Unearthing Literary Treasures by Richard Fattorini

Unearthing Literary Treasures

The Fascination of Collecting Beatrix Potter First Editions

In the realm of literary works, few names conjure up the same sense of whimsy and charm as Beatrix Potter. The beloved author and illustrator has captured the hearts of readers young and old with her enchanting tales of mischievous rabbits, dapper mice, and adventurous squirrels. As a result, the quest to collect first editions of her works has become a passion for collectors worldwide, offering not only a glimpse into the history of children’s literature but also a chance to connect with the magic of Potter’s timeless stories and illustrations.

The Tale of Peter Rabbit

In September 1893 Noel Moore, the five year old son of Beatrix Potter’s friend and former governess was unwell. To cheer him up Potter wrote the now famous Peter Rabbit picture letter. “I don’t know what to write to you,” she began, “so I shall tell you a story about four little rabbits”. Noel was delighted with the letter and a few years later Beatrix decided to develop the story and turn it into a little book. Thus The Tale of Peter Rabbit was born, but it took a while for the story to make it into print.

Potter approached many publishers with her manuscript but to no avail, so she resolved to publish the story at her own expense and sent the manuscript to a London printer Strangeways & Sons. Thus is was that on the 16 December 1901 an edition of 250 privately printed copies of her book were ready to sell or distribute to friends. To keep printing costs to a minimum the book had a card cover and only one colour illustration with the other illustrations being in black and white. The size of the book was also important: Potter believed that it should be of a size that a child could hold easily in their hands and the paper should be durable, so the pages were easy to turn.

The Tale of Peter Rabbit was received with great enthusiasm by children and adults, so Potter ordered a second printing of 200 copies. The format remained the same as the first printing, but there were some minor changes to the text and the quality of the binding was improved. The colour of the boards changed from grey to olive green and the spine became rounded, rather than flat. Booksellers and collectors often describe these two privately printed editions as either ‘flat backed’ or ‘round backed’.

The first Trade Printing

In December 1901 Beatrix Potter received a letter from the publisher Frederick Warne which read: ‘Dear Miss Potter, I must apologise for not having written to you earlier with reference to the “Bunny Book”’. Warne offered to print the story in an edition of 5,000 copies, on the condition that Potter supplied all the drawings in colour. They suggested a royalty of 1d (one pence) per book, rising to 3d (three pence) per book should there be any subsequent editions. Warne cautioned that: “we cannot tell whether the work is likely to run to a second edition or not, and therefore we fear it might not provide a reasonable remuneration for you.”

Following some negotiations a contract was agreed and Potter set to work producing the illustrations in colour. So it was that in October 1902 the first published edition of The Tale of Peter Rabbit was offered for sale in book shops in Britain. Potter wanted the book to be affordable so there were different editions available: the book was available to buy in either brown or grey paper boards, retailing at 1/- (one shilling) or in pale green cloth, retailing at 1/6 (one shilling and sixpence). Warne suggested that brighter colours might sell better, but Potter was adamant that the colours of the boards needed to be in keeping with the natural colours of her animal world.

Warne’s publication of The Tale of Peter Rabbit, launched Potter’s career as a children’s author and has remained in print ever since. Subsequent titles, including The Tale of Squirrel Nutkin (1903) and The Tale of Benjamin Bunny, (1904) followed in quick succession, each adding to Potter’s growing legacy.

The Appeal of Beatrix Potter First Editions

What makes collecting Beatrix Potter first editions so appealing? At its core, it’s a journey into the past, a way to trace the evolution of Potter’s writing and illustration style, and to appreciate the craftsmanship of these hand-sized publications. Each first edition holds a unique story, from the initial print run to the hands that have cherished it over the decades. For many collectors, owning a piece of literary history is a way to pay tribute to an author whose work continues to captivate generations.

Navigating the World of Beatrix Potter First Editions

For those embarking on the quest to collect Beatrix Potter first editions, understanding the nuances of the market is essential. Identifying true first editions can be a challenge, as publishers often made subtle changes to subsequent printings. Key indicators of a first edition include the presence of the phrase ‘All rights reserved’ on the title page, as well as the absence of later printings listed on the verso.

Additionally, examining the colour and condition of the dust jacket, if present, can provide further clues to a book’s authenticity. Potter’s books are notoriously difficult to date as the publisher Warne used a dating process which is not easily decipherable for novice collectors. In most instances Beatrix Potter first editions state the publisher as ‘F. Warne & Co.’ before Warne became incorporated in 1919 and the imprint changes to ‘F. Warne & Co. Ltd’.

The Rarity and Value of Beatrix Potter First Editions

While some of Potter’s works were printed in large quantities, others had more limited runs, adding to their rarity and value. For example, The Tale of Peter Rabbit had an initial print run of just 250 copies, making first editions of this iconic book highly sought after. Similarly, titles such as The Tale of Mr. Jeremy Fisher (1906) and The Tale of Jemima Puddle -Duck (1908) are prized for their scarcity and charm.

