PR 5493 .LT TEVENSON JlND MARGARITA y WILL H.LOW Class __. Book . I ..T Gopyriglit^i? COPXRIGHT DEPOSm STEVENSON AND MARGARITA HOSK-I hg- Stevenson and Margarita By Will H. Low H^ith an aching by Arthur S. HasHne THE MAYFLOWER PRESS NEW ROCHELLE, NEAV YORK MCMXXII JUL 3! 1922 Copyright, 1922 by The Mayflower Press ©CI.Ai;81154 T/^IRGIL oj prose! Jar distant is the day r When at the mention of your heartfelt name Shall shake the head, and men, oblivious, say: 'We know him not, this master, nor his fame.' Not for so swif t forgetf nines s you wrought. Day upon day, with rapt fastidious pen. Turning, like precious stones, with anxious thought. This word and that again and yet again. Seeking to match its meaning with the world; Nor to the morning stars gave ears attent. That you, indeed, might ever dare to be With other praise than immortality Unworthily content. Not while a boy still whistles on the earth. Not while a single human heart beats true. Not while Love lasts, and Honour, and the Brave, Has earth a grave, well-beloved, for you! From Robert Louis Stevenson: An Elegy. By Richard Le Gallienne [^1 Foreword A compelling and satisfactory biography of Robert Louis Stevenson is wholly a matter of the future. The figure we see in the pages of Mr. Balfour's two volumes is not the person of our imaginations, — not all that we have pictured of a personaUty at once so human and so lovable as dear R. L. S. must have been. Mr. Balfour has succeeded somewhat in giving us the proto- type of a literary gentleman quite politely staged; we ask for a fuller drama, we want the many-sided man; and, somehow, we suspect that Stevenson was all that. It was Henley who described him as "Valiant in velvety light in ragged luck, Most vain, most generous, sternly critical, Buffoon and poet, lover and sensualist: A deal of Ariel, just a streak of Puck, Much Antony, of Hamlet most of all. And something of the Shorter-Catechist. — " Surely such a character is worthy of his Lockhart or his Boswell. Up to the present moment the best portrait of R. L. S. may be secured from his "Letters." And while, as an amazing body of literature these stand nobly alone, we, in our Gargantuan moods, still demand fuller particulars. 17] Foreword Here and there among frail pages of reminis- cences and from stray articles and odd volumes, we have intercepted paragraphs which have given us delightfully refreshing and human phases of Stevenson's checkered existence — added glimpses of the man not on dress parade: and we have half a notion that a distinct genius for such matters will feel the urge to weave these rare threads into a complete and definitive de- sign, which will present the ultimate portrait in all its complexity. In all our several literatures we have hardly a more captivating figure. There is one book in especial to which we may turn for one of those illuminating shafts thrown conspicuously upon our writer, and that volume is none other than one referred to by Steven- son's able son-in-law. Mr. Lloyd Osborne says in part: "It is a pleasure to praise Will Low's *A Chron- icle of Friendships,' in which, in my opinion, Stevenson is more illuminatingly revealed than in anything ever written of him. Here is the true Stevenson — the Stevenson I would fain have the reader know and take to his heart — boyish, gay, and of all things approach- able to the poorest and shabbiest; a man bub- bling over with talk and no less eager to listen; Foreword a man radiating human kindness and good will, in whom the gift of genius had not displaced the most winning, the most lovable of personal qualities." Here is appreciation, indeed. And, further- more, the statement furnishes a background for the whimsical tale recounted herein, and which first appeared in Mr. Christopher Morley's column, 'The Bowling Green." Mr. Will Low has consented to let us salvage this delectable bit and preserve it in separate form for those who follow with unceasing interest the ever-allur- ing Stevenson myth. Mr. Low assures us that Mr. Morley furnished the title, which, in itself, has a distinct verve, — at least to the point of piquing our curiosity. And while Stevenson may or may not have had several love affairs, the amorous slant of this particular tale is far removed from Aphrodite's realm. It seems almost needless to state that our thanks are due to both Mr. Low and Mr. Morley for allowing us to reprint the tale, and also to Mr. C. B. Gilbert for his Villon-like ballade. Arthur N. Hosking j:9] Ballade de la Fumee yt PIPE and a book at the close of the day^ -^^ After the tumult and shouting are through! There, mon ami, is an excellent way Solid enjoyment to find, voyez vous ! If you re a reader of Stevetiso7J too {If you are not — well, I hope that you choke!) Doubtless you ve wondered, as smoke rings you blew. What kind of tobacco did Stevenson smoke? Think you 'twas shag that he crammed in his clay. Briar, or meerschaum of glorious hue? {Shag e'er made fit Sherlock Holmes for the fray — Helped him unravel the mystical clue). Was it from ''Gold Leaf" contentment he drew? Or ''Medium," or "Tawny" he'd use to invoke Clio, Melpomene, and all their crew? What kind of tobacco did Stevenson smoke? Was it "Waverly Mixture" he used to allay Nerves that were frazzled and temper askew. Or "Thick Twist," or "Three Men"? 