Illustrated London Letter.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1060, 23 June 1892, Page 10

Illustrated London Letter.

(from our own CORRESPONDENT.) London, April 27. The Easter Manoeuvres. Kent, ‘cherry-ripe Kent/ may now again reEume its wonted peaceful aspect. In the past few days it has been the Kindergarten field of mimic warfare, where further objeot lessons have been taught our citiz-n soldiers in the methods of offence and defence. The day may oome whan the knowledge acquired in holiday time msy be of service 10 our island home, and the mimic battle fought by the North London and South London brigades may be repeated in all sober earnest botween the invader and the defender on the Bame ground ’twixt Dover and Deal. The Russian general when he,amaz d, witnessed one of the greatest feats of arm* in the annals of war, tho Balaclava charge, said, ‘lt is grand, but it is not war.‘ On Easter Monday, bad he stood on some point of vantage on the Kentish downs, he might have repeated himself with some little doubt as to bis facts, the battle was so very real, the charging, the volleying, tho clang of arms, the dust and confusion, all'tso bloodlensly real. The artlrt who limns the scene in black and white can make his eketohes look very ‘real.’ See that detachment of field artillery dragging the heavy field-guns up a stiff hill. *Up with the guns 1 under these conditions is no child's play, and to stick to one's guns is work fit for veterans. The ‘warm corner/ above illustrated, became quite uncomfortable when tho machine gun had to ba brought into play to repel an attacking party, ‘Stormed at with shot and shell, boldly they rode and well/ the gun always up to time, fresh as a daisy. While the mimic battle wages the skilled forces at times forget they are not in earnest and go for oue another as fiercely as ever Saxon and Celt. The blows given are nut always sham, and were the combat not imperatively stopped it would develop into a melee, and the tale of killed and wounded Would be considerable. But the officers rush to the front, signal to •ground midb/, in old drill parlance. Many a hard knock h-s been given and received before the truce aas enforced. Above is a sketcti of the ‘ stop ohargo ’ at the critical moment. An officer who bad been often 1 under fire, and who eventually won the Victoria Cross, but who was not naturally j brave, told tho writer that the excitement of a charge was so exhilarating that fear fled, and even narrow escapes from bullets had no effect on the nerves. Later on ho said the smell of blood m-vddened man and horse alike, and fighting became a combat of devi s. A Lucknow Heroine.

What an old story it reads, even to those who remember that story of the Indian mutiny, the brave defence of Lucknow, and the romantic interest of its deliveranoe. And yet it is but a generation old. Lady Inglis, the widow of the brigadier, one of the greatest heroes of the revolt, has just published, under the title ‘ The Siege of Lucknow,' a book embodying her memories and her experiences of that tragical time and chivalric incident. The defence of the city was, Outram said, a feat unparali lied in Huropean annals, and he spoke the simple truth. Within the city wall wo o 1,800 men, with 800 women and children m keeping. Outside, opposing them for ninety days, were 15,000 fanatics. At the end of that terrible time sucoour came to be added only to the defence. Brigadier Inglis sncceeded to the command on the death of Sir Henry Lawrence, killed on the third day of the siege. But it is an oft-told tale, though the incidents Lady iDglis ados are of moving and new interest., Tte terrible straits of the garrison are matters of history. Lady Inglis tells us she had to refuse the gift 01 a little milk for a dying child to a poor woman whose husband had been killed.. She had only just enough for her own children, and « baby could not have lived without it, so the mother’s heart said ‘No.’ The children loon got used to the sound of the firing, and slept through it all. When awake they nlaj ed at sieges, and bombarded the walla with pellets of earth to imitate the bursting of shells. The women discussed suicide should no help come, to avoid a mors terrible fate, bat Lady Inglis felt that would be sin, and she had faith that God would tell her in her hour cf need how to act. Several of the ladies had poison to hand. Then one day the sound of distant guns struck her ear. ‘Each boom seemed to say, “ We are commg to save you.” ’ It was Outnun and Havelock But the relieving force suffered severely as they fought their way in, the men shot down by scores through the loop-holed houses in the narrow streets. It was long a subject of controversy aa to the truth of the

(From a photo taken soon after the Relief of Lucknow.) story of the Highland woman hearing in a far echo some notes of ‘ The Campbells are Coming/ and bidding all be of good cheer, for aid was at hand. Tho woman, Jesse McClauchlao, did so hear the welcome sounds, and tho pipers of the 78th did play the old Highland air to cheer the rescue party. The piper sergeant of the 78th has quite reoentiy given his testimony to that effect. He was in the regiment, and he heard the pipes spring the old stirriDg tune. But the mutiny and its tragic story are still an open sore in the heart of old England—a sore and a shame. ' Sweet Anne Hathaway/ Time only serves to add lustre to tho name of the poet of all time, ana to enhance the value and sacredoess of not only suoh relics as we possess of our greatest son In the guild of literature, but of the plaoes once familiar to his presence. The fu.jd for tho preservation of Shakespeare’s relics has just purchased Anne Hathaway’s cottage for the bu a of £3OOO, so generati >ns yet unknown may pilgrimage to the sweet old village of Shottery, divided from Stratford by rich meadows, and nit under the eaves of the quaint thatched roofed cottage where was born and dwelt the poet’s wife, wbo, some chroniclers say, was beautiful, and pastionately loved of her husband. Others say

