“ALIEN’S” LETTER FROM ENGLAND.

Otago Witness, Issue 3611, 29 May 1923, Page 55

“ALIEN’S” LETTER FROM ENGLAND.

(Specially Written for the Ladies* Pago.) FASTER. What England calls a “Heat Wave,” in large headlines, prostrated the country in the earlier days of tlie week, as much w ith astonishment at two successive days of sunshine—even then it rained on the second night. The hottest day in March for 50 years, we are told, except for one day in March, 1918. All sorts of quick changes were made to meet the weather. Women east their furs and men their top coats; parasols and picnics appeared in the parks, and women did their knitting out o-f doors, taxi-cabmen opened their cabs, motor cars unclosed, electric ventilators were started to work after six or seven months’ rest and hundreds of people rushed to hook rooms for Faster at the seaside, and on the motor coaches for long-distance journeys for the holidays—and will probably regret it, as will the people who lay on the grass in the shade of the trees) for the ground has been soaked with rain feet deep. But. people lose their heads “at a touch of the sun” after seven months of dreary

skies and biting winds; it becomes at least to the workers—and the workers are tiie millions—almost unendurable, nerves are on edge and spirits depressed, and the whole person, body, mind and spirit, craves for something with blue and gold in it. Endurance Hags, hope and happiness are yearned for." A few da.:- of sunshine have been a wand |f m over coppice and meadow—tender greens soothe the eye aching for colour, and all the young, sliy things of the woods and the fields come out to investigate the new world and to plav. Nature is occupied with wooing and birth ; birds are on the wing and in song; the pigeon coos, the lambs frolic ; every creature has donned sleek coat and shining plumage, even the cat, deserts tlie hearthrug for the window sill and cleans himself assiduously; the lanes are “primrose ways.” 1 love England twice a year—in the spring and in the “fall.” 'Twice in a normal year, when its seasons are true, it is incomparable. No poet has ever exaggerated the golds and blues and countless greens of April, nor tlie russets and coppers and red-golds of October. Rut these days of summer too soon, such as the early week gave us, are usually delusive and paid for with hitter climatic reaction. That has been the case this Easter. There lias been a good deal of sunshine, but keen east winds have made coats and furs an adjunct to comfort. The three hours’ service at the churches (from 12 to 3) on Good I riday were well attended ; but when these solemn hours were finished the people flocked to the parks and open road. It was probably the greatest motoring Easter on record. The churches were crowded for the joyous Easter Sunday services, hut apart from that everybody sought the open air. By omnibus, tramcar, and railway thousands of Londoners travelled to picnic to Hampstead Heath, ribping Forest, Kew Gardens, and Richmond, and by streams of motors and by train hundreds of thousands sought the sea. On Easter Monday night there was a continuous stream of motors on the main roads of home-comers returning after their four days’ outing. The King and Queen went down to Windsor the day before Good Friday, and spent the Easter holidays there, the Prince of Wales and his brothers joining their Majesties. Princess Mary, at Goldsborough, is devoting herself to her baby son, and adding to her popularity Lv making a good mother. The family life of the Royal Family has always made a strong appeal to the British Empire, for we are essentially a family people at heart, however the fashions of other climes may ha.ve affected us. The example of Princess Mary, youthful and healthful, nursing her own baby and superintending its welfare, instead of banishing it entirely to the nursery and feeding-bottle, is sure to have its influence with mothers of lesser degree. The engagement of Lady Mary Cambridge, niece of the Queen and elder daughter of the Marquis of Cambridge, to the Marquis of Worcester (heir of the Duke of Bedford) has been officially announced. Lady Mary, who is one of the bridesmaids at the wedding of the Duke of York and Lady Elizabeth BowesLyon, was also a bridesmaid of Princess Mary, and she is tne third bridesmaid of the Princess to become engaged, iioth the Marquis of Worcester and Lady Mary Cambridge are keen on hunting. The Marquis, who is 23 years old, has acted as master jof the "Duke of Beaufort . Hunt, and is regarded as one of the finest riders to hounds in his own shire. Speaking of riding reminds me that the Prince of Wales was thrown the other day for the fourth time. He was riding Prince Henry’s Ocean 111 at the Army Point-to-point races, near Reading, when he fell with his mount at the water jump. His first care was for his horse, which seemed to be in some danger. He jumped into the water to unstrap the girth and lead the animal out. The next day the Prince was riding in the Melton Mowbray, Leicestershire Hunt races. He seems absolutely unconcerned about himself, and although he has had some nasty knocks, he limps about smilingly for a day or two and mounts again apparently none the worse for his" troubles. He was running first when the last one occurred, and it was real bad luck, as the race would most probably have been his. It was a gala meeting of the Melton Hunt Steeplechase when the Prime rode his own beautiful horse Kinlark, the Australian chaser, which was presented to him there. It was the Prince’s second race under National Hunt Club rules, and the greatest enthusiasm was manifest when the Prince appeared on Kinlark. A distinguished crowd was present and sentiment ran high. The Prince wanted success for the Australian horse, and the onlookers wanted success for the Prince. In the first round Kinlark went well and fenced splendidly, but he slowed down and lost ground “owing to the Prince's tactics,” whatever that may mean. “Two fences from home the winning effort was made, but a blunder by Kinlark occurred at the last jump, and the Prince lost to the “Culprit,” the horse who got in before him. Meanwhile the nation is not nearly so interested in these exploits of the Heir Apparent as it is in the marrying of his brother, the Duke of York. In private circles it is beginning to be said that, plucky as the Prince of Wales is, his life is not his own to needlessly risk, but affects the whole Empire. The Prince is to take part in the Household Brigade Steeplechases, which will he held at Hawthorne Hill two days this week. Tn the open steeplechase he will ride Pet Dog, on which he won that event two vears ago. The King and Queen, accompanied by the Prince of Wales and Prince Henry, motored to Aldershot from Windsor on Easter Monday to witness the Army Football Association Cun final between the 2nd Highlanders and the R.A.S.C., and received a tremendous ovation when they

