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THE LUMLEY AUTOGRAPH
THE LUMLEY AUTOGRAPH SUSAN FENIMORE COOPER {Though "The Lumley Autograph" was published in 1851 it was
written as early as 1845 when Susan's father first unsuccessfully
offered it to Graham's Magazine asking "at least $25" for it. [See
James Fenimore Cooper to Mrs. Cooper Nov. 30 1845 in James F.
Beard ed. "The Letters and Journals of James Fenimore Cooper"
(Harvard University Press 1960-68) Vol. V pp. 102-102]. Three
years later he offered it to his London publisher also without
success [James Fenimore Cooper to Richard Bentley Nov. 15 1848
Vol. V p. 390; and Richard Bentley to James Fenimore Cooper July
24 1849 Vol. VI p. 53.] What Graham's Magazine finally paid in
1851 is not known.}
THE LUMLEY AUTOGRAPH.
BY THE AUTHOR OF "RURAL HOURS" ETC.
[Not long since an American author received an application from a
German correspondent for "a few Autographs"--the number of names
applied for amounting to more than a hundred and covering several
sheets of foolscap. A few years since an Englishman of literary note
sent his Album to a distinguished poet in Paris for his contribution
when the volume was actually stolen from a room where every other
article was left untouched; showing that Autographs were more
valuable in the eyes of the thief than any other property. Amused
with the recollection of these facts and others of the same kind
some idle hours were given by the writer to the following view of this
mania of the day.]
The month of November of the year sixteen hundred and -- was
cheerless and dark as November has never failed to be within the
foggy smoky bounds of the great city of London. It was one of the
worst days of the season; what light there was seemed an
emanation from the dull earth the heavens would scarce have owned
it veiled as they were by an opaque canopy of fog which weighed
heavily upon the breathing multitude below. Gloom penetrated every
where; no barriers so strong no good influences so potent as wholly
to ward off the spell thrown over that mighty town by the spirits of
chill and damp; they clung to the silken draperies of luxury they
were felt within the busy circle of industry they crept about the
family hearth but abroad in the public ways and in the wretched
haunts of misery they held undisputed sway.
Among the throng which choked the passage of Temple-Bar toward
evening an individual shabbily clad was dragging his steps wearily
along his pallid countenance bearing an expression of misery beyond
the more common cares of his fellow-passengers. Turning from the
great thoroughfare he passed into a narrow lane and reaching the
door of a mean dwelling he entered ascended a dirty stairway four
stories high and stood in his garret lodging. If that garret was bare
cold and dark it was only like others in which many a man before
and since has pined away years of neglect and penury at the very
moment when his genius was cheering enriching enlightening his
country and his race. That the individual whose steps we have
followed was indeed a man of genius could not be doubted by one
who had met the glance of that deep clear piercing eye clouded
though it was at that moment by misery of body and mind that
amounted to the extreme of anguish. The garret of the stranger
contained no food no fuel no light; its occupant was suffering from
cold hunger and wretchedness. Throwing himself on a broken chair
he clenched his fingers over the manuscript held within a pale and
emaciated hand.
"Shall I die of hunger--or shall I make one more effort?" he
exclaimed in a voice in which bitterness gave a momentary power to
debility.
"I will write once more to my patron--possibly--" without waiting to
finish the sentence he groped about in the dull twilight for ink and
paper; resting the sheet on a book he wrote in a hand barely
legible:
"Nov. 20th 16--
"MY LORD--I have no light and cannot see to write--no fire and my
fingers are stiff with cold--I have not tasted food for eight and forty
hours and I am faint. Three times my lord I have been at your door
to day but could not obtain admittance. This note may yet reach you
in time to save a fellow-creature from starvation. I have not a
farthing left nor credit for a ha'penny--small debts press upon me
and the publishers refused my last poem. Unless relieved within a
few hours I must perish.
