THE STAR OF BEAUTY SETS.

South Canterbury Times, Issue 3308, 8 November 1883, Page 2

THE STAR OF BEAUTY SETS.

Perhaps the saddest spectacle I ever witnessed, with one of the spoilt children of an ephemeral celebrity (writes a London correspondent), was the departure from King’s Cross Station of Mrs Langtry, who has come back to England plus £25,000, the result of a few months “ starring” in the States. You would have thought that there would have been a good crowd of friends and inquisitive strangers, to see the world-renowned beauty. There were not half-a-dozen people. Mrs Langtry, whose portrait, as an advertisement for Pear’s soap, adorns the inside of every London omnibus, is easy recognisable ; but she looked careworn, and I thought disappointed, at this absence of anything like an ovation. She could perhaps still hear the loud cheering that greeted her as she rushed late on board the ship at New York the other day, and the captain’s gallant remark, “ You see, Mrs Langtry, I waited for you.” Alas! in her own country few seemed to care whether she came or went. Among the scanty gathering at King’s Cross there was a venerable old gentleman with long white hair, and clearly of the clerical profession. It was her father, the Dean of Jersey. “ Father," said the great beauty, in a sad and subdued tone, “ I feared you would not come.” Ho barely kissed her, and then stiffly raising his bat, bowed ; and at once left before the train started. His daughter was hurriedly entering her carriage, evidently in no serene mood, when a lady friend, Mrs Caygill, the wife of the celebrated “ tourist,” stepped forward and gave her a very handsome bouquet, and three male friends standing by attempted a mild cheer. The somewhat nondescript theatrical company engaged by the “Lily” for her provincial tour, hurriedly got into. their places, and I overheard one of them remark, “ Her mother sent to say she was too ill to see her off.” Mrs Langtry’s handsome features relaxed, but, I fear, only into a “ stage” smile, as the train started, and her friends, numbering four persons, and the general public, consisting of a reporter, a policeman, a newsboy, and myself, slowly dispersed. On my way home by the convenient 'bus, I could not but gaze at her portrait on the roof, which gave rise to many reflections on the little scene I had witnessed. I thought that after all,those whose livelihood depends on their notoriety must have many a sad moment, for, unlike those who can boast of true fame and a noble reputation, they but exist by the breath of the multitude. For a fashionable actor, an aesthetic lecturer, or a professional beauty, not to be received by loud huzzas and heralded by staring “posters.” means simply annihilation. And so this chance spectacle of the departure of the celebrated “ Jersey Lily ” upon her, perhaps, not too congenial labours, made me more clearly comprehend the eagerness that many English celebrities display to visit America and the colonies.