TOPICS OF THE DAY.

Evening Star, Issue 7177, 2 April 1887, Page 1 (Supplement)

TOPICS OF THE DAY.

[From Our Special Correspondent.] London, February 11. The new ruling of Mr Speaker, that to interrupt an honorable member by crying “Shame ! ” is unparliamentary, and will not in future be allowed, has naturally caused a good deal of “chaff.” Several epigrams are current, the following being perhaps the neatest:— Tho Irish patriots now must ourb their spite, Nor fling their “ Shame 1” at gentlemen each night. A paradox it wse, I must confess, They threw away what they did not possess. Lord Randolph Churchill has solved the difficulty of his anomalous position in Parliament by flight. He is off to Algiers with a male friend, and won’t reappear at Westminster till after Easter. . Lady Randolph docs not accompany her husband. Mrs Langtry’s strictures on the English aristocracy, as confided to the interviewer of a Philadelphia paper, and reprinted over here by ‘ Truth,’ have given great offence, and will assuredly “get the lady disliked” in high quarters unless she promptly denies them, Mrs L, declares she was taken up in the first instance, when she came to London, by such grandes dames as Lady Rosslyn and the late Duchess of Westminster, and never mixed, with a fast or risque, set. Sing hey, laek-a-day, but the fair dame has a short memory. What about those Sunday night dinners with that “ owld rip” the late Lord Ranelagh ? Was it not at one of these gay, notto say giddy, Sabbathnight festivities the Dean’s daughter met Sir John Millais, who asked leave to paint her, and set all the world raving over the “ Jersey Lily” ? Methinks even fremember that much. To refresh ray recollection of those days I have, however, turned up avolume of * Vanity Pair’for that eventful summer. It is there set forth that Mrs Langtry was not in really good society at all till the Prince of Wales took her up. Three professional beauties blossomed then—Mrs Wheeler, Mrs Langtry, and Mrs Cornwallis West. The latter has “gone off” sadly in her looks, and the former one seldom sees. As a matter of fact, even Mrs Langtry is not what she was. The social event par excellence of last week was the birthday dinner of Miss “ Babs ” Scott, younger sister of the famous “ Giddy ” Scott, whose matrimonial adventure with Mr Sebright recently formed the subject of inquiry in the Divorce Court. The invitation (printed in silver) ran thus B. A. B. s. Asks you to dino on Tuesday, February 1, Her eighteenth birthday, at the Bristol Hotel; eight o’clock. The table was smothered in priceless orchids, and the company were, from all accounts, unrestrainedly merry. The sale of Archer the jockey’s furniture and effects realised L 4.000; but this did not include his jewellery, which will be disposed of at Christie’s. It includes hundreds of pins, studs, rings, watches, and other costly souvenirs presented to him in recognition of successful rides, and will undoubtedly fetch fine fancy prices. I remember being tempted into buying a set of sleeve links that had belonged to the late Marquis of Hastings. They were what are known as “ lucky links,” i.e., on each of the four ovals of gold was enamelled a spade court card—ace, king, queen, and knave making up the set. The enamelling was exquisitely done, and as the Marquis had four lots altogether (diamonds, clubs, hearts, and spades) they must have cost him more than a trifle. Well, it was no doubt, a fortuitous circumstance, but from the moment I bought those studs the most inexplicable ill-luck dogged me. Misfortune followed misfortune, till at length, overpowered with superstition, I gave them away. There’s a humiliating confession for you. I often say I wish I could get them back, but I know in my inmost soul I wouldn’t have them at any cost.