took their seats in the Royal box with the Princes. There is much interest in the statement that 200 working boys (representing the main industries of Great Britain), together with 200 schoolboys, are to attend the Duke of York's wedding at his invitation. The Duke is president of the Industrial Welfare Society, which watches over the interests of many thousands of working lads,- and for the past two summers the Duke has manifested his personal interest in a practical fashion by inviting 200 to he his guests at a holiday camp at Littlestone Aerodrome, New Romney, Kent. This action has been so greatly appreciated by working hoys everywhere that they are all anxious to help in the w.p.ddjing cplebrations. and seats have been set aside in the Abbey, and every boy honoured will represent a different industry—a cotton worker from Lancashire, a stool worker from South Wales, a [lit hoy from the Midlands, and so on. The hoys trill bo the guests in London of a prominent peer. An unusually large nilm-lter of Ameri cans are expected for the Ixmdon season tins yeai, and many of thorn are coming

earlier than usual, so as to be in town for the Royal wedding, for nobody loves a Royal pageant more than the demo cratic Americans. The Canard liner Mauretania, "the hundred million-dollar ship, ’ after a globe-trotting run of IO.OCO miles, arrived at Southampton the other day with a cargo of millionaires, “kings” of the great industries of New York, with their wives and daughters. The voyage was one of the greatest luxury trips ou record. It is calculated that one great steel magnate paid about £SOCO for one suite alone, and on an average each of the 400 passengers who landed spent about £5500 on the trip' But money can’t do everything—even for millionaires. For instance, a number of the 400, who are staying in London for the week, visited the Tower, and found no lift had been provided—no “luxuryservice, and that the grey and winding worn stone stairway up which imprisoned kings, queens, and Royal children and great statesman and patriots had climbed to the refuge of their vault-like apartments, or descended to their execution, must he climbed by their modern millionaire feet. It was a great oversight. That London should have been “discovered” by 400 American millionaires and millionairesses, who have ‘canned” everything but the ancient traditions of Britain, should have to w.tl.K through the corridors ami climb the haunted stairways to the chambers where noble, patriotic martyrs for England suffered and Royal children were smothered, was

