forbear- ance ceased to be a virtue. But when it came to an actual blow with the flat of sword, rank was thrown aside and facing each other only as man to man I swept my glove across his face with a curse of challenge. Du-l to the Death. Both were mounted and both were ex- pert horsemen and good swordsmen, and it was but the twist of & wrist to bring us into fighting proximity on the field. In- my stantly swords struck fire, and although vas my intention only to disable my adversary, I saw in his livid countenance and the green light of his eve that the major meant to kill me then and there, and that it was a duel to the death. His Wa Ancsstral Ostatss in : 2700 PESUINE hir rank 8309, titls arirch The. Counts HoustonItreet, P tchmak A & first terrific lunge was parried, although the point of the sword struck me in the left temple, all but gouging out my eye. His second, almed for the throat, struck high passing through both my cheeks and cutting away part of the lower jaw. With bosom thus exposed, like a flash of lightning I drove my sword clean through him just below the heart, whereupon he lunged forward without a groan, falling head foremost heavily to the ground, the point of my broken sword gleaming red through his back. A frightful yet triuriphant sense of trageay overcame Blood spurted from my mouth and biinded my left eye from the wound at my temple, giving me a sort of vertigo, so that I reeled in the saddle and saw things in a hideous red maze. Then a rallying came and there shot into my heart a realization of my deed and its direful consequences. In the twinkling of an eye I saw visions of ’ me. chains in the guardhouse, the court-mar- tial, the sentence and the execution ac- cording to the military code, and then came a mad resolve to fly—whither I did not know nor cared—anywhere out of the world. Turning swiftly I put the spurs to my horse and sent a cloud of dust be- hind me, disappearing down the long road at tep speed in the direction of a friend’s castle, which stood far toward the fron- tler. It was a terrible ride for life. No sooner had I reached the cuter gates of my refuge when the foam-mantled mare I rode at such a killing pace dropped dead, and I entered my friend’s domain on foot. It goes without saying that my reception was none too warm, but I was fed, eating as best I could with a lacerated mouth; was given a little money and another horse and then shown the way to the French frontier, for my friend was in as great terror of my apprehension for his 'ECUR TRAINS AT DIFFERENT LEVELS IN VIEW &7 ONE TIME N many parts of the West the rail- H road engineers have had to sur- mount great natural difficulties. Ranges of high mountains, swift riv- ers, deep valleys and gorges have had to be crossed. In many places the train kends back upon itself as it winds its ccurse up or down the steep ridges. S [\ Toop ON THC R 'ERANK. A WSTR[ A SIS Ten i Wisk skl The gorges are crossed by embank- ments or by huge trestlework bridges, such as the one shown in the fore- ground of the picture. The double loop appearing in the photograph oc- curs on the Tintic Range branch of the Rio Grande Western Railway, the principal office of which is in Sait Lake City, Utah. Four locomotives and trains are in full view at once at different levels. This is a sight that can be seen in very few places. The photograph is supplied by the cour- tesy of Mr. G. W. Heintz, passenger agent of the Rio Grande Western Railway. 2 PEENT Gsrmon about in the wildest fiction. 1S ‘cember next. 4 present & o own sake as for my own. Off T galloped again in full flight, keeping up the pace to the very limits of Prussia. I had no more than touched alien soil when my second faithful deliverer fell under me and expired. Little by little, then, com- paratively safe for the time at least, I made my way to Calais. There, after a season of hiding, I embarked on the sail- ing vessel Thekla, bound for New Or- leans. A Homeless Wanderer. I think that there was never a more for- lorn and abject wanderer on the face of the earth than Count von Larisch as he walked into the market place of New Or- leans one autumn day, penniless and a stranger, in a land of whose customs and language he knew nothing. The long voy- age and -the food to which I had never been accustomed left me weak and de- spondent, and I found myself face to face with a new condition, more terrible than any I had ever dreamed of or even read For many hours I sat there staring into space’and wondering whither to turn, and finally, from sheer_exhaustion and a biting hun- ger such as I had never known, I directed my steps across the way to a little French restaurant. There I offered my services to the owner—a very kind-heart- ed Alsatian, whom I shall ever hold in grateful megpory—and was given food and work. It was the most menial work In the world, but it was better than