And while he didn’t say it aloud, I knew that as much as he loved to collect priceless works of art, my grandfather was sharing his wisdom with me. The most valuable things in the world could simply not be bought.
CHAPTER FOUR
Madeline lifted a large, thick folder from her desk. “Here are photocopies of the letters between Harry and A.S.W. Rosenbach that I’ll need you to transcribe.” She handed the bundle of papers to Violet. Around the folder, the collection was secured by a thin cord of string.
“I hope you find them as intriguing as I did. It was because of Harry’s friendship and business relations with Rosenbach that he was able to ask for an introduction to the famous British bookseller Bernard Alfred Quaritch shortly after he graduated from Harvard and began collecting for his library. Harry was traveling to Europe with his family in the spring of 1912, and Quaritch’s store was one of the last places he visited before he boarded theTitanic. Quaritch was actually the bookseller who sold him the famous ‘Little Bacon.’”
Violet raised an eyebrow. “So that’s the Bacon connection you mentioned at our first meeting.”
“Ah, yes,” Madeline smiled. “The Harvard tour guides never mention the priceless book that Harry allegedly ran back from the lifeboats to his room for, do they? It was Francis Bacon’sEssays. That was Harry’s last significant purchase, and it was clearly important to him.”
“I had no idea,” Violet said as she patted the top of the folder. “It’s interesting. We hear that ice cream is always served in the dining room because it was Harry’s favorite dessert, and that all freshmen have to take a swimming test because he drowned. But this is the first time I’ve ever heard about Quaritch or the ‘Little Bacon.’”
Madeline nodded. “But the story about Harry running back inside to get the Bacon has always seemed apocryphal to me. The volume was so small, he could have just kept it in his pocket.” She pointed to the folder. “There’s actually a letter he wrote to Rosenbach shortly after acquiring it in London where he states that he’s never taking it off his body. So if he intended to carry it with him everywhere, I don’t see why he would have had to run back to his cabin to retrieve it.”
She focused her gaze on Violet. “I have a sixth sense that there’s something very special hidden in those letters. That there’s another story about what happened while Harry was in London arranging his big book purchase that goes well beyond the Bacon alone.” She reached over her desk and grabbed a tissue and blotted her nose. “Well, that’s a conversation for another time.” She shoved a second folder into her leather briefcase. “As usual, I’m late for a meeting.”
“I’ll start typing them up this afternoon,” Violet promised.
“Wonderful, it will be very helpful to have a transcription. As you begin working, try to create what we like to call a “miniscula,” a chart of how Harry’s wrote his lowercase and capital letters so we can include it in the archives to make things easier for future scholars who want to read the originals.” She smiled. “Perhaps begin reading the letters somewhere in Widener. I think hearing his voice within the walls of the library will inspire you.”
Violet longed to sit down in Harry’s study to read the letters, but despite the two wooden tables with chairs that were inside the memorial room, she knew that it was prohibited. So, instead, she settled on the reading room near the front entrance. There, at one of the desks, she opened the folder and pulled out the letters Madeline had photocopied when she’dvisited the Rosenbach archives down in Pennsylvania. Violet had been doing a little digging of her own in order to familiarize herself with some of the main players in Madeline’s research. What she learned felt almost like she was reading about the characters in a novel.
Harry was the middle child of George and Eleanor Widener. His parents both came from great wealth and privilege. But his grandfather, P.A.B. Widener, had far humbler roots. A butcher with an extraordinary entrepreneurial spirit, P.A.B. made his fortune selling mutton to federal troops during the Civil War. He then expanded his business into Philadelphia’s rapidly growing trolley car industry with his close friend William Elkins, who was Eleanor’s father and Harry’s grandfather. The two men would go on to invest in Standard Oil, U.S. Steel, and the American Tobacco Company, making both families extraordinarily rich.
