Tradition holds that William Shakespeare was born on 23 April, in 1564, though it’s impossible to know the date for sure. What is known is that he was baptised at Holy Trinity, the parish church of Stratford-on-Avon, on the 26th of the month, so was probably born sometime between the 21st and 23rd. The 23rd of April is also recorded as Shakespeare’s date of death in 1616, and it is this untimely event that we have to thank for the preservation and promotion of his works in the First Folio, and ultimately his enshrinement as one of England’s great geniuses.
Shakespeare was only 52 when he, Ben Jonson, and the poet-playwright Michael Drayton “had a merry meeting, and itt seems drank too hard, for Shakespeare died of a feavour there contracted”. As a memorial, his friends and fellow members of The King’s Men, John Heminges and Henry Condell, decided to produce a collected edition of his plays.
Eighteen of Shakespeare’s plays had been published during his lifetime, individually in cheap and probably unauthorised quarto editions, some of which became bestsellers. These often error-riddled editions are described in the First Folio as “stol’n and surreptitious copies”, and some seem to have been reproduced solely from the memories of actors trying to make a little cash on the side. This continued after his death, and in 1619 the publisher Thomas Pavier and printer William Jaggard produced ten quarto plays ostensibly by Shakespeare (though two were not actually his work), and this may have spurred Heminges and Condell to complete their own collected edition and reassert the King’s Men’s authority over the texts.
It wouldn’t be an easy process. Though the King’s Men held the copyrights to many of the plays, it took years to negotiate for others, which remained with the publishers of the quarto editions. Though these publishers did not have what we today would consider intellectual priority over the works, they had been the first to enter them in the Stationer’s Register, which gave them the copyrights. Some even had to be brought in as partners, earning shares of the proceeds of the First Folio based on how many plays they contributed. Willaim Jaggard himself served as the head printer on the project until his death in 1623.
The printing began in early 1622 and took around two years to complete, with the earliest known sale of a First Folio occurring in December 1623. The choice of the imposing folio format was vital to the book’s success, “giving the volume the instant status of a classic: it is a weighty tome, a book for individuals’ libraries, a collection perhaps to be owned rather than read… It was also expensive, probably not less than 15s. a copy and often costing £1 or more”. Prior to this, theatre in England had been considered low-brow, and no collection of plays had been published in such a lavish manner. The First Folio elevated not only Shakespeare’s reputation but that of playwriting in general.
Most importantly, the First Folio included 36 of Shakespeare’s 38 known plays, 18 of which had never before been printed and would probably have been lost to history if not included. And the texts, edited by Shakespeare’s close friends and his fellow writers and actors, are considered the most authoritative of all early printings. Shakespeare’s reputation today rests largely on the publication of the First Folio.
Despite its expense, the book sold well enough that a second edition, the Second Folio, was required in 1632. Published by a syndicate of five firms, copies appear with one of five different imprints depending on which publisher sold them. Our copy, pictured above, has the scarcest imprint, that of the publisher John Smethwick, who owned the rights to four plays: Hamlet, Romeo & Juliet, Love’s Labour’s Lost, and The Taming of the Shrew. Despite the importance of these titles, Smethwick’s small contribution of four plays meant that his share of finished copies was relatively low, and his imprint correspondingly scarce. Also of note–the second Folio contains the first appearance in print of John Milton, who contributed a poem to the Effigies leaf that did not appear in the first edition.
Two more folio editions of Shakespeare’s plays were published by the beginning of the eighteenth century, followed by a number of important editions edited by authors such as Samuel Johnson and Alexander Pope. Today, though, the most highly sought-after editions are still the early folios, with the First Folio becoming one of the most valuable books in the world. Around 750 copies were printed, but only 230 survive, and of those only 40 are complete. Most extant copies are held in libraries, and in the last decade, only three have been sold at auction, all achieving prices in the millions of dollars. As much as we hate to have second-best books here at Peter Harrington, the Second Folio is a second-best we’re glad to have, as it is the earliest edition of Shakespeare that is practicably obtainable on the market.
First edition of The Loch Ness Monster and Others by Rupert T. Gould (1934).
