THE ART OF BOOK BINDING.
In these suggestions upon the important question of the binding of books,
I shall have nothing to say of the history of the art, and very little of
its aesthetics. The plainest and most practical hints will be aimed at,
and if my experience shall prove of value to any, I shall be well
rewarded for giving it here. For other matters readers will naturally
consult some of the numerous manuals of book-binding in English, French
and German. The sumptuous bindings executed in the sixteenth century,
under the patronage and the eyes of Grolier, the famous tooled
masterpieces of Derome, Le Gascon, Padeloup, Trautz and other French
artists, and the beautiful gems of the binder's art from the hands of
Roger Payne, Lewis, Mackenzie, Hayday and Bedford, are they not
celebrated in the pages of Dibdin, Lacroix, Fournier, Wheatley, and
Robert Hoe?
There are some professed lovers of books who affect either indifference
or contempt for the style in which their favorites are dressed. A well
known epigram of Burns is sometimes quoted against the fondness for fine
bindings which widely prevails in the present day, as it did in that of
the Scottish Poet. A certain Scottish nobleman, endowed with more wealth
than brains, was vain of his splendidly bound Shakespeare, which,
however, he never read. Burns, on opening the folio, found the leaves
sadly worm-eaten, and wrote these lines on the fly-leaf:
"Through and through th' inspired leaves,
Ye maggots make your windings;
But O respect his lordship's taste,
And spare the golden bindings!"
Yet no real book-lover fails to appreciate the neatness and beauty of a
tasteful binding, any more than he is indifferent to the same qualities
in literary style. Slovenly binding is almost as offensive to a
cultivated eye as slovenly composition. No doubt both are "mere
externals," as we are told, and so are the splendors of scenery, the
beauty of flowers, and the comeliness of the human form, or features, or
costume. Talk as men will of the insignificance of dress, it constitutes
a large share of the attractiveness of the world in which we live.
The two prime requisites of good binding for libraries are neatness and
solidity. It is pleasant to note the steady improvement in American
bindings of late years. As the old style of "Half cloth boards," of half
a century ago, with paper titles pasted on the backs, has given way to
the neat, embossed, full muslin gilt, so the clumsy and homely sheep-skin
binding has been supplanted by the half-roan or morocco, with marble or
muslin sides. Few books are issued, however, either here or abroad, in
what may be called permanent bindings. The cheapness demanded by buyers
of popular books forbids this, while it leaves to the taste and fancy of
every one the selection of the "library style" in which he will have his
collection permanently dressed.
What is the best style of binding for a select or a public library? is a
question often discussed, with wide discrepancies of opinion. The so
universally prevalent cloth binding is too flimsy for books subjected to
much use--as most volumes in public collections and many in private
libraries are likely to be. The choice of the more substantial bindings
lies between calf and morocco, and between half or full bindings of
either. For nearly all books, half binding, if well executed, and with
cloth sides, is quite as elegant, and very nearly as solid and lasting as
full leather; for if a book is so worn as to need rebinding, it is
generally in a part where the full binding wears out quite as fast as the
other. That is, it gets worn at the hinges and on the back, whether full
or half-bound. The exceptions are the heavy dictionaries, encyclopaedias,
and other works of reference, which are subjected to much wear and tear
at the sides, as well as at the back and corners. Full leather is much
more expensive than half binding, though not doubly so.
Every librarian or book collector should understand something of
book-binding and its terms, so that he may be able to give clear
directions as to every item involved in binding, repairing, or
re-lettering, and to detect imperfect or slighted work.
The qualities that we always expect to find in a well-bound book are
solidity, flexibility, and elegance. Special examination should be
directed toward each of these points in revising any lot of books
returned from a binder. Look at each book with regard to:--
1. Flexibility in opening.
2. Evenness of the cover, which should lie flat and
smooth--each edge being just parallel with the others
throughout.
3. Compactness--see that the volumes are thoroughly
pressed--solid, and not loose or spongy.
4. Correct and even lettering of titles, and other tooling.
5. Good wide margins.
A well-bound book always opens out flat, and stays open. It also shuts up
completely, and when closed stays shut. But how many books do we see
always bulging open at the sides, or stiffly resisting being opened by
too great tightness in the back? If the books you have had bound do not
meet all these requirements, it is time to look for another binder.
The different styles of dressing books may all be summed up in the
following materials: Boards, cloth, vellum, sheep, bock, pig-skin, calf,
Russia, and morocco--to which may be added of recent years, buckram,
duck, linoleum, and the imitations of leather, such as leatherette and
morocco paper, and of parchment. I take no account here of obsolete
styles--as ivory, wood, brass, silver and other metals, nor of velvet,
satin, and other occasional luxuries of the binder's art. These belong to
the domain of the amateur, the antiquary, or the book-fancier--not to
that of the librarian or the ordinary book-collector.
Roan leather is nothing but sheep-skin, stained or colored; basil or
basan is sheepskin tanned in bark, while roan is tanned in sumac, and
most of the so called moroccos are also sheep, ingeniously grained by a
mechanical process. As all the manufactures in the world are full of
"shoddy," or sham materials, the bookbinder's art affords no exception.
But if the librarian or collector patronises shams, he should at least do
it with his eyes open, and with due counting of the cost.
Now as to the relative merits and demerits of materials for binding. No
one will choose boards covered with paper for any book which is to be
subjected to perusal, and cloth is too flimsy and shaky in its attachment
to the book, however cheap, for any library volumes which are to be
constantly in use. It is true that since the bulk of the new books coming
into any library are bound in cloth, they may be safely left in it until
well worn; and by this rule, all the books which nobody ever reads may be
expected to last many years, if not for generations. Cloth is a very
durable material, and will outlast some of the leathers, but any wetting
destroys its beauty, and all colors but the darkest soon become soiled
and repulsive, if in constant use. In most libraries, I hold that every
cloth-bound book which is read, must sooner or later come to have a
stout leather jacket. It may go for years, especially if the book is well
sewed, but to rebinding it must come at last; and the larger the volume,
the sooner it becomes shaky, or broken at some weak spot.
