Thaddeus Winslow Cooper III - 1900
Well this certainly explains much about the stigma behind my family name. And it explains the tattered condition of this book! Honestly, did my ruffian American cousin know nothing about handling delicate artifacts? I am surprised he did not tear it with his own chicken scratchings. Fair reader, please handle this tome with care and take heed as I add my own bit of autobiography to its contents.
Unlike my forefathers, I was born into a life of riches. My grandfather, Thaddeus Sr., was somewhat of a deserter in the Cooper Clan. While the rest of the family sought out to rob their way through America, he chose to stay behind in England and start his fortune in the Industrial Revolution. The old sod took a Cooper cane used by an unfortunate ancestor, smelted it and replicated the material to create a strong alloy used to build steam locomotives. The creation made him an instant success in the metal industry and made him enormously wealthy. And yet he never bothered to thank the Cooper legacy for it. That is where he faltered.
The years passed and my father inherited my grandfather's fortune. Hoping to raise me into high society as well, he sent me to a prestigious boys' school in London. But every carriage ride I took there, I saw the people who really ran the city. Urchins and pickpockets roamed the streets, secretly making deals and pulling off small heists amongst the public. These underworld dealings were undetectable to the police, but not to the successor of a thieving bloodline like me. To my eye, these petty criminals were no different from the scheming business tycoons my father would hobnob with. If I was to live in high society, I first wanted to test my luck in the low.
It started with a classmate of mine, a pretentious chap who constantly boasted about his family fortune and his brand new horseless carriage. The blaggard would harangue me for my own heritage, saying I came from nothing but common thieves. Though he was half right, the edge to his insults were unappreciated, and I felt it necessary to show this mountebank just how common I was. While strolling through London, I paid off a band of pickpocketing orphans to dismantle his precious motor car, the parts of which I sold to various scrap dealers in town. Naturally, my classmate was outraged at the sudden disappearance of his prized wagon and blamed me for it. Of course he had no evidence to prove it and thus I walked away scot free and slightly richer.
However, my father caught wind of my scheme. He said if I was to act like our "pilfering ancestors", he would pull me out of school, cut me off financially and send me to the army. A bit of overkill for getting revenge on a classmate, but it was clear that I could no longer live under the stifling shadow of my father. I only heard stories about my ancestors through hearsay, but I knew somehow that I was meant to be a thief. And it was time to start stealing my own fortune.
A week later, I entered the bank that held my father's accrued earnings. I walked in sporting his best overcoat and top hat, as well as a false mustache. It was a bold plan to say the least, but somehow I had managed to pull off the unthinkable. In my best imitation of my father, I convinced the banker to transfer all of his savings to a brand new vault. The account would still be under the name Thaddeus Winslow Cooper so as not to raise suspicion, but it would only be accessible to me. In one fell swoop, I had robbed my own father blind and none would be the wiser; at least not for the next few days.
My father became frantic about his missing funds, confused as to how they made their way to a mysterious private account under his name. Twas time for me to make my getaway. With the help of my faithful accountant Benson, I had my new windfall invested in a secluded mansion somewhere in Cornwall. And thus I boarded the next train out of smokey old London to live out my days away from my family and in private luxury. But there was a complication.
While on the train, I learned that the estate I had sunk my money into had already been promised to another man, a weapons mogul who made his living from military profit. As it happened, I found that this Colonel Raleigh was on the same train, ready to claim his new estate. This would surely not happen on my watch. Upon finding a spare uniform, I approached Colonel Raleigh, posing as a train attendant, and told him there was an issue with his luggage in the rear car. After leading him there, I swiftly knocked out the bloated old tycoon with my concealed cane and stuffed him in a crate marked "Bound for Manila". The mansion would soon be mine, but my crafty plan had yet to see its full conclusion.
Before reaching the estate, I donned the colonel's uniform; I was feeling rather confident about taking on disguises by this point. As I was given the deed to the property, I promised full ownership to one Thaddeus Winslow Cooper III. All seemed to go swimmingly as I entered the lavish halls of my new abode, that is, until I ran into Katrina. She was the young wife of Colonel Raleigh, who was awaiting the old frog's arrival and was the only one present to see through my reuse. I cannot lie to a lady, so I confessed that I shipped the Colonel off halfway around the world. But instead of reporting me, the plucky German girl proposed a deal, revealing her contempt for her slovenly husband. She offered to let me reside in the mansion and not to reveal my act of thievery in exchange for me stealing her priceless treasures from the Royal Family. How could I refuse a chance to practice my thieving art for a fetching young nymph?
As time passed, Katrina and I grew a deep affection for each other and were soon married. I fulfilled my end of the deal by venturing back into London again and again to steal priceless royal artifacts for my beloved. We grew richer and richer with each thieving exploit and I established a name for the Cooper legacy in the English upper crust. All the while, I carried with me this precious book of my ancestors, never forgetting where I had come from and how this legacy must continue.
Recently, however, Katrina has become worried about the state of the world. Rumors of war brewing in Europe have spurned her to travel to Germany to look after her family. Given that she is pregnant, I offered to accompany her on her voyage. But she insisted that I stay in England to look after the estate and that this was something she had to carry out alone. Thus I bid my love farewell and good luck, and now I sit alone amongst my ill gotten riches.
Indeed, news of war and political strife have me concerned as well, which is why I shall secure the Thievius Raccoonus safely in my home, lest it fall into dastardly hands. Soon I am expecting a meeting with a mysterious machinist, who I believe intends to negotiate this entire estate from under my control. But I will not bow for a second and I shall covet my fortune at whatever cost. This will be no trouble that a true gentleman cannot beguile his way out of. I earned my fortune from charm and sophistication, and I intend to hold onto it the same way.