Chapter 3

"Though altogether, I am pretty well satisfied with my Chinese negotiations; as soon as the Celestial Empire was opened to the civilized world, I engaged an agent there to collect for me. But, could you put me on the track of a Confucius?"

{opened to the civilized world = following the so-called Opium War, Britain had in 1842 forced China to open trade with her}

I was obliged to admit my inability to do so; and at the same moment the collecting instincts of Lady Holberton and Mr. T----, drew their attention to the corner where Miss Rowley and myself were conversing; as they moved toward us, Miss Rowley pocketed her list, throwing herself upon my honor not to betray the deficiencies in her role d'equipage, or the collecting negociations just opened between us. Lady Holberton, as she advanced, invited Miss Rowley, with an ill-concealed air of triumph, to feast her eyes once more on the Lumley autograph, and not long after the party broke up.

{role d'equipage = muster roll (French); here, Miss Rowley's list of her autographs}

The next day, in passing Holberton-House, I observed the chariot of a fashionable physician before the door; and at Miss Rowley's party in the evening learned from Mr. T---- that Lady Holberton was quite unwell. The following morning I called to inquire, and received for answer that "her ladyship was very much indisposed." It was not until a week later that I saw Lady Holberton herself, taking the air in Hyde Park. She looked wretchedly--thin and pale. I inquired from the English friend with whom I was riding, if there was any probability of a change of ministry? He looked surprised; and then catching the direction of my eye, he observed,

"You ask on Lady Holberton's account; but Sir A---- B---- tells me her illness was caused by the loss of the Lumley Autograph."

This unexpected intelligence proved only too true. On returning to my lodgings, I found a note from Lady Holberton, requesting to see me, and, of course, immediately obeyed the summons.

"Lost!--lost!--lost! Mr. Howard!" said the lady, endeavoring to conceal her emotion, as she gave me the details of her affliction.

"It must have been stolen--basely stolen--on the evening of my party. Oh! why did I so foolishly exhibit it among so many people, and collectors among them, too! Never again will I admit more than one collector at a time into the room with my album!" she exclaimed with energy.

I was shocked; surely Lady Holberton did not conceive it possible that any of her guests could be guilty of such base conduct?

"How little you know them! But it is that, Mr. Howard, which has interested me in your favor--you have so much naivete, and ignorance of the moral turpitude of the old world, that I feel convinced you never could be guilty of such an action yourself."

I assured Lady Holberton that in this respect she only did me justice; and, in fact, a theft of the kind she alluded to appeared to me all but incredible.

"Remember that it was only the other day that ---- lost his invaluable album; remember that last winter Madame de ---- had all her notes on botanical subjects stolen from her own portfolio--and I could mention a dozen instances of the same wickedness."

These facts were already known to me, but I had forgotten them. I remarked with a glow of national pride, that we certainly were much more virtuous in these matters across the ocean; in America we are much above pilfering autographs; when we do steal, it is by the volume--we seize all an author's stock in trade at one swoop, and without condescending to say even, thank ye, for it.

{author's stock in trade = though ostensibly referring to the stealing of autographs, Susan Fenimore Cooper is also clearly referring to the widespread pirating of British and other foreign literary works by American publishers, in the absence of international copyright laws--which not only cheated the authors, but made life difficult for American authors expecting to be paid for their creations}

"So I have always understood, Mr. Howard--and I felt that my album was safe with you," observed Lady Holberton, with tears in her eyes.

Wishing to relieve this distress, I proposed advertising for the lost treasure--applying to the police.

Lady Holberton smiled through her tears, as she assured me that the police, old and new, had been enlisted in her service an hour after the discovery of her loss, while communications had been opened with the municipal governments of Brussels, Paris, and Vienna, on the same subject.

{police, old and new = the first modern English police force had been established in 1829 by Sir Robert Peel -- from which the British nickname of "bobby" for policeman.}

"And have you no clue, no suspicions?--your servants--your maid?"

The aspersion on her household was indignantly repelled.