In recent years, the market for Beatrix Potter first editions has experienced steady growth, with rare and pristine copies commanding high prices at auction. Collectors are willing to pay a premium for books in excellent condition, with original dust jackets or glassine wrappers, and minimal signs of wear. However, even well-loved copies with some wear and tear can hold significant value, particularly if they possess unique provenance or inscription by the author.

The value of a first edition can vary significantly, with pristine copies fetching five-figure sums, while worn copies without a dust jacket may be worth in the hundreds of pounds. While some early editions may hold value, the sheer number of subsequent printings means most are worth only a few pounds.

Preserving a Literary Legacy

Beyond the thrill of acquisition, collecting Beatrix Potter first editions is also a means of preserving her literary legacy for future generations. By safeguarding these rare and cherished books, collectors play a vital role in ensuring that Potter’s timeless tales continue to enchant readers for years to come. Whether displayed on a bookshelf or carefully tucked away in a protective sleeve, each first edition serves as a tangible reminder of the enduring magic of Beatrix Potter’s imagination.

In the end, collecting Beatrix Potter first editions is about more than just acquiring rare books – it’s a journey of discovery, connection, and appreciation for one of the most beloved authors in children’s literature. With each new addition to their collection, enthusiasts pay tribute to Potter’s legacy and celebrate the enduring power of storytelling to ignite the imagination and inspire wonder in readers of all ages.

The Care of Books

Rupert Neelands gives his best advice for caring for books:

Space

Libraries great and small suffer from a shortage of space — there is never as much room on the shelf as one would like. This is a permanent problem for the collector, but the desire to squeeze on an extra volume has to be resisted. Give your books enough space and ensure they are kept in a room with a free flow of air, preventing mould and dampness. Shelving should not be erected on exterior walls, and it must be of sufficient strength.

Chatsworth, the library-living room with upper gallery - caring for books

Size

The size of books dictates their natural pecking order; the place for heavy folios and quartos is on the lower shelves, octavos of standard size and smaller are traditionally shelved at eye level or above. The top shelf of a grand library is usually the place for the smallest and least interesting volumes only accessible with a high ladder.

At the other end of the spectrum, large volumes with magnificent plates are happiest when safely placed in a bottom shelf or cupboard; they may alternatively be kept flat on a library table, easing pressure on the spine. For a free flow of air and absence of direct sunlight, there is no better environment than a draughty Scottish castle with few windows, thick stone walls and no heating.

Conservation history

The 19th-century bibliophile William Blades first published The Enemies of Books in 1880 (the second edition of 1888 is now available online through the Gutenberg Project). A short monograph, it went through many editions and has long been the classic work on the subject. In his opening chapters on “Fire” and “Water” (“liquid” and “vapour”), Blades gives an account of the terrible conflagrations and inundations which have resulted in the loss of so many books over the centuries.

William Blades - caring for books

Damp

Many would consider “damp” to be the greatest enemy of books, and Blades describes the “irreparable injury” which it can do. “The substance of the paper succumbs to the unhealthy influence and rots and rots until all fibre disappears, and the paper is reduced to a white decay which crumbles into powder”. He has a surprisingly modern remedy to suggest for the damp atmosphere that produces spotting and visible staining to blank margins or the text itself. On the basis that “our worst enemies are sometimes our real friends”, he suggests having hot water circulate through pipes under the floor. However, he believes this heating system cannot be allowed to supersede “the open grate”, going on to argue the case for coal and even (frightful thought) asbestos fires.

In the event of spillage

The antiquarian book with its thick rag paper and durable binding of leather or vellum is nevertheless a resilient object and minor blemishes are easy to tolerate providing a book is complete with no missing pages or hiatuses in the text. Should you spill an entire glass of water over an important volume, the situation may be retrievable. Stand the volume upright, and fan out the leaves allowing any liquid to drain off. A hair drier is an effective tool for supplying an air flow from a distance. With the right treatment the unhappy accident may leave no trace at all.

Heat and sunlight

The desecrators of books denounced in Blades’ subsequent chapters are: “Gas and Heat”, “Dust and Neglect”, “Ignorance and Bigotry”, “The Bookworm”,“Other Vermin”, “Bookbinders”, “Collectors”, and finally “Servants and Children”. While Gas has long ceased to be used for lighting, its ill effect may still be seen on grimy books; it was the sulphur in the gas fumes that caused bindings on the upper shelves to deteriorate. The problem of “desiccation” also persists today, whether ascribed to the open fires and gas lighting of the past or to the natural power of sunlight. Blades defined the process as “the leather losing all its natural oils by long exposure to much heat”.

The sun can do damage we may easily be unconscious of. Leather and cloth spines and invaluable dust-jackets will all fade as a result of regular exposure to sunlight, leather becomes brittle, condition is altered for the worse and value plummets.