"Your lordship's most humble
"Most obedient most grateful servant
-------- ---------"
This letter scarcely legible from the agitation and misery which
enfeebled the hand that wrote it was folded and directed and
again the writer left his garret lodging on the errand of beggary; he
descended the narrow stairway slowly dragged his steps through the
lane and sought the dwelling of his patron.
Whether he obtained admittance or was again turned from the door;
whether his necessities were relieved or the letter was idly thrown
aside unopened we cannot say. Once more mingled with the crowd
we lose sight of him. It is not the man but the letter which engages
our attention to-day. There is still much doubt and uncertainty
connected with the subsequent fate of the poor poet but the note
written at that painful moment has had a brilliant career a history
eventful throughout. If the reader is partial to details of misery and
poverty any volume of general literary biography will furnish him
with an abundant supply for such has too often proved the lot of
those who have built up the noble edifice of British Literature: like
the band of laborers on the Egyptian pyramid theirs was too often a
mess of leeks while milk and honey and oil were the portion of
those for whom they toiled those in whose honor and for whose
advantage the monument was raised. Patrons whether single
individuals or nations have too often proved but indifferent friends
careless and forgetful of those whom they proudly pretend to foster.
But leaving the poor poet with his sorrows to the regular
biographer we choose rather the lighter task of relating the history
of the letter itself; a man's works are often preferred before himself
and it is believed that in this the day of autographs no further
apology will be needed for the course taken on the present occasion.
We hold ourselves indeed entitled to the especial gratitude of
collectors for the following sketch of a document maintaining so high
a rank in their estimation.
And justly might the Lumley Letter claim a full share of literary
homage. Boasting a distinguished signature it possessed the first
essential of a superior autograph; for although a rose under any
other name may smell as sweet yet it is clear that with regard to
every thing coming from the pen whether folio or billet doux
imaginative poem or matter-of-fact note of hand there is a vast
deal in this important item which is often the very life and stamina
of the whole production. Then again the subject of extreme want is
one of general interest while the allusion to the unpublished poem
must always prove an especial attraction to the curious. Such were
the intrinsic merits of the document in addition to which sober Time
lent his aid to enhance its value and capricious Fortune added a
peculiar charm of mystery which few papers of the kind could claim
to the same extent. The appearance also of this interesting paper
was always admitted to be entirely worthy of its fame. The hand-
writing fully carried out the idea of extreme debility and agitation
corresponding with its nature while a larger and a lesser blot bore
painful testimony to that recklessness of propriety which a starving
man might be supposed to feel; one corner had been ruthlessly
abstracted at the time it was seen by the writer of this notice and
with it the last figures of the date; a considerable rent crossed the
sheet from right to left but happily without injuring its contents;
several punctures were also observed one of these encroaching very
critically upon the signature. But I need not add that these marks of
age and harsh treatment like the scars on the face of a veteran far
from being blemishes were acknowledged to be so many additional
embellishments. The coloring of the piece was of that precious hue
verging here and there on the dingy the very tint most charming in
the eyes of an antiquary and which Time alone can bestow. In fact
one rarely sees a relic of the kind more perfect in color more
expressive in its general aspect or more becoming to an album from
the fine contrast between its poverty-stricken air torn worn and
soiled and the rich embossed unsullied leaf on which it reposed
like some dark Rembrandt within its gilded frame. In short it was
the very Torso of autographs. Happily the position which it finally
attained was one worthy of its merits and we could not have wished
it a more elegant shrine than the precious pages of the Holberton
Album a volume encased in velvet secured with jeweled clasps
reposing on a tasteful etagere.
{etagere = small table or shelf for displaying curios (French)}
But I proceed without further delay to relate some of the more
important steps in the progress of this interesting paper from the
garret of the starving poet to the drawing-rooms of Holberton House
merely observing by way of preface that the following notice may be
relied on so far as it goes the writer--Colonel Jonathan Howard of
Trenton New Jersey--having had access to the very best authorities
and having also had the honor of being enlisted in the service of the
Lumley Autograph upon an occasion of some importance as will be
shown by the narrative.
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Unpublished Work 
