Daily inter mountain. [volume] (Butte, Mont.) 1881-1901, 1900-05-12
A LITTLE TALK WITH
MARIE CORELLI
A Beautiful Venetian English Girl
Tells of Her Surroundings in
StratfOrd.

Marie Corelli has been living in the old
home of Shakespeare, spending the VIM
ter in the haunts f~requented by the Lord
of Avon. It is said hat she is preparing
a tale of the days of Shakespeare, but of
that she will say little as yet.
Corelli. as you may know, is one of the
prettiest of living writers. She has
sunny hair, blue eyes and a very fair skim.
Her teeth are veditable poets pearls.
Flags are flying, banners f1uttering all
over town. The scent of hyacinths, vio-
lets and primroses is sweet on the air: the
singing birds. which are numerous in
and about Straford, are caroling in full
chorus. irresistibly calling to mind the
delicious lines:
"'Under the green wood tree,
Who loves to lie with me
And tune his merry note
Unto the sweet birds throat?'
winter and rough weather are gone
Tor the present, not soon to return, we
hope, and in Stratford we are all at our
brightest and best. Swarms of strangers
chiefly Americans, roam through the pie
tureSque streets of the town, most of
them bending their steps in one direction.
toward the beautiful church and its
sacred shrine. the famous stone bear
ing the famous blessing and curse in
one, which covers all that was mortal of
England's poet king.
Marie is an Italian, but the Venetian
type, which is always fair.
Writing on the birthday of Shakespeare
to some friends. she said:
Cool and cloudy spring weather ush-
cred in the day of days, the birthday and
deathday of the greatest poet in the
world. The silver-toned bells of Holy
Trinity church began to ring at sunrise,
reminding us all that in this very town.
so quaint, so quiet, so delightfully."- re-
moved from the modern rush and crush
of our latter-day society, was born, 500
years ago, England's supreme genius.
Here. amid the simplest, sweetest as
sociations. was passed the childhood and
boyhood of Shakespeare, whose invincible
name will keep England great when all
her ~conquering and commercial glory
shall nave passed away in the deep time
distance to come. One could draw many
pictures. Here he, like his own Prospero,
when the dim hour clothed in black drew
near, broke his magic wand and set the
delicate Ariel of his imagination free.
"And in these days of materialism and
prose it is an inspiring sight to see the
good folk of Stratford setting aside other
business to pay homage to the memor
of their famous townsman, forgetting
themselves and their daily cares in SOL
emn reverence to the life that all the
muses. endowed with gifts of grace.
A impressive ceremony was held at
the Church this Afternoon. when the
mayor, the trustees of S~hakespeare's
birthplace, member of the Shakespeare
Club and various deputations from
schools came to lay their floral tributes
on the raw The vicar received each
wreath separately from the donors hands
and set them in place, while with great
taste and feeling the organist played on
the magnificent organ LoWland'S fine old
air The Legend of the Avon and the
Light Of Love-" the traditional melody
supposed to have been Sh~akespeare's ia
vorite song.
1.-The town is crowded, but not with no.
liabilities. No fashionable folk are here.
Lord Wolseley was staying at the Treve-
lyanS a few days age, but they have Left.
1t is rather curious to see the commander
in chief of the British army wandering
about the memorial, %perchance thinking
to himself that the pen is mightier than
the sword.
Tonight the play-the plays the thing!
AS You Like It. which is chosen for this
evening, is always a favorite play with
Stratford people, and special interest is
added to this occasion on account of the
appearance of Miss Marion Terry for the
first time as Rosalind.
Il saw Miss Terry IN Saturday. She
confessed to some nervousness in essay
ing the part, for the beautiful imperson-
alton of the character by Mary Anderson
is still fondly in this town.