The many beautiful new forms of cloth binding should have a word of
praise, but the many more which we see of gaudy, fantastic, and
meretricious bindings, and frightful combinations of colors must be
viewed with a shudder.
Vellum, formerly much used for book-bindings, is the modern name for
parchment. Parchment was the only known writing material up to the 12th
century, when paper was first invented. There are two kinds--animal and
vegetable. The vegetable is made from cotton fibre or paper, by dipping
it in a solution of sulphuric acid and [sometimes] gelatine, then
removing the acid by a weak solution of ammonia, and smooth finishing by
rolling the sheets over a heated cylinder. Vegetable parchment is used to
bind many booklets which it is desired to dress in an elegant or dainty
style, but is highly unsuitable for library books. Vellum proper is a
much thicker material, made from the skins of calves, sheep, or lambs,
soaked in lime-water, and smoothed and hardened by burnishing with a hard
instrument, or pumice-stone. The common vellum is made from sheep-skin
splits, or skivers, but the best from whole calf-skins. The hard, strong
texture of vellum is in its favor, but its white color and tendency to
warp are fatal objections to it as a binding material.
Vellum is wholly unfit for the shelves of a library; the elegant white
binding soils with dust, or the use of the hands, more quickly than any
other; and the vellum warps in a dry climate, or curls up in a heated
room, so as to be unmanageable upon the shelves, and a nuisance in the
eyes of librarian and reader alike. The thin vegetable parchment lately
in vogue for some books and booklets is too unsubstantial for anything
but a lady's boudoir, where it may have its little day--"a thing of
beauty," but by no means "a joy forever."
Sheepskin--once the full binding for most school-books, and for a large
share of law and miscellaneous works for libraries, is now but little
used, except in its disguised forms. It is too soft a leather for hard
wear and tear, and what with abrasion and breaking at the hinges (termed
by binders the joints), it will give little satisfaction in the long run.
Under the effect of gas and heated atmospheres sheep crumbles and turns
to powder. Its cheapness is about its only merit, and even this is
doubtful economy, since no binding can be called cheap that has to be
rebound or repaired every few years. In the form of half-roan or bock,
colored sheep presents a handsome appearance on the shelf, and in volumes
or sets which are reasonably secure from frequent handling, one is
sometimes justified in adopting it, as it is far less expensive than
morocco. Pig-skin has been recently revived as a binding material, but
though extremely hard and durable, it is found to warp badly on the
shelves.
Calf bindings have always been great favorites with book-lovers, and
there are few things more beautiful--_prima facie_, than a volume
daintily bound in light French calf, as smooth as glass, as fine as silk,
with elegant gold tooling without and within, gilt edges, and fly-leaves
of finest satin. I said beautiful, _prima facie_--and this calls to mind
the definition of that law term by a learned Vermont jurist, who said:
"Gentlemen of the jury, I must explain to you that a _prima facie_ case
is a case that is very good in front, but may be very bad in the rear."
So of our so much lauded and really lovely calf bindings: they develop
qualities in use which give us pause. Calf is the most brittle of the
leathers--hence it is always breaking at the hinges; it is a very smooth
leather--hence it shows every scratch instantly; it is a light and
delicate leather--hence it shows soils and stains more quickly than any
other. Out of every hundred calf-bound volumes in any well-used library,
there will not remain ten which have not had to be re-bound or repaired
at the end of twenty or thirty years. Heavy volumes bound in calf or
half-calf leather will break by their own weight on the shelves, without
any use at all; and smaller volumes are sure to have their brittle joints
snapped asunder by handling sooner or later--it is only a question of
time.
Next comes Russia leather, which is very thick and strong, being made of
the hides of cattle, colored, and perfumed by the oil of birch, and made
chiefly in Russia. The objections to this leather are its great cost, its
stiffness and want of elasticity, and its tendency to desiccate and lose
all its tenacity in the dry or heated atmosphere of our libraries. It
will break at the hinges--though not so readily as calf.
Lastly, we have the morocco leather, so called because it was brought
from Morocco, in Africa, and still we get the best from thence, and from
the Mediterranean ports of the Levant--whence comes another name for the
best of this favorite leather, "Levant morocco," which is the skin of the
mountain goat, and reckoned superior to all other leathers. The
characteristics of the genuine morocco, sometimes called Turkey morocco,
having a pebbled grain, distinguishing it from the smooth morocco, are
its toughness and durability, combined with softness and flexibility. It
has a very tenacious fibre, and I have never found a real morocco binding
broken at the hinges. The old proverb--"there is nothing like
leather"--is pregnant with meaning, and especially applies to the best
morocco. As no material yet discovered in so many ages can take the
place of leather for foot-wear and for harness, such is its tenacity and
elasticity--so for book coverings, to withstand wear and tear, good
leather is indispensable. There are thoroughly-bound books existing which
are five centuries old--representing about the time when leather began to
replace wood and metals for binding. The three great enemies of books are
too great heat, too much moisture, and coal gas, which produces a
sulphurous acid very destructive to bindings, and should never be used in
libraries. From the dangers which destroy calf and Russia leather,
morocco is measurably free.
