THE GLOBE. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 1879. OUR LONDON LETTER.

Globe, Volume XXI, Issue 1796, 22 November 1879, Page 2

THE GLOBE. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 1879. OUR LONDON LETTER.

SPECIALLY WHITTEN* POE THE GLOBE. LONDON, October 9. The people who live in the extreme west of England,and in the Channel Islands, generally experience about this time of the year a brief interval of remarkably fine weather, which they call “ St. Martin’s Summer.” Fortunately this year this “summer ” in October has extended over the whole country, and for the first week of this month, as well as for a part of the lost week in September, we enjoyed the most favorable weather we could desire, except that of course the shortening days brought increasing cold with them. Away up in the mountains in Scotland, where the grouse shooting has been very poor this year, most of the heather and the young birds having been killed by the storms that prevailed so long in the spring, the sport has somewhat improved with the bettor weather that has lately favored us, and a gentleman who is connected with the Court tells me that the Queen’s residence at Balmoral is now looking more charming than he ever recollected it at this season. All over the northern part of these islands the fruit and corn are now ripening and being gathered, though the harvest is fully seven weeks late. Of course prices of food are rising, for always at this time of the year those who provide us with the necessaries of life find some excuse for securing something extra out of our pockets. No doubt the crops all over the United Kingdom have this year been very poor, but as I have explained in a previous letter, there are so many other fields of supply that the price of bread can never rise to any really high figure. Our Irish fellow subjects are loud in their _ outcry against the ruin they feel certain awaits them if they are compelled to pay their rents, but one of the leading potato factors in London has assured the public that though they may have to pay a large price for the best and scarcest qualities there will be nothing like a potato famine in this country, as was feared not long ago. Affairs in England, whether political, mercantile, or social, may be truly described as remarkably quiet, if not altogether stagnant. In the way of politics the forewarning shadow of a general election, which has scared many people for some months post, is deepening in intensity, and no one feels certain when the order of dissolution may be issued. Trade is no bolter than it has been for a couple of years past, and though there are symptoms of an early revival in some leading industries, and notably in the iron trade, yet many people doubt if it is not a merely spasmodic effort which will quickly pass. In a social way London is still very quiet, and will remain so for the present month, so many of the best people being away, their holiday time having this year been postponed until an unusually late period. But the amount of holiday making this year has been very much smaller on the part of the general public than for many previous years, and the railway and steam packet companies are suffering from greatly diminished receipts. On the other hand, there has been no disaster such as I have had to chronicle in former years, either by land or sea, and fortunately there is not nearly so much mourning to be seen in the streets of London now as there was a year ago, after the Princess Alice was run down in the Thames. But emigration still keeps alive, and almost every week conveys to you in New Zealand some of onr people, who are hoping that better times await them on your shores. It is worthy of remark that just at the time when the London theatres are re-opening for the autumn season the Social Science Congress, which yesterday finished its annual session (held this year for the second time at Manchester), should have devoted a day to the consideration of the moral aspects of the drama and the stage, and this too under the presidency of the Bishop of the diocese, who a short time ago subjected himself to much criticism for his advocacy of the theatre. At this section of the Social Science Congress the audience had the advantage of hearing the subject discussed from many points of view, but mainly from two. A clerical view of the matter was taken by the Hev. C. Woodhouse, a Manchester incumbent and cannon who who thinks there should be a national fund for buying up one of the London theatres paying good authors handsomely for good plays, and good actors well for performing them, as well aa pensioning actors who deserved well of the country—a scheme which I may remark would bo an unsuccessful attempt to imitate the Theatre Francais in Paris. On the other hand Mr Hermann Tezin, who has occupied for several years a foremost position on the London stage, and is by many (including myself) regarded as the best elocutionist now on the metropolitan boards, plainly told the Social Science people that the stage suffered moat abuse from those who never went to a theatre. His pet project is an association of actors who would need no State subsidy in carrying on a theatre with a fair measure of success. These opposite theories were discussed at great length, and many novel ideas were started, but I need not discuss them, for they are altogether ideal, and neither have, nor deserve, a chance of being put to the test of experience.