"You will readily believe, Mr. Howard, that a collector, the owner of such an album as I have the honor of possessing, is particularly careful as to whom she admits into her family. I will vouch for all about me; still I have suspicions--but--"

I begged her to speak, if she thought I could be of the least assistance.

"Yes, I will trust my son's friend. Mr. Howard, I here solemnly accuse Theodosia Rowley of having stolen the Lumley Autograph!"

The dignity of manner, the concentrated passion of expression, the strength of emphasis with which Lady Holberton spoke, would have done honor to a Siddons. The natural start of horror and amazement on my part, was also, no doubt, very expressive--for I was speechless with surprise.

"I see you do not credit this," continued the lady.

But thought, like a flash of lightning, had already recalled some circumstances of the last evening at Holberton-House. I did credit the accusation, and immediately informed Lady Holberton of what I had observed, but forgotten, until reminded of the facts by her own remarks. I had seen Miss Rowley, bending low over the album at a moment when some one was telling an exceedingly humorous story which engrossed the attention of the rest of the company.

"Could she have had an accomplice?" cried the lady, with dashing eyes.

I knew nothing on that point. But, I added, that soon after Miss Rowley had left the room very quietly; and as I followed her to fulfill another engagement, she had started, turned pale, and betrayed much nervousness, scarcely allowing me to assist her to her carriage, although we left the house at the same instant.

Lady Holberton's suspicions were now confirmed beyond a doubt.

"And yet it seems incredible that any lady should be guilty of such conduct!" I exclaimed, almost repenting having allowed the previous remarks to pass my lips. "Miss Rowley is undoubtedly a woman of principle--or good moral standing."

"Moral standing!--principle!" exclaimed Lady Holberton, bitterly. "Yes, where an autograph is concerned, Theodosia Rowley has all the principle of a Magpie."

{Magpie = European bird known for stealing and hiding small bright objects.}

Whatever might have been the fact, it was clear at least that Lady Holberton's opinion was now unalterably made up.

"Remember, she is a Butlerite!" added the lady, thus putting the last touch to the circumstantial evidence against Miss Rowley.

Weeks passed by. The advertisements remained unanswered. The police could give no information. Lady Holberton was in despair; the physicians declared that her health must eventually give way under the anxiety and disappointment consequent upon this melancholy affair. Much sympathy was felt for the afflicted lady; even Miss Rowley called often to condole, but she was never admitted.

"I could not see the crocodile!" exclaimed Lady Holberton, quite thrown off her guard one day, by the sight of Miss Rowley's card which she threw into the fire.

Some consolation, however, appeared to be derived from the assiduous attentions of Mr. T----, who personally admired Lady Holberton; at least he professed to do so, though some persons accused him of interested views, and aiming at her album rather than herself. But although his attentions were received, yet nothing could afford full consolation. At length, all other means failing, at the end of a month, it was proposed that two persons, mutual friends of Lady Holberton and Miss Rowley, should call on the latter lady, and appeal privately to her sense of honor, to restore the autograph if it were actually in her possession. This plan was finally agreed on; but the very day it was to have been carried into execution, Miss Rowley left town for an excursion in Finland.

As for myself, I was also on the wing, and left London about the same time. The parting with Lady Holberton was melancholy; she was much depressed, and the physicians had recommended the waters of Wiesbaden. Mr. T---- was also preparing for an excursion to Germany; and he was suspected of vacillating in his Butlerite views, brought over by Lady Holberton's tears and logic.

Returning to London, some three months later, I found many of my former acquaintances were absent; but Lady Holberton, Miss Rowley, and Mr. T---- were all in town again. The day after I arrived--it was Tuesday the 20th of August--as I was walking along Piccadilly, about five o'clock in the afternoon, my eye fell on the windows of Mr. Thorpe's great establishment. I was thinking over his last catalogue of autographs, when I happened to observe a plain, modest-looking young girl casting a timid glance at the door. There was something anxious and hesitating in her manner, which attracted my attention. Accustomed, like most Americans, to assist a woman in any little difficulty, and with notions better suited perhaps to the meridian of Yankee-land than that of London, I asked if she were in any trouble. How richly was I rewarded for the act of good-nature! She blushed and courtesied.

