A Catalogue of Books in English Later than 1700, Vol. 2: Forming a portion of the library of Robert Hoe

In Short

This book is the second volume of a comprehensive catalogue detailing a portion of the private library of Robert Hoe. It functions as a formal inventory, listing rare editions of English-language works published after 1700. By providing precise physical descriptions—noting bindings, illustrations, and unique publication variants—it serves as a scholarly bridge between the reader and the material reality of the texts themselves. It remains a vital reference for bibliophiles and historians interested in the provenance, material composition, and rarity of first editions from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.

The Story

The narrative of this volume is one of organized accumulation, beginning with the meticulous classification of works by authors such as Sir Francis Seymour Haden and Konrad Haebler. It proceeds through a wide-ranging survey of the English literary canon, capturing the bibliographic life cycles of titans like Nathaniel Hawthorne, whose Scarlet Letter appears here in its 1850 first issue and again in a lavish 1904 private printing on vellum. The catalogue moves with methodical pace, tracing the output of figures like Oliver Wendell Holmes, Leigh Hunt, and Walter Savage Landor.

As the record unfolds, it shifts from the high-minded poetry of John Keats to the instructional and often obscure reaches of late eighteenth-century literature, including the "jest books" like The Jolly Jester and The New London City Jester. These entries are not merely lists; they are stories of physical survival. Each entry details a transformation from a simple printed text into a collector’s object, often encased in elaborate levant morocco bindings by master craftsmen at The Club Bindery or by artisans such as David and Bedford.

The middle arc of the volume highlights the intersection of commerce and art. It details the serial publications of George Meredith, charting his career from Modern Love in 1862 through his later works, and showcases the exquisite output of the Kelmscott Press under William Morris. Here, the reader observes a shift in focus toward the aesthetic movement, where the physical form of the book—the vellum, the hand-set type, and the woodcut illustrations—becomes as significant as the prose itself.

The concluding sections broaden the scope to include scientific texts, such as Sir Charles Lyell’s seminal works on geology, alongside exotic travelogues by David Livingstone. It ends with a sweep across various disciplines, from the classical translations of Oppian to the political pamphlets of James Ph. de Puglia. The story concludes not with a narrative climax, but with a final, exhaustive accounting of the library’s breadth, affirming that every book—whether a grand edition of Homer translated by Pope or a humble, pirated political tract—finds a place in this deliberate, structured history. It is a portrait of a library as a living, breathing entity, where the preservation of the past is an act of ongoing discovery.

How It Unfolds

The opening acquisition The volume begins with the categorization of scholarly and artistic works, establishing a baseline of rigorous documentation. It immediately sets the tone by noting the rarity of private press editions and monographs produced by the Bibliographical Society.

The literary survey The catalogue transitions into a deep dive of major American and English authors, capturing the specific materiality of first editions. Each entry serves as a time capsule, preserving the exact state of the text at the moment of its first appearance.

The shift toward aesthetics The middle beats emphasize the influence of the Arts and Crafts movement and the rise of the private press. The descriptions become more luxurious, reflecting the care taken in binding and the use of materials like Japanese vellum.

The scientific and political expansion The scope widens to encompass the evolution of thought through science and political discourse. It chronicles the transition of radical ideas and geological discoveries into permanent, tangible volumes.

The final accounting The volume closes by cataloguing the eclectic margins of the library, including jest books and classical translations. It leaves the reader with a sense of completion, having mapped a vast territory of intellectual and material history.

The People

Robert Hoe is the silent architect of this volume, the collector whose taste and resources define the scope of the entries. He is less a character and more a presence—a man who seeks to possess the physical manifestations of genius. His desire to curate "one hundred copies only" or select "imperial Japanese vellum" reveals a man who values rarity as much as he values the literature itself.

The authors, from Nathaniel Hawthorne to Alexander Pope, appear as the subjects of this meticulous scrutiny. They are filtered through the editions that survive them, their reputations solidified by the quality of the bindings they inhabit. John Keats and Leigh Hunt are presented through the eyes of the bibliographer, their letters and poems treated as relics of a vanished romantic era.

The binders, such as the artisans of The Club Bindery or the legendary Riviere and Bedford, emerge as essential collaborators. Their work stands as a barrier against time, protecting the fragile paper from decay. They represent the desire to elevate the printed word into a work of visual art. These individuals, through their combined efforts, ensure that the works of the past remain accessible, turning the library into a bridge across centuries.

In Its Own Voice

"First edition of Hawthorne's first work."

—This note, appearing under the entry for Fanshawe, highlights the significance of preserving an author’s earliest, often overlooked, creative output.

"The tone of the Essays was such that the writer was denounced from the pulpit and the printer menaced into discontinuance of the publication."

—This historical detail, attached to the entry for William Livingston’s The Independent Reflector, illustrates the turbulent social reception of early political periodicals.

"The only copy printed upon vellum, with the plates in two states, black and coloured, and the original drawings bound in."

—This description of a 1904 private edition of The Scarlet Letter underscores the extreme lengths to which collectors went to create unique, singular objects from classic texts.

What It's Really About

This volume is fundamentally an inquiry into the permanence of culture through the artifact. It asks how we define "importance" in literature, suggesting that the value of a text is deeply tied to its material survival. By detailing the evolution of a book from a common publication to a collector's item, it explores the tension between mass production and individual craftsmanship. It also serves as a meditation on the collector’s role as a guardian of heritage; it questions whether a book truly "exists" in the cultural consciousness until it has been properly catalogued, bound, and placed on a shelf. It is a quiet argument for the necessity of memory, demonstrating how we anchor our intellectual history to physical, tangible objects.

Why Read It Today

Reading this catalogue today is an exercise in slowing down. It is for the reader who finds satisfaction in the quiet details of history—the weight of paper, the texture of a binding, and the fascinating, often erratic path a book takes to reach the present. It captures a specific, bygone era of American bibliophilia, offering a glimpse into the mindset of a collector who viewed books as sacred vessels.

However, the reader must be prepared for the dense, technical nature of the text. It is not a narrative to be consumed in one sitting, but a reference to be explored slowly. It assumes a baseline knowledge of literary history and may feel dry to those seeking a traditional story. The period attitudes—such as the casual inclusion of "jest books" that rely on archaic humor—provide a candid, if occasionally jarring, look at the sensibilities of the early twentieth century. What stays with you is the sheer dedication to detail and the profound respect for the craft of the book. It is a reminder that every volume in your own home carries a similar history, waiting to be noticed. For those who love the physical presence of books, it is an essential, if demanding, companion.