r.weiy an oversight. I! title Tower of London had been notified in time surely there would bate been elevators iiistalleu, for we are told hv a Chicago magnate that his pin tv of women were disagreeably surprised to find tin re were no elevators. They said they thought the Tower mustbe a wonderful place, but sooner than explore it - -an ! it is fatiguing—they would rather lake a look at it from tlie outside. But Dominion trippers do that too—take a look at the outside. How many who have "done:” tile town could tell you anv intelligent thing about hit. Paul s, about Westminster Abbey, of the lower, of the Temple district, of the literary story of Fleet ,-t-rcet, up to Ludgate Hill? Ask’ anyone who has been Home how much they know of the history of the West liml—of the history of its mansions mid packs and churches, of its byways and slums. Among the brilliant entertainments that v, ill b e given oil the evening of the 26th will be the ball that the Marchioness Cur/.on is arranging at Lausdowne llou.-e in aid of Queen Alexandra s Noises Fund. All the Corps Diplomatique have promised to be present. Contrary to usual custom, there will be a formal procession to supper according to precedence, and it is expected that Royalty will be present. The Rovd Ac.idemv opens its duois to tlie public on May 1. Mr Augustus John s private view before the pictures were sent to the Academy was one of the notable receptions of the artistic world. An art note says: "Fifteen years ago Mr John was admired by a restricted circle of genuine art lovers, but the great public "refused to see anything in his art but a wilful and perverse striving after ' "ugliness.’ To-day this alleged ugliness is recognised as beauty, and the John worship has reached every phase of society. To-day Mr John cannot do wrong. Superlatives are exhausted in any discussion of his art. There is .good reason for it, for Air John works with an inspired brush. He is not faultless, but faults do not count where there ’s such overwhelming evidence of vision and style. It does not matter what Mr John paints or how he paints it—the style is always there, and it is unmistakably his. "it is his even when he 'S at pains to suppress it in an endeavour to do homage to another master s genius. The superb * ‘ Symphonic Espagnole which dominates Mr John s new exhibition at the Alpine Club Gallery does not pretend to be anything but a paraphrase of motives gathered from El Greco —the tv pcs and proportions are El Greco’s, the clouds are bis, the sharp flashes of colour on a ground of cold greys, the very laying on of the paint suggests El Greco, — ami yet Mr John's personality asserts itself " throughout. No other modern painter could have logically organised the absurd medley into so noble a design. The picture is unfinished, as is also the wonderful full-length portrait of Mme. Suygia, seated, dressed in a marvellously painted spreading red robe, and playing the ’cello, her head thrown back, her lids lowered, every fibre of her body tense with musical emotion. The rigid arm and supple wrist of the hand guiding the bow, and the sensitive fingering of the strings by the other hand are passages of consummate mastery. And the way the folds of the curtain are brought into relation with She 'cello slanting from right to left and with the robe spreading diagonally from left to right produces a radiating rhythm of wonderful effectiveness.’’ It is a wonderful like ness, as those testified who compared the real Mine. Suggia, who was among the guests, with the musician on the canvas. Another picture which is a delight is the “Lady with a Violin” (a portrait of Mrs Fleming), and the "Lady with a Martgold” is another outstanding painting. It- was quite evident from the crowd of distinguished society people at the Alpine Club "Gallery who had come to Mr Augustus John’s exhibition that the now famous artist had many enthusiastic ad mirers among the exclusive crowd. Ihe Infanta Beatrice of Spain was among those who congratulated him. Among others were Mr Aaithony de Rothschild (the Spanish Ambassador),Mhe Duchess of Buckingham and C'handos, Lady Alington, the Countess of Hardwick, Lord Buckmaster the Countess of Ambermarle, Lord \Y avert ree, Sir Arthur Pinero, Ladv Florence Garvagh, and many celebrities of the literary and artistic world. There was a remarkable tribute in the evening from the art students in Lyndon at the" end of the private view. The students came from the Royal College of Art, from the Royal Academy schools, and from the Slade School to do homage. It was a touching tribute to the great painter, to the artist and man alike, that those aspirants to fame, to perfect work, the men and women struggling upward to the high mark of their calling, should- not- only honour the artist who had reached, but love the man too