As to color, I usually choose red for books which come to binding or
rebinding, for these reasons. The bulk of every library is of dark and
sombre color, being composed of the old-fashioned calf bindings, which
grow darker with age, mingled with the cloth bindings of our own day, in
which dark colors predominate. Now the intermixture of red morocco, in
all or most of the newly bound books, relieves the monotony of so much
blackness, lights up the shelves, and gives a more cheerful aspect to the
whole library. Some there are who insist upon varying the colors of
bindings with the subjects of the books--and the British Museum Library
actually once bound all works on botany in green, poetry in yellow,
history in red, and theology in blue; but this is more fanciful than
important. A second reason for preferring red in moroccos is that, being
dyed with cochineal, it holds its color more permanently than any
other--the moroccos not colored red turning to a dingy, disagreeable
brown after forty or fifty years, while the red are found to be fast
colors. This was first discovered in the National Library of France, and
ever since most books in that great collection have been bound in red. A
celebrated binder having recommended this color to a connoisseur who was
having fine morocco binding done, instanced the example of the Paris
Library, whose books, said he, are "mostly red," to which the amateur
replied that he hoped they were.
Add to the merits of morocco leather the fact that it is not easily
scratched nor stained, that it is very tough in wear, and resists better
than any other the moisture and soiling of the hands--and we have a
material worthy of all acceptance.
In half-binding chosen for the great majority of books because it is much
cheaper than full leather, the sides are covered with muslin or with some
kind of colored paper--usually marble. The four corners of every book,
however, should always be protected by leather or, better still, by
vellum, which is a firmer material--otherwise they will rapidly wear off,
and the boards will break easily at their corners. As to the relative
merits of cloth and paper for the sides of books, cloth is far more
durable, though it costs more. Paper becomes quickly frayed at the edges,
or is liable to peel where pasted on, though it may be renewed at small
expense, and may properly be used except upon the much-read portion of
the library. The cloth or paper should always harmonize in color with the
leather to which it is attached. They need not be the same, but they
should be of similar shade.
One more reason for preferring morocco to other leathers is that you can
always dispense with lettering-pieces or patches in gilding the titles on
the back. All light-colored bindings (including law calf) are open to the
objection that gold lettering is hardly legible upon them. Hence the
necessity of stamping the titles upon darker pieces of leather, which are
fastened to the backs. These lettering-pieces become loose in over-heated
libraries, and tend continually to peel off, entailing the expense of
repairing or re-lettering. Every morocco bound book can be lettered
directly upon the leather. Bock is made of the skin of the Persian sheep,
and is called Persian in London. It is a partially unsuccessful imitation
of morocco, becoming easily abraded, like all the sheep-skin leathers,
and although it is to be had in all colors, and looks fairly handsome for
a time, and is tougher than skiver (or split sheep-skin), the books that
are bound in it will sooner or later become an eyesore upon the shelves.
A skin of Persian leather costs about one-third the price of genuine
morocco, or goat. But the actual saving in binding is in a far less
ratio--the difference being only six to eight cents per volume. It is
really much cheaper to use morocco in the first place, than to undergo
all the risks of deterioration and re-binding.
Of the various imitations of leather, or substitutes for it, we have
leatherette, leather-cloth, duck, fibrette, feltine, and buckram. Buckram
and duck are strong cotton or linen fabricks, made of different colors,
and sometimes figured or embossed to give them somewhat the look of
leather. Hitherto, they are made mostly in England, and I have learned of
no American experience in their favor except the use of stout duck for
covering blank books and binding newspapers. The use of buckram has been
mostly abandoned by the libraries. Morocco cloth is American, but has no
advantage over plain muslin or book cloth, that I am aware of.
Leatherette, made principally of paper, colored and embossed to simulate
morocco leather, appears to have dropped out of use almost as fast as it
came in, having no quality of permanence, elegance, or even of great
cheapness to commend it. Leatherette tears easily, and lacks both
tenacity and smoothness.
Both feltine and fibrette are made of paper--tear quickly, and are unfit
for use on any book that is ever likely to be read. All these imitations
of leather are made of paper as their basis, and hence can never be
proper substitutes for leather.
All torn leaves or plates in books should be at once mended by pasting a
very thin onion-skin paper on both sides of the torn leaf, and pressing
gently between leaves of sized paper until dry.
Corners made of vellum or parchment are more durable than any leather.
When dry, the parchment becomes as hard almost as iron and resists falls
or abrasion. To use it on books where the backs are of leather is a
departure from the uniformity or harmony of style insisted upon by many,
but in binding books that are to be greatly worn, use should come before
beauty.
In rebinding, all maps or folded plates should be mounted on thin canvas,
linen, or muslin, strong and fine, to protect them from inevitable
tearing by long use. If a coarse or thick cloth is used, the maps will
not fold or open easily and smoothly.
The cutting or trimming of the edges of books needs to be watched with
jealous care. Few have reflected that the more margin a binder cuts off,
the greater his profit on any job, white paper shavings having a very
appreciable price by the pound. A strictly uncut book is in many American
libraries a rarity. And of the books which go a second time to the
binder, although at first uncut, how many retain their fair proportions
of margin when they come back? You have all seen books in which the text
has been cut into by the ruthless knife-machine of the binder. This is
called "bleeding" a book, and there are no words strong enough to
denounce this murderous and cold-blooded atrocity. The trimming of all
books should be held within the narrowest limits--for the life of a book
depends largely upon its preserving a good margin. Its only chance of
being able to stand a second rebinding may depend upon its being very
little trimmed at its first. If it must be cut at all, charge your binder
to take off the merest shaving from either edge.