Franciscans burning book scrolls

Worm holes

The chapter on “The Bookworm” is one of my favourites. Blades observes the fascinating manner in which a worm hole, far from being of even size, can slowly grow as the pages of a folio are turned, and then just as gradually diminish and disappear. Although the cataloguer has to count these holes as defects, watching their growth and disappearance can provide a welcome diversion from the collation of a lengthy text. Modern books don’t suffer in the same way. Blades comments wryly on “the scarcity of edible books of the present [19th] century”, observing that “one result of the extensive adulteration of modern paper is that the worm will not touch it. His instinct forbids him to eat the china clay, the bleaches, the plaster of Paris, the sulphate of barytes, the scores of adulterants now used to mix with the fibre … the worm has a bad time of it”.

Book work - caring for books

Bookbinders

There is no chapter on book dealers but there is one on “Bookbinders”, placed after “Other Vermin”, revealing the sorry practices of the book trade in the late 19th century. As Blades states in fury, binders not only cut away book margins and any annotations on them with utter ruthlessness; they also destroyed old bindings to make new ones, and habitually washed books leaf by leaf, perhaps adding hydrochloric acid, oxalic acid or caustic potash to remove every mark. Fortunately, today’s binders have higher allegiances and are very much on the side of the conservation rather than the desecration of books.

The attack is taken to collectors themselves, “two-legged depredators” who indulge the habit of cutting out illuminated initials and engravings from books, and making separate collections of them. The one obsessive collector to be mentioned by name is the celebrated Sir Thomas Phillipps of Middle Hill who lived in ‘a mansion crammed with books; he purchased whole libraries and never even saw what he had bought’. Phillips possessed one of the greatest bibliographical treasures in the form of the first book printed in English, “The Recuyell of the Histories of Troye”, translated and printed by William Caxton. But it was a volume “he could never find” among so many others piled on his shelves.

Sir Thomas Phillips failed to protect his unrivalled collection of manuscripts

Dust

Blades’ final chapter, “Servants and Children”, instructs the former how to dust books with due care. Recommending the simple use of a duster, without any cleaning agent, might seem old-fashioned. Today we have a tendency to believe that leather bindings require some form of polish or wax to restore them to full bloom, and a large number of such products are available on the market. But Shelly Smith, as head of New York Public Library’s Conservation Team, takes the same view as Blades, writing: “Don’t use oil or leather dressing on your leather bindings … it can actually cause deterioration to the volume as the oil or leather dressing ages. Simply wiping leather bindings with a plain soft cloth is best” (NYPL Newsletter, August 2020).

Pepys Library - Caring for Books

It is a cardinal rule never to take a book from the shelf by pulling at the top of the spine. Blades comments on the tendency of home helps “to fill the shelves too tightly,” which only made extracting a volume safely that much more difficult. Once safe in one’s hands, a rare book can be read but should never be fully opened — a big risk to the binding. This does not mean that, like Sir Thomas Phillipps, one should ignore one’s collection. Books are to be admired. Whatever the hazards, an important part of their care is to handle them at least occasionally. This lets fresh air penetrate the pages while the oil occurring naturally in our fingers is enough to keep calf or morocco bindings nourished.

 


To find out about our Rare Books & Manuscripts valuation service, get in touch today!

samuel johnson dictionary

My Favourite Book – Samuel Johnson’s Dictionary of the English Language

 

It is 265 years since Samuel Johnson’s 2-volume Dictionary of the English Language was published on 15 April 1755. Though many forms of reprint are available, to own a copy of the first edition would be the best of all options. Completing the Dictionary from A to Z was solely Johnson’s responsibility. As his preface points out, it had taken whole teams of academicians to produce dictionaries of Italian and French, whereas he worked in the solitude of his garret at 17 Gough Square, supported only by a succession of feckless and rather drunken copyists — five out of the six were not English but Scottish.

Samuel Johnson Dictionary

The Samuel Johnson Dictionary, 1806 edition

One has to admire the Dictionary as a book which received no academic support, compiled “not in the soft obscurities of retirement, or under the shelter of academick bowers” but in London “amidst inconvenience and distraction, in sickness and in sorrow”. Johnson’s contract was with a group of influential London booksellers including Robert Dodsley and Andrew Millar. Although he had agreed with them to finish the work in three years, the first volume was not completed for seven. The whole task took nine years altogether. Far from thinking himself a national celebrity, Johnson felt reduced to “a harmless drudge, that busies himself in tracing the original, and detailing the signification of words” (the Dictionary’s definition of lexicographer). When his wife Tetty died early in 1752, his morale must have hit rock bottom.

Image of Dr. Samuel Johnson

Dr. Samuel Johnson

Johnson’s brilliant handling of illustrative quotation means that his lexicon can also be enjoyed as a unique form of anthology. Though quotations from 18th-century sources, particularly Pope, Swift and Thomson, occur with some regularity, Johnson’s highest regard was for writers from before the Restoration whose works were “the wells of English undefiled”. Many recently introduced words, particularly anything “Gallick,” are condemned as “cant” or “low”. Giving such frank expression as it does to the author’s tastes and personal prejudices is what makes the Dictionary so endlessly fascinating.