Today we often laugh about the myths that have grown up around the Loch Ness Monster. Recalling all the hoaxes, we wonder how people could be so gullible. But when the first widely-reported sightings stoked a media frenzy in 1933 it was unclear what was happening and many people, journalists and scientists alike, believed it possible that some type of unusual animal could be living in the loch.
This led to the first ever book on the monster, The Loch Ness Monster and Others (BOOK SOLD), a 1934 collection of eyewitness accounts gathered by Rupert T. Gould (1890–1948), a renowned horologist and former Lieutenant Commander in the British Navy.
Rupert T. Gould, horologist and author of The Loch Ness Monster and Others.
The first major Loch Ness sighting was reported by a London man named George Spicer who claimed that on 22 July, 1933, while driving with his wife along the east side of Loch Ness, something like a “pre-historic animal” crossed the road ahead of them “carrying a lamb or small animal of some kind” in its mouth. Spicer’s detailed account was reported in the Inverness Courier a few weeks later and more sightings (many of which were anonymous) began pouring in. The first photograph purporting to be of the creature was taken by Hugh Gray in November of the same year. It was published in the Daily Record and Mail and reproduced as Plate I in Gould’s book:
The first photograph ever taken of the Loch Ness Monster.
The most famous photograph was taken the following spring, when a London gynaecologist named Robert Kenneth Wilson snapped what became known as “The Surgeon’s Photograph”. Though later revealed as a hoax, this image fueled the mania surrounding the sightings, and is used on the dust jacket and as the frontispiece to Gould’s book.
The Surgeon’s Photograph of the Loch Ness Monster (1934).
Spurred on by these media accounts, Gould took it upon himself to investigate the mystery. He was already a well-known horologist: in 1923 he published The Marine Chronometer, “a book so thoroughly researched and well written that it still had no equal seventy-five years later” (ODNB), and in his free time he restored the Royal Observatory’s Harrison timekeepers, which had solved the problem of how to determine longitude at sea. (Gould was was played by Jeremy Irons in the 1999 television adaptation of Dava Sobel’s Longitude.) He amassed a large collection of typewriters, and extensive notes for a possible history of the machines. But he was also interested in mysteries and monsters, having written three books on similar subjects: Oddities (1928), Enigmas (1929) and The Case for the Sea Serpent (1930).
One of the first to systematically investigate the Loch Ness Monster, Gould set off from Inverness on a motorcycle on 14 November, 1938 and circled the Loch twice over a period of days. He interviewed as many witnesses as possible, including the Spicers, and investigated various theories for the sightings, such as the idea that the monster was a prehistoric creature, or perhaps a normal sea animal that had swum into the loch by accident.
The book which resulted from his travels is highly detailed and includes reports on all known sightings, including some that occurred prior to 1933. It’s also copiously illustrated; all three of the photographs then believed to be of the monster are included, in addition to numerous sketches based on eyewitness accounts:
The Loch Ness Monster as described by the Spicers.
Unfortunately, many of the sketches are more humorous than illuminating:
Others are tragically unconvincing:
One of the best things about our particular copy of the book is that a previous owner left annotations.
There’s a section of photographs of unidentified animals that have washed ashore on beaches around the world–Gould argued that these might be specimens of the same creature that was living in the loch. Below each image our anonymous, and skeptical, reader has scrawled “almost certainly basking shark” (though some appear to me as giant squid or other types of animals):
But their best contribution is this charming illustration in the conclusion:
As you can probably tell from the text in the photo above, Gould’s conclusion was that there was a creature living in Loch Ness. Though he was almost certainly incorrect, he should be remembered as one of the earliest and most thorough of Loch Ness investigators, whom we have to thank for the preservation of much information relating to the creature and the people who saw her.
I’m sorry to say that we don’t have a “Mysteries” section on our website, so I’ve put Nessie into the “Sciences” category, which you can browse here.
What end can be more noble than the pursuit of virtue? what motive more alluring, than the practice of justice? or what instruction more beneficial, than an accurate elucidation of symbols which tend to improve and embellish the mind? Every thing that strikes the eye, more immediately engages the attention, and imprints on the memory serious and solemn truths. Masons have therefore universally adopted the plan of inculcating the tenets of their order by typical figures and allegorical emblems, to prevent their mysteries from descending within the familiar reach of inattentive and unprepared novices, from whom they might not receive due veneration. – Illustrations of Masonry by William Preston (12th edition, 1812).
