LONDON GOSSIP.

Evening Star, Issue 9125, 4 May 1893, Page 4

LONDON GOSSIP.

[From Our Swsoial CohuksFO^dent.]

London, March 10, “jimmy” lowther.

The prominent man of the week was undoubtedly Mr James Lowther, who loathes the Irish clan only a degree less than they detest him. The wise ones, however, recognise in the erstwhile Chief Secretary a strong man and an enemy to be dreaded. 44 1 find that few people,” says Mr O’Connor, “have as keen an appreciation of this remarkable man as I have. In his own party he passes more or less for a mere comedian —indeed, I might say, low comedian* in the professional and not in the offensive sense. His tenure of the Chief Secretaryship of Ireland is looked back upon, in an age that has known Sir Michael HiclcsBeach, Mr Balfour, and Mr John Morlcy, as a sublime and daring joke by Disraeli which belonged to and could only happen in an epoch when sober England was ready to allow her Oriental jligglcr and master to play any kind of ‘Midsummer Night’s Dream’ pranks even with the sternest realities of human life. Yet sometimes the thought occurs to me that if he were a little more articulate—-or perchance if the time came when a democracy had to be met not with bursts of parliamentary eloquence but with shot and shell, and the determination to kill or be killed —the leadership of the parly of the aristocracy would fall from the effeminate hands of the super-subtle and cultivated Mr Balfour into the firm and tight grip of the rugged, uncultured country gentleman wdio sits remote and neglected close to him. There is a tightness and firmness of a death-trap in the large strong mouth, a dangerous gleam in the steady eves, infinite powers of firmness, inflexibility, and even cruelty in the whole expression, not iu the least softened, but rather heightened and exalted by the pretty constant smile—the smile that indicates the absence alike of the heat of passion or the touch of pity, and that speaks aloud of the unquestioning and dogged resolve of the aristocrat to tight for privilege to the death. ‘ Ah, what a cruel face I' exclaimed an Irish member by my side as Mr Lowther turned back and' shouted 4 Order, order!’ at the Irish benches—the good-humored smile absent for a few moments and revelations given into abyssmal depths. But Mr Lowther soon recovered himself, smiled with his usual blauduess, and once more dropped the hood over his inner nature. But it was a moment which brought its revelations to any keen observer ; especially if he could have seen the answering looks from a pair of blazing Celtic eyes—also characteristic in their way of all the passion, rage, secular intrepidity of the smaller and weaker race that has carried on a struggle for seven centuries —over battlefields strewn with the conquered dead—past gallows stained by heroic blood -past prisons and hulks where noble hearts ate themselves wearily and slowly to death. It was as in one glance all the contrast, the antipathies, the misunderstanding which had separated one type of Irishmen from one type of Englishmen through hundreds of years.” AMUSEMENTS. In the course of a chat with Mr Samuel French, the publisher of the world-known 4 Lacy's Acting Series,’ he stilted that the most popular farce with amateurs is still • Rmx and Cox' (the copyright of which will be out iu five years), and the most popular play - The Lady of Lyons.’ Mr French sells thousands of these per annum on both sides of fin; Atlantic. The value of a really human up-to-date melodrama is incalculable. For the American rights only of 4 the Lights of London’ Mr French has collected fees amounting to close on til t,ooo, and the income therefrom is still substantial. Ihe American rights of 4 The Silver King ’ likewise realised t’H

r.y the way, amateurs may be glad to know Messrs Rrooktield and Phillips’s admirable duologue ‘The J'mrglar and the Judge ’ is now obtainable from French's a gents, and so are ‘ Queer Street, 7 the semipathetie little piece played with such success at the (laiety, and most of Albery’s plays. Madame haulier’s new cat ballet ‘Katrina,' at the F.mpire, is a great success, and ‘Aladdin’ still draws crowds to the Alhambra. The revived ' Ironmaster,' at the Avenue, has obliged the critics gallantly but firmly to intimate to Mrs Kendal that phvsieal circumstances are against her playing sweet seventeen - year - old hu/emu's. The piece also seems strangely arlitieul and out of date. America has improved Mr Kendal, but his wife adopts an emphatic, almost melodramatic style, very different to tier old subtle, artistic suggestion. The ‘ Ironmaster ’ will give way at once to ‘A Scrap of Paper,’ and ‘Prince Karatolf’ has been ptit in rehearsal. Thu Kendals are understood to be after all considering a proposition which has been laid before them /•< an Australasian tour.