Harry’s maternal grandfather started collecting books around the same time as other magnates like J.P. Morgan and Henry Huntington, who supposedly said that “the ownership of a fine library is the surest and swiftest way to immortality.” And while still here on earth, nothing gave off the whiff of old money like a library full of antiquarian volumes and rare manuscripts. The man who helped these titans of industry build their personal collections was the famed American bookseller George D. Smith, whose impressive client list would secure him tremendous success at all of the competitive book auctions.
But the young Harry discovered his own primary contact as his book-buying impulses emerged. Shortly before his twenty-first birthday, while home during Christmas break from his junior year at Harvard, he was introduced by a family friend, Clarence Bement, to the fledgling bookseller Abraham Simon Wolf Rosenbach.
Looking up from the letters, it was easy for Violet to envision the young and handsome Harry on that cold December day stepping into “Rosenbach and Company,” the elegant store on Walnut Street that A.S.W. Rosenbach and his brother hoped would cater to the collecting needs of Philadelphia’s elite. She already knew the building from her field trip, but now she imagined the snowdrifts outside, and Harry’s hands pushing into his pockets and perhaps clutching a Christmas shopping list for his family. But rather than looking for a gift for his mother or sister, though, had he instead really gone inside to take a peek at what this new player on the antiquarian books scene might have hidden away in the back for him?
Madeline had paperclipped the copy of the black-and-white photograph of Rosenbach on top of the letters. Wire spectacles, wavy black hair, and a stickpin in his cravat. Violet looked at his birth and death dates on the back. If Harry had met him in late 1905 when he was almost twenty-one and the bookseller was still quite young himself at a mere twenty-nine, then they were both just starting out at the same time and had much to gain from each other. Rosenbach would see the possibility of getting attached to a burgeoning bibliophile with the desire to build his own library and ample funds at his fingertips. And Harry would see a fellow young man who shared the same passion for books and who was perhaps willing to mentor him.
Violet took out the first letter in the stack and gazed at the careful, scrolling penmanship. The letter was from December 1911, six years into Harry and Rosenbach’s friendship and business relationship and only a few months before Harry would board theTitanic. Violet did some rough math in her head. If, at the time of Harry’s death, he had amassed well over two thousand books with Rosenbach’s help, the two men were now deeply connected by that point.
December 10, 1911
Dear Dr. Rosenbach,
Today’s snowfall brought the air of Christmas with it! I was overjoyed you were able to secure the Pierre-Joseph Redouté volumes for my mother’s holiday present. I can’t wait to see her unwrap it underneath the tree!
And I have some other good news to share. You know better than anyone just how disappointed I was to have to cancel my trip to London last year when the appendicitis ruined my plans. Yesterday, I learned that my parents are planning a trip to Europe this spring. Mother needs to purchase items for my sister’s upcoming wedding and some additional furnishings for the new house in Newport. And, of course, Father is always happy for any excuse to do more business abroad. The best part of all is that I’ll have the opportunity to travel with them.
We are hoping to spend a few days in London, and it will be wonderful to visit Bernard Alfred Quaritch and his bookshop when I’m there. I’m still indebted to you for writing that first letter of introduction for me when I was just starting to collect. It’s hard to believe that’s been five years now!
Let’s try to meet soon and have a brandy. I’m still steaming about some of the books I failed to get at the Huth sale. No matter how much I try and budget for these things, I never seem to have enough funds to get all the books I want!
Yours very truly,
H.E.W.
Violet read each of Harry’s words carefully; strangely, it was almost as though she could hear the soft lull of a man’s voice speaking directly into her ear. She could feel the spirit of Christmas approaching, the excitement of his coming trip, and his deep passion for his books. Madeleine was right: there was something special about working in his library. It was as if Harry’s ghost were all around her.
CHAPTER FIVE
Violet shuffled the letters and the paper in which she’d begun creating the “miniscula” handwriting chart back into the folder and glanced at her watch. She had fifteen minutes to get to Robinson Hall for her history seminar. As she exited the library, the crisp New England air pulled her out of 1911 and back to reality.
Walking into the yard, she nearly collided with Theo.