Most impressive of all is Johnson’s battle with his own indolence or what his Dictionary termed “the repugnance which we naturally have to labour”. His publishers became exasperated by the years of procrastination. Boswell recorded Andrew Millar’s oath, on receiving the last sheet of copy from Johnson’s messenger: “Thank God I have done with him”. On returning the messenger duly passed on Millar’s words to Johnson who replied: “I am glad that he thanks God for any thing”.

Private Libraries, Old and New

A magnificent library was an integral feature of the country house in both 18th-century England and continental Europe. As much as the pictures, sculptures and lavish furnishings, the array of gilt spines was calculated to impress the visitor, providing opportunities for conversation as well as solitary reading. Volumes come in all sizes and may have been carefully collected or bought by the yard. Past sales may have depleted the collection, even though the shelves look well stocked.

Horace Walpole’s gothic library at Strawberry Hill, ink and wash, published 1784.

However striking their effect when massed together, books are individuals. To appraise the value of each one means checking the date, giving a nod to the author and assessing the market interest. Books printed before 1501, forming part of the history of incunabula, possess great potential. If the author of a rare pamphlet proves to be Daniel Defoe, its attraction is immediately doubled or even quadrupled. A common enough text may have been beautifully illustrated or issued by a famous press. Provenance or marks of ownership may exist in the form of an inscription or bookplate, or as a coat-of-arms on the binding. Association with a well-known historical figure or derivation from a famous collection can push up a book’s value enormously, and then there is its basic feel. Is it in a good state? Is the binding attractive? Does it appeal aesthetically?

A relatively late edition (1759) of Milton’s Paradise Lost, of value primarily because it bears the imprint of John Baskerville, Birmingham.

In a big library much of the value may lie in a comparatively small percentage of the books. Whether it be of classical works or native authors such as Milton, Swift, Pope and Gibbon, the reprint element is usually large. Classical works printed after the Renaissance, literary sets and periodicals of the 18th and 19th century, are valued chiefly as shelf fillers — for what pleases the eye rather than the content inside. The Gentleman’s Magazine, which first appeared in January 1731 and continued up to 1922, is probably the most interesting of the literary periodicals. Samuel Johnson contributed to it from the late 1730s to mid 1740s, George Eliot used it to research Adam Bede, it contains maps and plates, but the average auction value per volume is unlikely to be above £30.

Title-page to an early number of The Gentleman’s Magazine, printed by Edward Cave (“Sylvanus Urban”) at St. John’s Gate, Clerkenwell.

With plate books, size really counts. Hefty atlases, engravings or lithographs in magnificent quartos or folios, will contribute in a major way to a library’s financial worth. One would expect to find art and architecture, natural history, horticulture and sport among the topics represented, as they are all connected with the life of a country house. Younger sons often travelled the globe and accounts of foreign travel also have strong potential. The first half of the 19th-century was the great age of the colour plate book. If the most magnificent flower book is Redoute’s Les Roses, John Gould is undoubtedly the colossus of bird books. My personal favourite is his Birds of Australia, published in 36 parts between 1840 and 1848, and bound in 8 enormous folio volumes. The work describes all 681 Australian bird varieties then known (a 5-part supplement was added in 1869).

Title-page to part one of the Heber sale whose duration was 26 days. The books sold for an average of only 15 shillings per lot.

Not every 18th- or early 19th-century collection was ostentatiously bound and displayed. Richard Heber (1773-1833) succeeded in amassing some 120,000 volumes, sold on his death in 13 sales spread over three years, with further auctions on the continent. This famous bibliophile, motivated by what Thomas Dibdin called “an ungovernable passion,” gave no thought to presentation. On first visiting his home in Pimlico, Dibdin was dismayed to see “‘rooms, cupboards, passages, and corridors, so choked, so suffocated with books.’” The lack of arrangement was even worse at Heber’s house in Westminster. At 10,000 volumes, the library in his country house, Hodnet Hall in Shropshire, was relatively small in size. But there were also several massive depositories of his books in foreign cities.

A copy of Claude Perrault’s 2-volume Histoire naturelle des animaux (Paris, 1671-76) in a presentation binding of red morocco impressed with the gilt arms of Louis XIV.

Heber’s “‘inveterate opponent in book battles’”, William Beckford, was appalled by such squalor, arguing that it would be better to burn the great mass of “‘filthy, moulding, overwhelming heaps’” than attempt to sell them. Remarkably, the second Heber sale included almost 50 Shakespeare quartos. On the other hand, there were many books ‘picked up for sixpence or a shilling and whose resale value was practically nil’ (see Arnold Hunt, ‘The Sale of Richard Heber’s Library’, in Under the Hammer: Book Auctions since the Seventeenth Century, edited by Robin Myers, 2001, pp. 143-169).

Samuel Johnson, oil portrait by Joshua Reynolds. As a lowly paid hack writer, Johnson contributed to the Gentleman’s Magazine before publishing his great work of lexicography in 1755.

