The Millionaire and the Bard

by Andrea Mays

  On July 13, Sibthorp cabled Railton with his answer: “Accept your offer 5000 clear.” Railton wrote to Henry with the good news: “The precious treasure is now secured for you and Mr. Sotheran joins me in congratulating you heartily upon its acquisition. I scarcely ventured to think that the volume would leave the old country.”

  Sibthorp even agreed to Folger’s terms of split payments, and also agreed to deposit the book with Sotheran pending payment in full by January 1, 1900. Sibthorp understood Folger’s penchant for privacy—he wanted to keep the transaction secret, too: “One point I am anxious about is that the sale (& price) should not appear in the public papers. Some of my friends & acquaintances will be extremely mortified to hear that the Book (as I suppose is the case) is likely to go out of England. I beg you to use your influence and oblige me in this particular.”

  Folger had done it. After uncharacteristic and dangerous delay, he agreed to pay Coningsby Sibthorp’s price. It was a record sum, but he had purchased the most desirable First Folio in the world. He sent a £2,000 deposit to Sotheran on July 21, 1899, believing that with it he had secured the Folio. So did everyone else involved in the transaction. The book dealer, always alert for an opportunity for the up sell, proposed that Folger take advantage of its binding services: “Would it not be well to have a nice morocco case made to hold the volume? Our idea in suggesting such is to prevent the old calf binding . . . from being rubbed.” Lloyd’s insurance issued a letter on July 28 confirming that it would insure the book for up to £5,250 during its journey across the Atlantic. Sibthorp agreed to deposit the book with Sotheran, requesting a receipt to relieve him of liability. Folger, worried about the risk of fire or damage, asked that the book be locked in a safe-deposit box.

  Then, just a few months later, in the fall of 1899, Henry Folger, through rash, reckless, and self-destructive behavior, set in motion a reversal of fortune that undid his triumph. He had received by mail from Railton a copy of A. W. Pollard’s report describing the Sibthorp Folio. That report, Henry stated in a letter to Railton of November 24, 1899, “has surprised and shocked me greatly.” “It states,” complained Henry, “that the leaf of verses [in the preliminaries] and the last leaf . . . are in facsimile.” Henry told Railton that he had bought the book based on Sidney Lee’s Cornhill article, and on the various representations made by the Sotheran firm that the folio was complete. Indeed, Folger reminded Railton, he had once written to the collector that Sotheran had mended and replaced some leaves. “I presume,” added Folger, “it will be conceded that I had the right to expect a complete copy.” Claiming that it would cost up to £1,000 to replace the missing leaves, Folger wrote, “It seems to me I am entitled to either have the missing leaves supplied (which I would much prefer) or be given a money allowance in the purchase sum on account of them.” Folger also revealed that a rival bookseller from England had visited him in New York and had disparaged the condition of the folio. Railton, perhaps miffed by Folger’s accusatory tone after all he had done to persuade Sibthorp to sell the book, did not reply. Instead, Mr. Sotheran himself wrote back saying that he would propose the financial accommodation to Sibthorp. Word came back quickly—Sibthorp was not interested in further negotiations. Folger could take the book or leave it. Sotheran warned Folger: “Owner declines reducing price will return deposit if not paid this year.”

  Folger drafted two letters, one filled with a list of complaints about mended pages, remargined leaves, pages supplied in facsimile, and more. This version he did not send. Instead, he sent a letter containing the additional £3,000, but now requesting the right to examine the book on approval before agreeing to the final sale. This was too much for Sibthorp, and on January 3, 1900, Sotheran sent Folger an alarming cable: “Owner declines and has returned deposit implying sale is off shall we renew offer without conditions.” Henry cabled back the same day to “buy without condition” but then added a contradictory condition—“but try to secure privilege of returning at 4800 pounds after inspection.” Henry wanted the book shipped across the Atlantic “on approval,” a booksellers’ trade practice that meant he could return it for a refund if he did not like it. If Henry decided to cancel the transaction, he offered to toss Sibthorp a bone of £200 as compensation for his trouble. Sibthorp was a proud man who did not need the money, and Sotheran refused to insult him with these new terms and cabled back on January 4 about the urgency of the situation. Railton warned him that this tactic would offend Sibthorp and certainly kill the sale. “Trying fatal know owner too well firm offer only chance cable immediately.” Finally, Henry followed his dealer’s advice. “Buy using judgment,” Folger answered.