Every new book or magazine added to the library, if uncut, should be
carefully cut with a paper-knife before it goes into the hands of any
reader. Spoiled or torn or ragged edges will be the penalty of neglecting
this. You have seen people tear open the leaves of books and magazines
with their fingers--a barbarism which renders him who would be guilty of
it worthy of banishment from the resorts of civilization. In cutting
books, the leaves should always be held firmly down--and the knife
pressed evenly through the uncut leaves to the farthest verge of the
back. Books which are cut in the loose fashion which many use are left
with rough or ragged edges always, and often a slice is gouged out of the
margin by the mis-directed knife. Never trust a book to a novice to be
cut, without showing him how to do it, and how not to do it.
The collation of new books in cloth or _broché_ should be done before
cutting, provided they are issued to readers untrimmed. In collating
books in two or more volumes double watchfulness is needed to guard
against a missing signature, which may have its place filled by the same
pages belonging to another volume--a mixture sometimes made in binderies,
in "gathering" the sheets, and which makes it necessary to see that the
signatures are right as well as the pages. The collator should check off
all plates and maps called for by the table of contents to make sure that
the copy is perfect. Books without pagination are of course to have their
leaves counted, which is done first in detail, one by one, and then
verified by a rapid counting in sections, in the manner used by printers
and binders in counting paper by the quire.
The binding of books may be divided into two styles or methods, namely,
machine-made book-bindings, and hand-made bindings. Binding by machinery
is wholly a modern art, and is applied to all or nearly all new books
coming from the press. As these are, in more than nine cases out of ten,
bound in cloth covers, and these covers, or cases, are cut out and
stamped by machinery, such books are called "case-made." The distinction
between this method of binding and the hand method is that in the former
the case is made separately from the book, which is then put into it.
After the sheets of any book come pressed and dried from the printing
office, the first step is to fold them from the large flat sheets into
book form. This is sometimes done by hand-folders of bone or some other
hard material, but in large establishments for making books, it is done
by a folding machine. This will fold ten thousand or more sheets in a
day. The folded sheets are next placed in piles or rows, in their
numerical sequence, and "gathered" by hand, _i. e._: a bindery hand picks
up the sheets one by one, with great rapidity, until one whole book is
gathered and collated, and the process is repeated so long as any sheets
remain. Next, the books are thoroughly pressed or "smashed" as it is
called, in a powerful smashing-machine, giving solidity to the book,
which before pressing was loose and spongy. Then the books are sawed or
grooved in the back by another machine, operating a swiftly moving saw,
and sewed on cords by still another machine, at about half the cost of
hand-sewing. Next, they are cut or trimmed on the three edges in a
cutting-machine. The backs of the books are made round by a
rounding-machine, leaving the back convex and the front concave in form,
as seen in all finished books. The books are now ready for the covers.
These consist of binders' board or mill-board, cut out of large sheets
into proper size, with lightning-like rapidity, by another machine
called a rotary board-cutter. The cloth which is to form the back and
sides of the book is cut out, of proper size for the boards, from great
rolls of stamped or ribbed or embossed muslin, by another machine. The
use of cloth, now so universal for book-binding, dates back little more
than half a century. About 1825, Mr. Leighton, of London, introduced it
as a substitute for the drab-colored paper then used on the sides, and
for the printed titles on the backs. The boards are firmly glued to the
cloth, the edges of which are turned over the boards, and fastened on the
inside of the covers. The ornamental stamps or figures seen on the
covers, both at the back and sides are stamped in with a heated die of
brass, or other metal, worked by machinery. The lettering of the title is
done in the same way, only that gold-leaf is applied before the die
falls. Lastly, the book is pasted by its fly leaves or end-leaves,
(sometimes with the addition of a cloth guard) to the inside of the cloth
case or cover, and the book is done, after a final pressing. By these
rapid machine methods a single book-manufacturing house can turn out ten
thousand volumes in a day, with a rapidity which almost takes the breath
away from the beholder.
There is a kind of binding which dispenses entirely with sewing the
sheets of a book. The backs are soaked with a solution of india-rubber,
and each sheet must be thoroughly agglutinated to the backs, so as to
adhere firmly to its fellows. This requires that all the sheets shall be
folded as single leaves or folios, otherwise the inner leaves of the
sheets, having no sewing, would drop out. This method is employed on
volumes of plates, music, or any books made up of large separate sheets.
In notable contrast to these rapid methods of binding what are termed
case-made books, comes the hand-made process, where only partial use of
machinery is possible.
The rebinding process is divided into three branches: preparing,
forwarding, and finishing. The most vital distinction between a
machine-made and a hand-made binding, is that the cloth or case-made book
is not fastened into its cover in a firm and permanent way, as in
leather-backed books. It is simply pasted or glued to its boards--not
interlaced by the cords or bands on which it is sewed. Hence one can
easily tear off the whole cover of a cloth-bound book, by a slight
effort, and such volumes tend to come to pieces early, under constant
wear and tear of library service.
Let us now turn to the practical steps pursued in the treatment of books
for library use. In re-binding a book, the first step is to take the book
apart, or, as it is sometimes called, to take it to pieces. This is done
by first stripping off its cover, if it has one. Cloth covers easily come
off, as their boards are not tied to the cords on which the book is
sewed, but are simply fastened by paste or glue to the boards by a muslin
guard, or else the cloth is glued to the back of the book. If the book is
leather-covered, or half-bound, _i. e._: with a leather back and
(usually) leather on its four corners, taking it to pieces is a somewhat
slower process. The binder's knife is used to cut the leather at the
joints or hinges of the volume, so that the boards may be removed. The
cords that tie the boards to the volume are cut at the same time. If the
book has a loose or flexible back, the whole cover comes easily off: if
bound with a tight back, the glued leather back must be soaked with a
sponge full of water, till it is soft enough to peel off, and let the
sheets be easily separated.