Since the tir.it night of 1 Falstatl' \ enli has received 1:>,00U odd letters and telegrams. Not the least welcome came from the Emperor of Austria. Someone has counted the lines of the libretto and discovered it contains f,:'>74 lines. For this Borto received t hm, fairly payment for adulterated Shakespeare. \ erdi was paid cash down for the score, and receives in per cent, of the operatic royally rights, which in Italy are a minimum of lU per cent, of the gross receipts. Miss Mary Anderson (Madame Navarro), now living in seclusion with her husband at Tunbridge Wells, is writing the reminiscences of her stage career. One wonders whether she will insert the story of the luckless jt: uni 1 . /u'tiii'Ai' (a most discreet person now) who allowed himself to he so far carried away by the glamor of the great love scene in Juliet’s chamber as to kiss the fair “ Mind ” with realism. He apologised humbly, pleaded guilty to being “carried away by Ids art,” etc. Hut Miss Anderson was constitutionally chilly, and did not understand such lapses. The actor did not actually, if I remember aright, have to go, but lie never recovered his manageress's good opinion. I.ITEUAUV NOTES. Amongst the new hooks of next season will be a volume entitled ‘ Facts and Fiction of Painters’ Diction,’ by Lady Eastlake's Page. The work contains interesting reminiscences of Sir Charles Eastlakc, and is enriched by photos, letters, etc., from the author’s master and mistress, besides containing anecdotes of celebrities who visited the house. According to the ‘ Bookman,’ it represents the Eastlakes in a most favorable light, is by no means badly written, and gives portraits of Air Stephen Springall (the page) both in and out of liverv.

‘•The sorceress" of Mrs Oliphaut’e now novel of that name is a certain Laura Lance, a fascinating hut poor girl who works to such an extent on the sympathies and affection of a school friend that when the latter gets married she makes it a condition with her lover, Aubrey Leigh, that Laura shall live with them. The Lcighs are not happy, and though Laura is tactful her presence aggravates the husband intensely. When, however, Mrs Leigh dies a year later she implores Aubrey to let Laura stay on at thellrange to look after her baby. Laura promptly decides, though she doesn't like the widower much, to marry him. For his part he resolves to agree to nothing of the sort. Hut Laura, though she repels, fascinates the man, and finally entraps him into a low intrigue, the outcome of which she decides omul bo marriage. The county’s suspicions are aroused, and Leigh is beginning to be tabooed, when the baby, unfortunately for Laura, dies. She has, of course, at once to leave the ({range, and Leigh joyfully goes abroad, first writing to the sorceress to end all between them. It is at this point the story proper begins which has to do with the love affair of Beatrice Kingsward, to whom Aubrey Leigh presently becomes engaged. The pair are desperately in love, and Colonel Kingsward (a stern and rather selfish martinet) at first cordially approves his daughter’s choice. Then Laura Lance intervenes, and all is over. The fact that there has been a scandal alone matters to the colonel. Excuses and explanations he brushes away indifferently. Beatrice forgives Aubrey; though Miss Lance, but on absurdly insufficient evidence believes him guilty of a worse offence. Ultimately, Beatrice’s brother Charley falls under the spells of “ the sorceress,” and Colonel Kingsward (forgetting the name of Leigh’s temptress) goes to release his son. In this the gallant officer proves entirely successful, Laura much preferring the rich widower to

