The Sketcher.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 310, 30 March 1878, Page 5

The Sketcher.

THE CZAR AT ST. PETERSBURG. The return of the Emperor of Russia to St. Petersburg on December 22 is described at length in a telegram to the Daily News : “ The Emperor’s train reached the splendidlydecorated terminus exactly at 10 o’clock. Cordial greetings were exchanged between friends who had accompanied the Czar to the battle-field and those whom duty had detained at home. The general comment was that his Majesty looked very well, but considerably thinner than when he left the capital. As he alighted, the pupils of the Conservatoire received him with a hymn of welcome, and tendered him a laurel crown. M. Bogreboff, the Mayor of St. Petersburg, presented him with an address of congratulation in the name of the Town Council, and after a very brief delay the Emperor emerged from the terminus, and as the vast throng in the open space outside caught sight of their monarch, the cheering waxed louder and louder ; the roar of artillery salvos, with another and pleasanter significance than those which the Emperor has so recently been hearing, added to the volume of sound, which was swollen and varied yet further by the pealing of bells belonging to the almost innumerable churches of the capital. The Emperor seated himself along with his son, the Grand Duke Sergius, in a little sledge, drawn by two horses. The way was led by General Trepoff, Minister of Police, and the little vehicle, surrounded by a brilliant and splendidly mounted staff, and followed by an escort of the splendid Horse Guards, was driven at a rapid pace along the crowded streets on the road to the Kasan Cathedral. The Czarevna, in a caleche, followed the Imperial cortege, and met with a reception only second to that which welcomed the Emperor. The great semi-circular place in front of the Kasan Cathedral was fringed with crimson tiers of seats, and occupied partly by soldiers, partly by a densely-packed mass of civilians. The scene within was extremely striking. Worship and war mingle strangely together in the cathedral. The waitingthrong in the noble cathedral is a microcosm of the Russian nation. People had spent the night sleeping on the marble floor, that they might be secure of a place in the morning. As the hour for the arrival of the Emperor draws nigh, the high officers of police finally marshal the orderly throng to come up to the front. Alas ! that so many of them should wear these all too significant mourning garments on such an occasion as that of to-day. There always seems to be the undertone of a sob in the loud-sounding clamor of the joyous cheering, and here aud there in the corners of the great cathedral were to bs noticed weeping women —poor souls who have given hostages to Russia and the Czar iu the lives of those nearest and dearest to them. Suddenly the tinkle of a bell is heard. The great doors of the cathedral are flung wide open : there surges in a great gust of cold air, on the wings of which is borne a great throbbing volume of sound —the roar of the cheering of vast multitudes, the booming of artillery, the clashing of the pealing joy bells. Descending from the altar place, the clei-gy, headed by the Metropolitan, resplendent in gorgeous robes, and wearing a mitre, which is one mass, of precious stones, advance in stately procession towards the door. There is a brief pause, during which the cheering outside peals louder and louder. From the front of the inconostas a stream of melody diffuses itself over the cathedral as choristers raLe the chant of thanksgiving. Now the procession is returning from the floor, where the Metropolitan has received the Emperor. The throng cannot be restrained. It closes in with irresistable impulse, for here comes their Czar back among them after sharper w ith his gallant soldiers the danger and hardships of "the c mipaign. His son, Archduke Sergius, the youngest member of the Im-

perial family who has seen the campaign, is by liis side. The throng is silent, as becomes the sacred edifice, but the eager joy of glowing faces testifies to the all-absorbing emotion. The Emperor passes on towards the altar, preceded by the Metropolitan. He ascends the steps, and his lips touch the glittering image of the Holy 'Virgin of Kasan. There has followed him the Czarevna, whose fair face recalls the features so vividly of one honored and beloved by every Briton. Count Adleiberg, alone of the members of the suite, has followed hjs Imperial master into the cathedral. The simple ceremony is of brief duration, and in a few moments the Emperor is turning towards the door. The loyalty of the throng is no longer to be restrained. Men and women all but block the path of his Majesty, eager to kiss the hem of his garment. The procession struggles on through the dense masses, and the door is finally reached. Then we in the cathedral hear the cheering of the crowd outside break forth again as the Empeior drives away towards the Winter Palace. From seven until nearly midnight the streets of the capital were brilliantly illuminated.” The Dali Mall Gazette says:—A German paper relates the following incident as having taken place during the recent triumphal entry of the Czar into St. Petersburg :—The day before the event took place the German Ambassador requested one of the officials of the Court to find him a place whence he could view the procession, with his son, a boy five years old. Accordingly a window was reserved for the Ambassador in a club, immediately opposite the Kasan cathedral, where the imperial procession was to halt, while prayers were offered up. On the day of the entry the Ambassador was duly present in the place assigned to him, and as the Emperor mounted his sleigh at the conclusion of the service, the manager of the club approached the representative of Germany with two finely chased goblets of champagne on a silver tray, requesting him to drink to the health of the Czar and the German Emperor. After this ceremony had been performed the German Ambassador returned to his sleigh, and on mounting it found placed on his seat a small box containing the two cups with two medallions—the one engraved with the date of the happy return of the Czar to his capital, the other with a few words proposing the health of the Emperor of Germany in connection with the event. During the evening, when the town was illuminated, large crowds, it is added, assembled from time to time in front of the German embassy, giving enthusiastic cheers for the Emperor Alexander, the Emperor William, and the German people.