Tho Kendals’ visit to Osborne to play before the Queen will not heighten the loyalty of Her Majesty’s theatrical subjects if half the gossip afloat about the affair be true. It seems that after the performance Mr and Mrs Kendal were invited up to the drawing-room to have a chat with the gracious lady who rules our destinies. Poor Rowley Cathcart, however, though he had supported the happy pair both in “Uncle’s Will” and “Sweethearts,” was completely ignored. The Queen expressed herself much pleased with “ Sweethearts,” and asked the author’s name. “It is considered Mr Gilbert’s best comedy, madam,” replied Mrs Kendal. “Oh ! indeed,” said Her Majesty, sweetly, “ and who is Mr Gilbert?” Some interesting facta and figures have just been published in' the ‘Pall Mall Gazette’ about the Alhambra, which has been a huge success ever since it became a music-hall again three years back, and now pays the lucky shareholders an annual dividend of 46 per cent. One curious fact in connection with the Alhambra (as a typical music-hall) is that tho consumption of liquor in the building lessens every year, and is now only about a-third of what it was ten years back. We are certainly getting much soberer and less rowdy, I can remember the time (not so long ago, either) when certain nights at the Pavilion and Alhambra were set aside as sacred to rampant rowdyism—such as Derby night and boat-race night. Well, last night I went to the “ Pavvy ” (to give it the proper designation), and found the audience perfectly quiet and well-behaved. Tempora mulantur, etc. The changeable weather we are having just at present plays the very deuce with people’s digestions, and half the men I meet look yellow and out of temper. A current yarn relates how Corney Grain, the comic vocalist, feeling queerish, betook himself to Dr Quain, who told him his liver was all wrong ; but added, by way of consolation, that nine persons out of ten were in similar bad case. “Ah !” sighed the entertainer, “ if that is indeed so, we had better change the responses in the Litany to “ Good Lord re-liver us !”

The company which Gilbert and Sullivan have been drilling to play “ Ruddygore ” in New York gave a matinde at the Savoy yesterday, which attracted a tremendous house. The occasion was specially interesting, as it introduced to the London stage Miss Geraldine Ullmar, Sir Arthur Sullivan’s jiancie. The lady is young, fascinating, and has a beautiful voice. In the role of the modest village maiden, Rose Maybird, she completely snuffed out memories of Leonora Braham, whom I noticed in the stalls looking the reverse of pleased. But the entire company is first rate, Mr George Thorne, Mr Courtioe Pounds, and Mr Fred Billington being almost replicas in appear ance of Grossmith, Durward Lely, and Rutland Barrington. The chorus is not, perhaps, as pretty as the Savoy chorus, but the dresses and mounting, etc., are precisely the same. I only hope the Australian company may be as good. By-the-by, I met Deane Brande at the Savoy yesterday, and he told me that the preliminary provincial canter of “ Rhoda ” has been most successful. He and his wife (Kate Chard) netted LSOO in six weeks, and that in such comparatively small towns as Portsmouth and Southampton. The title of tho latest Savoy snccess is, say the pious and fastidious, unpleasantly suggestive. An over-bold stranger has even ventured to write to the great Gilbert himself and remonstrate. “Ruddygore,” he complained, “ practically signifies the same as bloody gore. ’ “ Not at all,” replied Mr Gilbert, “the two ideas are entirely distinct, as, for example, if I were to refer to your ‘ ruddy cheek ’ the expression would convey an entirely different meaning to what I consider describes tho liberty you took in writing to me.” The society papers are suffering from an attack of divorce on the brain. If half of the rumors afloat were correct, there would be sensations enough and to spare during the coming spring. I fancy, though, they all refer to the same case. An exposi of the

