* * * * *
[Mr. Locker-Lampson, better known as Frederick Locker, the friend of
Tennyson and most accomplished writer of _vers de société_ in his time,
had asked Stevenson, through their common friend Mr. Andrew Lang, for
a set of verses, and he had sent those beginning:
Not roses to the rose, I trow,
The thistle sends, nor to the bee
Do wasps bring honey. Wherefore now
Should Locker ask a verse from me?
To Mr. Locker's acknowledgment Stevenson replied as follows, asking for
that gentleman's help in trying to get a nomination to Christ's Hospital
(the historic Bluecoat School) for the son of a friend who had shown
him kindness at Hyères:]
BOURNEMOUTH, September, 1886.
DEAR LOCKER,—You take my verses too kindly, but you will admit, for
such a bluebottle of a versifier to enter the house of Gertrude, where
her necklace hangs, was not a little brave. Your kind invitation, I
fear, must remain unaccepted; and yet—if I am very well—perhaps next
Spring—(for I mean to be very well)—my wife might.... But all that is
in the clouds with my better health. And now look here: you are a rich
man and know many people, therefore perhaps some of the Governors of
Christ's Hospital. If you do, I know a most deserving case, in which
I would (if I could) do anything. To approach you in this way, is not
decent; and you may therefore judge by my doing it, how near this matter
lies to my heart. I enclose you a list of the Governors, which I beg you
to return, whether or not you shall be able to do anything to help me.
The boy's name is ——, he and his mother are very poor. It may interest
you in her cause if I tell you this: that when I was dangerously ill at
Hyères, this brave lady, who had then a sick husband of her own (since
dead) and a house to keep and a family of four to cook for, all with her
own hands, for they could not afford a servant, yet took watch-about with
my wife, and contributed not only to my comfort, but to my recovery, in
a degree that I am not able to limit. You can conceive how much I suffer
from my impotence to help her, and indeed I have already shown myself
a thankless friend. Let not my cry go up before you in vain.
Yours in hope,
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.
* * * * *
[The sequel of this correspondence explains itself.]
SKERRYVORE, BOURNEMOUTH,
September 1886.
That I should call myself a man of letters and land myself in such
unfathomable ambiguities! No, my dear Locker, I did not want a cheque;
and in my ignorance of business, which is greater even than my ignorance
of literature, I have taken the liberty of drawing a pen through the
document and returning it; should this be against the laws of God or
man, forgive me. All that I meant by my excessively disgusting reference
to your material well-being was the vague notion that a man who is well
off was sure to know a Governor of Christ's Hospital; though how I quite
arrived at this conclusion I do not see. A man with a cold in the head
does not necessarily know a ratcatcher; and the connection is equally
close—as it now appears to my awakened and somewhat humbled spirit.
For all that, let me thank you in the warmest manner for your friendly
readiness to contribute. You say you have hopes of becoming a miser; I
wish I had; but indeed I believe you deceive yourself, and are as far
from it as ever. I wish I had any excuse to keep your cheque, for it
is much more elegant to receive than to return; but I have my way of
making it up to you, and I do sincerely beg you to write to the two
Governors. This extraordinary outpouring of correspondence would (if
you knew my habits) convince you of my great eagerness in this matter.
I would promise gratitude; but I have made a promise to myself to make
no more promises to anybody else, having broken such a host already, and
come near breaking my heart in consequence; and as for gratitude, I am
by nature a thankless dog, and was spoiled from a child up. But if you
can help this lady in the matter of the hospital, you will have helped
the worthy. Let me continue to hope that I shall make out my visit in
the Spring, and believe me, yours very truly,