TOPICS OF THE DAY.

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 436, 11 January 1890, Page 4

TOPICS OF THE DAY.

(*EOJI OUR SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT.) London, November 8. THE NEW LORD MAYOR. Mr Isaacs, who succeeds Sir James Whitehead as Chief Magistrate of the City of London to-morrow, can make a good speech in his own rough way, and the Jews (with Lord Rothschild at their head) have determined that the Mansion House during the reign of the first Hebrew Lord Mayor shall not lack biilliancy. The Whiteheads retire to-day amidst a deluge of presentations—busts, bracelets, portraits, and what not. Sir James (despite a rather affected manner which is apt to give the impression of insincerity) is popular in our city, and there can be no doubt that he has done more really useful work during his term, of office than any Lord Mayor for the past ten years. To meet Lady Whitehead is to be charmed with her, and it has been remarked again and again that her gracious presence and sympathetic manner have added immensely to the eclat of the Mansion House entertainments this year. AN UNANSWERED PRAYER. I heard a story in the smoking-room of the National Liberal Club, where the Home Rulers most do congregate, last Thursday evening which struck me as worth repeating. The speaker began by remarking that Englishmen could form no sort of idea of the really enthusiastic affection and admiration which was felt for William O’Brien in certain parts of Ireland. In countless homes O’Brien and O’Brien’s troubles were the dominant subject of interest and conversation. “ Why,” he said, “ last time O’Brien was up before the Resident Magistrates I was staying with Lord George , at Castle . He has throo dear little girls and, you'll scarcely believe it, but these children were quite distraught about poor O’Brien’s fate. They resolved to do something for him if they could, and whilst their father and I were away at Court, built an altar in the nursery and decorated it with flowers and tallow dips, bought out of their few pence pocket - money. On the ground before this, the three little girls knelt all day fasting and praying God to release Wm. O’Brien from his persecutors. In the evening we returned bringing the bad news of the poor chap’s conviction. The eldest child heard it half-way down the stairs. She paused a moment looking very white, and then turning called to her sisters in the nursery in such a shrill bitter little voice, “ Pub out those candles. It’s no use praying. They’ve put him in prison again.” Mrs Booth, the wife of the hard-working General of the Salvation Army, is dying slowly of cancer. It was hoped at one time the sore had been destroyed, but it has again appeared and the poor lady’s sufferings are said to be agonising. The observed of all observers at the private view of the Institute of Painters in Water Colours on Saturday was “Curly” Bellew, who is still a very handsome man : (of the romantic sort), though quite grey. The whisper went round that Mrs Brown - Potter was coming, the general impression seeming to be that when “ Curly ” pub in an appearance his inamorata could not be far off. The American actress (whose rapid recovery from mortal illness has been almost phenomenal) did not, however, appear, and we had to content ourselves with staring atsuch commonplace notorities as the inevitable Lady Colin Campbell (in black and a gigantic Gainsborough hat), Willard, Oscar Wilde, Comyns Carr, etc., etc., GOOD OLD BARNUM. The authorities would not allow “Good Old Barnum ” (as he is already called) to parade his show through the streets, but he has nevertheless managed to inflame public curiosity to the highest pitch, and there will be a rare crowd at Olympia on Monday. The prices are high for a circus, bub Barnum’s expenses have of course been enormous. In the matter of bill posting the Americans certainly beat us hollow. Such artful, if nob artistic pictures as at present adorn every hoarding have never been seen here before. Many of the advertised attractions you colonials have seen, as Bailey’s show, which visited Australia and New Zealand some ten years ago, now forms part of Barnum’s. Phineas himself has been welcomed to England at a public banquet, George Augustus Sala (the Barnum of journalism) being appropriately enough pub up to propose the old showman’s health. THE PARNELL COMMISSION. Sir Henry James concluded his prodigious speech before the Parnell Commission this afternoon, and ’bis understood that on Tuesday next (or possibly Tuesday week) Sir James Hannon will positively commence to give judgment. It is too much to hope that the President will be brief, but for the sake of the endless time and pots of money that have been wasted upon the sorry business, one does hope that the three learned judges will provide us with lucid and definite conclusions on the case. THE WEST END SCANDAL. However the trial of the proprietor of the “ North London Press ” goes, there can be little doubt that when Parliament meets Mr Matthews will be called to account by the Radicals, for burking the Clevelandstreet scandals, His justification is that he thought it better to let the twenty or so persons concerned escape than to flood the country with corruptingreports of a noisome and ymspeakably pestilential crime. To this '■ the Radicals retort—“ Bosh ! a word of warning to the newspapers would have stopped that. Your real motive was to screen the representatives of certain noble families.” Several warrants, it is known, were actually issued, and after a Cabinet meeting had been held to discuss the embroglio, withdrawn. Mr Labouchere has taken the matter in hand, and knows far more than he has told in “Truth.” “Hoodwinking justice and assisting the escape of abominable criminals simply because they happen to be of noble birth and well-known in society,” is the way he puts it. Conservatives, however, and many Liberals take Mr Matthews’ view.