'Tis like that he may Have smoked some of these — there are 'many that do. Could it be "Dog's Wool" he packed in his flue. Or "Latakia" {if under the yoke Of Turkish he bowed)? . . . What a theme to pursue! What kind of tobacco did Stevenson smoke? L' Envoi Prince I am putting the question to you: Dites-moi, s'il vous plait — grant your jester his joke — Would you give up your brand to smoke his, if you knew What kind of tobacco did Stevenson smoke? C. B. Gilbert. ^11] STEVENSON AND MARGARITA A Love Story By Will H. Low AMONG the few fine things remaining in this ^ topsy-turvy world of ours; amidst the barbed wire entanglements not yet cleared away, where we carry on as best we may; over the trenches in whose depths so much that was esteemed precious has been buried, and in whose digging so many strange things have been brought to light; is the sustained interest in all that R. L. S. was, said, did, or wrote! And now The Bowling Green brings up the question of the kind of tobacco he used. Well, that depends. In those early days when with his cousin Bob he trod the Lothian way, and explored all the nooks and corners of his native Edinburgh, he probably smoked shag, or whatever came his way and was cheapest. And he probably consumed it in a pipe, for even as he sailed av^^ay from Antwerp on the "Inland Voyage," never having been in a sailing canoe before, he tied his sheet and lighted his pipe! &13] Stevenson and Margarita But I never remember having seen him with a pipe; the cigarette triumphed, and in the early days at Barbizon, Grez, or Paris, he paid duty to the Government monopoly, and smoked the tabac de la regie, as we all did. It's a fine honest smoke, whether bought at deux sous d Jumer from the lady who dips her fingers into the recep- tacle sunken in the counter behind which she sits, extracts and weighs the exact amount pur- chasable for two sous, twists it deftly into a cor- net of paper and presents it with a smile and a ''Voild Monsieur;" or bought, by the more affluent, by the package as simple Caporal at ten sous, Maryland or Scaferlati superieure at twelve or sixteen. "Rank!" I have heard re- turned members of the A. E. F. characterize it, wedded as they are to the strange compounds of glycerinized beflavored alfalfa rife upon our market; of which the law of libel forbids speci- fication. In the CaHfornia sojourn in 1880 I know not what R. L. S. smoked, "Mrs. Miller's Own" per- haps, if there was nothing cheaper; but, in the unforgetable fortnight he passed under my roof in the rue Vernier, Paris, in '86, I think he fell back as easily into the habit of using the French tobacco, furnished by the house, as he did into [14J Stevenson an^ Margarita all the intimacies we resumed after eight years of separation. Upon his second arrival in this country in '87, however, I undertook a severe though kindly received supervision of his smok- ing habit. The limited supply of tobacco brought from England had been nearly exhausted by the prolonged voyage of the Ludgate Hill^ and there were three votaries of the cigarette, R.L.S., his wife, and the, somewhat to my surprise since the days of Grez, sufficiently-grown-up-to-smoke Lloyd Osbourne. Of course then as now the French tabac de la regie was procurable with a little trouble, but, like many other delights of that dear land, its tobacco in our clear dry clim- ate loses something of its savor. And so, soon after my return from my student days in France, in 1878, I had discovered a tobacco of my own. It was in exploring Broadway, then little changed during my five years of absence, that I chanced into a store nearly opposite the Post Office: that monument of mid-republican architecture, even then a blot upon the city-scape, and only now after many years threatened with destruction. The shop was a large fine emporium dedicated to the smoker, kept by one John Blakely. Ex- plaining with some particularity my desires, Mr. Blakely opined that a blend of tobaccos of his own mixing would satisfy my craving. This 115] Stevenson and Margarita mixture, of good Virginia, a little Turkish, and a trace of Perique, after a short trial pleased me, and on subsequent visits to the tobacconist I inquired why having taken the trouble to put it up in tins and bestow the melodious name of Margarita upon it, he had taken no steps to ad- vertise its merits or place it on sale elsewhere. He made answer that upon itsmerits alone a wide distribution had resulted, many tins of it find- ing appreciation as far as away as Australia or New Zealand. This statement I would not doubt, but nearer home, in a subsequent faith- ful adherence to this blend for thirty years or more, I never met one who knew or used Mar- garita, beyond the comparatively few who had adopted it upon my enthusiastic recommenda- tion. :^ ^ When the Stevensons came to port a new field of missionary endeavor was opened, to which for a time at least they succumbed. A supply of Margarita went with them to