By the 'Frisco.

New Zealand Illustrated Magazine, Volume III, 1 October 1900, Page 65

By the 'Frisco.

From "Alien."

"Rita" at Home. is not. generally known that "Rita," |i the celebrated novelist (born at Inverl ness), spent her childhood and early <=jjj girlhood in Australia, in company with her parents and brothers. She was not an ordinary child — quick of perception, passionate in affection or dislike — she loved or hated intensely, but both with self-repression and a reserve of demonstration peculiar to Scottish inheritance. The wild scenery of Australia, the great loneliness of the forests, the absence of that society which serves to dissipate concentration was wholly absent from " Rita's " early education. Emotion and intellect were condensed, and brought to bear upon a few persons and objects only, and upon these lavished. The result of this early influence upon a temperament, alike romantic and : conservative, was that all her life " Rita's " j friends have been few, elected from a crowd jof acquaintances, not because of any | distinguishing mark, except that of Rita's '» i favour, it was an exceptional advantage in ; the Australian solitude to be educated by a tutor of ability and judgment, and this advantage " Rita " shared with her brothers, and while judiciously preserving his young pupil's romance and reticence, he trained her mind with solid reading. Sheba, and its sequel, Countess Pharamond, written years afterwards, were suggested by the author's childhood and youth ; and through many wanderings " Rita" has kept her old love of Australia. " I have visited many of the most beautiful and most famous places abroad," she

I Vol. lI.— No. 13.— 5.

says, " but none of them can compare- with the beauty of Australia, or the lovely harbour of Sydney, its fairy islands and deep blue sea, and wealth of foliage and blossom. I often wonder if I shall ever see that harbour again."

She lias always been greatly impressed by her surroundings, and no impression has been wasted, but has borne fruit in work, for " Rita's " brain is peculiarly receptive an image, an expression, a casual remark becomes stamped upon it, wholly possessing it for the time being, and the artistic faculty of transplantation of self into impersonal surroundings being highly developed in hor, the result of each new impression is — a book. Venice and Austria produced Qretchen, Devonshire Asenath of the Ford, Scotland The L'lird o' Cockpen, Ireland, which " Rita " knows intimately, Peg, the Bake, Kitty the Mar/, and that strong and dramatic work, TJie Sinner, which created a great stir in Cork, being " fact treated fictionally." The Old Rogue's Tragedy had the honour of being accepted and acknowledged by H.R.H. the Princess of Wales.

"Rita" is a rapid writer, turning out copy at an envious speed. All she requires is an idea and a quiet writing- room, which, wherever she may reside, is located as high up in the house as possible. Here, surrounded by books and her own special nick-nacks, she will accomplish a chapter between breakfast and luncheon.

She loves the country and its pursuits, especially riding and bathing ; is an expert horsewoman, and swims splendidly. As often as practicable she retires from London for a year or so of seclusion, and is at

present residing in Hampshire, in a charming nook. Her house overlooks a chine leading to the sea. Her writing-room looks out on the garden, which, in turn, dips into a pine-wood, dense and cool and dark as a forest. Here no sound intrudes, save the singing of birds or the rustle of boughs

stirred by passing breezes. The quiet and peace are eminently restful, especially in working hours.

The chine leads directly to the sea by a broad winding path, on either side of which spreads the steep ascent to moor and cliff above. Rhododendrons and laurels, heather

and bracken clothe these cliffs in lavish profusion. Between the green spaces the blue water of the Channel gleams, the sands of which spread for miles. All the summer through steamers ply round the coast, and cross to the Isle of Wight, and "Rita," who loves the sea, frequently boats, and takes trips on the water in the intervals of work, having that faculty for concentrated labour during work hours and thorough relaxation when at play, a faculty which has doubtless helped to preserve that keen intellect which gives no sign of wear or rust.