The book is now stripped of its former binding, and the next step is to
take it apart, signature by signature. A signature is that number of
leaves which make up one sheet of the book in hand. Thus, an octavo
volume, or a volume printed in eights, as it is called, has eight leaves,
or sixteen pages to a signature; a quarto four leaves; a duodecimo, or 12
mo. twelve leaves. The term signature (from Lat. _signare_, a sign) is
also applied to a letter or figure printed at the foot of the first page
of each sheet or section of the book. If the letters are used, the
signatures begin with A. and follow in regular sequence of the alphabet.
If the book is a very thick one, (or more than twenty-six signatures)
then after signature Z, it is customary to duplicate the letters--A.
A.--etc., for the remaining signatures. If figures are used instead of
letters, the signatures run on to the last, in order of numbers. These
letters, indicating signatures are an aid to the binder, in folding,
"gathering," and collating the consecutive sheets of any book, saving
constant reference to the "pagination," as it is termed, or the paging of
the volume, which would take much more time. In many books, you find the
signature repeated in the "inset," or the inner leaves of the sheet, with
a star or a figure to mark the sequence. Many books, however, are now
printed without any signature marks whatever.
To return: in taking apart the sheets or signatures, where they are stuck
together at the back by adhesive glue or paste, the knife is first used
to cut the thread in the grooves, where the book is sewed on cords or
tape. Then the back is again soaked, the sheets are carefully separated,
and the adhering substance removed by the knife or fingers. Care has to
be taken to lay the signatures in strict order or sequence of pages, or
the book may be bound up wrongly. The threads are next to be removed from
the inside of every sheet. The sheets being all separated, the book is
next pressed, to render all the leaves smooth, and the book solid for
binding. Formerly, books were beaten by a powerful hammer, to accomplish
this, but it is much more quickly and effectively done in most binderies
by the ordinary screw press. Every pressing of books should leave them
under pressure at least eight hours.
After pressing, the next step is to sew the sheets on to cords or twine,
set vertically at proper distances in a frame, called a "sewing bench,"
for this purpose. No book can be thoroughly well bound if the sewing is
slighted in any degree. Insist upon strong, honest linen thread--if it
breaks with a slight pull it is not fit to be used in a book. The book is
prepared for the sewer by sawing several grooves across the back with a
common saw. The two end grooves are light and narrow, the central ones
wider and deeper. Into these inner grooves, the cords fit easily, and the
book being taken, sheet by sheet, is firmly sewed around the cords, by
alternate movements of the needle and thread, always along the middle of
the sheet, the thread making a firm knot at each end (called the
"kettle-stitch") as it is returned for sewing on the next sheet.
Sometimes the backs are not sawed at all, but the sheets of the book are
sewed around the cords, which thus project a little from the back, and
form the "bands," seen in raised form on the backs of some books. Books
should be sewed on three to six cords, according to their size. This
raised-band sewing is reckoned by some a feature of excellent binding.
The sunken-band style is apt to give a stiff back, while the raised bands
are usually treated with a flexible back. When sewed, the book is
detached from its fellows, which may have been sewed on the same bench,
by slipping it along the cords, then cutting them apart, so as to leave
some two inches of each cord projecting, as ends to be fastened later to
the board. In careful binding, the thread is sewed "all along," _i. e._:
each sheet by itself, instead of "two on," as it is called.
The next process is termed "lining up," and consists of putting on the
proper fly-leaves or end-leaves, at the beginning and end of the volume.
These usually consist of four leaves of ordinary white printing paper at
each end, sometimes finished out with two leaves of colored or marbled
paper, to add a touch of beauty to the book when opened. Marbled paper is
more durable in color than the tinted, and does not stain so easily. One
of these end-leaves is pasted down to the inside cover, while the other
is left flying--whence "fly-leaf."
After this comes the cutting of the book at the edges. This is done by
screwing it firmly in a cutting-machine, which works a sharp knife
rapidly, shaving off the edges successively of the head, front and end,
or "tail" as it is called in book-binding parlance. This trimming used to
be done by hand, with a sharp cutting knife called by binders a "plough."
Now, there are many forms of cutting machines, some of which are called
"guillotines" for an obvious reason. In binding some books, which it is
desired to preserve with wide margins, only a mere shaving is taken off
the head, so as to leave it smooth at the top, letting the front and tail
leaves remain uncut. But in case of re-binding much-used books, the edges
are commonly so much soiled that trimming all around may be required, in
order that they may present a decent appearance. Yet in no case should
the binder be allowed to cut any book deeply, so as to destroy a good,
fair margin. Care must also be taken to cut the margins evenly, at right
angles, avoiding any crooked lines.
After cutting the book comes "rounding," or giving the back of the book a
curved instead of its flat shape. This process is done with the hand, by
a hammer, or in a rounding press, with a metallic roller. Before
rounding, the back of the book is glued up, that is, receives a coating
of melted glue with a glueing brush, to hold the sections together, and
render the back firm, and a thorough rubbing of the back with hot glue
between the sections gives strength to the volume.
Next comes the treatment of the edges of the book, hitherto all white, in
order to protect them from showing soil in long use. Sometimes (and this
is the cheaper process) the books are simply sprinkled at the edges with
a brush dipped in a dark fluid made of burnt umber or red ochre, and
shaken with a quick concussion near the edges until they receive a
sprinkle of color from the brush. Other books receive what is called a
solid color on the edges, the books being screwed into a press, and the
color applied with a sponge or brush.
But a marbled edge presents a far more handsome appearance, and should
harmonize in color and figure with the marbled paper of the end leaves.
