TABLE TALK.

Evening Star, Issue 8279, 26 July 1890, Page 1 (Supplement)

TABLE TALK.

[From Oub Special Correspondent ] London, June 14, You may perhaps remember my mentioning some months back that there was a clever young lady, a daughter of the late Professor Fawcett, at Ncwnham College, Cambridge, whom many people considered by no. means out of the running for this yeaifs Senior Wranglership. As a matter of factlhfias Philippa Fawcett has more than fulfilled these high hopes, for on Saturday last, when the result of the Mathematical Tripps came out, it was announced that the examiners had placed the young lady “above the Senior Wrangier. ” This apparently was the only honor they could confer in the present unsatisfactory state of the University statutes. Miss Fawcett is twenty-two year| of age, and was born and brought up at Cambridge. She comes of a clever stock on both sides, her father being, of course, the late lamented blind professor and Postmaster-General, whose premature death some years back we all deplored ; whilst her mother was a Mies Garrett, and sister to the well-known lady doctor Mrs Garrett Anderson. Mias Fawcett’s success was very well received, the undergraduates bursting into cheer after cheer. The nominal Senior Wrangler for the year is Mr Geoffrey Bennett, also twenty-two years of age, and son of a Cambridge resident. He was at school, like so many honors men nowadays, at University College, where he won a scholarship at St. John’s College, Cambridge, coming into residence in 1887.

The fatal termination to the Dowager Lady Ely’s long illness deprives the Queen of one of her most valued friends and confidantes. For many years the benign influence of “Mary lily ” (as Her Majesty called her) was paramount at Windsor and Balmoral, few questions affecting the Royal Family being settled without reference to her sound judgment and sterling common sense. She was always helpful and to be relied upon when Her Majesty felt worried and ill, and latterly remained in waiting most of the year. The constant strain and anxiety proved indeed in the end too much for the old courtier, and she last year fell a prey to the complaint which has now carried her off. It speaks volumes for Lady Ely’s tact and natural goodness that never, either by the Royal Family or by maids of honor or castle officials, was she accused of abasing her intimate friendship with the Queen. The late Marquis of Ely (the deceased lady’s son) was much at Court as a youth, and fell honestly in love with Princess Beatrice, for whose sake (’twas said) he remained single up to his death. The Queen, for her old friend’s sake, would (somewhat reluctantly, perhaps) have countenanced the match ; but Lady Ely unselfishly forbade it. She pointed out both to the Queen and to her son the nncomfortoble —not to say unhappy—results of the Princess Louise’s marriage with a poor nobleman,, and asked Lord Ely whether he would Care to fill a similar anomalous position to Lord Lome’s. The Marquis recognised the rectitude of bis mother’s views and left Court never to return.

Mr Coningsby Disraeli, who is to succeed Sir W. Cunliffo Brooks as Tory member for Altrincham, was Introduced to the electors of that borough on Monday, and made an evidently carefully prepared speech. In appearance the young man is insignificance itself *, but that didn’t matter, for (as he modestly remarked) he came forward rather as a name than a person. Dizzy the second was meek in his hopefulness of pleasing the electors, and intellectually prostrate at the notion of following a giant like Sir William Cunliffe Brooks. This was, no doubt, becoming, yet it somewhat spoilt the illusion of the name. Not thus would the creator of ‘ Vivian G:ey,’ the wondrous boy who wrote ‘ Alroy,' have entered the political arena. Still Mr Cnningsby Disraeli is a good nephew, and has obviously carefully studied his uncle’s works. He quotes them, indeed, with a felicity which would seem to augur the inheritance of a fair share of the avuncular shrewdness, “ The phrase rules, as it ruled at the time of the cry of ‘ Our Young Queen and our Old Constitution,’ and Mr Coningsby Disraeli has an unerring eye for it. Nothing could have been more happily chosen than'the excerpt from the body of Disraolian doctrine in which ho defined his position as a Conservative candate :—‘ He came under no fulac flag, for ho hoped he carried the principles that the name carried with it. He was a Conservative, and as to his principles he might refer them to a speech of his uncle’s, in Manchester, forty years ago, in which his uncle said “The policy of the Tory party is to maintain the institutions of our country.” Those institutions might bo summed up in a few words. They might bo summed up in ‘Church and State.’ First, the church, as the oldest of our institutions, must always be maintained whole and undivided, and at the same time he held the Liberal principle of toleration of all religions, all sects, and all creeds in this country. Then our institutions—our Monarchy, our Parliament, and onr great Empire—must have the goodwill and the support of every Constitutionalist. Especially must attacks against the Empire bo vehemently resisted. These were his principles drawn with a broad hand.’ No one has a right to ask what this means, but it reads well. The broad hand in itself is good, and even the minor touches are certificates of pedigree.”