  But it was too late. Under the terms of the original agreement, Henry was required to pay £5,000 for the folio by the end of 1899—£2,000 in July, and the balance of £3,000 before January 1, 1900. It was now several days into the new year. Sibthorp had had enough. He told Railton to return Folger’s money. He had changed his mind. He no longer wanted to sell the Augustine Vincent First Folio. On January 3, 1900, Coningsby Sibthorp wrote to Sotheran: “Will you be so good as to present my compliments to Mr. Folger and say that I have decided to keep the Shakespeare in my possession. Should he visit England and wish to see the Book I will try & oblige him.” Sotheran cabled Folger the bad news: “Made firm offer owner finally declined.”

  Henry cabled to Sotheran a curt message saying that he expected the firm to send him the folio, which was still in its possession, and that the law was on his side: “I fulfilled my side of contract in sending money before January 1st Look to you to secure Folio.” As a matter of law, Folger was wrong. His attempt to modify the terms of the original agreement was a counteroffer, which canceled that agreement. Sibthorp was no longer bound by it. And even if the agreement was still in effect, Henry had breached it by failing to pay the seller in full by January 1, 1900. He had given Sibthorp an out, and the piqued and canny Englishman took advantage of Folger’s twin blunders to slip out of the deal. Henry realized that he had negotiated badly and had mishandled Sibthorp. He tried again, this time without haggling or impertinent conditions. On the contrary, he raised his offer to £6,000: “Railton see Sibthorp please explain I intended if Sibthorp unwilling to accede my request you should make payment completing purchase before January first. Pay now if necessary six thousand. Will keep purchase secret.” Folger even added that Sibthorp could retain possession of the book for five years. Perhaps Henry intended this as an olive branch to appease his antagonist, or perhaps it was a stalling tactic to delay making final payment.

  By now Folger was desperate to have the folio. He broke his self-imposed rule of privacy and authorized Sotheran to reveal his identity to Sibthorp, and even suggested that the owner should feel at liberty to make direct contact with him. It is doubtful that Folger meant this as a boastful “don’t you know who I am?” gesture. He probably wanted to impress upon Sibthorp that he was a serious Shakespearian worthy of owning this great folio.

  Sotheran tried to smooth things over but Sibthorp would not budge. In a letter to the firm dated January 9, 1900, he scolded Folger for his conduct:

  As regards my Shakespeare it was Mr. Folger who was anxious to buy rather than I to sell.

  If the book were not as perfect as he had been led to suppose from the perusal of Mr. Sidney Lee’s article I should in no way have resented his declining to complete the bargain made between us—but he made a mistake, in my opinion, in suggesting that I should reduce the price and in asking me to allow the Book be sent to New York for inspection.

  Furthermore, Sibthorp crowed, the book would be Folger’s property now if only he had paid by the deadline: “I should have felt bound to have sold the Book to Mr. Folger had he paid me the £5000. Before the end of last year as we had agreed—now I feel at liberty to keep it and for the present intend to do so.”

  Sotheran was as eager as Folger to consummate the deal. There was much more at stake than the modest five percent agent’s commission of £250 that the f
irm stood to earn upon the sale. At risk was not just this transaction, but also the future of Sotheran’s lucrative relationship with a millionaire American collector who showed every sign of becoming the most important Shakespeare buyer in the world. Sotheran refused to take no for an answer and escalated its effort to capture the folio. The firm sent a long letter to Sibthorp on January 10 to persuade him that it had all been a misunderstanding, and that a malicious book dealer had unduly alarmed Folger with a false and slanderous attack on the folio’s condition:

  We beg to thank you for your letter of yesterday and must admit that you have some ground for feeling as you do. But we much regret it, for we believe that had not Mr. Folger been strongly disquieted as to the condition of the book he would never have raised any questions whatever before bringing the purchase to completion.

