Autographs (Bookhounds)

 “Genuine autograph collecting has nothing to do with autograph fiends and their collecting of signatures. A large collection of signatures well arranged and illustrated with portraits and clippings, is a good thing—but albums of miscellaneous signatures with no system, and begged from annoyed celebrities, are little better than trash. When I buy such a collection I break it up at once. Notes responding to requests for autographs are no better than signatures. They are out of place in a good collection. A letter should contain some of the original thought of the writer, and, if possible refer to incidents of his life or to his writings.

“My regular customers, people who buy constantly whenever I have something to offer them in their special line, are not the movie millionaires you can meet in the art shops and book shops on Fifth Avenue. They are usually retired business men, and physicians, well-to-do or of moderate means, university professors who have to save in order to be able to buy autographs. Every one of them has made a study of some literary or political celebrity, or is interested in some period of our own history. All documents or letters needed to complete their collections are welcome. But I also count among my patrons of long standing, poor men whose only property in this world are their collections of autographs, and they actually often suffer privations rather than part with their treasures.

“Some people are greatly interested in minor literary men of bygone days, whose autographs were never thought worth saving. I have a search department for such cases, and I am often curiously successful.

“You would be surprised to find how almost anything you may want can be found if you do not tire in looking for it and if you know how and where to advertise.

“I advertise everywhere, and constantly. The smallest country paper sometimes means more to my business than the big city paper.

“I have bought many trunks of valuable documents and letters in the garrets of old homesteads in towns whose names you have never heard of—called there by some heir, who read my advertisement in the paper and who preferred to sell the literary remains of his grandfather to me rather than to the ragman!

“And here is the secret of success in this business: constant and wise advertising …

Adventures in American Bookshops, Antique Stores and Auction Rooms, Guido Bruno, originally published 1922. Source: Gutenberg.

Let’s play with this idea.

I’m going to use two parts of this narrative, being:

• I also count among my patrons of long standing, poor men whose only property in this world are their collections of autographs, and they actually often suffer privations rather than part with their treasures …
• I have bought many trunks of valuable documents and letters in the garrets of old homesteads in towns whose names you have never heard of—called there by some heir …

Let’s have two scenario seeds this time.

Before we go down those roads, though, let’s establish the weenie in this narrative. 

Scholar Raymond Begbie was a literary lion of the middle 1800s. He wrote plays, novels, (his Indiscretion is still performed, and De Roquefort is well regarded), and histories, the most famous of which is his history of the Glencoe Massacre, A Bloody Scandal.

Begbie’s scholarship includes studies of various Jacobite activists who published pamphlets in the later 1690s, among them occultist Charles De Wit who published a number of scurrilous tracts linking the assaults at Glencoe to various Mythos sacrificial activities. De Wit alleges that the acts of the Argyll’s at Glencoe were cover for a much more sinister act of sacrifice intended to please dark and hideous Gods.

Begbie had a considerable quantity of De Wit’s papers in his possession, not just the pamphlets he published. Among them are letters written by De Wit to Reinhardt Von Juntz, ancestor of the more notorious Friedrich, whose library (which Friedrich inherited) supposedly set the German eccentric down the path that led to his eventual destruction.

In effect, early drafts/sources which Von Juntz later used in Nameless Cults.

So, the weenie: papers and pamphlets owned by scholar Begbie, written by De Wit, autographed by De Wit, and including letters written to and from an ancestor of Von Juntz in which the two discuss Mythos and cult matters.

Poor Man’s Treasure 

Book scout Allan Chessover (main text) clues the Hounds in on an important development.

An old fellow who lives on an East End scow berthed permanently at East India Docks is very ill and likely to die. Sad, really. The soon-to-be-expired collector has, in his possession, a number of items from Begbie's papers. He's supposed to have got them from Begbie's estate sale in 1903. Nobody's entirely sure what the geriatric collector has. However, rumors abound.

The collector, Samuel Hoskins, is known to be a fly fellow when it comes to the Magickal arts. The last time someone tried to rob him, it's said, Hoskins sent them packing in a sorcerous manner. Tales suggest he has strange beasts or spirits at his command, but whether he's a modern Prospero or a two-bit charlatan has yet to be determined.

Hoskins won't part with his collection while he's alive. But he won't be alive for much longer. The question is, will his protective spirits - or whatever they are - die with him? Or is something going to keep watch over that ship of his, whether Hoskins is alive or not?

Option One: Not So Dead As He Seems. Hoskins is putting this story around to attract young, vigorous souls. He needs a new body. However, the last time he tried this - the time when someone tried to rob him - it didn't go as planned. Now he's trying a more subtle approach.

Option Two: A Ghastly Dilemma. Hoskins' unseen confederate is a Ghoul. In fact, it's Begbie himself, who was tempted to human flesh through his researches into De Wit. Ever since, Begbie has tried to continue his researches, hoping to find a cure for his condition - or at least, some way to mitigate his unending hunger.

Option Three: De Wit Returns The collector, Hoskins, is in fact a Crawling One: De Wit himself, who came back from beyond long ago and recovered his possessions in Begbie's estate sale. However, even Crawling Ones can fall to peculiar malaise, and De Wit is discovering that immortality comes at a price. He needs to relocate to the Dreamlands but he's unwilling to do that without taking his collection with him. He needs someone to help him move house from one realm of reality to another. Enter the Hounds.

Hidden Secrets

The Hounds are contacted by a fellow living in Preston who says he has some of Begbie's work. 

Begbie was, among other things, an enthusiastic temperance advocate and was a member of the Preston Temperance Society. A leading light of the Society, Sidney Livsey, used to give Begbie a place to stay when he was in Preston delivering lectures, performing plays or otherwise in town for periods of a month or more. It's thanks to this association that Livsey ended up with some of Begbie's papers.

Now Livsey's grandson, Charles, wants to dispose of the lot.  However, there's a time constraint. If the Hounds don't make the pickup within two weeks, the whole lot goes off to the papermill to be reconstituted.

Option One: Dusty Books Charles Livsey didn't write to the Hounds. The books and papers did, or rather, the Dust Thing associated with those papers did. The papers know that Charles is going to pack them off to the paper mill, which will destroy the Dust Thing. They have only a limited time before that happens, and they need a savior. Enter the Hounds.

Option Two: A Collector of Juntz.When the Hounds arrive in Preston they discover they aren't the only ones after this collection. A very impatient and choleric gent, Jacob D'Aster, is also after the papers and he's offering a ton of cash. Whether or not he can deliver the spondulicks is beside the point: he's making the offer, and Livsey is tempted.

Option Three: Who's Your Father? The vendor isn't Charles Livsey. There's no such person. The vendor is Begbie himself, who's been living an extended (and unhappy) life thanks to his researches into De Wit's ravings. However, Begbie's at his wit's end (no pun intended) and wants to get rid of the lot, every scrap and tittle, in hope that this will end his suffering. Perhaps it will, perhaps it won't, but in one respect Begbie isn't wrong. There's something very horrible hiding in those pamphlets, and now it's the Hounds' problem.

That's it for this week. Enjoy!