{Tuesday, 20th of August = does this date the final composition of "The Lumley Autograph" or of its setting? August 20 fell on a Tuesday in 1844 and 1850}

"Please, sir, is it true that they pay money for old letters at this place?"

"They do--have you any thing of the kind to dispose of?"

Judge of my gratification, my amazement, when she produced the Lumley Autograph!

Of course I instantly took it, at her own price--only half a guinea--and I further gave her Lady Holberton's address, that she might claim the liberal reward promised far the precious letter. Tears came into the poor child's eyes when she found what awaited her, and I may as well observe at once that this young girl proved to be the daughter of a poor bed-ridden artisan of Clapham, who had seen better days, but was then in great want. It is an ill-wind that blows no good luck, and the contest for the Lumley Autograph was a great advantage to the poor artisan and his family. The girl had picked up the paper early one morning, in a road near Clapham, as she was going to her work; Lady Holberton gave her a handful of guineas as the promised reward--a sum by the bye just double in amount what the poor poet had received for his best poem--and she also continued to look after the family in their troubles.

But to return to the important document itself. Never can I forget the expressive gratitude that beamed on the fine countenance of Lady Holberton when I restored it once more to her possession. She rapidly recovered her health and spirits, and it was generally reported that seizing this favorable moment, Mr. T---- had offered himself and his collection, and that both had been graciously accepted. Miss Rowley called and a sort of paix platree was made up between the ladies. A cargo of American autographs arrived containing the letter of the Cherokee editor, the sign-manual of governors and colonels without number, and I even succeeded in obtaining epistles from several noted rowdies, especially to gratify the ladies. Lady Holberton made her selection, and the rest were divided between Miss Rowley and Mr. T----. Joy at the recovery of the Lumley Autograph seemed to diffuse an unusual spirit of harmony among collectors; many desirable exchanges were brought about and things looked charmingly. Alas, how little were we prepared for what ensued!

{paix platree = patched-up peace (French)}

On the occasion of the presence in London of two illustrious royal travelers, Lady Holberton gave a large party. So said the papers at least; but I knew better. It was chiefly to celebrate the recovery of the Lumley Autograph, and its restoration to her celebrated Album that the fete was given. The Album was produced, in spite of a half-formed vow of Lady Holberton to the contrary, but then His Royal Highness Prince ---- ---- had particularly requested to see the letter of the poor poet, having heard it mentioned at dinner. The evening passed off brilliantly, their royal highnesses, came, saw, and departed. The crowd followed them to another house, while a favored few, chiefly collectors, remained lingering about the table on which lay the Album. I should have said earlier, that Lady Holberton had appointed a new office in her household the very day after the loss of the Lumley Autograph; this was no other than a pretty little page, dressed in the old costume of a student of Padua, whose sole duty it was to watch over the Album whenever it was removed from the rich and heavy case in which it usually lay enshrined. He was the guard of the Album, and was strictly enjoined never, for one instant, to remove his eyes from the precious volume from the moment he was placed on duty, until relieved.

Well, there we were, some dozen of us, collected about the table; Lady Holberton looking triumphant, Mr. T---- very proud; and there stood the page of the Album, dressed in his Paduasoy gown, with eyes fastened on the book, according to orders, while he supported its gorgeous case in his arms. Some remark was made as to the extraordinary manner in which the precious Autograph had been lost, and then found again. My blood actually boiled, as one of the company turned to me and asked in a suspicious tone, if I did not know more of its history than I chose to confess? My indignation was boundless; fortunately I could produce the friend walking with me in Piccadilly, and the artisan's family at Clapham, as witnesses in my favor. Miss Rowley was standing near me at the moment.