A modern antiquarian library is likely to have less variety of theme than the calf gilt library of former times, catering for many tastes. The limitations on space are much bigger today, with the result that collections are in general smaller and with a greater tendency to be specialist. However, “high spot” collecting can lead to the crossing of traditional boundaries. A high spot collector won’t accumulate any subject in depth, but he or she will focus on the high spots, the collecting peaks of many different ranges. A Samuel Johnson fan is likely to have an interest in acquiring all or most of his works, whereas a high spot collector might only want a first edition of the dictionary (1755) and nothing else. Ironically, it is the cheaper books rather than the more expensive ones which are becoming harder to sell. The first edition of Newton’s Philosophiae naturalis principia mathematica (London, 1687) offered for sale at Christie’s New York on 14 December 2016 was not bound in the usual contemporary calf but in superbly tooled red goatskin intended for presentation. Competition for the copy was intense, it had not only high spot but iconic status, and it was finally hammered down for a world record price of $3,100,000.

Rosa centifolia, etched plate from Pierre Joseph Redoute’s Les Roses (3 volumes, Paris, 1817-1824), printed in colour and finished by hand.

Most modern collections are dispersed on a bibliophile’s death, if not sold within his or her lifetime. Collectors get to feel that they have reached the natural limit of their specialism or that they must settle matters for heirs who prefer receiving money to books they can’t appreciate. These sales are often stirring occasions. But the longer the period that a collection can remain unbroken, the more of a phenomenon it is likely to be in the saleroom.

 Estelle Doheny, the American bibliophile and philanthropist, was born in Philadelphia in 1875, then moved to Los Angeles with her German immigrant parents in 1890.

Carrie Estelle Doheny (1875-1958), born Betzold, was one of the most renowned American book collectors of the 20th century, and that rare being, a female bibliophile. She met her husband, the Californian oil man Edward Lawrence Doheny, in 1899 while working as a telephone operator for his company. The collection she began forming in relative middle-age was quite closely connected to her beliefs as a devout Catholic (she was created a papal countess in 1939). It grew to some 7000 books and 1300 manuscripts, meriting a 3-volume catalogue published 1940-1955. First given to St. John’s seminary in Camarillo, the collection was eventually sold by Christie’s New York in 6 catalogues 1987 to 1989, slightly over a century after her birth; it made proceeds of nearly $38 million dollars, with volume I of the Gutenberg Bible alone making $5 million.

A page of the “Gutenberg Bible” (Mainz: Johann Gutenberg and Johann Fust, 1455) as illustrated in the catalogue of the Estelle Doheny Collection, Part 1, lot 1, Christie’s New York, 22 October 1987

Of much older origins still was the scientific library of the Earls of Macclesfield, removed from Shirburne Castle and sold by Sotheby’s in 12 parts, 2004-2008. This collection derived from the library of William Jones (1675-1749) and was put together almost exclusively in the 18th century; its 2300 works realised the staggering figure of over £20 million.

Call us today to enquire about an appointment on 01883 722736 or email [email protected] 

Adam Smith’s Wealth of Nations: its author, its ideas and its value

Copy of the Wealth of Nations from the library of Charles William Vane, 3rd Marquess of Londonderry

Download this article

Adam Smith’s Wealth of Nations was an extended argument about how European countries, and Britain particularly, could achieve greater social and political stability by increasing their economic wealth. Having his profile on the back of the £20 note, issued from March 2007 to February 2020, would have been a more powerful reminder of his great treatise, had the note not changed hands so swiftly in millions of transactions. However, every transaction made with it was a demonstration of what Smith saw as the universal human propensity, “to truck, barter and exchange one thing for another”.
To his contemporaries Smith was a moral philosopher. He never courted celebrity but neither did he shun society. He clearly wanted to be remembered by what he wrote, and so actually cared little about his own portrait. There is no frontispiece portrait in either of his major works, and no known oil portrait from the life. The glass paste medallion by James Tassie, executed in 1787, “is the only satisfactory likeness of Smith and was conceivably modelled from the life” (NPG).

Adam Smith in his 64th Year, by James Tassie, 1787, glass paste medallion, National Portrait Gallery

Smith’s life ran a smooth course apart from the loss of his father, also Adam Smith. An advocate, private secretary to the third earl of Loudon and comptroller of customs at Kirkcaldy, Smith senior died five months before his son was born. Adam Smith junior was baptised on 5 June 1723. He had a caring mother in Margaret, the daughter of Robert Douglas of Strathendry, who brought him up in the fishing village of Kirkcaldy (population 1500) near Edinburgh. Being carried off by gypsies at the age of four was the only alarming experience of his childhood — if it indeed happened.