As far, however, as it has gone the London theatrical season has opened with a very poor prospect, at all events as regards the au-

dienoes. Drury Dane, which hag at last found a new entrepreneur will not open its doors till Christmas; Covent Garden is still devoted to the popular promenade concerts, a new series of which has commenced this week, while Her Majesty’s is going to have a short revival of Italian opera, which is the most satisfactory item of theatrical nows that I have to chronicle. The Adelphi has produced “ Rescued,” an American play by Mr Boucicault, which has been heartily laughed as altogether out of fashion, and it certainly will not last long. At the Dyceum, close by, Mr Irving has produced the " Iron Chest,” a gloomy drama, in which many eminent actors have played the chief character, hut in this case it is only intended as a stop gap pending the more important revival of “ The Merchant of Venice.” The St. James’s Theatre, which has not hitherto been a very prosperous concern, has lately passed into new hands, and is this week filled with people to inspect the beautiful decorations and handsome novelties that Messrs Haro and Kendal have provided in the auditorium, whore they have been more successful in their efforts than on the stage itself. M. Sardou’s play called "Duty,” which has been brought out at the Prince of Wales’, is the nearest approach to failure that that famous little house has witnessed under its present management, and when I mention that another ploy, “ Eernande,” by Sardou, is being performed at the Court Theatre, you will see that in spite of all the “ social science ” ot the dramatic world they are still obliged to go to France for novelties. Talking of theatres, I have seen a good deal of clever acting, but I never saw an impersonation that was half so clever, even by our first rate artists, as that which was recently effected by an American who is now in custody on a serious charge of forgery. He is quite a young man, and gives the name of Randall Cooper. Ho obtained some time ago an introduction to the famous banking firm of Qlyn and Co., with whom he opened a com paratively small account. At the same Bank a much older man, named Robert Cooper, kept a large balance, and by what means the prisoner became aware of that fact we do not yet know, but his plan of operations was quickly formed. Early on the morning of Monday, September 22nd, he being naturally a man with black hair and a clean shaven face, made himself up with grey whiskers, end called on Mr Randall Cooper, asking him to proceed in a hurry to the Langham hotel where Lord Dundonald wanted to see him. Mr Randall Cooper, however, declined to go, and his visitor loft. Shortly afterwards it was discovered that a paid cheque had been stolen from his pass book. The same morning tho prisoner, who then wore white hair, spectacles, and a light overcoat, in exact imitation of the genuine Randall Cooper, presented himself at the offices of some money changers in Oornhill, and desired to buy four thousand pounds worth of French money. He tendered a cheque for that amount, and left almost immediately, saying he would call in half-an-hour for the foreign notes. It would appear that he suspected, and rightly too, that the cheque would be at once sent round to Glyn’s, and when the money changer’s clerk appeared there the prisoner was in tho bank writing at one of the counters. Tho forgery was at once discovered, and the prisoner, who, in spite of his disguise, was recognised by one of the officers ot the bank, was asked whether he knew anything about it, the cheque being one of those which were issued to him when he opened Lis account. He denied knowing anything about the transaction, but it was subsequently ascertained that Messrs Glyn had received a warning about the prisoner from another firm of money lenders, to whom he had offered a cheque for a large amount in his own name. Hio conduct was very subpicious, and the man with whom ho then tried to do business felt convinced that something was wrong, as it was evident that his would-be customer was wearing a sham moustache and false whiskers. Immediately the discovery was made at Messrs Glyn’s bank that Monday morning, a detective officer was sent for, and the American Randall Cooper was given into custody. He remarked to the officer that it was a bad job, and asked what was the extreme penalty for the offence. He will soon know, and will find that in

London the judges award a heavy term of

punishment to those who are detected in endeavoring to commit an impudent forgery for a largo amount. “A prophet is not without honour,” we

road in the Gospels, “save in his own country,” and those important excepting words have just received a striking proof of their truth in this land, IE we had not the highest authority we should really disbelieve this instance of public ingratitude. A few weeks ago there died full of years and at last receiving tardy public honours Sir Howland Hill, who invented the penny postage system. Ho received a public funeral, and of course it was immediately suggested to the Lord Mayor that a fund should be started to raise some memorial to such a public benefactor. Will it be believed in New Zealand that in London alone nearly four millions of people have for many weeks gone on using their penny postage stamps without contributing altogether one hundred pounds towards this proposed memorial ? Yet such is the sad fact, and consequently the Lord Mayor has been compelled to give up the project and intends to return the few donations to those who sent them.