khb jJenniloM boy. Consequently Beatrice has presently the satisfaction of learning that the Woman who led Aubrey Leigh into trouble and half broke her brother’s heart has ensnared her father likewise. The. most masterly scene in the book is where Laura, threatened with exposure by the Leighs, tights desperately for riches, respectability, and Colonel Kingsward. I must not spoil the reader’s pleasure bv stating which side wins. The characters best drawn in ‘ The Sorceress’ are the martinet Colonel Kingsward (so hard on other people’s infirmities yet so lamentably weak himself) and the heroine Beatrice. The book will rank rather with such works of the author's as ‘Joyce,’ ‘Janet,’ and ‘The Railway Man and His Children ’ than with ‘ Hester,’ ‘ The Heir Presumptive,’ and ‘ Carita.’ If the new novelette by John Oliver Hobbes (MraCraigic) is not the best of the pseudonym series it is very nearly the best, and emphatically a book to buy. Like its predecessor (‘ Some Emotions and a Moral’) this ‘ Study in Temptations ’ brims with clever bits, which are quite quotable even without the context. Hero, for instance, is a portion of a discussion about a leai’ned Oxford professor who has married a comparatively young and charming woman : —“No woman with a heart could have married Sir Hvde-Bassett,” says one of the talkers. “Do you know him ?” asks another. “Np > but everybody says he was the most disagreeable man in the world ; so forbidding, and curt, and unapproachable.” “ I thought so once,” remarks the heroine, “ till one day when I was a child I heard him talking to Lady Hyde-Bassett. I suppose they thought me too little to understand them. They were walking in the garden, and he asked her whether she would rather be a pussy cat or a catty puss, and she pinched Ids arm and said he was a good little thing, and that it was a pity some of the old fossils he knew could not hear him. And he said, very solemnly, ‘(!od forbid!’ And she kissed his hand and said he was an angel ; but she wished he would buy a new hat, although he could only look lovely if he wore py jamas and a billy-cook ! And he said ; 4 For (lod's sake don’t talk so loud ! ’ And she said: 4 Let us both say damn with all our might and then I will be quiet.’ And they said damn and she was quiet, and then they began to talk about Aristotle. 4 That,’ she wound up, 4 is a real celebrity at Home. So you see all scholars don't talk like Casaubon in 4 Middlemareh ’ ; they have their flippant moments, and are horribly tired of being great.’ ” The March magazines are decidedly dull. Almost the best is the 4 Idler,’ which contains F. W. Robinson’s account of his first book ( l The House of Elmore’), and an interview with 4 Tit Bits’ Newncs (by Mr Blathwayt), as well as the usual stories and novel notes.

1 think the cheapest book I’ve ever seen is John Dieks’s sixpenny reproduction of the first edition of 4 David (Joppertield,’ which contains all the original illustrations admirably reproduced, and is bound in a facsimile of the famous green wrapper. For the money nothing like it has been offered to the public before. Both 4 Sketch ’ and the 4 Westminster Budget ’ have caught on mimistakeably in town, but the weight of the latter will have to be reduced if it is to oust the 4 Fall Mall Budget’ amongst folks abroad. At present it costs Nd to send it to Australia and New Zealand.

Mr J. M. Barrie is back at Kirriemuir, willing his novel for Scribner's and a play for Toole.

Messrs ('hallo and Windus, who, like all the best houses, never publish for authors at their own risk, last year considered (Kill manuscripts and accepted forty-four. About three novels in every hundred (Mr Chatto opines) find their way into print. r lhe majorily’of people suffering from ink-fever write inconceivable stuff. Once, however, a man—or, worse still, a woman —catches the complaint, he or she usually proves incurable.

The liking toe detective stories still lingers amongst the lower middle classes, with whom “ Laurence L. Lynch” is a special favorite. This pseudonym covers the identity of a virtuous maiden lady, who lives a blameless life of Arcadian simplicity somewhere in the Alleghany Mountains. Her thrilling mysteries and involved plots are simple, the outcome of an imagination carefully nurtured on tlahoriau and Hoisgobry. She has actually never seen a real detective in her life. It appeared to the lady very easy to write that sort of stuff if there were a demand for it. Her first effort pleased the [taper she sent it to. Since then she has kept on grinding out similar yarns. Professor Minlo, the Aberdeen professor who died last week, is best known by his ■ Manual of F.nglish Prose’ and ‘Characteristics of Mnglish Poets.’ He also wrote two novels, ‘The Crack of Doom’ and ‘The Mediation of Ralph Hardelot.’