Mr Austin Chamberlain and Mr Lulu Haroourt also enter Parliament (or rather try to) at the dissolution. All three have given indications of promise, and their careers will be anxiously watched. Notwithstanding the well-meant attempts of the Chief of Police to mitigate the nuisance by confining the route of the temperance procession on Saturday last to some of the leas frequented streets, the entire traffic of the busiest part of the metropolis was stopped and disorganised for over four hours, and thousands of unhappy holiday-makers were in consequence prevented reaching their destinations. One would not mind these demonstrations if they occurred occasionally, or even if they were fairly distributed over different parts of London; but latterly there has been a procession to, or demonstration in, Hyde Park quite onee a week. You, in your orderly colonial cities, can form no notion what a pest to quiet, law-abiding persons with business to attend to these constant invasions of East End rowdies are. I confess, after Saturday, my respect for temperance agitators has sunk 60 per cent. They, many of them, looked fairly respectable, bnt they behaved like blackguards. Amongst the spectators in the Para was General Sir Henry Have-lock-Allan, V.C., M.P., mounted on horseback, and surveying the seething crowd surrounding him with good humored contempt. All of a sudden a cry was raised to tho effect that Sir Henry was Mr Munro, the hated chief of police who had controlled the procession routes to the park. General Havelock-Allan could easily have corrected the misapprehension, but he did nothing of the sort. In answer to jeers and hooting the old soldier simply straightened himself, and expressing a fervent wish that he had had a stick with him vowed he would then have given the yelping ours something to howl about. This roused the mob to fury, and stones, sticks, and every available missile were promptly hurled at the general, who was quickly surrounded by police. In vain the latter endeavored to persuade him I to execute a strategic retreat. “ Retreat j before that canaille, he roared. “Never ! ! I spit upon them.” An ugly rush followed, in which the police were overpowered, and Sir Henry was dragged from his horse. He fought, however, like a demon, letting out right and left with immense effect. The police rallied very soon, fortunately, and Sir Henry, hatless, breathless, and bleeding, remonuted. The police then absolutely insisted on his riding off. Before leaving, however, he once more turned (regardless of stones and bits of broken glass) on the horde, yelling “Lynch him!” and, patting unutterable contempt into the expression, cried “ Try.” The crowd, to do them justice, did try, and the police bad their work cut out to save the old man. His horse was luckily soon hustled into a canter, and most of the missiles falling wide, Sir Henry, on the whole, got off well. I have heard since the old fellow is peculiar, and somewhat noted for eccentric behaviour. The police Bay that on Saturday his gestures were even more aggravating and offensive than his remarks. Nothing, howi ever, could justify the conduct of the

roughs. Moat of them fled howling the instant the police drew their truncheons, which was not till the general had been dismounted.

Prince Eddie’s unwieldy double-barrelled title still forms a fruitful subject for discussion in the society papers, which appear harder up for “copy” than usual, considering we are now at the height of the London season. Talking of accumulated titles, such as “ Clarence and Avondale," “ Cumberland and Teviotdale,” “Richmond and Gordon,” reminds me of a yarn concerning the late Duke of Hamilton, who was also Duke of Brandon in England and Duke of Chatellerault in France. His Grace was in the habit of signing himself “Ham., Ghat., Bran.,” and tradition relates that, having once signed a letter to a firm of tradesmen, he received an answer addressed Messrs Ham, Chat, and Bran, and beginning “ Gents,”

The second trial of Wiedemann v. Walpole comes on to-day, the fair plaintiff conducting her own case. That there is something very quaint about the whole business wc may, I think, fairly conjecture, as Mr Cock, Q.C., who was again instructed for Mias Wiedemann, has thrown up his brief ; and the eminent Q.C. (Mr Harrison) and junior to whom it was then offered likewise returned the document after perusal. I also notice that the ‘Fall Mall Gazette’ and ‘ Star,’ which erstwhile espoused the “ injured lady’s” cause with fervor, are now significantly silent; and that the invitation to subscribe funds to fee the lawyers in the case has been discontinued, Misai, W.’s appearance has not improved since tfie first sensational trial, and she was never A particularly taking personality.

THEATRICAL NOTES. Handsome Charlie Hawtrey, on whom fortune has persistently smiled ever since he ran the ‘ Private Secretary ’ for two years at the Globe Theatre, is again in luck's way. ‘ Nerves,’ Mr Comyns Carr’s adaptation of * Les Femmes Nerveuses,’ produced at the Comedy Theatre on Saturday, went with a roar from first to last, and will certainly draw the town. The piece is of the same school as ‘Dr Bill ’ and fifty other so-called farcical comedies. According to the French authors, all women suffer from nerves in one form or another. Pretty Mrs Armstrong (Mias [Maud Nullett) is no exception to the rule. She loves her husband, but nerves suggest that his kindness and gentleness are only cloaks for indifference. To test him the lady invents a mock intrigue with a French confectioner. Her success proves far beyond her anticipations and desires. Not only does she interfere sadly with the chaste but commercial loves of the said pastrycook and his fiancit Zephyr Elaine (Lotty Venne), but she sees herself compromised beyond escape and on the verge of the Divorce Court. The idea is comic and comically treated, some of the situations, indeed, being a trifle broad. One cannot, however, help laughing, and really an honestly-provoked laugh covers a multitude of sins. Mr Righton as the confectioner, Miss Lotty Venne as his sweetheart, Mr Kemble ns a comic old gentleman, and Hawtrey himself as the husband score heavily. JOURNALISTIC NOTES.