Marbling, so called from its imitation of richly veined colored marble,
is staining paper or book edges with variegated colors. The process of
marbling is highly curious, both chemically and aesthetically, and may be
briefly described. A large shallow trough or vat is filled with prepared
gum water (gum-tragacanth being used); on the surface of this gum-water
bright colors, mixed with a little ox-gall, to be used in producing the
composite effect aimed at in the marbling are thrown or sprinkled in
liquid form. Then they are deftly stirred or agitated on the surface of
the water, with an implement shaped to produce a certain pattern. The
most commonly used one is a long metallic comb, which is drawn across the
surface of the combined liquids, leaving its pattern impressed upon the
ductile fluid. The edges of the book to be marbled are then touched or
dipped on the top of the water, on which the coloring matter floats, and
at once withdrawn, exhibiting on the edge the precise pattern of "combed
marble" desired, since the various colors--red, yellow, blue, white,
etc., have adhered to the surface of the book-edges. The serrated and
diversified effect of most comb-marbling is due to stroking the comb in
waved lines over the surface. The spotted effect so much admired in other
forms, is produced by throwing the colors on with a brush, at the fancy
of the skilled workman, or artist, as you may call him. Marbled paper is
made in the same way, by dipping one surface of the white sheet, held in
a curved form, with great care on the surface of the coloring vat. This
is termed shell and wave marbling, as distinguished from comb-marbling.
The paper or the book edges are next finished by sizing and burnishing,
which gives them a bright glistening appearance.
A still more ornate effect in a book is attained by gilding the edges.
Frequently the head of a book is gilt, leaving the front and tail of an
uncut book without ornament, and this is esteemed a very elegant style by
book connoisseurs, who are, or should be solicitous of wide margins. The
gilding of the top edge is a partial protection from dust falling inside,
to which the other edges are not so liable. To gild a book edge, it is
placed in a press, the edges scraped or smoothed, and coated with a
red-colored fluid, which serves to heighten the effect of the gold. Then
a sizing is applied by a camel's-hair brush, being a sticky substance,
usually the white of an egg, mixed with water (termed by binders
"glaire") and the gold-leaf is laid smoothly over it. When the sizing is
dry, the gold is burnished with a tool, tipped with an agate or
blood-stone, drawn forcibly over the edge until it assumes a glistening
appearance.
After the edges have been treated by whatever process, there follows what
is termed the "backing" of the book. The volume is pressed between iron
clamps, and the back is hammered or rolled where it joins the sides, so
as to form a groove to hold the boards forming the solid portion of the
cover of every book. A backing-machine is sometimes used for this
process, making by pressure the joint or groove for the boards. Then the
"head-band" is glued on, being a silk braid or colored muslin, fastened
around a cord, which projects a little above the head and the tail, at
the back of the book, giving it a more finished appearance. At the same
time, a book-mark for keeping the place is sometimes inserted and
fastened like the head-band. This is often a narrow ribbon of colored
silk, or satin, and helps to give a finish to the book, as well as to
furnish the reader a trustworthy guide to keep a place--as it will not
fall out like bits of paper inserted for that purpose.
Next, the mill-boards are applied, cut so as to project about an eighth
to a quarter of an inch from the edges of the book on three sides. The
book is held to the boards by the ends of its cords being interlaced, _i.
e._: passed twice through holes pierced in the boards, the loose ends of
the cords being then wet with paste and hammered down flat to the surface
of the boards. The best tar-boards should be used, which are made of old
rope; no board made of straw is fit to be used on any book. Straw boards
are an abomination--a cheap expedient which costs dearly in the end. The
binder should use heavy boards on the larger and thicker volumes, but
thin ones on all duodecimos and smaller sizes.
Next, the books are subjected to a second pressing, after which the
lining of the back is in order. Good thick brown paper is generally used
for this, cut to the length of the book, and is firmly glued to the back,
and rubbed down closely with a bone folder. A cloth "joint," or piece of
linen (termed "muslin super,") is often glued to the back, with two
narrow flaps to be pasted to the boards, on each side, thus giving
greater tenacity to the covering. If the book is to be backed so as to
open freely, that is, to have a spring back or elastic back, two
thicknesses of a firm, strong paper, or thin card-board are used, one
thickness of the paper being glued to the back of the book, while the
other--open in the middle, but fastened at the edges, is to be glued to
the leather of which the back is to be made.
After this, comes putting the book in leather. If full bound a piece of
leather cut full size of the volume, with about half an inch over, is
firmly glued or pasted to the boards and the back, the leather being
turned over the edges of the boards, and nicely glued on their inside
margin. It is of great importance that the edges of the leather should be
smoothly pared down with a sharp knife, so as to present an even edge
where the leather joins the boards, not a protuberance--which makes an
ugly and clumsy piece of work, instead of a neat one.
For half-binding, a piece of leather is taken large enough to cover the
back lengthwise, and turn in at the head and tail, while the width should
be such as to allow from one to one and a half inches of the leather to
be firmly glued to the boards next the back. The four corners of the
boards are next to be leathered, the edges of the leather being carefully
pared down, to give a smooth surface, even with the boards, when turned
in. The leather is usually wet, preparatory to being manipulated thus,
which renders it more flexible and ductile than in its dry state. The
cloth or marbled paper is afterwards pasted or glued to the sides of the
book, and turned neatly over the edge of the boards.
It may be added, that the edges of the boards, in binding nice books, are
sometimes ground off on a swiftly revolving emery-wheel, giving the book
a beveled edge, which is regarded as handsomer and more finished than a
straight rectangular edge.
All the processes hitherto described are called "forwarding" the book: we
now come to what is denominated "finishing." This includes the lettering
of the title, and the embellishing of the back and sides, with or without
gilding, as the case may be. Before this is taken in hand, the leather of
the book must be perfectly dry. For the lettering, copper-faced types are
used to set up the desired sequence of letters and words, and care and
taste should be exercised to have (1) Types neither too large, which
present a clumsy appearance, nor too small, which are difficult to read.