Glasgow University founded in 1451

At 14, Smith entered Glasgow University where the professor of moral philosophy, “the never to be forgotten” Francis Hutcheson, had a profound influence. Hutcheson emphasised the importance of the division of labour, and made a careful distinction between money as a medium of exchange and money as a standard of value. After graduating in 1740, Smith won a Snell exhibition to Balliol College, Oxford. Despite finding the intellectual atmosphere of Oxford far less vibrant than Glasgow — the exploded system of Aristotle was still taught, he nevertheless tolerated it for six years, and did so much private reading in political history and polite literature that he became physically exhausted. He had a retentive memory and wrote in a plain style with Swift and Addison among his models.
After Oxford, Smith returned to the seclusion of Kirkcaldy for two years. Then in 1748 he began delivering public lectures at Edinburgh University, sponsored by the Philosophical Society of Edinburgh whose patron was Lord Kames. The initial subjects were rhetoric and belles-lettres. Smith’s abiding friendship with David Hume, who was 12 years older, began in 1750, and only ended with the latter’s death on 25 August 1776. Hume’s Political Discourses (1752) was a work from which he developed many strands of argument; it contained the key notion that the pre-requisite of a thriving commerce is civil liberty.
Smith’s prominence in the intellectual mêlée of the Scottish enlightenment continued to grow. In 1751, at the age of 27, he was appointed professor of logic at Glasgow. A year later he changed chairs, becoming professor of moral philosophy for a period lasting until 1764. He taught a curriculum on ethics and the rights of man inherited from Hutcheson; and following a precedent set by his former teacher, his lectures were in English rather than Latin. His first published work was an article on Johnson’s Dictionary for the first Edinburgh Review in 1755.

David Hume by Allan Ramsay, 1766, at the Scottish National Portrait Gallery

 After lecturing by day Smith would join in Glasgow society by night, mingling with the city’s merchants and its learned men — despite good social relations, the support of the merchant class for monopolistic companies was to be castigated in Wealth of Nations. Smith neither married nor possessed a female confidante, excepting his mother, for any length of time. His treatise does make unexpected reference to the beauty of London’s Irish prostitutes, the product — he thought — of their diet of potatoes (I.xi).
Andrew Millar published the Theory of Moral Sentiments, based on his lectures in ethics, as a single octavo volume in 1759. The ambiguities in human nature were admitted from the opening sentence. While conceding that amoral self-interest is an abiding motive in human behaviour, Smith argued for the existence of an “inner man” or “impartial spectator” who is nevertheless able to judge the morality of an action. Moral sentiments arise from that mutual sympathy between individuals which alone creates a happy society. In both this work and the Wealth of Nations Smith made reference to the “invisible hand” that created social or economic harmony out of competing interests.

Henry Scott, 3rd duke of Buccleuch, by Thomas Gainsborough, 1770 or 1771, Bowhill House

 Charles Townshend, the chancellor responsible for the taxes that ultimately caused the American Revolution, was so impressed by Smith’s Moral Sentiments that he invited the author to become tutor to his stepson, Henry Scott, the 17-year-old duke of Buccleuch. The duke was portrayed by Thomas Gainsborough in 1770 or 1771, wearing the insignia of the Order of the Garter and hugging a Dandie Dinmont terrier. Smith did not morally approve of the Grand Tour, but an annual income of £300 plus expenses, roughly twice his pay as a professor, and a lifetime pension of £300 a year thereafter, was persuasive. Tutor and pupil set out for Toulouse via Paris on 13 February 1764, spending close on three years together and getting on remarkably well.
Eighteen months in Toulouse offered little in the way of variety, but Smith used his time there to start working on Wealth of Nations. In a livelier two month visit to Geneva, he met Voltaire. A ten month stay in Paris then enabled him to meet more of “the French literary figures he had read and lectured on with warm appreciation” (ODNB). Helped with introductions by David Hume, also in Paris, he frequented the literary salons of the duchesse d’Enville and Julie de L’Espinasse; the German-French encylopedist Baron d’Holbach welcomed him; and he was no less feted at the house of the tax farmer and philosophe Claude-Adrien Helvétius. André Morellet, his future translator, and Anne-Robert-Jacques Turgot, Controller-General of Finance from 1774 to 1776, were among others he met. François Quesnay, leader of the physiocrats, probably impressed him the most, and would have been the dedicatee of his treatise had his death not occurred first.
Moral Sentiments, the talk of Paris, drew much admiration from women. The former actress and novelist Marie-Jeanne Riccoboni declared Smith to be as ugly as the devil with his harsh voice and protruding teeth. Yet she had plenty of time for his sentimental philosophy, remarking in a letter to David Garrick, “J’aime Mr Smith, je l’aime beaucoup” (quoted by James Buchan, The Authentic Adam Smith, 2006, p.79). The fascinating comtesse de Boufflers, patroness of Rousseau, was thanked by David Hume for taking “my friend Smith under your protection” (HL ii.63). By no means intimidated by Parisian society, he attended operas, plays and concerts, wearing an impressive array of black, grey and red silk suits.

