The Library of Robert Hoe: A Contribution to the History of Bibliophilism in America |
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The Library of Robert Hoe: A Contribution to the History of Bibliophilism in ... Oscar Albert Bierstadt No preview available - 2016 |
The Library of Robert Hoe: A Contribution to the History of Bibliophilism in ... Oscar Albert Bierstadt,Robert Hoe No preview available - 2018 |
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Aldine Aldus Amsterdam Andy Anne de Beaujeu appeared arms artist beautiful bibliographical bibliophile black-letter black-letter folio black-letter quarto Book of Hours borders bound in red brown morocco collected edition collector contains death Diane de Poitiers Didot duodecimo early Elzevir English engraved executed famous fifteenth century fifteenth-century manuscript folio France François French Frontispiece Geofroy Tory Gothic Greek green morocco Grolier Henry hundred illuminated illustrated incunabula interesting Italian Jehan Jenson John king lady Latin literature Louis Louis XIV Lyons Manuscript on Vellum masterpiece medieval miniatures Molière mosaic Nicolas Jarry octavo octavo volume ornamented Ovid's painted Paulus Manutius Petrarch plates poems poet poetical portrait precious printed at Paris printer published Queen Rabelais rare red morocco binding Renaissance Roger Payne Roman saints Shakespeare specimen splendid Thomas tion Title title-page tooled translation Trautz-Bauzonnet typographical uncut copy undated vellum Venice Vérard verse woodcuts written
Popular passages
Page 148 - For books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a potency of life in them to be as active as that soul was whose progeny they are; nay they do preserve as in a vial the purest efficacy and extraction of that living intellect that bred them.
Page 132 - Homer ruled as his demesne ; Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold : Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken ; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific — and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise — Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
Page 102 - The sincerity and marrow of the man reaches to his sentences. I know not anywhere the book that seems less written. It is the language of conversation transferred to a book. Cut these words, and they would bleed ; they are vascular and alive.
Page 30 - And through the chink in the fractured floor Look down, and see a griesly sight; A vault where the bodies are buried upright ! There face by face, and hand by hand, The Claphams and Mauleverers stand; And, in his place, among son and sire, Is John de Clapham, that fierce Esquire, A valiant man, and a name of dread In the ruthless wars of the White and Red; Who dragged Earl Pembroke from Banbury Church And smote off his head on the stones of the porch...
Page 136 - I LOVE the old melodious lays Which softly melt the ages through, The songs of Spenser's golden days, Arcadian Sidney's silvery phrase, Sprinkling our noon of time with freshest morning dew. Yet, vainly in my quiet hours To breathe their marvellous notes I try ; I feel them, as the leaves and flowers In silence feel the dewy showers, And drink with glad still lips the blessing of the sky.
Page 150 - Her feet beneath her petticoat Like little mice stole in and out, As if they feared the light: But, oh ! she dances such a way— No sun upon an Easter day Is half so fine a sight.
Page 94 - I could write a treatise in praise of the moral elevation of Rabelais' work, which would make the Church stare and the conventicle groan, and yet would be truth, and nothing but the truth.
Page 148 - You write that they ask 1 30 florins : it must be the Mauritanian mountain Atlas, I think, and not a book, that you tell me is to be bought at so huge a price. Such is now the luxury of Typographers in printing books that the furnishing of a library seems to have become as costly as the furnishing of a villa. Since to me at least, on account of my blindness, painted maps can hardly be of use, vainly surveying as I do with blind eyes the actual globe of the earth...
Page 69 - I no sooner (saith he) come into the library, but I bolt the door to me, excluding lust, ambition, avarice, and all such vices, whose nurse is idleness, the mother of ignorance, and melancholy herself, and in the very lap of eternity, amongst so many divine souls, I take my seat, with so lofty a spirit and sweet content, that I pity all our great ones, and rich men that know not this happiness.
Page 137 - Our Nation are in his debt for a new English which hee taught them. E[u]phues and his England began first that language: All our Ladies were then his Schollers ; And that Beautie in Court, which could not Parley Eup*hueisme, was as little regarded ; as shee which now there, speakes not French.