THE MARQUIS OF CLANRICARDE. In the reading room of that desert of dreary magnificence, the Devonshire Club (once Crockford’s Gaming House} a frowsy old man with a forbidding face snd attired in wejl t worn clones was on Tuesday lagb thus significantly pointed out to me : “ You have heard and read enough,” said my guide, “ of that famous Irish landlord, the Marquis of Clanricarde. Behold the man himself.” Lord Clanricarde lives penuriously in chambers in the Albany and seldom goes out, Bave to see his lawyer or to spend an hour or so at the club. A member of the Devonshire once protested to thp pprfcef agfdpsj; employed tfyp prepns'es toeing allowed tp hapg'up their dirty overcoats amongst mjpifib®f ß? spotless Upon examination the objectionable poat and a seedy “gamp ” were discovered to bp Jjord Clanricarde’s. The Marquis ja enormously wealthy, as, ppayt from hi ß Irish estates, his uncle, Lord Capping, lpfb him £‘2SQ,GOO, and he has made several fortunes in business. The theory of the few friends

who knew the old miser as a young attaohe is that he was so scurvily treated then and compelled to live on so little that he contracted penurious habits which be has never been able to shake off since. He came into tho title quite unexpectedly through his elder brother’s death at 40. THE BLOOMFIELD-MOORE LIBEL. As was generally anticipated by those who knew the real facts of the case, the estimable Mr Chandor did not find it convenient to continue the criminal prosecution of Mrs Bloomfield-Moorefor libel when the charge against the old lady was called at the Old Bailey on Tuesday. Mrs Moore herself, however, was very much there, and through her counsel, Mr Poland, alleged her intention not only of fully justifying the alleged libels, but of proving her accusations against the Prosecutor up to the hilt. But good, kindly Mr Chandor was nob to be provoked. He found, he said, he could not efficiently prove Mrs Moore’s libels without giving pain to a great many innocent people of high position and obliging them to go into the witness box. This he felt he was nob justified in doing, so he withdrew from the prosecution, of course paying Mrs Moore’s costs. MR CHAMBERS’ NEW PLAY. I hasten to correct an inaccuracy in last week’s budget. This was anenb the withdrawal of Chambers’ new play, “ The Bouquet,” from the Haymarkeb. It seems (so the author tells me) that Tree thought highly of the piece, and was quite willing to produce it if Chambers would write up the part he wished to play, and severely cut two other male characters, which are almost equally good, or, as the pro.’s say, “fat.” This the young fellow very properly declined to do. “The Bouquet” will probably bo tried at a matinee, with a strong cast selected by Chambers himself. He has been invited by Hutchinson and Co., who published “In Australian Wilds,” to write a novel of Australian life, and may do so. SUICIDE OF AN AUSTRALIAN. Edward Sumnar Rose, a gentleman of about 45 years of age, committed suicide at 49, Devonshire Road, Greenwich, last Friday, by swallowing a large quantity of gum opium, which he appeared to be in the habit of taking medicinally. Rose left behind a memo, stating that he could not bear to return and face his friends in Australia, and therefore had resolved to kill himself. Deceased’s landlady said he received bulky packages of letters and papers from Australia whilst staying in her house. No one identified Rose. DRAMATIC NOTES. In her “ Dramatic Opinions ” in the current number of Murray’s Magazine, Mrs Kendal recounts how she insanely rejected poor Sir Chas. Young’s cupital play “Jim the Penman,” which was subsequently produced at a matinee and proved a world-wide success. The matron of the drama might have added that she not merely rejected the piece, bub rejected it with contumely. In her note to Sir Charles returning the MS., Mrs Kendal wrote, “Herewith wc send you back your play ‘ Bill the Burglar,’ no what is it?—‘Jim the Penman.’ We don’t think it suitable for a comedy house.” Managers, more especially actor managers, are by no means infallible judges of pieces. It does, however, seem incredible that an acute critic like Buckstone, who had himself written successful comedies, should have returned “Society” to poor Tom Robertson with “rot” written on the fly-leaf. Yet so the story goes. Comyns Carr, by-the-way, damned “ Captain Swift ” when the MS. was submitted to his judgment. Mr W. T. Chapman, better known to fame a 3 “ Ithuriel ” of the “ Topical Times,” is going to start a paper on his own account. He is threatening the “Topical Times ” with lawsuits galore at present, but the general impression is they will end in smoke. Having had Mrs Bernard-Beere on his hands doing nothing at a salary of £6O a week for the past two months, Mr Hare has finally decided to interrupt the run of “The Profligate,” and produce “La Tosca” at the end of November. Mrs Beere, of course, takes Bernhardt’s part, and Forbes Robertson will make a new departure as the villain Scarpia. The next production at the Princesses’ Theatre will be a melodrama of antipodean life, cailed “The Gold Craze.” For this Mies Amy Roselle has been specially engaged to play the heroine. Miss Roselle, like Mrs Kendal, is getting on in years, but she can act, and leading ladies with this qualification are scarce. Patti’s latest freak of dyeing her raven tresses a delicate auburn caused a tremendous sensation at the two Albert Hall concerts at which La Diva recently appeared. I regret to say, too, that her magnificent voice begins at last to show signs o! wear and tear. Next season should for her reputation’s sake be Patti's laston the operatic stage. “ Sweet Lavender ” was played at Terry’s Theatre for the six hundredth time on Tuesday evening, and still draws eight large audiences per week. When a run reaches this stage there is no calculating how long it may last. Nelly Farren disclaims any desire to reside permanently in Australia, but admits that she means to avail herself of the first opportunity to revisit Melbourne and Sydney. From all accounts the little lady was a great success in Australia, but had to play second fiddle to several other members of the Company in the States. This, no doubt, makes her remember the colonies with special kindness and incline towards going there again. JOURNALISTIC CHATTER. A specimen copy of the “ Daily Graphic ” (of which a million edition will be printed) is to be distributed gratis. I hear that much the best of the Christmas numbers this year will be “ Yule Tide,” which, in addition to several exquisite photogravures and a coloured plate, provides a complete novelette by William Black.

