When Sir Henry Drummond Wolff made Miss Corelli’s acquaintance he was rather struck by the somewhat lonely and incessantly hard-working life of the young novelist at the time of “Ardath"‘s publication. Her beloved stepfather was dying by inches—failing gradually every day, and her hours were consumed by anxiety, work, and watching. He asked her if he could introduce her to any one in London she would like to know. After a few moments’ reflection, of all people in the world she chose Henry Labouchere! “I don’t want anything from him,” she said; “I’m not after a notice in Truth. I want to know him, because I’m sure he is unlike anybody else.”
The introduction was given, and the result of it was that she became very intimate with the editor of Truth, with Mrs. Labouchere, and with Miss Dora Labouchere. They were among those good friends who, with Miss Vyver, helped to rouse her from the shock and nervous prostration following on the sudden death of her stepbrother, George Eric Mackay. Mr. Labouchere has never been known to try the satiric edge of his tongue against his “little friend,” as he calls her; and she is always a most welcome visitor to his house in Old Palace Yard.
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Quite lately there has been a singular journalistic incident which must be considered as particularly unfortunate, having regard to some of Miss Marie Corelli’s previous experiences of newspapers. A “private and confidential” letter, written by her to the editor of a ladies’ paper, was published by that editor in his journal with the appendage of a very discourteous reply. The incident arose out of the Highland gathering at Braemar, at which place Miss Corelli had been staying for some weeks. This gathering, which was honored by the presence of his Majesty, was attended by Miss Corelli and a party of friends. Miss Corelli, as her thousands of readers have no need to be told, did not require, or seek for, a “mention in the papers” in consequence of her attendance at the function. Had she done so she could easily have paid for it in the “fashionable announcements.” She attends many gatherings in connection with which her name is never mentioned, but she does not write complaints—confidential or otherwise—on that score. Some people like to suggest that Marie Corelli, whose circle of distinguished personal friends is remarkably large, is more or less friendless and without social surroundings, a suggestion that, pitiful as it is, is somewhat amusing to those who are favored with her close acquaintance.
On the occasion in question Miss Corelli wrote a note marked “private and confidential,” asking the editor of the ladies’ paper not “why her name was not mentioned,” but “why it was omitted”—a distinction with a difference in this case—for she happened to be the hostess of a party whose names were included in the newspaper notice, and who were surprised and indignant at the fact that, whilst their names were mentioned, that of their notable hostess was left out. It was at the suggestion of one of these that Miss Corelli wrote the “private and confidential” letter which the editor, without consulting her, rushed into print. The result of her harmless inquiry is well-known. The publication of the communication brought a shoal of letters to the famous author from men and women of “light and leading,” assuring her of their sympathy in this outrage. Amongst the writers of these letters were several very distinguished journalists, a fact which lends emphasis to Miss Corelli’s knowledge that, notwithstanding her tilts with the Press, the bulk of the journalists of the country do honor to their profession and totally disapprove of such an act as the publication of a “private and confidential” communication. We hear that printed slips containing her letter to the editor in question, and the latter’s reply, were sent by some one for circulation through the town of Stratford-on-Avon. Such a proceeding, whoever
Winter at “Mason Croft"
was responsible, could have been followed with only the one object of endeavoring to make Miss Corelli appear in an unfavorable light before the neighbors and friends among whom she resides.
It is pleasant to learn that this precious campaign entirely failed. The editor of the local journal, the Stratford-on-Avon Herald, duly received his slips of this correspondence, the hope probably being that he would reproduce them in his journal. He however took no notice of these “hand-bills”; and the good citizens of Shakespeare’s town generally are far too conscious of Miss Corelli’s affection for them and unfailing sympathy in all their interests, to feel anything but unmeasured contempt for any effort to injure her in their esteem. People hastened to call at Mason Croft and express their indignation at the treatment she had received, and they found her, as usual, busily working, happy and unconcerned. To one friend, an M.P., who expressed his views on the subject with considerable expletive, she said quietly, “Oh, well, it really doesn’t matter! The editor has condemned himself by his own action. My letter, asking merely why my name was omitted, was quite a harmless epistle, surely? It scarcely merits an imprisonment in the Tower!”