Alexander Gordon, Lord Rockville; Adam Smith; George Brown, by John Kay, 1787, etching

 Unfortunately, the duke fell ill as did his younger brother, Hew, who had joined the party at Toulouse. Though the former recovered, Quesnay’s efforts as royal physician could not save Hew. Their stay in Paris cut short, Smith and the duke accompanied Hew’s body back to Dover, arriving 1 November 1766. Only too glad to be back among old friends, Smith never crossed the English channel again. Wealth of Nations made trenchant criticism of the ancient regime’s reliance on fiscal anomalies, manipulation of the coinage, arbitrary taxation, soaring public debt, and depressed agriculture.
Having spent six months in London, supervising publication of the third edition of Moral Sentiments and attending the duke of Buccleuch’s wedding, Smith returned to live with his mother in Kirkcaldy. Six years were spent reading and writing in this retirement. He wrote to David Hume saying that “My amusements are long, solitary walks by the sea side” and expressed himself “extremely happy … I never was, perhaps, more so in all my life” (quoted by Buchan, p. 84). As opposed to reaching completion, his magnum opus simply grew larger.
Having chosen not to become Hume’s neighbour in Edinburgh, Smith was at length persuaded to travel to London in 1772. The offer of another tutoring post, this time to the young duke of Hamilton, came to nothing. Nonetheless, Smith stayed on, attending political debates in parliament as the conflict between Britain and her American colonies intensified. He became a member of the Royal Society in May 1773. The Boston Tea Party on 16 December that year was the direct consequence of Townshend’s taxation measures. On 9 May 1775 Smith assured Hume, in Edinburgh, that his book was about to go to press. In February 1776 a letter of Hume’s expressed the concern that if Smith was waiting for the fate of America to be decided, he might have to wait forever.

Title-page to the first edition of Smith’s Wealth of Nations

 Smith’s book finally appeared on 3 March 1776. Entitled An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations, it carried the imprint of W. Strahan and T. Cadell in the Strand; some copies have the added imprint of W. Creech at Edinburgh. In the event, publication occurred only four months before the 4 July signing of the American Declaration of Independence. The author showed himself to be quite radical in his leanings, particularly in regard to the American colonists whose ill treatment by the government he discusses in book IV. Despite fully agreeing with Hume that independence was a natural outcome for growing colonies, he also put forward the idea of a closer union or federation with Britain, with power likely to gravitate to the west.
The two quarto volumes contained over 1000 pages, arranged in five books, and representing at least 12 years work. Issued in either blue-grey or marbled boards, the work cost £1 16 shillings — then enough money to employ a skilled tradesman for 15 days. The print run is put at 500 copies.
Only a week earlier Strahan and Cadell had brought out volume I of Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, also in quarto. Writing to David Hume on 12 April, Strahan compared the two works; Gibbon’s he described as “more popular”; Smith’s book he judged to have a sale which, “tho’ not near so rapid, has been much more than I could have expected from a work, that requires much thought and reflexion (qualities that do not abound among modern readers) ….” (NLS Hume MSS vii.67, old no).
Smith’s arguments in Wealth of Nations are well summarised in Ian Simpson Ross’s Life of Adam Smith (1995, pp. 270-288). Whereas Moral Sentiments had dealt with various forms of motivation, his later book dealt with economic motivation only, and its effect on the collective wealth of nations. Smith argues that material progress stems from the individual’s desire for self-improvement; a nation’s riches do not consist of bullion or treasure, but in the acquired skills or specialisations of its labour force, supported by capital.
Book I, on “the Causes of Improvement in the Productive Powers of Labour”, starts with a brilliant though, in the light of subsequent history, flawed appraisal of the the division of labour, which he believes can improve the individual labourer’s circumstances, while creating greater wealth for the whole of society. The division of the 18 operations used in making a pin, borrowed from the French Encylopédie of 1755, make its advantages demonstrable.

Adam Smith by John Kay, etching, 1790

 Book I then proceeds with a discussion of the origin and use of money, followed by an analysis of commodity prices in terms of labour cost and in terms of money. Careful distinctions are also drawn between the component parts of commodity prices, and the natural and market price of commodities. A forensic examination of wages and profits comes next, and then a final discourse on the rent of land, with a long digression on silver. Since the accumulation of profit allows for rising wages and the enhancement of culture, the profit motive is not seen as harmful. The individual’s liberty of action guarantees the welfare of society.
Whereas the 11 chapters in book I come under the heading of “Labour”, the 5 chapters in book II are on “the nature, accumulation, and employment of stock” — stock (i.e. “savings and investments”) being a second growth factor after the division of labour. There is a continued look at money as “a particular Branch of the general Stock of the Society”. Lines are drawn between productive and unproductive labour, and fixed and circulating capitals.
The remaining books, III-V, are more historical in nature, concentrating on what legislators have done and what they ought to do to achieve economic growth. Book III traces “the different progress of Opulence in different nations”. The time period starts as far back as the fall of Rome and the development of medieval towns, when capital first supported agriculture, to its later extension to manufactures, and finally foreign trade with its positive socio-economic effects.
 Book IV, “Of Systems of Political Economy”, is a highly readable, deeply critical account of what Smith pejoratively termed the mercantile system giving the European nations monopolistic control over their colonies. England is only the best of a bad bunch, “somewhat less illiberal and oppressive than any of the rest” (IV.vii.pt.2).
Smith’s belief in the efficacy of free trade, with its stimulus to the industry of the European nations, cannot be over-stated. Hence he calls “the discovery of America, and that of a passage to the East Indies by the Cape of Good Hope … the two greatest and most important events in the history of mankind” (IV.viii.pt.3). With these words, he is surely anticipating a harmonious global economy.
The final chapter of book IV, “Of the Agricultural Systems, or of those Systems of Political Economy which represent the Produce of Land as either the sole or the principal Source of the Revenue and Wealth of every County”, was a response to Quesnay and the French physiocrats; sympathetic as he was to their ideas, Smith was unable to accept their portrayal of manufacturing and trading as unproductive.
In Book V, “Of the Revenue of the Sovereign or Commonwealth”, the involvement of government is accepted as necessary in defence, justice, policing, transport facilities, education, and taxation. A policy of non interference is urged in matters of trade. The British government’s readiness to incur public debt in order to prosecute wars over the colonies meets with a severe reproof.