A very attractive recent acquisition is this Masonic binding on a copy of the twelfth edition of Illustrations of Masonry by William Preston, a philosophical statement and handbook of the secret society. The binding was executed in 1812, most likely by John Lovejoy who was himself a Mason and one of seven English binders regularly producing this style during the late eighteenth and early-nineteenth centuries. He can be identified by the tools he used; a similar binding in red morocco can be seen on the Bodleian Library’s website, and one also appears in the Maggs Brothers catalogue Bookbinding in the British Isles (though it was not unusual for binders to share tools, so we can’t be absolutely sure that Lovejoy produced this binding).
Click to enlarge:
Masonic binding by John Lovejoy.
The design on the upper board matches an engraving used in the book, on which Lovejoy must have based his tools:
What’s nice about these bindings is their lack of sophistication. There’s a charming naivety about the tools, as they reflect the styles of a previous era that had by this time filtered down to the middle classes (who were, of course, the primary followers of masonry). I’m particularly fond of the cherub that appears on the lower board:
The 52nd Annual New York Antiquarian Book Fair is rapidly approaching, and it’s been a busy week as we prepare our most beautiful and significant stock for display at the Armory. The show, which is open to the public, runs from the 12th to the 15th of April and is one of the highlights of the book fair season. Tickets can be purchased direct from the fair website listed above.
We’ll have around 140 items on our stand, including a number of significant pieces from the Pat McInally Winnie-the-Pooh collection. Below, a small selection:
Original artwork for the cover of the first edition of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.
WRIGHT, Cliff. Hogwarts School. The original artwork for the rear cover of J. K. Rowling’s ‘Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets’ 1997.
Signature of Henry David Thoreau.
(THOREAU, Henry David). A new English-German and German-English Dictionary. Philadelphia: published by George W. Mentz and Son, 1834
Thoreau’s copy of a standard contemporary German-English dictionary, signed by him “Henry D. Thoreau” on the first binder’s blank after the front free endpaper. His ownership likely dates to his college years, which straddled the publication date, when he purchased several dictionaries and grammars of foreign languages. Contemporary American trade binding of streaked sheep.
Inscribed presentation copy of Playback by Raymond Chandler.
Raymond Chandler’s presentation inscription in the first edition of Playback.
First US edition. The dedication copy inscribed to Chandler’s lover and personal secretary Jean Fracasse, who is one of the two dedicatees of the book along with Chandler’s literary agent (and lover) Helga Greene. Original tan cloth, titles and concentric circle design to spine and upper board in dark brown. With the dust jacket.
First edition of the Federalist Papers in the original boards.
The Federalist: A Collection of Essays. New York: J. and A. McLean, 1788
First edition of the most famous and influential American political work and one of the new nation’s most important contributions to the theory of government. Uncut in the original publisher’s boards, volume numbers stamped to spines.
First edition of Charles Darwin’s On the Origin of Species, the bibliographer’s copy.
DARWIN, Charles. On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection. London: John Murray, 1859
First edition. The bibliographer R. B. Freeman’s own copy, with his pencilled ownership inscription to the front free endpaper verso, and a note of acquisition dated 10 June 1976 for £1,500. Original green diagonal-wave-grain cloth, covers blocked in blind, spine lettered and decorated in gilt.
Four original drawings of Eeyore by Ernest H. Shepard for Winnie-the-Pooh.
SHEPARD, Ernest H. Suite of four original drawings “The Tail is Lost”. Complete suite of four illustrations for Winnie-the-Pooh.
A set of four original drawings illustrating Eeyore’s search for his missing tail on page 44 of Winnie-the-Pooh, one of which is initialed by the artist. From the collection of Pat McInally.
Title page of the third edition of the first book printed in English, The recuile of the Histories of Troie (1553).
Today’s post was written by Peter Harrington partner Adam Douglas, who specialises in pre-20th century literature, history, and economics.