The very rare, and, 1 think, quite unprecedented, event of the trial of an alderman of the city of London at the Central Criminal Court, has just taken place, and as there were some very peculiar circumstances connected with it, this trial has had the effect not only of renewing the old controversy about the value of the evidence of experts in handwriting, but it has also rais.d the far more serious question of the value of the grand jury—an institution, by the way, which has long been threatened. In this case the prosecutor was a gentleman named Kearns, who was formerly a member of the Court of Common Council, but now lives a retired life in the suburb of Lower Edmonton. When he opplied to the city authorities for a summons against Alderman Sir Francis Trusoott they would not grant his application, as, to their mind, he had not satisfactory evidence in support of his charge, whereupon ho presented a bill of indictment to the Grand Jury at the next sessions of the Central Criminal Court, and this being returned a true bill, Sir Francis had to appear before Mr Justice Manisty and take his trial, having retained the Attorney-General as his leading counsel. The gist of the whole matter was a very simple one. One evening towards the end of July Mr Kearns received a post card on which was written, “Excuse an old friend, for mentioning to you, and putting you on your guard, but you are being watched by tho police.” He at once came to the conclusion that this was in the handwriting of Sir Francis, with whom he had recently had some very unpleasant correspondence, which threatened litigation between them Accordingly he charged the alderman with libel, and in support of his case produced our two eminent experts in handwriting, Mr Chabot and Mr Netherolifts, .who stated their belief that the postcard was in the handwriting of the defendant. Now, Sir Francis, being on his trial, could not give evidence, but ho had made an affidavit in which he swore that he did not write the post card, and on the trial he produced as a witness Mr Thomas Flight Smith, a member of a firm of wholesale stationers in the city, who swore that he sent the post card to Mr Kearns in consequence of what he had heard, and without any communication with Sir F. Truscott. The jury were satisfied with this evidence, and in effect stopped tho case, and returned a verdict of “Not guilty.” Sir Francis has received many congratulations on the result, all tho more because he is to bo our Lord Mayor from tho 9th of November nest. A great deal of abuse has been levelled at the Grand Jury, who thoughtlessly put him to a great deal of trouble, but the direct contradiction of the evidence of the two experts will prevent their opinion from ever being trusted in future. I have heard a good deal at various times about the danger of Americanising our institutions, but I could not have believed it would have come to a fight between the editors of two newspapers in one of the most public streets of Lmdou. Yet such an event has just happened. Those who have read my previous letters may recollect tho name of Mr Labouchere, who is the proprietor and editor of a “society” journal called “Truth,” which is principally remarkable for its untruth. A few days ago there died quite suddenly and unexpectedly a man very well known in London society, Mr Lionel Lawson, who was the fortunate owner of a half share of the “Daily Telegraph’’ newspaper,the other half belonging to his brother-in-law and nephew, Mr Edward Levy and his son, who having adopted his uncle’s surname has for some years been called Mr Edward Levy Lawson, which does not so strikingly betray hie

Jewish origin. Well, the death of Mr Lionel Lawson was the occasion of Mr Labouchere writing in his weekly newspaper some very unpalatable observations concerning Mr Edward Lawson’s management of the editorial department of the “Telegraph.” Both these editors are members of the Beefstake Club, in King William street, Strand, an institution to which many journalists belong. They met there a few nights ago, and on MrLabouohere leaving the building he was followed by Mr Lawson, who smashed in Mr Labonchere’s hat, and then thrashed him with the deceased Lawson’s walking stick. Labouchere has printed a very mild account of the affair in his journal, and the “ Telegraph ” at one time thought of publishing a very much stronger one in reply thereto, but it was deemed advisable not to take any further notice of the affair. At all events, Labouchere is so much in the wrong that he will not venture to bring an action for assault, as this is not the first thrashing he has had from a person whom he has insulted.