Centuries were necessary to raise Mary Queen of Scots to her somewhat insecure pinnacle of devotion; by the alchemy of a machine centuries have been shortened to days and nights in the meteoric career of Miss Pickford. Yet merit has joined fortune in high cabal. Handicapped by a somewhat uneuphonious patronymic, Mary Pickford has established her rule without recourse to any of the disputable methods adopted by her predecessor. At home in all the "palaces" of both hemispheres, she owes her triumphs to the triple endowment of genius, loveliness and gentleness. Moreover, in the highest sense she is truly an ambassadress of our race, for the kiss which she so graciously bestowed on Mlle. Suzanne Lenglen at Wimbledon on Wednesday last has probably done even more to heal the wounds inflicted on our gallant Allies by the disastrous policy of Mr. Lloyd George than the heroic efforts of The Times to maintain the Entente in its integrity.
The parallels and contrasts with Mary Queen of Scots need not be further laboured. But far too little stress has been laid on the rare felicity of a union which links the name of Mary with that of Douglas. The annals of British chivalry contain no more romantic or splendid entries than those associated with Sir James Douglas, alternately styled the "Good" and the "Black," hero of seventy battles and the victor in fifty-seven, peerless as a raider, who crowned a glorious career by his mission to Palestine with the embalmed heart of Bruce, and his death in action against the Moors. His illustrious namesake is now conducting a "raid" on our shores of a purely educational and humanitarian nature, and our welcome, while it expresses the rare and momentous influence of the film, is no mere gratitude for pleasure afforded; it is rather the recognition of a human touch tending to make the whole English-speaking world kin.
The visit is not unattended by risks, for the ardour of enthusiasm imposes a corresponding strain on the endurance of this august and inimitable pair. But there can be no doubt as to the absolute sincerity and spontaneity of these marvellous demonstrations of loyal affection. We can only hope that, to borrow the noble phrase of the Roman Senate in their address to Nero on the death of Agrippina, Queen Pickford the First may "endure her felicity with fortitude." Conspicuous grandeur has its penalties as well as its privileges, but the chivalric instinct is still alive in our midst; and all of us who are not perverted or debased by the malign "wizardry" of the Prime Minister will spring to the defence of Mary "the Sweetheart of the World," and Douglas "tender and true," in their hours of peril. In that high emprise the gentlemen of the world, however humble, stand, as of old time, side by side and shoulder to shoulder.
THE IRRESISTIBLE MEETS THE IMMOVABLE.
Scene: Exclusive West-End Square, with passing procession of "Reds."
The Flag-bearer. "Comrade, the Revolution is 'ere!"
The Complete Butler. "Ar! Will you kindly deliver it at the harea hentrance?"