THE NECROLOGY OF 1877. (From the New York Nation, January 10.) Necrologically speaking, 1877 has been generally treated by the Press as an “ offyear and doubtless the sudden quenching of splendid names has been more striking and impressive in former years. Among rulers, the Queen of Netherlands was the only one of note who died in the midst of her reign, unless we except Brigham Young and his imperium in imperio. Thiers seemed to lose a jiossible return to power together with his life, but we can now rejoice that the opportunity did not come, and perceive how well able France was to spare him, even in the gravest of crises. The death of Rosas, the Gauclio dictator of Buenos Ayres, in exile in England, was as great a surprise as that of the forgotten Abbd Sieybs to his contemporaries (or, as we might more fitly say, his posterity). The list of departed statesmen is certainly not brilliant, nor was he the greatest whose death was l-eally of the most political importance, Indiana’s Favorite Son, Senator Morton. The better part of French politics could sincerely regret the loss of MM. Ernest Picard and Alexandre GlaisBizoin ; the worser part could hardly mourn M. Drouyn de Ehuys. Agitators like Dr. Johann Jacoby and George Odger will be variously classed, but they at least helped to raise questions which statesmen had to settle. No soldier of undying renown passed away, shough the list includes a veteran of many generations, Field-Marshal Yon Wrangel, and Generals Yon Sfceiumefcz, Changarnier, and D’Aurelle de Paladines ; in this country, the Confederate General Forrest, of unsavoury memory. Rear-Admiral Sir Edward Belcher, of the naval dead, is sure of being long remembered, by Arctic preservation, as we may say. Rear-Admiral Wilkes left his mark “ under the frozen serjient of the South,” and had peculiar claims to a pretty far-reach-ing notoriety in connection with the history of the rebellion. His associates, Rear-Ad-mirals Alden, Bailey, Davis, and Goldsborougli, had each a lustre of their own, but must sooner be forgotten. Admiral Semmes, on the other hand, may vie with Wilkes in remembrance. Two journalists of the first rank, Francois Buloz and Walter Bagehot, the one mainly an editor, the other mainly a writer, adorn the necrology of 1877. Nor is the roll of authors insignificant, especially if we name Thiers again in this class. By a curious coincidence the Frenchman who did most to foster the Imperial legend died in the same year with the Frenchman who did most to uproot it— Pierre Lanfrey, the lamented historian of Napoleon I. Spain lost Fenian Caballero, whose skill as a novelist was equalled by her mediaeval obscurantism ; Denmark, the poet Winther ; Sweden, her greatest living poet, Johan Ludvig Runeberg ; Germany, the Anglo-Saxon scholar, Greiu ; Russia, the erudite Joseph Bodianski, the ardent Slav antiquarian, and Anthony Mukhlinski, the eminent Orientalist. Among English-speaking writers, the fame of our own Motley will he most enduring ; but neither Edmund Quincy nor Lorenzo Sabine will be quickly forgotten, being also historians, each of his own kind. Unique, too, was John S. C. Abbott. An interesting period in our revolutionary history—the intervention of France —had been only partially treated by Thomas Balch when his labors were brought to a sudden close. In England, Julia Kavanagh, the late lingering Lady Stirling Maxwell (Mrs, Norton), and