" Rita's " house, though unpretentious, is a bower of art, and remarkable for two things — books and flowers. "I can't live without them," she says. Every book she likes she buys. The writing-room, dining-room, morning - room, bedrooms all contain them, Thackeray, Dickens, Fielding, Balzac, George Eliot, Browning, Mrs. Browning, Rosette, and scores of others in bookcases of oak and on artistic and quaint-carved shelves running round the walls and nestling in all corners. Asked to give a list of some of her modern favourites, she replied, "Ouida" (of whose works she has a complete edition), Hall Came, Thomas Hardy, Walter Besant, Black, " Alien," Mrs. Hodgson Burnett, George Meredith, Robert Buchanan, Mrs. Humphrey Ward, Sarah Grand, and many others.

The writing-room is most artistic, and approaches the Oriental in its colouring, although the rich tints in their harmonious blending do but form a background to the dark bookcases and shelves. A handsome Chippendale bureau, at which the author works, stands near a window opening to a pine forest; here and there are grouped

palms and ferns on tall blue china pedestals; quaint bowls are full of flowers, a tall Japanese cabinet, contains rare china ; paintings of the Christ and the Madonna in Florentine frames, screens, pictures, deepseated chairs and couches, all combine to make a harmonious whole. Not a colour note jars : all is in uncommon and perfect taste, not only in the writingroom but throughout the whole house. The oak and silver of the dining-room has a setting of crimson, handsome bronze ornaments adorn he mantelshelf, and in one corner a quaint oak cabinet, framed as a dresser, contains a collection of quaint

china, among which is some of the old "candle" china presented to "Rita" as parting gifts from some of the farmhouses in Devonshire.

The morning-room, which opens to the garden, is a study in old rose. There is nothing modern or commonplace, from the rosewood cabinets, odd shaped tables and window settles, to the unique collection of paper knives — presents from India, China, Ireland and other places. Among treasures from Ireland are specimens of Irish bog oak, a harp, a spinning-wheel, a walking-stick

quaintly cai-ved, presenting, whichover way you turn it, the Irish cross. Photographs signed by eminent people arc ovory whore, and make quite an interesting study.

" Rita " herself has a striking personality : her figure is slight, her hair dark, but her chief beauty is her eyes, which are largo and of a beautiful brown, and so exprossivo that it is not necessary for one who knows her to hear her speak to gauge exactly what is passing in her mind : laughter, scorn, admiration, tenderness, all are expressed. She has remarkably small hands and feet, and is one of those few women who cau wear costly rings — they seem in some way to be the proper setting for her. She in always well dressed, and in that perfect taste which suits the costume to the occasion. Not a great talker, she is yet a charming hostess, and possesses that rare faculty of shutting commonplace people out of her acquaintance, and drawing about her men and women of intellect and charm. Not a bit " groovy," you may, therefore, meet in her rooms an actor, a noted divine,

a great critic, a musician, a

painter, a politician, a bluestocking, a woman missionary, a clairvoyant and a famous explorer side by side. She understands that subtle art of entertaining — to get together the people who interest each other, and who want to meet. One of her strongest characteristics is detestation of cant and humbug; she judges the individual with the circumstance apart from creed or party or 'ism, and is singularly sane - minded and free

from any sort of craze or crank, the humorous side of any " pose " appealing to her. Her later books have, while in touch with life's tragedy of sorrow and pain, hit hard at the contemptible pretence that so often in the artistic, religious and social life passes for gold to those who cannot separate glitter from true metal. Although her pen has lost some of the tenderness of earlier years, it has never lost charity, and has gained in strength and in a caustic humour that makes some wince — but read to the end.

The Month

The month has been marked by sad happenings. The death of the Duke of Saxe-Coburg, coupled with the murder of King Humbert, intensified the depression caused by the wars in Africa and China and the famine and consequent disease in India. From Her Majesty, mourning at Osborne, to the simple cot, it might be almost said, " And there is not a house where there is not one dead," or related to one dead.

The loss of the Lord Chief Justice has added to the universal mourning. His was one of those strong personalities that created a part for himself.