Henry Wickham’s copy of Wealth of Nations (2 vols) bound by Edwards of Halifax. Courtesy of Christie’s

Four more editions of Wealth of Nations came out before the author’s death in 1790. The third edition of 1784 was the first in octavo. The Additions and Corrections to the first and second editions of Dr. Adam Smith’s … Wealth of Nations, issued at the same time, was available in either quarto or octavo size. While not an integral part of the first edition, it is sometimes bound at the end of volume II or may, alternatively, form a slim volume III.

Secretarial presentation inscription on Henry Herbert, Lord Porchester’s copy of Wealth of Nations. Courtesy of Christie’s

A copy of the first edition, without serious defects, might have been bought for about £12,000 in 1990. Sotheby’s sold a copy in a restored calf binding for £11,000 hammer which became £12,100 with premium, on 19 July 1990. While its steady advance in value over the next 30 years has to be seen as extraordinary, it is a sobering thought that the purchasing power of the pound has halved since 1990.
Ten years on and the William Foyle copy came up for sale. Although the binding — described as “near contemporary sheep” — was not particularly impressive, the Foyle copy included the Additions and Corrections. Astonishment overtook the packed Great Room when Christies sold it for as much as £34,000 hammer on 12 July 2000. This was no lucky chance; the price signalled a quantum leap forward in value.
If it is correct to speak of trophy books, Wealth of Nations became one in the new millennium. From 2000 onwards its value soared. However, condition and copy status will always lead to variations in price as will the supply of copies. Of two copies sold in New York in December 2004, one at Sotheby’s made $80,000 (£41,510) hammer; the other at Christie’s went for $40,000 hammer, exactly half the amount. The latter was simply an inferior copy.

Richard Payne Knight by Sir Thomas Lawrence, 1794, Whitworth Art Gallery

The following year, 2005, the “remarkably clean, fine and totally unsophisticated” Irwin Silver copy” in contemporary calf gilt reached $120,000 (£62,967) hammer, with premium $144,000 (£75,560), at Sotheby’s New York. The auction gavel then started to spark at Christie’s. In 2007 £85,000 was paid for the Henry Wickham copy, exquisitely bound by Edwards of Halifax in tree calf with painted vellum spines. The Foljambe copy made £130,000 in 2010; the Londonderry copy £120,000 in 2013; £150,000 was given in 2014 for a presentation copy in a secretarial hand to Smith’s former pupil, Henry Herbert, Lord Porchester.

Bronze statue of Adam Smith by Alexander Stoddart, 2008, on the Royal Mile, Edinburgh

Last year, when as many as four copies came up for auction, results were consistently good if less sensational. At Christie’s New York bidding on one copy closed at $80,000 (£62,373); another copy made $90,000 (£69,765) in Chicago; and one at Sotheby’s London was taken to £70,000, virtually the same figure. Richard Payne Knight, the art connoisseur known for his interest in picturesque beauty and ancient phallic imagery, was the owner of the copy which came up at Christie’s on 11 December. With his annotations in volume II, the Payne Knight copy sold for a well deserved £90,000; with premium £112,500.
The value of an uncut copy in original boards has yet to be tested. The copy of the first edition which has made the most money to date is, appropriately enough, Smith’s own. One of two copies listed in his manuscript library catalogue of 1781, this has a binding of contemporary tree calf, restored by J. Macdonald. Somewhat disappointingly, there are no manuscript notes by the author and but one sign of his ownership, a small letterpress book label with his name on it. He was modest to the last.

The contemporary tree calf binding of the author’s copy. Courtesy of Christie’s

Yet this was the author’s copy of a work which has remained the foundation of political economy to this day. Homer B. Vanderblue, a professor at Harvard Business School and celebrated Smith collector, had acquired it sometime after 1939. Though the present whereabouts of Smith’s other copy is undetermined, it is known to have made £420 at auction in 1959. In contrast the Smith-Vanderblue copy, sold by Christie’s as lot 220 on 12 December, 2018, brought a hammer price of £750,000; with premium added this became £908,750; a breathtaking amount worthy of the great philosopher of money.

Ownership labels in Adam Smith’s own copy of Wealth of Nations. Courtesy of Christie’s