(2) Proper spacing of the words and lines, and "balancing" the component
parts of the lettering on the back, so as to present a neat and
harmonious effect to the eye. A word should never be divided or
hyphenated in lettering, when it can be avoided. In the case of quite
thin volumes, the title may be lettered lengthwise along the back, in
plain, legible type, instead of in very small letters across the back,
which are often illegible. The method of applying gold lettering is as
follows: the back of the book where the title is to go, is first
moistened with a sticky substance, as albumen or glaire, heretofore
mentioned, laid on with a camel's hair brush. The type (or the die as the
case may be) is heated in a binder's charcoal furnace, or gas stove, to
insure the adhesion of the gold leaf. The thin gold leaf (which comes
packed in little square "books," one sheet between every two leaves) is
then cut the proper size by the broad thin knife of the "finisher," and
carefully laid over the sized spot to receive the lettering. Usually, two
thicknesses of gold leaf are laid one above another, which ensures a
brighter and more decided effect in the lettering. The type metal or die
is then pressed firmly and evenly down upon the gold-leaf, and the
surplus shavings of the gold carefully brushed off and husbanded, for
this leaf is worth money. The gold leaf generally in use costs about
$6.50 for 500 little squares or sheets. It is almost inconceivably thin,
the thickness of one gold leaf being estimated at about 1/280000 of an
inch.
Besides the lettering, many books receive gold ornamentation on the back
or side of a more or less elaborate character. Designs of great artistic
beauty, and in countless variety, have been devised for book ornaments,
and French and English book-binders have vied with each other for
generations in the production of decorative borders, fillets,
centre-pieces, rolls, and the most exquisite gold-tooling, of which the
art is capable.
These varied patterns of book ornamentation are cut in brass or steel,
and applied by the embossing press with a rapidity far exceeding that of
the hand-work formerly executed by the gilders of books. But for choice
books and select jobs, only the hands are employed, with such fillets,
stamps, pallets, rolls, and polishing irons as may aid in the nice
execution of the work. If a book is to be bound in what is called
"morocco antique," it is to be "blind-tooled," _i. e._: the hot iron
wheels which impress the fillets or rolls, are to be worked in blank, or
without gold-leaf ornamentation. This is a rich and tasteful binding,
especially with carefully beveled boards, and gilded edges.
On some books, money has been lavished on the binding to an amount
exceeding by many fold the cost of the book itself. Elegant book-binding
has come to be reckoned as a fine art, and why should not "the art
preservative of all other arts"--printing--be preserved in permanent and
sumptuous, if not splendid style, in its environment? Specimens of French
artistic binding from the library of Grolier, that celebrated and
munificent patron of art, who died in 1565, have passed through the hands
of many eager connoisseurs, always at advancing prices. The Grolier
binding was notable for the elegant finish of its interlaced ornaments
in gold-leaf, a delicacy of touch, and an inimitable flowing grace, which
modern binders have struggled after in vain. At the Beckford Library sale
in London, in 1884, there was a great array of fine French bindings of
early date. A book from Grolier's library, the "Toison d'Or," 1563,
brought £405, or over $2,000, and a Heptameron, which had belonged to
Louis XIV, in beautiful brown morocco, with crown, fleur-de-lys, a stag,
a cock, and stars, as ornaments, all exquisitely worked in gold, lined
with vellum, was sold for £400. Following the Grolier patterns, came
another highly decorative style, by the French binders, which was notable
for the very delicate gold tooling, covering the whole sides of the book
with exquisite scroll-work, and branches of laurel.
The most celebrated of English book-binders was Roger Payne, who was
notable for the careful labor bestowed on the forwarding and finishing of
his books, specimens of which are still reckoned among the
_chefs-d'oeuvre_ of the art. His favorite style was a roughly-grained red
morocco, always full-bound, and he kept in view what many binders forget,
that the leather is the main thing in a finely executed binding, not to
be overlaid by too much gilding and decoration. He charged twelve guineas
each (over $60) for binding some small volumes in his best style. Payne's
most notable successors have been Lewis, Hayday, Bedford, and Zaehnsdorf,
the latter of whom is the author of a treatise on book-binding. At the
art exhibition of 1862, a book bound by Bedford was exhibited, which took
two months merely to finish, and the binding cost forty guineas; and a
Doré's Dante, exquisitely bound by Zaehnsdorf, in Grolier style, cost one
hundred guineas.
A decorative treatment not yet mentioned is applied to the covers of some
books, which are bound in elegant full calf. To give to this leather the
elegant finish known as "tree-calf binding", it is first washed with
glaire or albumen. The boards of the book are then bent to a convex
shape, and water sprinkled over, until it runs down from the centre in
many little branches or rivulets. While running, a solution of copperas
is sprinkled on, and carried along the branches which radiate from the
central trunk, producing the dark-mottled colored effect which resembles,
more or less nearly, a tree with its spreading branches.
To make the book beautiful should be the united aim of all who are
concerned in its manufacture--the paper-maker, the printer, and the
book-binder. While utility comes first in the art of book-making for
libraries, yet neatness and even elegance should always be united with
it. An ill-forwarded book, or a badly finished one, presents a clumsy,
unattractive look to the eye; while an evenly made piece of work, and a
careful and tasteful ornamentation in the gilding, attract every
discerning reader by their beauty. One writer upon book-binding terms the
forwarder of the book an artizan, and the finisher an artist; but both
should have the true artist's taste, in order to produce the work that
shall commend itself by intrinsic excellence. The form and shape of the
book depend wholly, indeed, on the forwarder.