Samuel Warren will not be missed from the ranks of active literary producers. Metaphysical writers of distinction were Alexander Bain, Tayler Lewis, and Henry B. Smith. Authors, too, were Ambroise-Firmin Didot and William Longman, and these, with Fletcher Harper, represent well the great publishing interests of their respective countries. Iu science Le Verrier’s name leads all the rest ; but Philip Carpenter and John G. Anthony, conchologists, and F. B. Meek, palaeontologists, wanted neither ardor notability iu their several fields, and with them, if of a somewhat lower rank, James Orton should be mentioned and remembered. Art has lost Gustave Courbet, the painter, who led iu the destruction of the Venddme column, and Margaret Foley, a meritorious Boston sculptor and cameo-cutter. The stage loses, of playwrights, Philip Fdvvard Devrient, the Viennese Mosentlial, and Theodore Barribre ; of actors, Matilda Heron, F. L. Davenport, and Edwin Adams ; and singers, Titiens ; of critics, John Oxenford. A great inventor, Fox Talbot, for ever to be associated with the discovery of photography, also takes a high rank among scientists and scholars ; Boss Winans and B. P. Parrott, inventor of the gun which bears his name, were America’s losses in this class. Americans, too, were those geniuses of enterprise, Henry Meiggs and Cornelius Vanderbilt ; while James Brown and Moses H. Grinnell won a more legitimate distinction in commerce and exchange. Two philanthropists, Bobert Dale Owen and Mary Carpenter, and one prelate, Cardinal Sforza, conclude our list without completing it. PLAYGOING IN COMFORT. (From the World.) The gentlemen generally entrusted with the important task of constructing theatres cannot be too often reminded that a playhouse is a house in which every member of an audience ought to be able to sit, see, heax-, and breathe. The architectural and decorative effects, which are far often relied upon as the chief attractions of a building, ought to give place, where necessary, to those homely qualities which contribute to the comfort and contentment of an audience. The architect, like the scenepainter, if not kept in check, is too apt to display his skill at the expense of more important interests. An architect’s theatre, as distinguished from a “ showman’s” theatre, is usually built to look handsome from one standpoint, and that standpoint may be the centre of the pit or stalls. Lookiug upward from this position the eye probably rests upon a concave roof, which is sujxported on columns whose bases rest upon the floor of the gallery. However light these columns may be, they each form an obsti-uction which is productive of immense ahuoyance. Behind each column, when the tlxeati-e is full, will be seated six, eight, or ten persons, as the case may be, one behind the other, in the line of sight ; and these unfortunates will spend the whole of their unhappy evening bobbing their heads from right to left in vain attempts to see the stage. If there are ten or a dozen of these columns round the semicircle of the gallery, these will mask some sixty, eighty, or a hundred ill-treated playgoers ; and in theatres where the dialogue off the stage is not as refined as the Lord Chambei-lain makes the actors’ dialogue, the language nightly created by this architectural defective effect is strong, to say the least of it. The angle at which royal and stage boxes are generally planted in a theatre is another architectural blunder. If the architect has only a limited width to deal with, that may be a reason for building a small theatre ; but it is not a justification for building a large theatre in which the requisite sidings for the stage are only obtained by turning the points of the auditorium horseshoe inwards instead of outwards. The stage boxes, including, as they do in England the so-called royal box, ought certainly not to be slightly turned away from the stage and towai’ds the house, and their occupants ought not to have to risk their necks if they wish to get a view of the performance. In some houses the sides of the dress-circle partake of this character, so that the visitors see the play out of the right or left eye, accoi-d-------ing to the side on which they are seated ; and & very conscientious playgoer is doubtless impelled to visit the theatre twice, on opposite sides, to be sure that the judgment of one eye is in hai-mony with that of the othei*. Cavernous pits that stretch away beneath projecting balconies are almost equally objectionable ; and they make us sigh for that pit in the oldest theatre in London, which, in the language of the poet, is “ quite a little heaven below.” The decoration of theati-es is a subject which touches architectural pi-ojections. Ho bust, statue, or relief should interfere with the lines of sight ; and no gasfitting should be so placed that, while it bakes a guinea playgoei - , it hides the view of a sixpenny playgoer. The Lord Chamberlain’s regulations are minute and fussy enough, but they have not yet reached these rather important details. The overdecoration of theatres is a subject upon which a volume might be written. As the decline of the Roman Empire i 3 supposed to be due to the increase of luxury, so the supposed decline of the-drama may be due to the grip which the upholsterer and decorator have now got upon the theatre. Defective drainage, cramped seats, narrow entrances, and narrower exits are now often covered up by oppressive finery. The sepulchre is no longer whitened, but purpled. In some places the bric-a-brac mania has seized the managements, and pots and pans are beginning to show themselves in entrances and passages that are sadly in want of hat-pegs. Huge china vases are beginning to appear on the stage at each side of the proscenium—a form of theatrical lunacy which •riginated in Manchester. In some xxlaces, plants, fountains, imitation rockwork, and other aquariam lumber have kept into spaces required by the public ; and in most places the spirit of over and inappropriate decoration is hard at work. It seems to be forgotton what a theatre is or ought to be, or for what