The most serious of the many rivals “ Tit Bits ” has had to contend against for years is “Pick Me Up,” which has by degrees become very popular in London and must now be a valuable property. Mr Nevines has still, however, the provinces to himself, and exports largely to all the colonies. Each number of “Tit Bits ” is printed 14 days before the date of publicationLITERARY NOTES. The Romance of a Station ” is the title of Mrs Campbell Praed’s new book that Trischler is publishing. It will be in two volumes. The numerous Anglo-colonial pdra. which have found their way into the English papers of late are the work of Mr A. Rat-chett-Marten, who is making a metier of this particular line. Mr Walker, of the Victorian Court, is so profoundly disgusted with (after all his trouble and expenditure) only receiving an officer’s ribbon of the Legion of Honour, Whilst Sir Graham Berry (who did nothing much) has been made a Commandant, that hp has declined the preferred decoration* Miss Meptagu Conyers (Florence Sulmpnjj, the Melbourne soprano, has sung, With pmrked success at the Crystal Palace this week. R. Haggard regards his brother Andrew’s joining the ranks of frivolous fictionists

with unconcealed disapprobation. Asked if he had read “Dodo and I,” the author of “Cleopatra” frowned portentously, and without replying “yes” or “ no,” said he thought Captain Andrew Haggaid would have “ done much better to leave novelwriting alone.” Nevertheless, the little story must be fairly good, or Blackwoods wouldn’t be publishing it. Murrays announce that W. E. Norris (whose name draws well in high class publications) will do the novel for their magazine next year. Tho title, “ Mother and Son,” is not particularly brilliant. Ward and Downey have just brought out a two shilling edition of Mrs Campbell Praed’s first novel, ‘ * An Australian Heroine. ” Though not equal as a picture of colonial life to her "Policy and Passion” (which still sells well in Bentley’s six shilling favourite series), it is a readable novel and should specially attract Antiprdean buyers. There are few years in which Mr Walter Besant has done better work than in this year of grace, 1889. Both “ The Bell of St. Paul’s ” and “ The Doubts of Dives ” stand out prominently amongst his happiest and most humanising efforts. The first-named is a story everyone will feel distinctly the better for reading. Even Phillis Fleming, of the “ Golden Butterfly,” is not a more charming original heroine than Angela. As an all-round work of art, too, this novel mustbe pronouncedgood. Mr Besanthegins well, tells an ingenious story, and introduces us to a whole host of human oddities. The “ Bell of St. Paul ” has been running in a number of colonial papers, so l don’t think I need say more. Volume five of the new “Tales from Blackwood ” contains two stories only, “ A Singular Case ” and “ Penlock.” The former you should not miss. It relates the history of a man who through a blow on the head lost all knowledge of his identity for 17 years, when another accident equally sudden, restored his memory. During the whole of this period the fellow’s wife, daughter, and partner were fruitlessly searching for him. The story is founded strictly on fact, the curious circumstances being related to the author (a Mr Dellenbaugh) on a railway journey by the doctor who attended the man when he came to himself. Mr Dellenbaugh was so much interested that he visited Wild Western City in America,? where the events occurred.

