Those who have studied the productions of Marie Corelli with understanding of the spirit which has animated her work would not, we think, wish that anything should have been different. As to the reading of her early years, it was quite exceptional, as reading with children goes. She not only heard of the sayings and doings of Dickens, Thackeray, Jerrold, and such, but had read many of their works before she was ten; had not only read, but understood a great deal of them, having a loving tutor to make matters easy for her. She took great interest in histories of times and peoples, and learned to sympathize with the workers. Dr. Mackay’s poems were all familiar to her. So were the works of Shakespeare and Scott and Keats. Poetry was one of her chief delights, while instrumental music appealed to her as did the rhythm of song. The Bible, and especially the New Testament, was always her greatest friend in the world of books. And so, when it was deemed well to send her away for more systematic educational training than that of the sweet home-life, it was a little maiden of unusual knowledge who went to a convent in France to receive further tuition.
Peculiarly did the convent school-life commend itself to the studious mind of the child. The quietude and peacefulness of this holy retreat appealed very greatly to her contemplative and imaginative mind. The Doctor had instilled into her a strict regard for truth and sincerity, a reverence for sacred things, and a desire to follow in spirit and in truth the teachings of Christ. Meditating on New Testament matters, she at one time had a curious idea of founding some new kind of religious order of Christian workers, but this never subsequently took definite shape.
A great happiness which the convent provided was a grand organ in the chapel. At this, when schoolfellows were indulging in croquet, tennis, and other games, the young girl would sit, sometimes for hours at a time, playing religious songs and improvising harmonies. In several of the novels that were written in after years there are references to the organ and its soothing influences. Miss Corelli possesses remarkable musical talents, this power of improvisation amongst them, and her intimate friends to-day often have the pleasure of listening to her performances. Dr. Mackay had recognized that her musical ability was of exceptional order, and, as his financial losses had been such that he was aware he would not be able to provide for his adopted daughter, he determined that she should endeavor to win her way in the musical profession.
With this object in view the convent training was specially devoted to the development of her music, and with such thorough care were her studies conducted, that she still retains the skill then acquired upon organ, piano, and mandolin, and her voice is both sweet and powerful.
Both as instrumentalist and vocalist Miss Corelli could have been sure of a large measure of success. Principally she loves the old English and Scotch ballads; listening to her as she sings such songs to her own accompaniment in her dainty drawing-room at Mason Croft, it is pleasant to observe how very feminine she is, how paramount is the Woman in her nature.
That the young girl was ambitious goes without saying. During her holidays from school, she wrote the score of an opera, which was called Ginevra Da Siena. About the same time she produced numerous verses and short poems which brought high praise from that competent judge, Dr. Mackay. Moreover, she wrote in her very young days three sonnets on Shakespearean plays, these being approved, praised, and published by Mr. Clement Scott in The Theatre.
It soon appeared, however, that the little convent maid had done too much for her strength. Athletic exercises would have been better in those early days than the excess of brain-work to which she set herself, absolutely from inclination and of her own free will. Under the great strain her health broke down, and she was compelled to return from school for a spell of rest, carrying with her, however, impressions of the convent life which had a great effect upon her subsequent thoughts and aims.
Her health being restored, and Dr. Mackay growing more feeble, he was glad to keep her at home with him. Musical studies were persistently pursued. Half the day she would spend with the Doctor, reading, playing, or singing to him, conversing with him, and cheering him in the illness that was upon him. The other half of the day was passed at her desk, and literature finally claimed all her working hours. The first story she wrote was returned to her. It seemed she was to traverse no path of roses to fame and fortune. Though occupied with minor literary matters she was turning over in her mind the outlines of a singular story suggested by the thoughts or fancies or dreams of that period when her health broke down, and during which, whilst health was being restored, there was little to do save keep quiet and meditate. The result was the formation of the plot of “A Romance of Two Worlds.” These early years, by the way, up to 1885, were spent in a country cottage; then Dr. Mackay removed to London, and took a house in Kensington. “A Romance of Two Worlds” was published in 1886.
Miss Corelli’s sole companion after her convent school-life, with the exception of Dr. Charles Mackay, was her devoted friend, Miss Bertha Vyver, daughter of the Countess Vyver, a not unimportant personage at the court of Napoleon III. The friendship between Miss Vyver and Miss Corelli has always been of the closest description. Since Dr. Charles Mackay welcomed Miss Vyver as his “second daughter,” they have never been separated. In all her daily life, not least the nursing of Dr. Mackay through his long illness, Miss Vyver has been by her side, helping her in home difficulties and trials as help can only be given by one with whom there is perfect sympathy. Miss Vyver has seen every detail of all the work the novelist has done, and to-day the friendship between the two is closer and dearer than ever for the years that have passed, and the sorrows and joys that have been borne in company.
George Eric Mackay, Dr. Mackay’s second son, had been a wanderer on the Continent for many years. Born in London in 1835, and educated chiefly at the Academy of Inverness, he had first been put into a business house. Trade was, however, entirely opposed to his tastes and temperament, and consequently he left the commercial establishment and began to think of another career. With such a father there was naturally a desire that the son should enter the field of literature. George Eric, however, did not seem, at first, disposed to do this. He preferred the stage, and made efforts to secure a footing on it. He was tried by Charles Kean, and there were evidences of talent. Eric did, indeed, possess very considerable powers of portraying character. The stage, however, was in those days, as it probably will be for all time, a thankless profession for the embryo actor, and Eric found the work too severe. The plodding labors of the beginner by no means suited one who was not fitted by nature for drudgery or slow progress.