People Talked About

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXIII, Issue VI, 6 August 1904, Page 2

People Talked About

The Senior Wrangler. Each walk of life nowadays has its blue ribbon; and in the educational world, of all the many honours and distinctions. the position of Senior Wrangler at Cambridge is regarded by the publie as “the” blue ribbon. It is one thing in which everybody takes an interest, and each year the story and career of the holder of this proud position is told in all the papers. This year it is a particularly interesting one, as the latest addition to the Senior Wranglers is not only exceptionally brilliant, but is also a self-made scholar who has climbed the educational ladder from the bottom rung of an elementary school to the top of the tree by means of a splendid series of scholarships. Mr A. S. Oddington. though born at Kendal, is really a Somerset man, as his father, the late Mr A. H. Oddington, was from Weston-super-Mare; and it was a Somerset County Council scholarship which laid the foundation of his final success, enabling him to go to Owen’s College, Manchester. Born on December 28, 1882, the Senior Wrangler is only twenty-one. yet he is a B.Se. both of Condon and Victoria Universities, having held at the latter the University Scholarship for Physics. Two years ago he won a scholarship at 'Trinity College, Cambridge, from Owen’s College, and since then he has swept the board, taking the Mathematical Tripos at the end of his second year instead of the third, which is a most unusual thing, showing great selfconfidence and exceptional ability. Second to Mr Oddington came Mr BlancoWhite, the son of a London solicitor, hailing also from Trinity. The third on the list was Mr Stratton, of Cains; and fifth came Mr O. 11. B. Starte, a Clare man, and a native of Cambridge, who, like the Senior Wrangler, fought his educational way by scholarships. Of the women. Miss Glanert, of Girton, was first, bracketed with the twentysixth wrangler. Stage Stories. in "Behind the Footlights,” recently published in London, Mrs Alec Tweedie elints pleasantly and vivaciously about tile numerous famous players and playwrights she has met. One of the most interesting of chapters contains an interview with Ibsen. Here is an excerpt from it: “On the table beside the inkstand was a small tray. Its contents were extraordinary — some little wooden carved Swiss bears, a diminutive black devil, .‘mail eats, dogs, and rabbits made of copper. one of which was playing a violin. ‘What are those funny little things?' I ventured to ask. ‘I never write a single line of any of my dramas unless that tray and its occupants are before me on the table. I could not write without them. It may seem strange perhaps it is—but I cannot write without them.' he repeated. ‘Why I use them is my own secret.’ And he laughed quietly.” “Mdnie. Sarah Bernhardt,” writes Mrs Tweedie, “is an extraordinary woman. A young artist of my acquaintance did much work for her at one time. He designed dresses, and painted the Egyptian. Assyrian, and other trimmings. She was always most grateful and generous. Money seemed valueless to her: she dived her hand into a bag of gold, and holding it out bid him take what would repay him for his trouble. He was a true artist, and his gifts appealed to her. ‘More, more,’ she often exclaimed. ‘You have not reimbursed yourself sufficiently—you have only taken working pay and allowed nothing for your talent. It is the talent I wish to pay for.’ And she did.”

