TABLE TALK. About Things in General. (BY OUR SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT.) London, January.

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 349, 9 March 1889, Page 3

TABLE TALK. About Things in General. (BY OUR SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT.) London, January.

Tiiu "Pall Mali Gazette" was materially onlargocl on Now Year's Day. It's now shape is gonorally pronounced awkward and inelegant. Mr Stead's latest canard credits the Queen with a profound interest in the fortunes (or miafortunes) of Miss Wiedemann, and stales that Her Majesty sont the young lady'a mother £25. Since the new Duchess of Maryborough arrived at Blenheim the American dailies have had reporteis either resident in the village or constantly paying visits there. The labours of these gentlemen have not, however, been very richly awarded, as tha Vicar, whom His G race insulted, positively declines todiscu^&thc incident, and theDnko himself "squirms" at the mere mention of a newspaper. The other day a more than usually onterpiising correspondent did manage to waylay His Grace and inquire what he thought of the boll-ringing episode. The Duke replied briefly, but concluhively, that he didn't ''caro a damn." " This," wrote out the irrepressible sciibblcr, triumphantly, "is probably the shortest interview on vecoid."

liawrenco Olipiiant. Probably there never was a man who came so near being a " universal genius" as tho late Laurence Oliphant>. ]n whatever chaiacter he chose to assume for the time being, whether it happened to be that of politician, diplomatist, theologian, meta- | physician, novelist, hypnotist, "mystic, or I only a sluewd, clear-headed, polished gentleman of fashion, ho &hono brilliantly in it. As a diplomatist he would in time have secured the hirrheht honours. (N.B. — It is nob generally known that he absolutely refused the Governorship ol an impoitant Crown Colony). As a novelist as he promptly jumped into the lii^Lrunk, " Alfcioia feto " was the book of ifs year, notwithstanding that- many ot its mosfc brilliant strokes must ha\c been tar beyond the a\eiage leader of fiction. People looked anxiously for another work from the samo pen, but when it came it proved to be a strange jumble of m\stic theology, spiritualism, mesmeiism, and black magic. JYIr Oliphant had in the meantime become a religious enthusiast, and retired to Mount Cnrmel, in Palestine, whoie, in company with his second wife, ho evolved the extraordinary opinions set forth in " Scientiric Religion '' and " Syaipnoumatica." The latcsb feat in mesmerism is said to have been achieved by Dr. Pinel, ot i J aiis, who can hypnotise subjects by phonograph. All fhc commands given through this channel aio, he declares, readily obeyed, though he himself may be miles away. Milo de Meyer pooh-poohs this story, p inting out, cogently enough, that it would do away completely with the accepted thcoiy of a magnetic current passing from the operator to the subject. How real this cunenb is De Meyer himself shows at e\ety seance, when by merely softly rubbing a subject's backbone he forces him noltns voleiii to his knees.