  We therefore think it right to put before you a letter from him of November 8th last, in which he refers to the visit to him of a representative of a somewhat well-known firm in Pall Mall, who described the book in such remarkable terms as naturally to cause him great anxiety, so that even Mr. Pollard’s eulogistic report failed to convey its true impression to him. We have no doubt ourselves that this visit was the sole cause of all Mr. Folger’s later action.

  Had you been able to see Mr. Railton he would have put before you the last message we have received from Mr. Folger in accordance with which we asked for the interview. We feel that we should now communicate it to you and do so as follows verbatim.

  "New York, Jany. 7th 1900. Railton see Sibthorp please explain I intended if Sibthorp unwilling to accede my request you should make payment completing purchase before January first. Pay if now necessary six thousand will keep purchase secret.”

  We cannot but hope that these facts may put Mr. Folger’s action in a much more favorable light.

  In a nutshell, Sotheran’s message was “it wasn’t Folger’s fault.” And, after all, the letter implied, only a few days had passed since January 1. What harm would it cause Sibthorp to accept payment a few days late? Folger had offered an additional £1,000 in exchange for that courtesy, and to make amends. What Sotheran did not tell Sibthorp was that Folger had cabled the firm, asking it to refuse to return the folio to Sibthorp—“request not surrender . . . purchase.” Sibthorp was unmoved by Sotheran’s letter of January 10. He replied the next day:

  I am obliged to you for sending me the enclosure for my perusal which I return—

  I have been more surprised than pleased to read the very unfavorable opinion of Mr. Wheeler (of whom I know nothing) as regards my Shakespeare—I admit it was “disquieting”—Still there was ample time to communicate and receive your unbiased opinion as to the merits of the book before the date fixed for completing the purchase had expired.

  I did not regret that the sale had not taken place but felt some resentment as regards the way I had been treated.

  Sotheran’s had, as proof of its tenacity, been copying Folger on all its correspondence with Sibthorp. Folger saw that the dispute had become about more than money. He had, however unintentionally, offended Sibthorp. Folger decided to try personal diplomacy. Perhaps if he wrote a letter he could assuage the Englishman’s hard feelings. Henry explained his agitation upon learning of the two facsimile leaves, and said that his harsh complaints to Sotheran were never meant for Sibthorp’s eyes. But then Henry went on to list for Sibthorp every nitpicky complaint he had made about the folio’s condition.

  Folger could not resist reminding Sibthorp that he had offered him “the largest sum ever paid for a single book,” implying that Sibthorp should be grateful for this largesse. It is possible that Henry never sent the letter. The undated draft in his personal papers is unfinished, and ends abruptly. But it preserves Folger’s state of mind.

  In the meantime, Sotheran advised Henry by cable on January 13 that they “have done everything possible without avail” and will write to him shortly. In a letter mailed the same day, Railton informed him that Sibthorp “will not yield at present but I am not altogether without hope that sometime in the future we may be successful.” The book dealer promised Folger “we shall not lose sight of your interests” but warned Henry “on no account must pressure be used. Mr. Sibthorp is not the gentleman to give way under it.” Folger ignored the advice and applied the pressure. By reflex he resorted to a proven tactic of American business: if someone won’t do what you want, then offer him more money until he does. He cabled Sotheran: “Use discretion about conditions including Sibthorp retaining possession for period paying up to eight thousand if necessary.” It was the first in a flurry of telegrams they exchanged that day. Sotheran cabled back, telling Folger to calm down—“most strongly urge waiting till personal interview occurs.” Impatient, Folger could not restrain his emotions. He wanted that folio, and he wanted it immediately. Not only had he raised his offer to £8,000, now he even offered to drop everything and sail across the Atlantic at once to close the deal in person. “Would my coming to London help,” he cabled. Railton warned him that he had irked Sibthorp so much that the best policy was to watch and wait several months before daring to broach the subject again. “Effect of your visit quite problematical doubt whether would influence sale.”