When the body of the late Duke was removed from Rosenau Castle to the church at St. Moritz, in Coburg, the cortege was escorted by the 3rd Battalion of the 95th Regiment, of which the Duke was Colonel. The funeral

car was drawn by six horses with mourning trappings to their feet, the coffin covered by a pall of purple and gold, on which rested a liclmct. Tlir corleije

passed through the city, the streets of which were strewn with white sand and pine tree branches, and every house draped with black. All the church bells tolled till the Sanctuary was reached ; all the flags were half-mast or draped in black. On either side of the route burned lighted lamps draped in black. The statue of Prince Albert in Market Square was also draped in black. When the Royal mourners had left the Church, protected by a guard of honour, the coffin was viewed by thousands. On the Saturday the solemn funeral rites began at mid-day, but it was almost midnight before the ceremony was ended. All the Royal houses of central Europe were represented in the procession — a hundred Royalties being present. The scene in the church was magnificent, the uniforms and robes of office contrasting with the deep black of the Royal ladies. The coffin stood high on the altar steps between two long rows of brilliantlyattired rulers and princes. It was draped in scarlet, and crowned by a superb wreath of lilies and carnations " from his sorrowing mother, the Queen."

In a latticed balcony the ladies of many Royal families were in deep mourning, each wearing the star and crimson ribbon of ducal order. Among the sorrowing women was the aged widow of the Duke of Ernst of Saxe-Ooburg, brother of the Prince Consort. She arrived in the balcony earliest of all the Royal party, and sat hidden away in a corner, where she would have remained had not the widowed Duchess forced her into the place of honour. There is a pathos and intimate acquaintance of sorrow at close touch with the rulers and leaders of the Empire. Afar off one conceives of them much as children's kings and queens — always wearing their crown. But nearer at hand the human side of them is seen, touching the people as pomp and state could not touch — Princess Beatrice, weeping for her dead brother, unable even to control her grief on a state occasion — these are the touches of nature that make the world kin. After the service the Emperor, the Prince of Wales, and the Duke of Connaught kuelt and

prayed by the coffin. When the turn came for the boy, Duko Charles Edward (who rales iv his uncle's stead), to take his place, he did so hesitatingly. Throughout the whole service he was modestly reluctant to take precedence of the Prince- of Wales and the German Emperor, flushing sensitively when in the prayers mention was made of his rule, and dropping behind whenever ho could to let the Prince of Wales and the Emperor precede him. The body was buried at night. This is The Daily MaiVs description of the scene : "As the clock in the steeple of tho Movitz Church struck ton numberless torches flared up from the darkness surrounding tho church. Soldiers rapidly filled the tiny square, standing with arms grounded, while from tho portals of tho church slowly emerged the coilin. " The night watchman in tho tower blew his horn to the east and to the west. No answer came, and so the coffin started unchallenged upon its final journey. The Royal Princes, still wearing their gorgeous uniforms, followed on foot, led by Duke Charles Edward, who was supported by the Prince Eegent and tho Prince of Wales. The humbler mourners brought up tho rear. " Thus the sad procession climbed the narrow street to the cemetery, with the flicker of pitchpine torches for its sole guide. Under tho stars it resembled a fragment of the middle ages, this final scene of the burial of a Prince who had sailed on every sea and set foot on overy land." From Home come full descriptions of the burial of King Humbert, which was a sad and impressive ceremonial, princes and representatives of many houses showing honour. Crowds took their station over night — wowds that deeply mourned a lost friend. The tragedy of the King's murder has been emphasised by attendant tragedies — a scaffold fell, four killed and maimed was the result, and the trains that were bearing mourners from Rome, aboard which wore many distinguished people, overtook and crashed into another, many deaths resulting. In the train were travelling the Grand Duke Peter and his wife, the Grand Duchess Militza, and the sister of tho Queen of Italy. Something went wrong with the engine, aud while the train stood still,

another, which had started ten minutes afterwards, overtook and dashed into it. Thirty-two persons were killed and one hundred and thirty seriously injured, among whom was the representative of the King of the Belgians at King Humbert's funeral. Members of the Italian Parliament were among the injured. No English people were hurt.