We recently acquired a rare and splendid sixteenth-century book, The recuile of the Histories of Troie, published by William Copland in London in 1553 (book sold, 2012). The first edition of this text, published in Bruges in 1473 or 74 by William Caxton, was the very first book printed in the English language. Caxton himself is famous as the first printer in England. But why was his first English book printed in Bruges?
Philip the Good, Valois duke of Burgundy. Portrait after Roger van der Weyden c.1450
In the mid fifteenth century Bruges was the capital of high style. Ruled over by Philip the Good, Valois duke of Burgundy, whose court was the most splendid and fashionable in all of Europe, it was the centre of trade in haberdashery, cloth, and luxury wares like silks. Illuminated manuscripts with miniatures by fashionable Flemish artists were a particularly valued Burgundian export, regularly shipped in large numbers from Flanders to London.
An example of Burgundian illumination by the master Simon Marmion, whose main patron was Philip the Good.
To a prescient few, Gutenberg had sounded the death knell for the trade in illuminated manuscripts. William Caxton was a shrewd Kentish mercer, long settled in Bruges. By 1465 he had established himself as the leading English merchant there. He realised that his English customers would soon demand printed books in their own language. And so he began his English translation of a hugely popular Burgundian work, a retelling of the legend of Troy by Philip the Good’s chaplain, Raoul le Fevre.
Turbulent political times interrupted his plans. England and Burgundy plunged into a trade dispute, forcing the English merchants to leave Bruges. Caxton set aside his translation to seek an end to the trade war. Tensions eased around the time of Philip the Good’s death in 1467, and Anglo-Burgundian relations were further improved the following year when his successor, Charles the Bold, married Margaret of York, sister of Edward IV. The English king soon had reason to be grateful for the new alliance. He was deposed in 1470 and fled to Flanders under the protection of his new brother-in-law. Edward used his time there to patch up his European trade relationships, before sailing back to England in April 1471 to regain his throne.
Three months after Edward’s restoration, Caxton went to Cologne to learn the craft of printing, which had reached the city in 1464. Cologne was the Hanseatic town with the closest links to England and it had helped to settle Edward IV’s trade disputes. Here Caxton acquired a printing press, the expertise to run his own publishing business, and a German assistant, Wynken de Worde. By his own account it was during his stay in Cologne that he completed his translation of Le Fevre’s History of Troy.
The earliest known image of a printing press, published in a Danse Macabre of 1499. Caxton would have used similar equipment in his printing business.
At the end of 1472 Caxton returned to Bruges with his new printing press ready to produce his long-gestated first work. It was a large book and took about a year to complete, being finished in late 1473 or early 1474. It was dedicated to Margaret of Burgundy, sister of the restored English king. The finished books were shipped to England for sale.
Caxton immediately printed a second English book, the Game of Chess, but his next four books were all in French. Caxton struggled to sell English books from his Bruges base.
Illustration from the second edition of Caxton’s The Game and Playe of the Chesse, 1483.
Probably in 1476 but possibly as early as 1475, Caxton took his printing press to England, renting premises in Westminster Abbey, at the centre of court life. From now on he would print only in English and occasionally in Latin. He never printed in French again, though almost all his translations were of works written or recently printed in France or Flanders which could be marketed as new and fashionable to his English buyers.
Caxton’s device, or logo, from a book he published in London in 1489.
When Caxton died in 1492, de Worde took over his print shop and set about training a new generation of English printers. Among them was Robert Copland, who had translated French books for de Worde before turning printer himself. When Robert Copland died in 1547, a kinsman of his, William, most likely his son, took over the business. William Copland therefore represents the fourth in a direct line of succession from England’s first printer. With reprints such as this third edition of The recuile of the Histories of Troie, he provided a connection between popular reading taste of the late fifteenth century and that of the seventeenth. The eleventh edition of Caxton’s translation appeared as late as 1684, a remarkable span from Edward IV to the final year of Charles II.
Below, the sumptuous late eighteenth-century morocco binding on our 1553 copy of The recuile of the Histories of Troie:
Late eighteenth-century binding on a third edition of The recuile of the Histories of Troie printed in 1553.
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