Saranac, whence, some time after, came this characteristic wail, which I copy horn. A Chronicle of Friendships, 2is,\t does not appear in the more official Letters: Sir, since 2 P. M. yesterday, a period of near- ly eighteen hours, the wretched man who [16J Stevenson ano Margarita now addresses you has not smoked. The same length of time has elapsed since the high-bred Lloyd Osbourne has Broken To- bacco. The famine has passed through all the usual stages; tissue paper from between visiting cards and 'baccy from the bottom of pockets having been consumed; but now, sir, the last 'ope has waltzed into space, and neither Osbourne nor myself can blink the- conviction that H'all is over, Farewell. When our memorial notices are written this will be a shrewd cut at the States, under whose banner we perish. Well, I am done with the passions of mortality — Farewell! but if a tin of Margarita and a mass of cigar- ette papers came by post, without prejudice to another tin in the general packet, it would not find me alive of course but it might be handy to my executors. Sir, Yours, R. L. S. Tins of Margarita followed, and if I remember rightly, some quantity of it figured among the ship stores which I saw R. L. S. eagerly draw up, review, revise, and constantly add to, the follow- ing spring at Manasquan, for the prospective provisioning of the Casco. Yes, Margarita was ;i7] Stevenson and Margarita the only brand of tobacco which Stevenson cele- brated in such touching terms; and when one reflects on the far-reaching result of the mention of another brand, in My Lady Nicotine^ it will be seen that the eventual fate of Margarita might have been avoided had this commendation been given to the public in time. For a year or two after, following a sojourn of some months abroad, I sought the abiding place of Margarita with a view of renewing my allegi- ance, only to find the shop vanished and to learn of the death of its proprietor. Some time passed when I, still mourning the lost Margarita^ passing through one of the down-town streets leading off Broadway, saw the name Blakely emblazoned on the window of a tobacconist. I entered, found a son of the father, learned that he still put up Margarita^ heard of its (her?) voyaging to far off climes once more, while still clinging to an aver- sion to publicity. To shorten a story which has strayed far from that of R. L. S., the time came when the abode of Margarita was absorbed in a great chain of cigar stores. Still, no longer young, Margarita clung to her home, and the blended tobacco bearing her name could not be [18]- Stevenson ANb Margarita found elsewhere, all other stores of the chain dis- claiming knowledge of her identity. Then came the World War, but Margarita was still to be found at the one and only store by — perhaps — her one and only admirer. Finally we entered the war, and then, late in 19 17, came the an- nouncement that the entire output of the factory where this unique tobacco was blended was to be taken over by the United States Government for the benefit of our army overseas. I trust that Margarita had her part in the vic- tory: but since then, through these halcyon days of peace, her soothing presence has been sought in vain. A total disappearance of the elusive brand is probable, a vanishing in smoke — per- haps in that of battle — which will be mourned by those admirers in the Antipodes as it is, most sincerely, by one here. It is only a partial con- solation for the renunciation of one of the pleas- ures of a somewhat prolonged youth to have found another likable tobacco, of a more manly name, that, grown, manufactured, and packed in this country, is then sent abroad, to return here, where, after some coquetting with a pro- tective tariff, it can be procured. But Margarita was once esteemed by R. L. S. and the long line 1^9] Stevenson aNd Margarita of markings on the mantel-shelf in the Baker cottage at Saranac Lake, the house which a band of pious admirers seeks to preserve as a memorial to the much-loved Louis, were undoubtedly made by the slowly extinguishing shreds of the blended Margarita. For the cigarette served as a punctuation mark to the talk of R. L. S., or the pause in the research of his phrase as he wrote. And the question of his preference for any tobacco must also con- sider the extreme attenuation of his cigarette; a few shreds of the soothing herb rolled almost to the diameter of twine in a wisp of rice paper. These, consumed in a few moments, afforded the delicate hands a continuous task, a momentary and beneficent putting on the brakes to the swift movement of the "machine" that from the In- land Voyage by enchanted ways brought us to JVeir of Hermiston. [20.] YJTERE THEN ENDS STEVENSON AND MARGARITA A LOVE Jrt STORY BY fVILL H. LOfV DONE INTO TYPE BY CHARLES P. ADAMS FOR THE MAYFLOWER PRESS OF NEW ROCHELLE NEW YORK ANNO DOMINI MCMXXII THIS EDITION CONSISTS OF TWO HUNDRED COPIES NUMBERED FOR SALE AND TEN COPIES FOR GIFT PURPOSES EACH BOOK CONTAINS TWO COPIES OF AN ETCHED PORTRAIT OF ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON BY ARTHUR N. 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