OUR LONDON FLANEUR.

Auckland Star, Volume XXI, Issue 4193, 24 November 1883, Page 8 (Supplement)

OUR LONDON FLANEUR.

Social, Theatrical, and Literary Gossip.

In Town Again—The Talk auout Caret's Assassin : Is He as Bad as Painted ? — O'Donnell's Demeanor at Bow-street— Oscar Wilde Back Again—A Good Story —Another Yankee Yarn—Where were THE CLKUOY ?—" TItUTII" AND THE SALVATION Abmy—Affairs Theatrical—About Books —Miss Braddon's "Phantom Fortune"—A Glimpse at the Plot of the Story—Julian Hunthorne's "Fortune's Fool" —Forthcoming Works of Travel axd Fiction—Cheap Editions—The New Magazine—A Good Sixpenny Worth.

London, October 4. A thokougii break-up in the weather has brought people back to town in shoals, and long before my next letter comes to be written middle-class London will have resumed its normal appearance.

Tho talk at present seems mostly about Carey's assassin, O'Donnoll, whom the newspapers are rapidly elevating into quite a hero. That, under orders from the American Invincibles, this worthy followed Carey with tho deliberate intontion of murdoring him is now certain. Tho fellow's courage, however, must have oozed away during the voyage, for, according to a well-informed Nationalist organ, lie should have carried out tho sentence soon after leaving Dartmouth. The theory of O'Donnell's defenders—and he has plenty at present—is that ho designedly "chummed" with Carey in order to ascertain whether the informer had one spark of good feeling in his nature. Ho liked Mrs Carey and tho children, and would gladly have spared Carey if he could. Tho latter, however, soon showed up in utterly despicable colours. O'Donnell says Carey, in private, calumniated the limncibles most basely to him, and it was this vilo act and the drink he had taken that led him to carry out a crime lie had wellnigh resolved to abandon. O'Donnell doesn't believe ho will be hanged. I saw tho mau at Bow-street the other day, and was much struck by his demeanour. He was cool, <]uiot, and self-confident, addressed the magistrate respectfully, but in a tone of perfect equality, and altogether looked exceedingly less like a murderer than many of tho detectives standing round about the dock.

Oscar Wilde has returned from Yankeeland breathing fire and slaughter amongst tho critics who damned "Vora." Ho says tho "New York Herald" reviewer rather liked tho play, and told him so between the first and second acts, but between the third and fourth Mr Critic received a cable despatch from James Gordon Bennett, " Damn Wilde's piece, whatever it is " — and he did.

I wont to hoar Oscar's lecture at Hammersmith concerning his American tour ono evening last week. Ho told a rather good story aoout a dancing saloon at Denver, in which he declares he saw tho following notice posted up above tho solitary pianoforte playor's head, " Please don't shoot at tho orchestra—he does his best."

Another good Yankee yarn (not one of Wilde's) I hoard recently tells of a certain Sabbath day nt Quaker City, when the inhabitants, on turning out for morning service, found the church doors locked and the parsons gone—no ono knew whither. The mystery was not solved till Monday morning. A woll-known practical joker thon admitted sending the following anonymous note to each of tho clergymen : " All is discovered—lly I"—and thoy fled. "Truth" is making a dead set at the Salvation Army, and I should like to wager that within a year it will be a thing of the past. "Genera! " Booth's personal integrity and reputed unselfishness of purpose has hitherto kept tho mouths of many writers closed, but once let these virtues bo offectunlly shown to have no existence, and the collapse of the Army will be complete. Affairs theatrical are tolorably brisk. Last night Farnie's new version of Offenbach's " La Vie Parisionne " (now ronamed simply "La Vie") was successfully produced at the Avenue, and to-night (Thursday, Oct. 4) tho long-promised drama by G. K. Simms and Henry Pettit, called " In tho Hanks," succeeds "Tho Streets of London "at tho Adelphi. "La Vie "is more of a r.iuderillo than an opera, several of Offenbach's other works besides " La Vio Parisienno " being laid under contribution. The plot deals with the adventures of sundry Germans in London, who are taken about by a Hussar captain disguised as a footman, and shown all sorts of remarkable sights. I shall bo able to tell you more about this pieco in my next. Despite tho lavish outlay on "Freedom," the drama has not proved a hit at Drury Lane, and on Monday next " Hope and Love," a romantic play by Augustus Harris and Robert Buchanan, will bo put on there. Tho samo night tho premiere of Burnand's "Ariel," at the Gaiety, is anrouncod, and a few days later " Esmeralda " takes tho place of " Impulse " at the St. James's.