The elaborate priza drawings of ‘ Answers,’ ‘ Rare Bits,’ and some score or more of scissored papers were stopped a few weeks ago by the Treasury, which pronounced the so-called competitions all more or less illegal lotteries. The result has been that the majority of these periodicals have ceased to circulate, and will, many of them, no doubt, die. ‘ Short Cuts ’ (despite its grand list of contributors) lias failed to catch on. Newsvendors won’t bother with halfpenny weeklies. They say they don’t repay the trouble of keeping. Mr Stead’s success with ‘ The Review of Reviews ’ is really phenomenal. In the June number the circulation of the April issue is positively certified over 70,000. I told you, of course, ’twas rumoured to be as much ; but betwixt a “ rumored circulation ” and a “ certified circulation ” there is a wide distance. As neither the ‘ Bird of Freedom ’ nor the * Man of the World ’ has been doing much of late, Mr Corlett has amalgamated them, retaining the most popular features of each, and printing the colored cartoon associated with the latter on better paper. The most promising of Mr Corlett’s defunct journalistic progeny was ‘ Sketch,’ and why it failed I never coaid understand, ‘Life’ drags on a precarious existence at somebody’s expense, the ‘ St. Stephen’s Review J is understood to be subsidised by Conservative politicians, and ‘ Piccadilly ’ is Mr Gilbert Smith’s hobby. None of these, however, pay, or are read save at one’s club. ‘ Truth ’ is now incomparably the wealthiest and most influential of the “ society ” papers. Its money article (admirably done) carries great weight in the city, more especially as the secret of the writers’ names has been very carefully kept. The Broadley Pasha and Louis Engel scandals have seriously damaged the ‘ World’s ’ prestige. People cannot believe that Edmund Yates was as wholly ignorant of the latter’s blackmailing proclivities as he professes to have been. Augustus Moore seems doing fairly well with the ‘ Hawk,’ though the paper is certainly not one to leave about on drawing room tables or read aloud to the traditional maiden of bashful fifteen. Its tone is Bohemian, not to say “night-clubby,” and its jokes are too often the jokes of Cerulia. Very heavy damages (L 750 and costs) were, by the way, given against the ‘Hawk’ on Monday for some reflections on a Major Heath’s attempt to promote a company to float a patent target. The ‘ Hawk ‘ seemed to be in the right in the matter, and the jury’s action does not appear explicable from the paper reports.

Tho ‘ Daily Graphic ’ continues to sell fairly well, though its expenses are, I hear, extremely heavy. The new sixpenny illustrated 4 Black and White,’ which was heralded with such a flourish of trumpets a short time ago, hangs fire for want of capital. LITERARY NOTES. Few novels of the present day, I should imagine, do more downright mischief than Florence Marryat’s. Almost without exception this author’s later stories (reeled off at the rate of two per annum) are vulgar, broad, unnatural, and turning on unhealthy or disagreeable situations ; yet they undoubtedly are read to a certain extent, especially in America. I fancy many ladies are not aware how seriously Miss Marryat’a (or rather Mrs Ross Church’s) tone and taste have deteriorated latterly. They remember years ago reading such comparatively harmless love tales as 1 Tbe Girls of Fevorsham ’ or ‘ Petronel,’ and they fancy when they see their daughters engrossed with 4 A Crown of Shame,’ 4 Mount Eden,’ or ‘Blindfold’ that they are similar stuff. Really Miss Mairyat’s recent novels ought not to be allowed in any young girl’s hands. The cheap edition of Mrs Walford’s books has proved so successful that it is in contemplation to reproduce Miss Annie BethamEdwards’s stories similarly. 4 Dr Jacob’ and 4 Disarmed ’ will be the first.

The whole of the ten-guinea edition tie luxe of Stanley’s book has been taken up, and copies cannot now be bought under Ll2 10s. Ihc explanation of this is that each of the 250 issued will be numbered and signed by the explorer himself. Should the Stanley furore continue, the price of this edition may easily go up 100 per cent, in the next few weeks.

