Page 8 of The Missing Pages
Harry E. Widener
CHAPTER SEVEN
VIOLET.IT FELT LIKEIHAD BEEN WAITING FOR HER FOREVER.It was she who I wanted to learn my story. Not the apocryphal version that had morphed over the years, embellished by countless Harvard tour guides with their overly sentimental and romantic notes. But, rather, my true history, unadulterated and as pure as I had lived it. A life connected to a secret that had been buried for far too long.
And now, Violet had finally arrived in my library with her student job and her research.Violet.Even her name brought me joy. That tiny purple flower has so much power attached to its fragile petals. Delicate in appearance, yet sturdy at its roots, it symbolizes faith, mystical awareness, and inspiration. There was something innately perfect that her name was entwined with the blossom.
I felt joy watching Violet read my letters to my old friend and mentor Rosenbach after all these years. Her bright eyes focused on the transcriptions, her youth as crisp and as clean as a new, white manuscript’s page.
I sensed her pause when she first read Ada’s name. Was it because it is the only time Ada is mentioned in all of my correspondence with Rosenbach? Or was it because Violet is now so young herself, and the name of another young woman from nearly a century ago stood out in high relief for her? Whatever it was I cannot say. But I do know that when I myselfsaw Ada’s name there again in print, it made my old ghostly soul ache in a way that not only pained me with longing, but also made me feel exquisitely alive.
Ada. You will not find my other letters to her in my memorial library. Nor are they now stored in the Rosenbach archives or in Quaritch’s bookshop, which still exists in London to this day. They are somewhere else, tucked away from prying eyes. But I can still recite them. Those letters are a part of me.
January 2, 1912
Dear Mr. Widener,
My name is Ada Lippoldt and I have recently begun assisting Mr. Quaritch with the rare book and manuscript collections within our shop. As he mentioned in his letter to you, he has asked me personally to offer any assistance you might need before you arrive in London this spring. We have several new books that might be of interest to you, especially in light of the recent acquisitions from the Robert Hoe Library.
I realize you have an established relationship with Mr. Quaritch and the store, but I’m very much looking forward to being of assistance to you. Any guidance regarding your likes and dislikes that you’d be willing to share would be most helpful as I try to curate a list of books for your inspection.
Respectfully yours,
Ada Lippoldt
It was a pleasure that winter to write back to Ada and share with her the kinds of books I would be interested in seeing when I arrived in England.
January 5, 1912
Dear Miss Lippoldt,
I am indebted that Mr. Quaritch has suggested you contact me. What a joy it is to describe the focus of my nascent collection. While I have a penchant for the great English writers, Dickens, Shakespeare, and Robert Louis Stevenson, I am also open to acquiring the works of other authors from most anywhere, as for me, the “hunt” is nearly as captivating as gazing upon what I ultimately have to display. My greatest desire is to create a library where my editions are in exemplary condition. Tracking down a first edition ofPoemsby Robert Browning, as well as acquiring a perfect and complete Shakespeare Folio, has been a highlight of my young collecting life.
I often find that a book’s provenance is as intriguing to me as is its authorship. What is the story behind this particular edition’s journey? Whose hands has it traveled to over the years before it comes into my own? I particularly like books that have been coveted by other authors, that have inspired them or that they chose to give on to those whom they love and adore.
But like any bibliophile, I love books with old bindings, beautiful illustrations, and things that make them uniquely their own.
I look forward to reading the list you send to me.
Cordially yours,
Harry E. Widener
January 17, 1912
Dear Mr. Widener,
I was delighted to receive your letter. I smiled when I read what inspires you to purchase a particular book. I was happy to hear you are motivated by what I like to refer to as the book’s soul. I must admit your letter stands out amongst the sea of others that arrive for Mr. Quaritch. Many collectors don’t speak of the inherent life behind a rare edition. They often see it as a mere commodity, an investment piece that can be bought or sold, like a share in the stock market. I far prefer your approach.
As promised, I will speak to Mr. Quaritch about your particular proclivities, and we will access our collection and make sure we have several rare editions for your perusal when you arrive this spring.
With warm regards,
Ada Lippoldt
Even now, nearly eighty years later, when I think back to Ada’s first letter, I see the word that connected me to her. The evocation of the word “soul.” It was not a word thatfloated freely off the Edwardian man’s or woman’s lips back then. But for as long as I could remember, book collecting felt like a spiritual endeavor for me. I sought to build something from the outside that looked inward. I wanted a library that reflected who I was. Whether it was my first edition ofTreasure Islandthat commemorated my boyish love for travel and adventure, or an epic Dickens novel that pondered the missed opportunities, failures, and misunderstandings of life, I loved them all.
The thought of getting to Quaritch’s bookshop was not the only thing I now looked forward to that spring. I yearned to discover the face behind the words on Ada’s sky-blue writing paper. It was like a secret hidden within the paper, floating in my mind like an invitation to be revealed in invisible ink. I marked the date we were supposed to set sail on the RMSMauretania: March 13, 1912. We would have two weeks in London before we returned on the maiden sailing of theTitanic. I could hardly wait.