she was coarse, and a scold. Shakespeare was only nineteen whim he married, and his wife wd-i his senior by > ight y p-rs. Whatever tho truth may be, tho old house at Shottery possesses great internsr, and moreover, many of the featuies of the village are stili intact just as they were 300 years ago, when ‘ the player Will ’ ha 1 lus own habitat there. The antiquated Hathaway cottage, in the midst of the luxuriant landscape, is on the left of the road leading from Stratford. It is a long, low, thatched tenement of timber and plaster, substantial y built upon a baße of squared slabs of lias Hate, a characteristic of Merionethshire cottageß. Like Shakespeare’s own birthplace, it has been divided into three tenements under the one roof, the centre one the living room and kitchen combined. It had a stone floor, a low ceiling, and a large fireplace, on which were burned huge faggots, and above which the flitting clouds would be seen through the aperture while sitting on the wooden bench, cosily placed near the kindly fire. Here, too, in this tenement is the old carved ‘courting chair/ In an upstairs chamber is an elaborately carved fourposted bedstead, where peacefully slumbered the reigning members of the Hathaway family for generations. Anne's father was a substantial yeoman, equal in status to the family of Shakespeare. The cottage has been 300 years in the possession of the Hathaway family. Anne Hathaway was buried beside her immortal husband in the ohonoel of the church at Stratford-on-Avon, which

has just been restored. Westminster Abbey would long ago bave been enriched by Shakespeare's bones bat foi the malediction engraved on the largo slab of stone lyiDg on his tomb. The words are well-koowD. With them we leave tho over-fresh enticing theme the story of William Shakespeare, bis loves and woes : ‘Good friend, for lesus sake fo bearo T • digg the dust cnolo&eed heare ; . B'est be ye m“n yt ppare-s thes stones And cvrat be he yt moves my bones/ A Neglected Monument. Wo are not always surcessful in our mural mementoes to our great departed* either as works of art or in the oouoeption of the idea. Some instances of the absurdities perpetrated forniod the subject nomotimo ago r£ in amusing magazine article. But wo have always been justly proud of Mr Alfred Stevens’ stately monument to the Iron Date, which, by the way, was not erected until eighteen years after that hero joined the majority-. It was placed in St. Raul’s Cathedral in a side chapel dimly lit on one side only, and farther, partially hid by a screen. Not only is the full view of ths noble work, obstructed, but the figure of

Valour crashing that of Cowardioe ia oonoeated from sight, the lower figure alone being visible. This is added insult to injury both to the great warrior and the sculptor An equestrian statue of tho Duke was part of the artist’e ultimate design, and to this all the broader details led. The Dean of the day objected, and the sculptor’s dream remained in the heart of the marble. Sir F. Leighton has moved in the matter, the finishing model exists, and funds only are now wanted to give the magnifioent monument proper lodgment and full completion. When this is done it will be a fitting addition to the splendour and beauty of our greatest national cathedral.

A Deed of Bl^od. Police-sergeants carry their lives in their hands. They have to do often not only with desperadoes bv nature, but as often with laeu insdo desperate by a crime to which some wrong or disappointment has urged them. The murderer Hamilton, or Gurd, aa. his real n me proves to be, whoae portrait is bore given, is an instance in point. Ho was an attendant in a luratio asylum,, and engaged to be married to a housemaid in tho esiablisbment, who, after he had left his

service, ok back her troth. The banns bad been asked a few dsys previously. Hamilton met the girl’a uncle at an inn at Melksham, and walked-away with him by the canal, where he shot him dead and decamped. A few days afterwards be was traced to the neighbourhood of LoDgleat Park, and three constables went in search of him. They found him, and in the attempt to arrest him he closed with Superintendent Perrett, and shot him through the heart. His oapture was then effeoted. •Ravished With the Whistling of a Name.’ To keep in swim and well up in London matters requires one to be constantly on the qni vlve ; a week lying idle and you fall in the rear, »nd cstoh up again with bewildering trouble. In that week very probably half a dozen new papers have been launched, aud a score gone down 1 It ia almost impossible to follow the tale of new publicstiona —happily for oue s brain perhaps. Ws are not a humorous nation, but the greatest circulation among the penny weeklies is achieved by the comic prints. Those meant to instruct drag on a preoarioue

existence, virtue being its only reward. One or two medley ven'urea bave isoently been brouabt out, trusting to their euoceee on the strength of a uame known as that

of a aucoosuful writer or nctionist. The public buy the first number because of the name, but the stability wholly depends on the substance. There is no greater fallacy than that of a name so far aa peiiodioals go. . * Sala’s Journal’ published this week will put this statement to the test. It is to be a • magazine for all,' so non-political and nonsectarian. There is to be tbe usual pot pourri of literature, science, art, of social and fashion news, and all tbe rest of it. It is to be on tbe lines of Dickens’ * Household Words,’ to which Mr Sala was one of the earliest contributors. We wish the Sala balloon good speed, but it will have to depend upon its merits alone outside oertain circles, mostly in London, the name of Sala is an unknown quantity, and. at the best, that of a journalist has no basis of continuance.