{Paduasoy = a strong corded or gros-grain silk fabric, traditionally associated with Padua, Italy}

"Still, Mr. Howard," observed that lady; "I really cannot see why you should resent the insinuation so warmly. Now, do you know, I am not at all sorry to have it in my power to declare that I have some knowledge of the fate of that paper during its eclipse."

All eyes were instantly fixed on the speaker. The lady smiled and continued:

"Lady Holberton thinks the Lumley Autograph was stolen--I understand she even thought it was stolen by myself--"

She here turned deliberately toward our hostess, who looked uneasy.

"If such were your suspicions, Lady Holberton," continued Miss Rowley, speaking with great deliberation--"I am happy to say they were quite correct--you only did me justice--I am proud to declare the deed was mine--"

We were all speechless at hearing this sudden and bold avowal.

"It was I, Theodosia Rowley, who carried off--the word is of little consequence--who stole, I repeat, that precious paper. So long as the treasure was mine, the consciousness of possessing it was sufficient in itself--but having afterward lost it from my pocket by unpardonable carelessness, I shall at least now glory in the daring deed which made it once my own."

Conceive the amazement which these remarks--delivered with calm enthusiasm--produced among the listening circle. We all know that high crimes and misdemeanors enough are committed by men, and women too; but somehow or other the delinquents are not often given to talking of them; they would just as lief in general that the act should not be known. The effect of Miss Rowley's words was different on different individuals. As for myself, I involuntarily felt for the handkerchief in my pocket. The page of the album drew nearer. Lady Holberton looked aghast, as though she had seen a cannibal. Some bit their lips; others opened their eyes. Mr. T----, however, who held the album at the moment, and was bending over it when Miss Rowley began her extraordinary disclosure, raised his eyes, fixed his glasses on the fair speaker, and sent through them such a glance as no words can fully describe. It was a glance of intense admiration.

"What exalted views! What sublime sentiments!" he exclaimed in an ecstasy.

But Mr. T----'s blaze of admiration was not the only flame at work, while he was gazing at the heroine of the moment. In the sudden burst of enthusiasm roused by the fair purloiner, he forgot all else; the precious volume in his hand drooped, touched the flame of a wax-light on the table, and in another instant the great Holberton Album, that Album of European reputation--was burning before our eyes--its invaluable leaves were curling, and blackening, and smoking under the devouring flame!

A shriek from Lady Holberton--an unearthly cry from the page of the Album--both echoed by the spectators, came too late. The volume was half consumed. Of the Lumley Autograph not a line remained!

Such was the ill-fated end of the letter of the poor starving poet. It was written amid gloom and distress; its career closed in a stormy hour. The loss of the Album of course broke off the engagement between Lady Holberton and Mr. T----. This however could scarcely have been regretted under the circumstances, for their union, after the catastrophe must have been one long series of miserable reproaches. The sudden change in Mr. T----'s feelings toward Miss Rowley was not a momentary one; the admiration first kindled by that lady's bold declaration, grew to be the strongest sentiment of his heart, and only a few weeks later he was made the happiest of men by receiving as his own the fair hand which accomplished the deed. Miss Rowley and Mr. T---- were united in the bands of matrimony and collectorship. Lady Holberton was still inconsolable when I left London; she was thinking of traveling among the Hottentots, or in any other clime where albums are unknown and her loss could be forgotten. The journey to Kaffirland was however postponed until the next change of ministry, and I have learned recently that the lady has so far recovered her spirits as to be thinking of an 'Omnibus.' The very last packet, indeed, brought a flattering application to myself; Lady Holberton graciously declaring that the name of Jonathan Howard is not only valued by herself, as that of a friend, but interesting to collectors generally, as having been once connected with that much lamented document, now lost to the world, the letter of the poor starving poet, known as the Lumley Autograph.

{"Omnibus" = in this context, an "omnibus bill" (i.e., one dealing with a variety of subject) in Parliament}

End of Project Gutenberg's The Lumley Autograph, by Susan Fenimore Cooper