THE LANGWORTHY MARRIGE. A TRUE NOVEL.

Otago Witness, Issue 1862, 29 July 1887, Page 8

THE LANGWORTHY MARRIGE. A TRUE NOVEL.

The New Departure in Journalism— The Pall Mall Gazette's True Tale of a Nineteenth Century Scandal -Truth Stranger than Fiction. " The following is the account given by the Pall Mall Gazette of the cause celebre which was tried in the English courts last week, The paper was the means of raising a large public subscription for defraying Mrs Lang, worthy's costs in fighting for her rights, The court has awarded her £1200 a year, and her child £500 a year : — Prologue. Four years ago last February a wealthy Englishman, plebeian in birth, but immensely rich, was staying at the Hotel j Braganza, Lisbon. His yacht, a floating palace, lay at anchor in the Tagus. He was on his honeymoon, and seemed jealously devoted to his spirituellc young wife, whom he was taking out to her new home in the New World. But in the mornings, when the time hung somewhat heavy on his hands, he used to amuse himself by tor-, t uring the cats which frequented the garden o ? ihe hotel. It was rare sport to him after tempting the cat within reach by caresses and dainties to drop a red-hot coal fresh from the fire upon the confiding and unsuspecting pet, and afterwards to see his cousin chase the tortured animal about the enclosed space, until, in agony of fear, and mad with the pain of the seared and burning flesh, it would spring into the garden well. Then this English gentleman and his more active cousin would lean over the low parapet of the wall and chuckle with glee at the struggles of the helpless creature in the water below. They laughed as they saw it swim round and round, or heard its plaintive cry as it tried once and again, and ever in vain, to scale the steep and slimy wall of the well. What bettor sport was there after' the heated chase than to lean over the cool well side, leisurely to watebthe ever- weakening struggle below, and occasionally to drop a stone on the little head that was just visible above the rippled water ? It was not a very noble sport, perhaps, but it had the zest of cruelty, the flavour of death. There were bystanders, but most did not take notice of what was done. Those who did marvelled, Some were shocked, others were amused. But no one interfered. He was rich, and he paid for hia sport. Why should the English visitor not amuse himself as he pleased ? That English milord was Edward Martin Langworthy ; and the story of his marriage, which we are now about to tell, is foreshadowed with curious fidelity in the horrible little episode of the Cats of the Hotel Braganza. It is all there, all we have to tell, the only difference being that in our narrative of facts the victim of a millionaire's sport is a refined and cultured lady, There is the same treacherous caress, the cruel awakening, the ruthless pursuit, and the leisurely observation of the piteous struggles in the depths. There is also, alas, the same indifference or ignorance on the part of those who stand around. And if no one interferes, the end will also be the same. In spite of the law, which he sets at defiance, notwithstanding the orders of our courts, which he treats with contempt, the millionaire will triumph. He has driven his deserted wife to destitution. But a little longer and he will force her to despair, perhaps to death. To avert that tragic ending to a heroic struggle of four years, to thwart the conspiracy of wealth and power, this strange and over-true story of to-day is published. For such offences where the law is powerless and the High Court of Justice is contemned, publicity is our last and only resource. Without more prologue we begin the narrative, which, although it may bo incredible to the casual reader, is already familiar to at least half a dozen English judges.