The young King of Italy and the widowed i Queen, disturbed in their private grief, £ hastened to the scene of disaster, and i personally aided in the rescue work. When the young King was remonstrated with for exposing himself to danger, he replied that where a soldier could be he could remain also. Arrests have been made. It is thought that the neglect to give the signals that would have averted the disaster was part of the Anarchists' plot. The funeral of the Judge Advocate, Lord Russell, was another impressive ceremony. The Sanctuary is a large cathedral, but the space allotted to the judges and prominent members of the law was packed. I quote a printed word picture of the scene : " One looked out over the clean-cut faces of the great forsenic leaders, over the crude strength emblazoned on the Irish peasantry, over the stately catafalque, with its sweet embroidery of flowers, to the deep immensity where in the far distance black-robed priests lit or extinguished the brown wax candles upon the altar. The scene was impressive in its greatness, in its silence, in its elaborate simplicity. And in the middle rested that brown, silent thing, the sole monument to one of the most virile intellects in England. "At. nine o'clock the silence was broken in upon by the tinkling of a silver bell. " Slowly from the right and the left, behind the altar, there passed a long line of priests. Two of these wore puce-coloured vestments, but the majority were clad in sombre black cassocks with surplices. Here and there among them was the bearded member of some monkish order, his head cowled in the end of his blanket-like frock. All made stately obeisance before the altar at which the Rev. Matthew Russell, S.J., brother of the late Chief Justice, officiated. " The service that succeeded was impressive in fcho extreme, measured and dignified. The great church was wrapped in a silence through which

the low moan of the officiating priest scarcely percolated, and only the sweet tinkle of the acolyte's golden bell was definite. " The moving minor notes of Gounod's ' Aye Verum ' wrapped themselves round the hearts of the listening mourners, until the whole church grieved. Prom the silence that followed, the yearning wail of the ' Stabat Mater ' broke over the people, and women bent their heads to weep. " Auber's ' 0 Salutaris Hostia ' came with something of comfort to the audience, only to be followed by a heart-searching period of absolute silence From that the clergy emerged, pale and ascetic as at the commencement, and. preceded by the crucifix and two great candles, slowly wound down the church to the broad black carpet on which the catafalque rested. " Lined up on either side of the coffin, each priest bearing a candle, the clergy stood while the Bishop of Eminaus gave the absolutions and the bass choir sang a weird Gregorian chant."

August Holidays. The great August Bank Holiday was doomed by storm and rain, which continued for eight days, and did great damage to the harvest and fruit crops, half ruining many. The one week at Oowes — the Regatta week — was spoilt completely, and Society was glad to make its stampede to the moors for the twelfth, which opens the grouse shooting season. No man has held any responsible position lightly during the past nine months, and the strain was making itself felt. The sweet air of the moors will blow refreshment into tired brains. London is deserted — by all who can desert. The blinds are drawn before the windows of great houses, and Clubland is in the hands of the decorator, for during August the clubs are "spring " cleaned. The great parks are given over to the people— " Fairyland " has departed from the " Row."

On Sunday there was a strange gathering in Hyde Park (where grievances are taken for redress to the public hearing). The shop assistants met to protest against the " living in " system in vogue in the great houses. It appears that the wages rarely reach £1 a week, including board and residence, and what this great crowd of workers ask is a higher wage and freedom to choose the manner of their private life. They must be

well-dressed, well-mannered, and decently educated, yet are by this '' living-in " system debarred from the privacy and relaxation of private life, and the luxury of choosing their own companions — and everyone knows how good it is to be able to get entirely away from those who share the burden of our days. The great sea of pale faces was a pathetic appeal in itself. The London waiters, too, are kicking

against their pricks. It is a woll-known fact that only in a very few of tho palatial hotels do they receive any salary at all, but on the contrary pay from three to four shillings a week for the privilege of obtaining their post, depending entirely upon tho " tips " of the visitors. This, the men declare, destroys their sense of independent manhood and engenders a feeling of living on charity.