Those of your readers who are old enough to remember the * Tomahawk ’ will learn with regret that poor Mat Morgan, whose vivid and always highly sensational cartoons made that paper the vogue for a time, has just died in New York. It was in 1868 the ‘ Tomahawk ’ reached its zenith. The Hastings scandal was then rife, and Morgan made a big hit with some startling pictures of the Lady Elizabeth fiasco. Ultimately immunity from prosecution made him reckless, and he libelled a royal personage in a manner which ruined the paper. Morgan bad then to bolt to America in order to avoid creditors, and never returned. In New York ho achieved, I believe, some success as a scene painter, but has seldom been heard of latterly. The ‘Tomahawk’ cartoons were quite unique, erring frequently on the side of luridness and grotesque extravagance. but invariably powerful and incisive. Files of the paper even now fetch fancy prices as curios, and will no doubt increase in value. There has never been anything quite like them. The June magazines are exceptionally dull as regards fiction. Literally the only short stories I can commend are ' The Great Valdez Sapphire’ in ‘Cornbill,’and ' Strange Occurrences at Canterstone Gaol ’

in ‘ Blackwood.’ Neither can be described as in any way out of the common. A reprint of Rudyard Kipling’s * Story of the G&dabys ’ has been issued (uniform with ‘ Soldiers Three ’) at a shilling. Get it. Monday, June 9, was the twentieth anniversary of Charles Dickens's death. To sceptics who aver that the taste for “ the master’s work is dying out, the faithful Edmund retorts with some convincing statistics. Chapman and Hall have, says Mr Yates, sold in these two decades no fewer than 1,952,000 volumes of the novelist’s works. This, of coarse, is exclusive of foreign editions and of the sales of the stories run out of copyright and pirated. A statement to the effect that Sir Walter Scott made L 500.000 by his novels is contradicted. About LI 50,000 would, an authority alleges, be nearer the mark. The highest sum he ever got for a single work was LIB.OOO for the ‘Life of Napoleon.’ The life and correspondence of Dr Adam Sedgwick, the famous geologist, which has been seven years in preparation, will be published shortly by the Cambridge University Press, TURF CHAT. “To him that hath,” etc. Last week the Duke of Portland not only won the Epsom Grand Prize and Oaks, but lauded Derby sweeps to the tune of nearly a thousand pounds. In the Turf Club sweep, worth over LSOO, His Grace had two shares, for which he drew Sainfoin and Surefoot. The Garrick Club Derby sweep fell to Irving, and “friend Toole” shares with Mr Edmund Routledge the first prize at the Devonshire.

The pony Semolina made the running in the Oaks for a mile or more, when she compounded, and Signorina for a few moments seemed going to win. At the distance, however, Memoir collared her, and quickly getting the best of a brief struggle won easily by three-quarters of a length, Mr Houldsworth’s Ponza third. Evens were laid on Signorina, 7 to' 4 against Memoir, 100 to 30 Semolina. The Prince of Wales has bought The Imp from Sir James Mackenzie, and it will run in the royal colors for the Ascot Hunt Cup on Wednesday, for which it is muoh fancied. H.R.H. likewise wanted to buy Sainfoin, but as the colt failed to passed the vet. Porter persuaded him not to, urging that nasty things would be said if he asked his royal employer a big price for the colt and it later broke down. Sir James Miller of course elected to run all risks. He is a captain in the 14th Hussars, and only twenty-six. Watts, like Tom Cannon (the two Shotovers) aud Archer (Melton and Lonely), has succeeded in riding winners of Derby and Oaks in the same week. The Grand Steeplechase de Paris (worth L 2,000) was run last Sunday at Auteuil, the winner turning up in the Irish chaser Royal Meath, for whom Lord Dudley gave L 5,000 (with a contingency of L 2,000 if it won) before the start. Royal Meath started favorite at 6 to 4, and won easily by three lengths from the French Fetiche, Papillon IV,, and eight others, Mr H. Beasley riding. The distance is almost the same as our own Grand National, but the fences are much easier.

For tlie Grand Prize of Paris, to-morrow, Surefoot and Signorina have been scratched, and Sainfoin isn’t engaged. Under the circumstances Baron Rothschild will probably win with either Heantne or Le Nord. Donovan will run his last race in the Ascot Gold Cup on Thursday, after which the young horse joins Ayrshire nt Welbeck Sturt Farm. The Duke of Portland cannot bear to riuVc defeat -witVi Wia favorites, and. the greater his success the more this peculiarity grows upon him. Hi s Grace wished HttleSemolina ta win the Oaks ; but, acting on advice, made no declaration. Watts was offered his choice of mounts, and judiciously selected Memoir. In all probability, seven furlongs is Semolina’s best distance, as it was her mother’s. A mistake has evidently been wade about St. Serf’s non-staying, as, after seeming thoroughly beaten at the boll in the Epsom Grand Prize, the colt came again with extraordinary gameness, and, recatching Ornatus in the last few strides, won by a neck.