particular circumstances has been expected again and again, but on each occasion, just as law proceedings seemed inevitable, family friends just stepped in and patched up a reconciliation. It is most sincerely to be hoped a public scandal can now be avoided, for it would ruin the public career and blast the reputation of perhaps the most popular officer in the navy. The “ lady in the case,” too, happens to be a social star of the first magnitude. Didn’t I tell you the last time an imeute seemed imminent, that she was a great heiress, and has the credit of having twice refused offers from a Prince cf the Blood Royal. Altogether the Campbell and Dilke cases will have to hide their diminished heads if this social catastrophe ever comes to Court. By the way I hear that “ poor dear Mrs Crawford” has found a champion in “Ouida,” who means to make her the heroine of her next three-volume “shocker.” Mdlle. dela Ramde looks upon marriage as an effete’and worn-out institution. In conversation with a friend at the Langham Hotel the other day she remarked: “ People of intellect are above all law. Marriage is only suitable for the lower classes ” So indeed recent events would lead us to believe. The last has been seen on a racecourse of The Bard, who has been sold to a French stud company for the substantial sum of LIO.OOO. Considering the colt’s form was fully exposed, and that his chance of winning one of the spring handicaps was practically nil , one cannot blame Messrs Peck and Owen Williams for accepting the foreigner’s offer. Still there is certainly a feeling that sportsmen of the class of Lord Falmouth, or even John Hammond, would never have parted with such a popular eqine hero. The Bard from the time of his first appearance at Lincoln two years ago has been the idol of the people not “society,” but the “vulgar herd.” Had the little chestnut won the Derby, Lambeth, Whitechapel, and Seven Dials would have gone crazy with gin and joy. The butcher-boy’s “tanner,” and the more aristrocratic “dollar” of ’Arry and his "pals” were alike well on. Later in the year, too, when The Bard was so foolishly scratched for the Cesarewitch to make way for the “dead certainty” Silver, the public were heavy losers, and that mysterious band of roughs known as “the boys” intimated to Peck that they would “take it out of him” some day. And so, depend upon it, they will, for no class of man possesses a longer memory than the low racing cad who thinks he has been “had.” The Bard, there can be no doubt, is a thoroughbred of the highest class, and it was wretched luck his lines fell in the year of such an equine giant as Ormonde. Tne publication of Archer’s will has pricked a rare bubble, and made his friends and relations who spread exaggerated reports of his great wealth feel terribly small. Instead of L 150.000, the great jockey turns out to have been worth under L70,0()0. He lost, in point of fact, nearly a third of his money during the season of ’B6. This shows on what an unsubstantial basis even the best-informed bettors’ fortunes rest. Archer’s personal property, whips, sticks, jewellery, and pictures were sold yesterday, and realised “ fancy ” prices. A shilling stick, for example, fetched L 5, and so on.

The death is announced of Mr F. Pryor, who was at one time in a prominent position on the English turf. The best horses he owned were The Duke, Friponnier, and Cardinal York. The Duke carried off the Middle Park Plate in the year of its inauguration, beating a field which included such clinkers as Achievement, The Palmer, and Knight of the Garter. The colt was winter favorite for the Derby of 1867, and would certainly have played a prominent part in the race but for breaking a blood-vessel a week beforehand. Mr Pryor, nevertheless, insisted on starting him, but the colt never figured in the van. With Cardinal York, Mr Pryor won the Cesarewitoh of 1870, and landed a big coup. The horse was not, however, much fancied outside Joseph Dawson’s stable, and started at 20 to 1, Next year, with 9st in the saddle, the Cardinal was second to Baron Rothschild’s Corisande (3yrs, 7st 121b), running that brilliant filly to half a-length. This was thought a great performance at the time, and much talked about. The acceptances for the spring handicaps are numerous, and augur well for the coming season. The “talent” have selected Mr Manton’s Loved One—the filly that won the Wokingham Stakes at Ascot so easily last year—as a good’ thing for the Lincolnshire : and Lord Ailesbury (late Viscount Savernake) is said to fancy Gallinule for the same event. There will, however, be no real market either on this or the Grand National till after the “ battle of the bowwows ” at Waterloo next week. The famous bitch Miss Glendyne, that divided the Derby of the leash in 1885 with Bit of Fashion, and won right out last year, is again a hot favorite. She has been kept specially for the coming Waterloo Cup, and her connections seem confident that she will emulate the great deeds of Master M'Grath by winning a third time.