VAULTING AMBITION WHICH O'ERLEAPED ITSELF.

North Otago Times, 21 October 1905, Page 2 (Supplement)

VAULTING AMBITION WHICH O'ERLEAPED ITSELF.

TIIE HOME OF WIIITAKEII WRIGHT DEFAULTER, AND SUICIDE. In a mournful desolated corner of tho beautiful estate known to fame as Lea Park, the princely homo of tho lato Whitakor Wright, at Witley, lies a strange and weird collection of marble statuary once intended to beautify tho unlucky mansion which was never finished—and which probably never will be, Anyone who is curious enough can go and Geo it. Thero never was bo strange a musoum in so slrnnge n place. It is situated among the dark fir trees scarcely a biscuit throw away from tho main load, mid closo lo the whito elephant instituto 'which Whitakor Wright built, as lord of the manor, for the growth of the young idea of Witley. It is so ponderous and immenso that nobody can steal it; it needs no custodian. In a clearing among tho trees aro deposited a dozen enormous packing-cases, each taller than a man. Tlw weathers of winter mid summer have rotted tho wood; but on each case clearly appears tho legend, ia big black letters: ANDBEONI. The Studio. ROME. Fragile—ivitli care, Desecrating hands have lorn some of the covering away, revealing quaint glimpses of mythological gods and goddesses in their glory of marble nudity. In one spot Venus is rising from the sea —heroic size. Environment has given her a sea of Surrey's purple heather. Tho flight of ages and the variblo climate of England have endowed her with leprous patches of fungus oti tho bend of her shapely knee; but she is a fine strapping Venus for all that. She is overbuxom and too florid; perhaps, to suit a delicate taste in Art; but she was built on vigorous scaffolding to suit the vigorous taste of a Financier who would liavo nothing unless it was all very fine and largo. And so it was that a portly Venus came to Witley. In an adjoining packing case lire Apollo, flat 011 tho brpnd of his back, shopsoiled, and staring miblinkingly through a chink of his coffin, There's a bird's nest on tho crutch of his arm, Tho young brood-long since down-apparent-ly used the marble strings of his silent l.vro for their jumping-off place. Apollo is about 9ft high, according to plans and specifications approved by the great W. Another lady, identity uncertain, is huddled up in a caso more damaged than the rest. Apparently, she has been trying to escape from her prison, and may have done some of the damage to the packing case herself, A linen ban. dage is closely wrapped around her ankle, ltow it got thero, Heaven knows. It is conceivable that in her struggle slio strained a marble tendon, and a carven god with that knowledge of tho ambulance of 'St. John for which most of ancient deities were justly famous, strapped it up for her. It is a neat ligature. Amid tho amazing cumber of this grim burial ground one sees a fool here, the turn of a leg there, and a neck and face somewhere else in ramdom peeps. Tho rest is wrapped in sackcloth and mystery. Great blocks of rough-hewn marblo aro scattered about in a sort of giants' causeway amid scraps of ornate carving half-buried among a litter of rank undergrowth. But the saddest sight of all is a sweet littlei water-nymph, all naked and miserable, crouching in tho corner of a rickety old shed. She is really a gem, with genius in the mould, ing of her. Even the vulgar association of a a broken beer-bottle lying at hor daiuty feot does not lesson the charm of her delicate form. In her shivering nudity she seems to bo crying for consolation—porehauce blankets and soup. The valuo of these unfortunate exiles, bumped down among tho fir cones miles from tho company of live humanity, must run into several thousands of pounds, Tliey liavo been lying thero for yearscompletely forgotten. An enterprising monumental mason may come along some day, buy the whole lot for a few pounds, and convertthem into headstones for, the departed or mantlepieces and washing basins of rtlie living. Who knows? Across the park, a 6 far as the eye can see from tho "marble cemetery 1 ' lies tho mansion, deserted and chill, with lotting scaffold-poles still pointing aimlessly to tho sky. The lake is weedy and unkempt, and tho wonderful.rooms undor it—which alono cost a fortune to build—aro dismal and damp. Tho glass-domed roof is barnacled with water-weeds, completely shutting out the light, and from the coiliiig inside thero is a dismal stalac. tilo drip, Indeed, the much vaunted ''House under tho Lako" is as grim as a charnel chamber. Early in October everything will be sold—or, ratlior. put up to auction, by Hamptons, On tho lodgo gates is an inviting posteroffering to the public: "This famous residental and sporting estate distinguished as Lea Park, Witley," Tho hoouso is described as "a modern mansion in tho Early English stylo (sic), grandly situated in a glorious park- of nearly 500 acres, enclosed by a stone wall, guarded by . five choicely built lodges, and diversified by three large lakes." The whole of tho property covers a space of 2,836 acres, nnd with it will be sold tho lordship of the manor, hold, up to his death, by Mr Whitakor WrijWj,,