From thence they soon spread to the four winds of heaven, falling on combustible materials wherever they lighted on a literary head, or collecting hands.
By the bye, the rapidity with which this collecting class has increased of late years is really alarming; who can foresee the state of things likely to exist in the next century, should matters go on at the same rate? Reflect for a moment on the probable condition of distinguished authors, lions of the loudest roar, if the number of autograph-hunters were to increase beyond what it is at present. Is it not to be feared that they will yet exterminate the whole race, that the great lion literary, like the mastodon, will become extinct? Or, perhaps, by taming him down to a mere producer of autographs, his habits will change so entirely that he will no longer be the same animal, no longer bear a comparison with the lion of the past. On the other hand should the great race become extinct, what will be the fate of the family of autograph-feeders? What a fearful state of things would ensue, even in our day, were the supply to be reduced but a quire! The heart sickens at the picture which would then be presented—collectors turning on each other, waging a fierce war over every autographic scrap, making a battle-field of every social circle. Happily, nature seems always to keep up the balance in such matters, and it is a consoling reflection that if the million are now consumers, so have they become producers of autographs; it is therefore probable that the evil will work its own remedy; and we may hope that the great writers of the next century will be shielded in some measure by the diversion made in their favor through the lighter troops of the lion corps.
As for the full merits of the controversy so hotly waged over the Lumley autograph between the Otwaysians and the Butlerites, dividing the collecting world into two rival parties, we shall not here enter into it. In all such matters it is better to go at once to the fountain head; if the reader is curious on the subject, as doubtless he must be, he is referred to one octavo and five duodecimo volumes, with fifty pamphlets which have left little to say on the point. Let it not be supposed, however, for an instant, that the writer of this article is himself undecided in his opinion on this question. By no means; and he hastens to repel the unjust suspicion, by declaring himself one of the warmest Otwaysians. It is true that he has some private grounds for believing that a dispassionate inquiry might lead one to doubt whether Otway or Butler ever saw the Lumley autograph; but what of that, who has time or inclination for dispassionate investigation in these stirring days! In the present age of universal enlightenment, we don't trouble ourselves to make up our opinions—we take and give them, we beg, borrow, and steal them. True, there are controversies involving matters so important in their consequences, so serious in their nature, that one might conceive either indifference or fanaticism equally inexcusable with regard to them; but there are also a thousand other subjects of discussion, at the present day, of that peculiar character which can only thrive when supported by passion and prejudice, and falling in with a dispute of this nature, it is absolutely necessary to jump at once into fanaticism. Accordingly, I had no sooner obtained a glimpse of the letter of the starving poet, embalmed within the precious leaves of one of the most noted albums of Europe, than I immediately enlisted under Lady Holberton's colors as a faithful Otwaysian. With that excellent lady I take a tragical view of the Lumley Letter, conceiving that a man must be blind as a bat, not to see that it was written by the author of Venice Preserved, and this in spite of other celebrated collectors, who find in the same sheet so much that is comical and Hudibrastic. Strange that any man in his senses should hold such an opinion—yet the Butlerites number strong, some of them are respectable people, too; more's the pity that such should be the case.
As we have already observed, the controversy began in the library of Sir John Blank, and it continued throughout the life-time of that excellent and well-known collector. At his death, a few years since, it passed into the hands of his daughter, the widow of Colonel H——; and it will be readily imagined that although the main question is still as much undecided as ever, yet the value of the document itself has been immeasurably increased by a controversy of twenty years standing, on its merits. I wish I could add that the fortune of Colonel H—— had augmented in the same proportion; but, unhappily for his widow, the reverse was the case; and it was owing to this combination of circumstances that Lady Holberton at length obtained possession of the Lumley Autograph. Mrs. H—— became very desirous of procuring for her eldest son a cornetcy in the regiment once commanded by his father; as she was now too poor to purchase, the matter required management and negotiation. How it was brought about I cannot exactly say. Suffice it to declare that the young man received his commission, through the influence of Lady Holberton, in a high military quarter, while the Lumley Autograph was placed on a distinguished leaf of that lady's velvet-bound, jewel-clasped album.
It so happened that I dined at Holberton-House on the eventful day upon which the Lumley letter changed owners. I saw immediately, on entering the drawing-room, that Lady Holberton was in excellent spirits; she received me very graciously, and spoke of her son, with whom I had just traveled between Paris and Algiers.
"Wish me joy, Mr. Howard!" exclaimed the lady after a short conversation.
Of course I was very happy to do so, and replied by some remarks on the recent success of her friends in a parliamentary measure, just then decided—Lady Holberton being a distinguished politician. But I soon found it was to some matter of still higher moment she then alluded.
"I never had a doubt as to our success in the house, last night—no; rather wish me joy that I have at last triumphed in a negotiation of two years standing. The Lumley Autograph is mine, Mr. Howard! The letter of poor Otway, actually written in the first stages of starvation—only conceive its value!"
Other guests arriving I was obliged to make way, not however, before Lady Holberton had promised me a sight of her recent acquisition, in the evening. In the mean time I fully entered into her satisfaction, for I had already seen her album in Paris, and heard her sigh for this very addition to its treasures. During dinner the important intelligence that the Lumley letter was her own, was imparted to the company generally.
"I knew it! I was sure of it from her smile, the moment I entered the room!" exclaimed Mr. T—— the distinguished collector, who sat next me.