" Tho (ilass of Fashion " doos not soeni to bo drawing largo houses to tho Globo, and I fear Mrs Lingard will bo at liberty again ero long. The society papers have resented Mr Grundy's sneers at thorn by slating tho nioco with dangerous thoroughness. Had there been really anything in it, this would not have mattored, but as things are, tho comedy seems doomed. " Confusion;" at tho Vaudeville, on the contrary, stills runs merrily, and the little American, Minnie l'ahncr, is attracting crowds to tho Orand Theatre, at Islington. "Tho Millionaire," a comedy in four acts, by G. W. Godfrey (founded on Edmund Yates'e novel, " Kissing tho Hod "), was produced at tho Court Theatro on Thursday last, with complete success, and promises to bo one of tho big hits of tho winter season. Somo of the critics pretend to comparo this play unfavourably with tho samo author's "Parvenu," but I consider it infinitely the best piecoof work ho has done so far, and tho applauso with which tho audience marked tho close of each act was most cordial. Tho story of " Kissing the Hod " (obtainable at any bookseller's in the two-shilling form) will bo familiar to novel readers, and Mr Godfrey has adhored pretty closely to it. The millionaire who gives the name to tho piece is Robert Straight-ley, a wealthy bill-broker, and he wants of a tattered old rake named Guyon (grandly played by Arthur Cecil) payment of a sum due. Kate Guyon, his daughter, getting hold of a notice to the ©fleet that the bill must be met at once in her father's absence, trots down to the city and interviews Streightley, who falls incontinently in love with her. She treats him with cool insolence, evidently under tho impreßsian that he is only a superior sort of tradesman, and even winding up by tolling him laughingly to call on tho morrow and "bring his bill" with him. Streightley jumps at the opportunity of sooing the lovely girl again, and by lending old Guyon money, soon shows which way the wind blows. Guyon is delighted at tho idea of.

Rflcurine tho millionaire for a son-in-law. but unfortunately, there is an obstacle in the shape of a penniless young scapegrace named 6ordon Frere, v/ho loves Kate, and whom, it is much to be feared, Kate also loves. Old Guyon, however, is not to be baulked by faifleg. He gets Gonto to propose by letter, and the n tolls him Kate is engaged to Streightley This leads to Frere leaving England ma hurry, and by suppressing his letter to Kate(whichGuyon)forhisownpurpo3es,carofully endorses, " Shown to Streightley ), it becomes easy to persuade the young lady that she has boen merely played with by a heartless rascal. Streightley then proP°ln S'the third act we find Kate has been married to the "millionaire " a year, and is beginning to appreciate his sterling qualitief and love him dearly. Streightley, however, has not prospered. Affairs in the city are going very wrong, and his conscience is troubled day and night with the remembrance of having won hia wife by the suppression of Frere's letter ; in fact, by a fraud. This letter old Guyon uses as a means of extracting money from his son-in-law, but, unfortunately for them both, he leaves it about one fine day. The epistle is found by Streightley's first sweetheart, and Kate's bitterest enemy, a certain Hester Gould, and this young lady hands it with a Judas kiss to the " millionaire's " wife ; On finding she has been deceived all, Kate s love for Streightley vanishes, and after a terrible scene, in which she taunts him furiously with his falsehood, the injured woman leares her home for evor. The final act winds up the play rather abruptly. Streightloy ruined and ill is in lodging 3 in London, and all trace of Kate has been lost. A friend of the family, however, finds her* hidden in a foreign convent, and when she learns of Robert's poverty and illness her heart softens, and she returns to him full of love and forgiveness. The curtain falls on a pathetic scene of reunion between husband and wife.

Its outline necessarily gives but a poor idea of what is really a very clever play. The main interest, indeed, centres in some of the subordinate characters, rather than in Streightley and Kate. The tattered old rake, Guyon (a novel sort of Beau Farintosh), is a wonderful piece of characterisation, and so is the talkative Lady Flenmarch, a fast woman of fashion, past her premiere jeunes.ie, though (as she says herself) "very chic." Then we have a Jew money-lender named Thacker (admirably acted by Sir Macintosh), and last, but not least, the revengeful heiress, Hester Gould. This out-of-the-way role was played with rare skill by Mrs Beerborn-Treo. Her quiet catlike movements and suppressed bitterness quite made the audience shudder, and the scene where, amidst kisses and good wishes, she hands to Kate the letter that will ruin her life, was realised with consummate art.