Christie Murray and Herman Merivale are no longer collaborating. “ Scenes from a Silent World ” by ** the Prison Visitor” is having an immense sale, thanks to Blackwoods issuing it at 6s instead of 108 6d. The “Times ” dwells par-, ticularly on the dream murder case I told you about, and considers the author writes with much pathetic power. “ Grettir the Outlaw,” by the Rev. Sabine Baring Gould, appears likely to be the popular boys’ gift book of the season. Not only is the story exciting, but the illustrations by some new artist (a German) are exceptionally fine. VERDI’S JUBILEE. The jubilee of the aged composer Verdwas celebrated throughout Italy on Sunday with great rejoicings. Just fifty years—to be exact, on the 7th November, 1839 Guisseppe Verdi’s first opera, “ Oberto di San Bonifazio,” was produced at tho Scala, Milan. A country organist (26 years old already), the composer of “II Trovatore ” might have vegetated in obscurity for years if not for ever, but for Ricordi, of Milan, the world-famous music publisher. Recognising genius, this shrewd judge bought “Oberto” for £75. It only proved a half-success and Verdi’s second opera was a dead and deserved failure. He then fell into such penury (with starving wife and children) that but for Merelli, manager of the Scala, he would have abandoned composition for ever. The latter, fortunately, gave him the libretto of “ Nabucco” (repudiated by Nicolai) to set, and the subject inspiring tho young composer, the result was unbounded success. The operas which 6©fc the seal on his fame and soon made Verdi's name a household word were, however, “ Rigoletto,” “Trovatore,” and “Traviata.” The latter (first played in some small Italian Opera House) failed dismally on the opening night. Verdi wasn’t there, and felt astounded. Presently it transpired that the consumptive Violetta had been played by an elderly and obese prime i donna weighing some 14 stone, and his wonder vanished. Later, Verdi’s semi-failures such as “ Don Carlos,” “King Lear,” etc., etc., were counterbalanced by“Ballo in Maschera,” “ Ernani,” “Aida,” and last, but (many think) not least, “Otello.” Altogether, Guisseppe Verdi has written some score of operas of which six or seven, perhaps, will survive. GILBERT’S LIBRETTO FOR THE SAVOY. When the new opera at the Savoy comes to be produced next Saturday the following outline of the plot, furnished to the Manchester “Guardian” by a casual correspondent, will, I fancy, be found to be correct. It sounds, anyhow, thoroughly Gilbertian.

Two brother gondoliers are leading a happy existence in Venice, with their affections firmly set upon a pretty pair of cantadine. After a bright opening chorus and a characteristic ditty for a supernumerary knight of the paddle, these gentlemen are introduced to us in all the festivity of theic wedding morning. Having sung a scena in Italian, and joined in the orthodox quartet, the Venetians hurry off to the ceremony. Then comes upon the scene a certain ex - Duke, from the regions of Spain, his daughter Carlotta, and his ally Don Alhambra del Bolero. They are searching for the hereditary King of Barataria, who was wedded to Carlotta in infancy, and has since disappeared. Through the women who brought, up the juvenile monarch it is ascertained that the lost potentate is none other than one of the two of our gondolieri, but tb Gilbertian problem is—which ? Back com 0 the happy couples from the double nuptials, t and then, to make certain they have caughthe right man, the Duke and his com r panions hurry off both bridegrooms to thei far-off kingdom in a felucca. The poo cantadine are left behind, for His Majesty of Barataria has a wife already, and who shall say which of the two ifc is ? The second act takes place on the imaginary island in question. The identity of the king is still in doubt, the pair of Venetians are reigning jointly, making decrees and announcing their royai will in alternate lines, posed like a new edition of the Siamese twins. But the wives and their companions get tired of waiting in Yenice,and put in an appearance. One of the most delightful numbers of tins act ie a quintet for the two kings, their wives, and Carlotta, the wife of one, and nod know which ! Here’s a calamity unexpected— We are divisible into three. sing the puzzled monarcha. It would! hardly be fair to disclose the ingenious manner in which these difficulties are cleared up. Suffice, it to say that the cares of royalty are removed from the heads of the two jovial gondolieri, and that the whole of the dramatis persona’ resume their ear-haunting cachuca as the curtain falls' on> an opera which promises to be lightness and brightness itself.