starva- tion in exile, and I entered upon my new career with a will, taking the name of Edmund Heinecke. Eagerly I scanned the foreign news of the New Orleans papers, and at last one day I read an account of the tragedy of Salzwedel and of the court-martial, which sentenced me to forty-five years of exile, my inheritance in the meanwhile denied me. But even that was preferable to standing up hefore a platoon of bad marksmen and getting more or less mu- tilated in the cause of mistaken justice, and I schooled myself to content as best I could. He Becomes a Watchmaker. Among the rustomers was a certain watchmaker whose shop stood across the way, and, finding that I was a man of station far beyond that of a menjal, when I pressed him to- teach me his trade he consented.” For geveral years I remained with him, and at his sudden demise dis- tributed to his heirs some $30,000, reserv- ing the business for myself. But then the war broke out and all business was at a standstill. Not the least acquainted with the civil controversy and wishing to avoid war, I resolved to go North. In this pro- ject I was quickly blocked, for although I had closed up my business and placed my little effects in the hold of a Mississippi steamer, myself stowed away in hiding there as well, the provost marshal made a thorough search of the vessel, with the result that I was arrested and returned to New Orleans and thrown Into a calaboose, there to take my choice between service in the Confederate army, which was much in need of men, or go to prison. SOUVENIR and REPAY SAVE YOUR CHECK. On presentation of this Check October 13th, 1501, haif the amount paid for repairs wil be Tetumed to the bearer thereof. I will alan ive Presents as below. to Persons recciving. largest amount in money. ‘Banquet Waldort-Astorta, Second Week, De- 158 present........$1,200) 160240 presents of 15 L100 | 17eh—a0 presenta of 10 + 10| 1525 presents of 4 o %0, 30015 presents of & h—100 presents of § 0o/ Zist—120 presents of ¢ @0/ 24100 presenta of 3 U2 presenta of 825" tion, 335,00, Payable at 1} East Houeton st., from Octo- Wer 15(h to December 15th, 1901 Beapecitutly, EDMUND HEINECKE. Couvntzess von . 7 -ér/.sch ‘Distrivution at Naturally I chose the former. In the second year of the war General Beauregard gave me a position on his staff, and after the disaster at Chatta- nooga, for which I paid the penalty of several months in the hospital, the gef- eral placed me in command of the “Lou- islana Tigers,” a small but savage regi- ment, which prided itself that it never gave or accepted quarter. Then came the famous “death ride” of Donnellsonville, where the “Tigers” met their Waterloo, and their humble captain lay in the valley of death, unconscious for hours, with a dead horse on top of him. A Confederate Prisoner. Coming to, as from the grave itself, I was cared for kindly by Federal soldlers and after two months or more of conva- lescing was sent to Fort Delaware. Gen- eral Scheff, commanding the garrisonm, in- terested himself in my behalf, had me transferred to Washington, with the priv- flege of being exchanged if I chose to re- turn South. But I had had enough of a strife in which I had little heart, since I had entered it by coercion, and immedi- ately took oath of allegiance to the Un- ien. Thence I was permitted to make my way to New York. Here agaln, in the metropolls, I was face to face with somewhat the same con- dition as that on my arrtval-at New Or- leans. I had not a dollar and all my pa- pers and valuables had been dispersed and lost in the civil struggle. As before, I directed my steps to the place where food was to be had for momey, and perhaps for the asking, and again I offered my services in the most menial capacity. The restaurant was kept by a kind natured man named Henry Humes, at 233 Broad- way, and, securing work, I was found faithful, as I had been i greater things. Humes took an interest in the melancholy exile, even as the old Alsatlan of New Orleans had done, and finding out my trade, which had been well taught me, the restaurateur started me in business on Houston street, where I have remained for thirty-five years since. From this time on I suppose my life has been the counterpart of many others in New York, except that I have had somewhat more than my share of dis- couragements—among others, starting a branch business with iy entire savings of $35,000, placing it in"the care of one I loved and respected, only to discover that he disappeared with the entire proceeds in a single night. The Term of Exile Ends. I have married since coming to the me- tropolls, too, and my wife and children have been a great solace to me, though even these newer dreamed of my origin or true history. It was only upon receiv- ing some photographs from home that my relation awakened in my wife a curiosity which resulted in her discovering herself to be