Kipling's Old School. Many interesting reminiscences are just now being recalled of Mr. Rudyard Kipling’s school life, by reason of the recent closing of the United Services’ College at Westward Ho! The distinguished author’s school period covered the years 1878-1882, and during that time, from all accounts, he was “the best hated fellow” in the “Coll.,” though now with old U.S. boys he is probably the most popular: The characters in “Stalky and C 0.,” the novel which dealt with his college days, are drawn from life, and although they are not distinctly flattering, some of the adventures and exploits of “Stalky” and his companions are not far removed from the truth. “Bates,” the famous “head,” was Mr. Cormell Price, the first headmaster; “Padre,” the Rev. G. Wiles, the then chaplain; and “Foxey.” the senior gymnastic instructor, Sergt.-Major Schofield. The common-room of the College contained many of Mr. Kipling’s works, with autographic dedicatory poems. On a copy of “Echoes” there were the lines: To “My verv noble ami approved good masters.” “Placetne Domini?”—in far Lahore I wait your verdict, ’mid the palms and roses. Much as I did those judgments writ of yore Upon my “Proses.” Tn the “College Chronicle,” the journal published in the interests of the school, Kipling first displayed his literary ability, and some forty odd numbers, a little time ago, were sold for the trifling sum of a hundred pounds. He also contributed sketches in prose to the local papers, long before he graduated as a journalist in India, and became known to fame as the “poet of Empire.” Writing of the school, many of whose past pupils have distinguished themselves in the Services in all parts of the globe, he described them as: A scattered brotherhood, in truth. By mount and stream and sea. Who ehase with all the zeal of youth Iler Majesty’s rupee. Mr. W. S. Gilbert. It is some time since the popular author of “The Pirates of Penzance.” “H.M.s. Pinafore,” and other equally well-known musical plays has delighted London audiences with a production from his versatile pen. and the announcement of this new play of his caused all the more interest and curiosity from the fact that its nature was kept a most profound secret until the last minute, says a Home paper concerning Mr W. S. Gilbert’s new play, “The Fairies’ Dilemma,” which has recently been produced in London. The utmost precautions were taken to guard against the smallest clue escaping as to its character before the right time. Rehearsals were conducted with the iron curtain down, and all doors approaching the stage were locked to everyone except those actually required bv the author and manager. Mr Gilbert is always as secretive ns this when bringing out a new play; but there is one thing—when at last the secret is divulged, it is always something well worth waiting for! Like that other eminent playwright. Mr Henry Arthur .Tones. Mr Gilbert makes a point of personally conducting all rehearsals of his own plays, and seeing that everything is carried out to the letter as it is set down in the libretto. Every stage prop., every action, every gesture must be “just so,” and woe betide any artist who dare excuse him-

self with “Oh, it’ll be all right on the night! ” During the dress rehearsal of his play “The Pirates of Penzance.” one of the actors, on being asked to sing, and not hum through, a line of recitative, made use of the above remark. Mr Gilbert flared up, and thundered out, “It’s for the public to judge whether it’s all right on the night! I’m here to see that it’s all right at the dress rehearsal!” An instance of Mr Gilbert’s “pernickety” ways where rehearsals are concerned is given in a little story told by “M.A.P.”

At a dress rehearsal of “The Sorcerer,” at the Savoy, the well-known actor Mr Rutland Barrington, in the

ecclesiastic attire of his character, spoilt an otherwise dignified entrance by bringing in with him a small, flighty-looking cane. He was about to drop languidly into song, when Gilbert, who was conducting the rehearsal from the orchestra. called out: “I’d like to know what you think you represent—the Church or Tattersall’s ?” “Why! what’s the matter?” inquired the actor in surprise. “Matter!” retorted the author angrily—“that cane! That cane!” “Oh! won’t this do just for now?” pleaded Mr Barrington. “It may do for you!” shouted Gilbert. “But as I have done nothing to deserve it, this rehearsal doesn’t go on till you’ve got the proper stick!”

And it d"dn’t. A messenger was sent off post haste to search the Strand for the required article, and not until he returned, accompanied by an ebony stick with a plain ivory handle, was the rehearsal allowed to proceed! Mr Gilbert takes great delight in occasional little sparring matches, and one night, at a party, he was trying in vain for a long time to “draw” Sir Francis Bumand, the renowned editor of “Punch.” But it was no good — Sir Francis wasn’t having any. A little later in the evening, however. Mr Gilbert went up to him. and said. “Ah, Bumand. it must be rather gratifying to be editor of a paper like yours, and have so many good things sent up for publication!’*

“Yes,” replied “Punch’s” editor, completely off his guard for the moment—“yes. I must confess it is extremely gratifying!” “Then why on earth don’t you put ’em in?” cried Mr Gilbert. Quick repartee is certainly not one of Mr Gilbert’s weak points. After a large dinner party one evening. Mr Gilbert was standing near the front door, waiting for his hat and coat, when a swagger young man came up to him, and, taking him for one of the men-servants, said: “Here! Just call me a four-wheeler, will you?” The dramatist looked him up and down, and then said coolly: “Well, I certainly couldn’t call you—er—handsome! ”