  On January 16, Folger and Sotheran exchanged another series of cables. These telegrams read more like the stuff of Sherlock Holmes than William Shakespeare. “Strongly urge delay premature action fatal,” cautioned Bookmen. Heeding the warning, Folger answered, “Bookmen. Gladly leave everything to you 8000 limit.” Then he cabled a postscript: “Remember if necessary Sibthorp may retain book five years.” Sotheran suggested that Sibthorp was an English gentleman; they knew better than Folger how to deal with such a man. In a letter dated January 17, the firm advised the impetuous American—for the third time—to be patient:

  Our advice strongly urging delay arose not only from the tenor of Mr. Sibthorp’s letters, copies of which we sent you, but of our more intimate knowledge of the gentleman himself. Any further attempt on our part, just at present, would we feel certain prove fatal to your prospects of securing the volume; meanwhile the volume is still in Chancery Lane safe deposit and we propose awaiting Mr. Sibthorp’s visit when he will probably take a different view (at least we hope so) after hearing our explanation as to the origin of the misunderstanding.

  It was too late. Sometime between January 10 and 15, Henry Folger must have sent a letter to Coningsby Sibthorp, if not containing the exact language of his unfinished draft, then something similar. It prompted a reply from Sibthorp on January 20:

  I beg to acknowledge with thanks, the receipt of your letter. In reply I offer my sincere regrets that you would have been disappointed of your expectations.

  I do not think that any blame is to be attached to Messr. Sotheran. As far as I can judge they have acted—as I have always found them to do—straightforwardly in the matter. . . .

  The gentleman (unknown to me, though he appears to have seen my Book) who spoke so depreciatingly to you about the Shakespeare & unwittingly induced you to delay completing the purchase within the limit of the date I had fixed.

  I have just heard that Mr. Sidney Lee has been invited to Lincoln to give a lecture on Shakespeare. I cannot say I regret being in the position to grant the request which: I have reason to believe will be made me—to view my 1st Folio edition for inspection on the occasion.

  With sentiments of my highest esteem,

  Coningsby Sibthorp

  Sidney Lee! The name struck Folger like a dagger from Julius Caesar. It was Lee’s article that had announced the discovery of the Augustine Vincent First Folio to the world, and that revelation, in Folger’s opinion, had complicated his attempt to purchase it. No doubt Lee planned to also publicize the copy in his forthcoming Census, thus making it even more desirable to Folger’s rivals. Two days later, before Folger could have received Sibthorp’s letter by boat, he wrote another letter to him. Meandering, self-pitying, and long-winded, the missive exposed how Henry could no long
er suppress his impatience or control his obsession:

  It is not my purpose to burden you with continued correspondence about our Shakespeare. But should it never be my good fortune to come to an understanding by which I may purchase the book, I trust I may still make clear that I have aimed to deal in regard to it as one gentleman should with another.

  Folger blamed his inadvertent insult on the actions of an “untrustworthy” book dealer who was eager to ingratiate himself to him. In the process the dealer, claiming firsthand knowledge, disparaged the condition of the Vincent copy by calling it a “beast of a book.” Folger also explained that the recent death of his father-in-law and illness of his brother-in-law had distracted him from the Vincent deal and led him to write a letter to Railton that was less precise than Henry would have liked.

  Henry had never invested so much of himself in the pursuit of anything. This was no longer a business transaction but a courtship, with Henry playing the role of the spurned suitor. Or it was a contest between gentlemen, fought not with dueling pistols on a field, but with letters. Henry, insisting that he had behaved honorably, pledged that he had not intended to insult or offend Sibthorp. He agreed that he should suffer for the misunderstanding, and hoped that the extra £1,000 would make amends. Sibthorp insisted that he had behaved honorably, too, and that he would have lived up to the contract if Henry had not tried to alter its terms or failed to pay by the deadline. Appeasing Sibthorp’s resentment demanded a delicate touch. Sotheran admonished Folger that it required nuance and timing, and not the crude bludgeon of more money. For that reason Sotheran chose not to inform Sibthorp of the latest offer of £8,000. Indeed, giving the impression that Henry believed he could influence Sibthorp with money would only make him more intransigent. Henry must go along with the ruse that this was not about money, and that Sibthorp was above mere commerce. In miniature, the battle between them reenacted the larger cultural conflict between two worlds. Below the surface of the transatlantic trade in rare books and art treasures, there lay a more elemental struggle between American triumphalism and British decline.