Of course, in plays like "The Millionaire," everything depends on the acting, and I should not care to prophesy much of a run for it out in your part of the world. At the Court Theatre, every character, from the most important to the least, is intrusted to a " star" in his or her particular line, and tl.o amount of rehearsing a 3-act comedy undergoes nowadays would surprise old actors, who used to consider fire or six "calls " ample preparation for a 5-act drama. Why, "In the Ranks," which will be played for the first time at the Adelphi to-night, has been rehearsed daily for six weeks. I have said nothing about the mounting of " The Millionaire," because there are no special novelties in the shape of scenic effects. The various interiors are, however, luxurious and comfortable, as usual. Miss Braddon's novel, "Phantom Fortune," which has been running through a number of provincial and colonial weeklies this last few months, came out in 3-rolume form on the 23rd ult., and is in great demand at all the libraries, Mudie having ordered 1,000 copies for his Oxford-street branch alone. I read the story the other evening, and don't think much of it. Like nil Miss Braddon's tales, " Phantom Fortune" is passable; but take up "Henry Dunbar," or "Lady Audley's Secret," or "Only a Clod" after closing it, and you will see how entirely the enthralling style which 1 mado tho author's »arlier works so popular j , has disappeared. The opening chapters of i " Phantom Fortune" introduce us to Lady Manlevrier, an ambitious well-born beauty, who, after sacrificing her girlish lore to marry the wealthy Lord Manlevrier, discorors that worthy to bo a cowardly, sensuous scoundrel. His Worship is GovernorGeneral of Madras, where he has betrayed his trust by trafficking in British interests with the native princes, &c, and at the commencement of the story ho ii being called home to answer before the bar cf tho House of Lordi for his misdeeds. Lady ManloTrier has learnt that this inquiry can have but one end, viz., Manlevrier's eternal disgrace, the dishonour of the family name, and tho confiscation of his property. She determines to save herself and her son from ruin, and so, when Manlevrier arrives from India broken in health and half imbecile, she carries him off to Fellside, an old house in the depths of the Westmoreland hills, whore His Lordship soon dies, and the proceedings against him are quashed. Of course, Manlevrier is not really dead, but simply buried alive in luxurious comfort within the hidden recesses of Fellside. Lady Manlevrier hides him there successfully for moro than 40 years, when the death of the confidential servant on whose aid she relied and her own illness suddenly reveals the fact of the old miscreant's existence to his grandchildren. There is also a subplot, descriptive of the love affairs of Ronald Holli6ton, Earl of Hartfield, who, in order to be certain that he is loved for himself alone, visits FelUido as plain Jack Hammond, a penniless barrister, and is haughtily rejected by Lady Manlovrier's favourite grandchild, Losbia. Eventually he falls in Tovo far inoro seriously with the Cinderella of tho family, Lady Mary, and this damsel deties the iron-willed grandmother for her love's sake. Of course Jack announces himself as Lord Hai'tfield on the wedding day, and Lady Manlevrier is covered with confusion.

"Fortune's Fame," by Yulian Hawthorno, is another novel in great demand just now. As a romance, the story scarcely equals either "Sebastian Strome" or "Bressant," but is superior to "Dust." One character especially—that of a man whose superb physique and magnificent animalism makes him absolutely in different to moral'considerations—will attract a good deal of attention. I don't think such a personage has ever been quite so well drawn before.

A number of most interesting new books are announced for tho coming season. Chatto and Windus's proraiso, " Beyond the Gates," an allegory by Eliz Stuart Phelps, of "Gates Ajar" fame, which will somewhat resemble Mrs Oliphant's " Little Pilgrim;" also an abridged version of Justin McCarthy's popular "History of Our Own Times" in one volume at six shilling. Miss Gordon dimming is writing a book descriptive of her experiences in tne New Hebrides. Mr Clark Russell lias in hand a series of nautical sketches to be called "Round the Galley Firo," and Mr Phil Robinson follows his clever " Poets' Birds " with a companion volume ontitled " The Poets' Beasts.

Forthcoming novels announced by Chatto and \Yindus include "The LandLeaguora,"

by the late Anthony Trollope • ""iT? 15 ■ Garden Fair," by Walter Besant. i«iiaß of Athens," by Justin McCarthy' Foreigners," by E. C. Price, 'on 11 ' Free," by Charles Gibbon • « tJ. »rall«y Lynn Linton ; "The Way of ti^."^ I** by David Christie Murray. Z>A^» rld" " Canon's Ward," by James Pavn £?V 3s Gd editions are also to bei« i e*P'i notable novels published this v "& list is too long to give here but T ?"» Trollope's " Like Slips UponthA > Ml» already be had in the Pii& '»** Macmillan's " English IllusffiL '" ■ 7.ine"madeits.appearance ontheKtft*' and the first edition of 70,000 5^ sold out in three days. The st**f *** '' ings certainly form a wonderful .w^worth, and are quite up to the « u^"*or "Century" level; but the letS?*" does not by any means equal exnS1 "*1 William Black's short tale i little piece of padding, clearly VamL^ for the occasion, and Miss Yonno' ?? st? ry'."^e Armourer's "PrentidB 6- 11!!? rmses indifferently. The berf^'i P™" those by Comyns Carr, on "SS^."* Professor Huxley, on " Ovete^» 'Md unfortunately, they fly rather' over the ft ' of most readers. ne "Ma !