the Countess von Larisch stead of plain Mrs. Heinecke—though she is too good an American to allow that to exalt her—and that her husband was merely awalting the day when the sentence of exile shall expire. That day will be June 14 next, and lest I should be one minute late in receiving back my own I shall safl for Southamp- ton on May 22, entering German terri- ritory through Russia. - It is doubttul, however, whether I shall ever be content- ed in Germany, for all my longing to feel my native soil beneath my feet;,for once an American always an American, whith- ersoever the exile, voluntary or other, may come. odied W Forty-five was a better seat than hers. Quick as a flash she slipped into it. Her sleight-ot-hand was so perfect that I could not see what became of the check. As the naill keg behind the scenes was thumped for the third time the man said good-by, leaving over the choice of Vice President. He looked for his seat. The geography of the section puzzled him. He called the busy usher. The boy was puzzled, too. He made a quick study of the row of seats. “Can't you remember the number of your check?” he whispered. “No.” The boy gave another look, then pointed o‘l'gim:s where I left your check,” he said. “I think so too,” replied the man, with conviction. of 45 was deeply en- grossed in her book-of-the-play-only- authorized-version, although the lights were down, Her fan was moving in short gasps. “What's the number of your check?”’ the boy asked her politely, for she had a double chin and a formidable chest. She was still buried in the book. *What's the number of your check?* he repeated, and ‘“‘seems to be a mis- take,” he added apologetically, for there was a flerceness in her eyebrows that de- manded apology. She did not speak. Slowly and impres- sively she opened her purse and took out from it the check for 4. . “For the love of Mike,” I whispered to the girl beside me. “It can't be—surely she wouldn’t,” she whispered to me. She is a dear little soul who excuses Satan on the ground that he The occupant was an orphan, and therefore was never taught better. 1 usually become quite a dear little soul mygelf in her society, but this circumstance was too much. “Black fsn’t white,” I told her savagely. Now, why wasn't it my place to call that woman down? Here was a _man ing held up and robbed of a seat that he had patd for, and his sex made him per- fectly helpless, and sue knew it did. He be- ing a_man and she being a woman, his chivalry wouldn't let him say “You' lie” or “You steal,’ though he was morally sure she was doing both. If he saw me looking into the muzzle of a footpad's re- volver I should expect him to come to my rescue. I don't know why he shouldn’t expect as much of me. should have been charmed to try thrashing her, though the bert I can ever welgh. even on Monday with my salary still in my pocket, is 115, and she was a good A season or £0 ago a New York actress made a short :ame for herself by letting it leak out that she was the Gibson girl. She told a few friends, who told a few others, and then, when' the cat was well out of the bag, she pretended that she wanted to get it back in again. It was all managed beautifully, and while other girls were being laughed at for pretending to_be It, this one’s bluff was not called. She must have had the press agent in- stinct stronger than the histrionic, for she ‘worked the original Gibson girl advertise- ment for all there was in it. Her re- touched piétures got into all the papers. “Found at last,” people said. The advertising put her on castors and rolled her straight under the calcium. It ln:f:{‘kl'x mildch-lnol:;l-ltmrole in ’a ng drama then the rage. It bullied people for a while into thinking she was the real thlnfi It might have worked all right if she could bave kog;( in the secret that she couldn’t act. But she let it out, and so ber days under the calcium were num- bered, and at last she came to be at lib- erty and she had to help with the dishes omen Protect a Defenseless Man? so that she could save enough to keep her card in all the dramati~®papers. It was then that a friend of mine men- tioned her to Mr. Gibson. 3 T have been to “Now then,” said he, so many weddlngs lately and have looked e wine when it was red so much upon t that I'm ‘not fif. And when Fm not fit I d&fil'l care to dlscuss the original Gibson girl, for the subject Is likely to get on my nerves. But let me tell you this—that woman pever yosed for me but once in her_life, and found her such a flerce model that after I paid her I tore up the drawing.” “But wasn't it she herself who gave it out g‘m: she was the girl?’ asked my en “It was. And she lied. And I never had a model in my life that4 wouldn't rather claim. The girl got a good salary and a temporary name by lving about me. But I had to keep still and take it. For what Can a man do7 2% °% BARAH COMSTOCK. ,