The Great Vance. The great s anco, who died with such shocking suddenness on Boxing Night whilst singing his comic s>ong, "Is He Guilty?" at the Trevor Music JE!all,Knightsbvidge, enjoyed a long, popular, and prosperous career of a sort. His real name was Stevens, and be began life as a lawyer's clerk in Liverpool. Thinking his chance of the Lord Chancellorship somewhat remote, the young man sought out Mr Copeland, ot the Theatie Royal, and was engaged by him at a small salary for "general utility." He played either clown or hailequin for several yoars in the local pantomimes, and as clown more especially is said to have achieved considerable success. Tiring of small parts in melodrama, and fired by Loybourno's growing populaiity in the " new lino " of comic singing, Vance, in 1865, deserted the theatre for the musichalls, where he at once " sttuck ile." The popular ditty "Jolly Dogs,"' with its choiuh of " Slap bang, here we are again," was his lirst great hit, equalling if it didn't excel in popularity Aithur Lloyd's " Not for Joe" and Layboiuno's "Champagne Charlie.'' This success was followod by "Pietty Jemima, Don't Say No/ " Clicquot," " Walking in the Zoo," "The Late Lamented Jones," and a long series of more or less catchy melodies with deploiably stupid woids. The latter day school of comic fcingers(Coborn, Randoll, McDermott, and Fawn) lay loss stress on melody than on funny words, and apropos "gay" Vance oan scarcely be said co have kept pace with the times. After Alfred Lees (who wrote all the best of hit? songs — the music, I mean) died, he made but few successes, and theso he wore to death. For a twehemonth or more he wouldsing exactly the same songs, and latterly I fear he boied people a good deal. Off the stage Vance was a coaise, kind -heai ted swaggering fellow enough, less popular perhaps with his brother aitists than little Coborn or Arthui Roberts, but "good old Van co " with most. His constantly lecurring "deah boy" and his extraordinary "oawl" (as he christened his eccentric gait) will long be remembered and sometimes recalled. R.I. P. Far the most amusing article that has appealed in the magazines for the last six months, graces the January number of "Longman's." It bears the rebher forbidding tifcleof "Studies in Elementary Education," but it is in reality a collection of screamingly funny stories anenfc board school children's blunder, etc. One essay on " The Cat" by an unconscious humorist who described it as "an animal with logs in the usuerl lour corners," would do credit to Mark Twain at his best. Naturally, the Scriptural essays of board-school younsrstors often read very quaintly. The writer ot this paper quotes several, and you must bo sad indeed if the staking narrative about Jacob, who was by "trade a patriarch," fails to move you tv mirth. " Macbeth " will fill the Lyceum for two years at least. Compared with previous representations of the tragedy, it is like an edition de luxe, as compared with a common shilling issue. Such skies at the back of so many landscapes were never before attempted. Brown heath and shaggy wood, dusky plain and rugged ropk, lighted now by the struggling moon, and now by the streaks and flickb of a summer sunset, bring before us the country of the Macbeth legend in all its characteristic features. The Palace of Macbeth looks as solid as we know the Tower of London to be, and the rude fortresses of Tom's and Dimsmane are wonderful scenic illusions. The banquetting hall is another magniiicenb set, and the witches' cauldron, with its rocky background, its belching flames, its uncanny sky, its spectral diaphonous procession, and its dread apparitions, lays a powerful hold on the imagination. ' I don't like either Irving's Macbeth or Ellen Terry's Lady Macbeth, but the rest of the cast I thought admirable. The witches are played with immense effect by Miss Marriott and two other ladies, who were woll known tragic actresses in their day, and George Alexander's Macduff and Mr Won man's Banquo leave nothing to be desired. Over 503 supernumeraries are employed in some of the scenes, and such stage