purpose an audience assembles, or ought to assemble, within its walls. The stage is the fit and proper receptacle for decoration the auditorium is a place for people to sit in who come to see a series of pictux-es. The auditorium should be comfortably furnished, suggesting no idea of meanness or poverty on the part of the management. The tone of the decorations should be rich, but not obtrusive. The proscenium is the frame of the picture or pictures, and the stage boxes in nearly all cases form part of this frame. If the decoration in this portion of the theatre is laid on with a shovel, as it very often is, the eye of the spectator is distracted by side effects, and drawn off from the central feature. When the curtain rises, this central feature, the stage picture, is injured by the suri'oundings. If the play is a domestic drama, its commonplace scenes look inexpressibly dirty and mean when viewed through such a framework; ana if it is a gaudy extravaganza, its gaudiness is partly killed by that other- gaudiness which ought never to be allowed the chance of competition. Thei-e is one refonn which is working its way slowly in our London theati-es- —the invisible orchestra. If Wagner could put lxis 100 musicians out of sight at his g'reat opera-house at Bayreuth, surely the ten, fifteen, or twenty gentlemen at each of oux- theatres may be allowed to fiddle in a hole at the stage side of the footlights, instead of in a long pew on the audience side of the footlights. By putting these gentlemen out of sight, a number of nuisances ai-e abolished. The figure-heads of double-basses no longer obscure the vision of stalls and pit. The fiddler who reads the evening papei- oi* tumbles in and out of the orchestra in the middle of a serious play, and his conductor who used to quietly make his rostrum as high as possible, and take a particular pride in the parting of his black hair if he had any—ax-e no lougei- a barrier between the play and the playgoer-. The gaping cellar has gone, and with it the broker’s shop of musical instruments. A time will doubtless come when comedy theati-es, following the example of the Theatre Fraucais, will dispense with musicians altogether- ; bixt the music for melodramatic houses is improved by beingunderground, and for musical theatres the architects of the future will have to provide well-constructed invisible orchestras. With invisible orchesti-as as a l-eform in theatres, it 13 desirable to couple another- x-eform in the shape of invisible bars. The ginsliop element is far too i:ainpaut in front of most of our playhouses. The simpering barmaid, the fumes of liquor, and the placards of brewers and distillers, can snr-ely be dispensed with in most temples of the drama. If “refreshments” are wanted —and such l-efi-eshments ! —tney could easily be supplied from private parts of the theatre, and need not be thrust under the eyes and noses of the audience, as if they were the one thing needful. The theatre is not alone in this weakness. One Sunday afternoon I found myself in the Albert. Hall, perhaps the finest building of the kind, in the world, listening to Mr. Tamplin’s pei-formances on the noble organ. The piece he was playing was, I think, Schubert’s “ Ave Maria,” bat I may have beemistaken. Following the strains of the music, my imagination was cai-ried upwards above the organ-pipes, until my eye x-ested, not upon the angels I was seeking, but the blood-red trademark of Bass’s bitter ale, and the equally prominent ti-ade-mai'lc of Kinahan s Irish whisky.