management and tboughfcfulness in trifling details has seldom been known even in these days. The costumes (historically accurate) would alone repay a visib. They wore specially designed by Mr George Cattermole, and must have cost a mint of money. The cost of the entire production is variously estimated at £5,000 and £7,000. I should myself imagine tho last-named sum I to bo nearer the mark than the former. A iirst night at the Lyceum is always a great occasion, but on Saturday evening last it was even greater than usual. "I doubt," said Mr Moy Thomas, after carefully scrutinising the innumerable celebrities and notorieties in stalls and dress circle, " whether a more distinguished com pany ever before assembled within the walls of a playhouse."' Royalty alone was wanting to give a finish to the .scene, but the box usually called the Prince of Wales's was worthily occupied by the somewhat austere-looking American minister and his family. Perhaps the most observed party in the whole audience weio the Teiry family, who had mustered in strong force to witness their relative's essay as Lady Macbeth. Mr and Mrs Arthur Lewis (Miss Kate Terry) brought a bevy ot fair daughters, and Miss Marion Terry (herself an accomplished actress) chaperoned a coujjlo of nieces — plain, and apparently rather shy girls, who do not appear to inheiit their mother's (Ellen Terry's) talent. Mrs Terry, senior, was present with yet another actress daughter (Florence), and last but not lea&t little Minnie Terry (•'Bootle's Baby) beamed at her aunt from the corner of a stage box. Amongst tho unnoticed people in the dress circle sat a pale, careworn, elderly woman with gleaming eyes and an intent, interested iace. This was Miris " Leah ' Bateman, at one time considered tho greatest tragic actreso in England. She played " Lady Macbeth " to lrving's "Macbebh " at this very house 13 years ago, and shared tho partial success of the icvival. Naturally, Ellen Terry's every movement abhoibcd her. Saturday's production excited extraordinary inteiest. As eaily as 9 a.m. enthusiastic de\otees of tho drama aimed with camp .stools and sandwiches began to assemble outside the pit door, and by noon thero were over 200 patient waiters. How | they beguiled the weary hours and kept out the bitter cold, I can't imagine. Judging, however, from the pit's enthusiasm at night itmustha\e been well satisfied with the performance for which it had suffered so much. , Jemmy Crimshaw, \\ ho died abroad the other day in comparative penury, Mas the Frod Barrett of the Hastings era. He might have been both wealthy and respected had he possessed a little of Freddy's level-headed common-sense. But good luck turned his, head. The Duke of Beauioib was very long-suffeiing with Jemmy both before and after he left the turf, and ot late years, I fancy, the old man lived chiefly on bounties from Badminton. One of Jemmy Giimshaw's most famous r'des was on Thalestris for the Cesarewitch of 186^, when that filly, carrying 6st, just did "Ready-money" Robinson's highly tried Gratitude (B=t 41b) by a head. Old Swindell, to his dying day, used to declare Giimshaw's jockeyship alone won the race. Gratitude's defeat was a bitter disappointment to Mr Robinson, who had counted on taking one of the biggest stakes on lecord out of the ling, instead of going back to sheep-farming in New Zealand. Jemmy Grimshaw's downfall commenced with his quarrel with Danebury, at that time, of comse, the most poweiful stable in England. Curiously enough, he was on Marksman in the fatal Derby which ruined his late employer, and many .still opine that had he ridden pioperly Hermit would never have won. Lord Hastings himself was of that opinion, and it naturally increased his bitterness against the swaggering little jockey. Grimshaw in after years admitted that he had under-rated the" outsider and his unknown rider Daley, and thai if he had taken a pull at Mark&man after Vauban compounded the head victory would probably have been credited to the " boy in yellow" instead of to Chaplin's "rose." Grimshaw's la&t year in England was 1870, when he won the Leger for Mr T. Y. Morgan on Hawtharnden. Subsequently he went to Germany and rode and trained moderately successfully for a time. The rest of hid career may briefly be summod up in the phrase facilis decemiib aver m. He had a kindly generous nature always, but the temptation to swagger he found irresistible. Readers of Lady Colin Campbells letters Lo the Sydney "News "will not improbably have recognised her hand in the "World" of late. Amongst other things, she is the author of the series of articles, "A Woman's Walks," in that journal. A deluded capitalist has been found willing lo finance the "Hawk," and Mr Augustus Moore, who quanelled recently with the late proprietors, returns in triumph to the editor's chair. Mr Mcoie is the brother of our English "Iola," and wields one of the cleverest, most venomous, and most unscrupulous pens in London. He has been associated with numberless small newspaper "specs" in his time, and Ins II copy "—of wluoh he turns out quantities often nowadays, wiiting three parts of the Mhole "Hawk 1 ' himself— is invariably readable. If, however, he'd been worth powder and shot he'd never have been iree from litigation. Up to now, ot it would have been waste of money to sue the "Hawk" tor libel, but the introduction of the capitalist will alter matters. On the whole, I think lam soiry for the oapitalist. By-the-way, the "Stories Founded on Fact" in the "Hawk ' have of late been little shoitof scandalous. The hero of one of them eutitled " Harem Scarem " has been raging furiously as the pseudonyms veiling his own identity and that of a popular actress were so thin that everyone here, and indeed most people at your end of the world, must at once have penetrated them. Qf course the unfortunate man and his friends could do nothing buL rqge To fit the cap on (and &uch a cap) was manifestly impossible. Mr Moore knew that. It was, in fact, an tingcntlemanly act to relate the story. Twenty thousand pounds i.<j tho modest trifle asked for the copyright of the " Saturday Review." I need scarcely say ib will never fetch half that it purchased "at a fair valuation. The circulation has fallen below 5,000, and it would take a genius at reorganisation to resuscitate it. Mr Clark Russell is a busy man. J ust at present he has three novels on the stocks. " Marooned "' is running through Macmillan'ib; "An Ocean Tragedy" has been purchased by the aforementioned Mr Leng, for his syndicate ; and Tillotson's have engaged him to write a series of sketches for then* clientele. " A Stiff-necked Generation," which has been running through " Blaekwood's " for tho last six months, turns out to be by Mrs Walford, Tho new story "Cousin Baby" unmistakeably bears Mrs Oliphant's signmanual. The most promising of the now serials in the magazines are Julian Sturgia's "Comedy of a Country House," in " Murray's," and Besant's "Bell of St. Paul's," in "Longman'?." "Neither of the tales in "Temple Bar" seems likely to set the Thames on fire. " A Dangerous Catspaw," by David Christie Murray and his brother, Henry Murray, is the best detective story I have

I read since "The Passenger from Scotland | Yard." Longmans publish it this week in one volume, at 6d. Mr H. r T?. Wood, the author of "The Pa33engerfrom Scotland Yard," is the Paris' correspondorit of fche " Daily Chi'onicle," and a very able man. The success of his initial effort (now in its fifth edition), has inspired him to try again, a nd Chattos havo now in the press a story by him called " The Englishman of the Rue Cain." Miss Braddon's new story, '• The Day Will Come," commences to run in no fewer than sixty (60) weekly newspapers in the United Kingdom alone to-morrow Mr Leng, of the Sheffield "Telegraph," who purchased the serial rights <?nly for £2,000, musb feel pretty pleased with himself, especially as he has secured the popular lady's next two stories on the same terms.