A DINNER WITH RICHELIEU. “ Many years ago,” says Madame de Crecy, in her Memoirs, “ an old soldier lived quietly on his half-pay in Normandy. Some money difficulties brought him to Paris. He had not been in the capital long before he received, one evening, on returning to his hotel, an invitation to dine with Richelieu at his castle of Beul, near Paris. The honor was as great as it was xxnexpected, and he hastened the next day, with natural vanity, to inform his friends of it. He went on foot to Beul, and all alone. When ho got to Neuilly, he perceived a coach coming behind him; he waited fox- it to pass him, and was asked where he was going. ‘To Beul,’ answered our old soldier. ‘ Well, if you like, you can jump up and ride with me,’ said the coachman, pleasantly. The proposal was at once accepted, and the new fi-iends soon began an animated conversation. ‘ Where are you going when you get to Beul?’ asked the conductor. ‘ To dine with M. de Richelieu.’ ‘ So am I,’ observed the first speaker. ‘ Are you, indeed,’ replied the second, ‘ and when did you get your invitation’’ ‘Yesterday, sii-,’ said the old soldier. ‘ My God ! uttered the coachman, turning deadly pale, ‘ my God ; sir, you mxxst not go.’ ‘ But why not ? ’ ‘ Do you remember ever having offended the Cardinal Minister ? ’ ‘ No, sir.’ ‘Are you quite sure? Examine your mind aud lxxemory very thoroughly before you venture into the house of Richelieu.’ ‘ Bxxt why, sir !’ asked the officei-, who now began to get very much alarmed. ‘Because I tell you to do so for your own good,’ was the di-y reply. ‘ Well, now I come to think of it, I do remember having once written some rather sharp verses against his Eminence, many years ago, wheix I was a young man aboxxt town.’ ‘ That’s it. Now, sir, I will tell you why I asked you the question,’ said the coachman, gravely.. ‘ I am an executioner. When Richelieu invites a man to dine with him at Beul, I am the third guest. The dinner is pleasant, and the Cardinal very agreeable ; but immediately after dessert I do iny work, and revenge Richelieu of insults received some thirty years ago. Get down, and fly back to Normandy. Do not paxxse for breath even, but begone, and l-emem-bei yeais hence that yoxx owe me yoxxr life. The old officer got down quicker than he had ascended to his place by the mystei-ious coachman, and hurried off to his native Normandy. This story is true, and I know what took place at the dinners at Bexxl. They were excellent. There were only tln-ee pi-esent, the Cardinal, the exeexxtioner, and the victim. The conversation was animated, and the wine abundant ;

bxxt after the sumptuous meal his Eminence woxxld ask his guest to pass into the adjacent chambei-, and there the exeexxtioner slew him, and thi-ew the body dowix a ti-ap-door, into the river, which flows by the castle walls.”

A JOCKEY’S CAREER. (From the Melbourne Leader.) A case illustrating the hardships of a jockey’s eax-ly life came under the notice of the Bench at the District Court on March 13. Charles Ivemy, a lad about eighteen years of age, the well-known jockey, proceeded against Mr. Phillip Dowling for neglect of his duty as a master, and sought the cancelling of lxis indentures. Mr. McKean . appeared for the plaintiff, and in his opening statement explained the peculiar features of the case. On the 25th of March, 1873, the boy was apprenticed to Mr. Dowling to be taught the art of riding and training horses. The indentures were for seven years, and in additioxx to his instruction the boy was to receive a salary of £5 per aixnum and his board and lodging. He remained at Mr. Dowling’s stables for nearly three years, during which time he had to get his food as best he could, and cook it hixxxself, and was not provided with proper sleeping- accommodation. In January, 1876, Mr. Dowling was disqualified from training or running horses by the V.8.C., and three horses, named Vagabond, Ethel, and Solicitor, owned by the late Mi-. Petty, were removed from his stables and taken to Ballarat. Mr, Dowling had told the plaintiff that he could go away for a change, and Mr. Petty offering him the charge of the horses at Ballarat he accepted the engagement. During the last two years the boy had maintained himself by his own exertions, and had succeeded in obtaining the position of one of the best jockeys in Afictoi-ia. At the end of 1877, Mr. Dowling’s disqualification was removed, and two days afterwards an announcement appeared in the newspapers to the effect that the plaintiff had left Mr. Dowling’s service without his sanction, and persons were therefore cautioned against giving him employment, in accordance with the rules of the V.R.C. The boy then found that Mr. Dowling, after consenting to his getting his own living, and learning his profession elsewhere for over two yeai-s, had brought up the old indentures and disqualified him at the V.R.C. Mr. Bagot, the secretai-y of the V.R.C., informed him by letter that he must get his indentures cancelled by the city police magistrates before they could interfere, ai d hence the present proceedings were taken. The lad was exaixiined, and fully bore out the facts just narrated. Mr. Dowling had known where he was all the time he had been away, and had freqxxently met him in Melbourne, but he never hinted at his returning to his appi-en ticeship xxntil after his disqualification was removed. Two other witnesses were called, but Mr. McKean requested the other side to put Mr. Dowling in the witnees-box, as he wished to ask him if it was true that he had asked plaintiff to “pxxll” Vagabond in the last Melbourne Cup. Mr. Frank Stephen, who appeared for the defence, declined to call his clieixt, and contended that the indentures were still binding, as the boy had rxxrx away from Mr. Dowling’s employ without his sanction. After a short deliberation the Chairman aixnounceci that the Bench had unanimously decided to cancel the indentures and release the plaintiff from all obligations under them. Notice of appeal was given.