We are told that the great beauty of the Grolier bindings lay in the
lavish and tasteful adornment of the sides. In fact, much depends upon
the design, in every piece of decorative work. The pretty scroll
patterns, the interlaced figures, the delicate tracery, the circles,
rosettes, and stars, the lovely arabesques, the flowers and leaves
borrowed from the floral kingdom, the geometric lines, the embroidered
borders, like fine lace-work,--all these lend their separate individual
charms to the finish of the varied specimens of the binder's art. There
are some books that look as brilliant as jewels in their rich, lustrous
adornment, the design sometimes powdered with gold points and stars. Some
gems of art are lined with rich colored leather in the inside covers,
which are stamped and figured in gold. This is termed "_doublé_" by the
French. Some have their edges gilded over marbling, a refinement of
beauty which adds richness to the work, the marble design showing through
the brilliant gold, when the edge is turned. Others have pictorial
designs drawn on the edges, which are then gilded over the pictures. This
complex style of gilding, the French term _gaufré_. It was formerly much
in vogue, but is latterly out of fashion. Many gems of binding are
adorned with fly-leaves of moire silk, or rich colored satin. Color,
interspersed with gold in the finish of a book covering, heightens the
effect. The morocco of the side-cover is sometimes cut, and inlaid with
leather of a different color. Inlaying with morocco or kid is the richest
style of decoration which the art has yet reached. Beautiful bindings
have been in greater request during the past twenty years than ever
before. There was a renaissance of the ancient styles of decoration in
France, and the choice Grolier and Maioli patterns were revived with the
general applause of the lovers of fine books.
In vivid contrast to these lovely specimens of the binder's art, are
found innumerable bibliopegic horrors, on the shelves of countless
libraries, public and private. Among these are to be reckoned most law
books, clad in that dead monotony of ugliness, which Charles Dickens has
described as "that _under-done pie-crust_ cover, which is technically
known as law calf." There are other uncouth and unwholesome specimens
everywhere abroad, "whom Satan hath bound", to borrow Mr. Henry Stevens's
witty application of a well-known Scripture text. Such repellant
bindings are only fit to serve as models to be avoided by the librarian.
The binding that is executed by machinery is sometimes called "commercial
binding". It is also known as "edition binding", because the whole
edition of a book is bound in uniform style of cover. While the modern
figured cloth binding originated in England, it has had its fullest
development in the United States. Here, those ingenious and powerful
machines which execute every branch of the folding and forwarding of a
book, and even the finishing of the covers, with almost lightning speed,
were mostly invented and applied. Very vivid is the contrast between the
quiet, humdrum air of the old-fashioned bindery hand-work, and the
ceaseless clang and roar of the machinery which turns out thousands of
volumes in a day.
"Not as ours the books of old,
Things that steam can stamp and fold."
I believe that I failed to notice, among the varieties of material for
book-bindings heretofore enumerated, some of the rarer and more singular
styles. Thus, books have been bound in enamel, (richly variegated in
color) in Persian silk, in seal-skin, in the skin of the rabbit,
white-bear, crocodile, cat, dog, mole, tiger, otter, buffalo, wolf, and
even rattle-snake. A favorite modern leather for purses and satchels,
alligator-skin, has been also applied to the clothing of books. Many
eccentric fancies have been exemplified in book-binding, but the acme of
gruesome oddity has been reached by binding books in human skin, of which
many examples are on record. It is perhaps three centuries old, but the
first considerable instance of its use grew out of the horrors of the
French Revolution. In England, the Bristol law library has several
volumes bound in the skin of local criminals, flayed after execution,
and specially tanned for the purpose. It is described as rather darker
than vellum. A Russian poet is said to have bound his sonnets in human
leather--his own skin--taken from a broken thigh--and the book he
presented to the lady of his affections! Such ghoulish incidents as these
afford curious though repulsive glimpses of the endless vagaries of human
nature.
It is said that the invention of half-binding originated among the
economists of Germany; and some wealthy bibliophiles have stigmatized
this style of dressing books as "genteel poverty." But its utility and
economy have been demonstrated too long to admit of any doubt that
half-binding has come to stay; while, as we have seen, it is also capable
of attractive aesthetic features. Mr. William Matthews, perhaps the
foremost of American binders, said that "a book when neatly forwarded,
and cleanly covered, is in a very satisfactory condition without any
finishing or decorating." It was this same binder who exhibited at the
New York World's Fair Exhibition of 1853, a copy of Owen Jones's
Alhambra, bound by him in full Russia, inlaid with blue and red morocco,
with gold tooling all executed by hand, taking six months to complete,
and costing the binder no less than five hundred dollars.
Book lettering, or stamping the proper title on the back of the book, is
a matter of the first importance. As the titles of most books are much
too long to go on the back, a careful selection of the most distinctive
words becomes necessary. Here the taste and judgment of the librarian
come indispensably into play. To select the lettering of a book should
never be left to the binder, because it is not his business, and because,
in most cases, he will make a mistake somewhere in the matter. From want
of care on this point, many libraries are filled with wrongly lettered
books, misleading titles, and blunders as ludicrous as they are
distressing. I have had to have thousands of volumes in the Library of
Congress re-lettered. A copy of Lord Bacon's "Sylva Sylvarum", for
example, was lettered "Verlum's Sylva"--because the sapient binder read
on the title-page "By Baron Verulam", and it was not his business to find
out that this was the title of honor which Bacon bore; so, by a compound
blunder, he converted Verulam into Verlum, and gave the book to an
unknown writer. This is perhaps an extreme case, but you will find many
to match it. Another folio, Rochefort's History of the Caribby Islands,
was lettered "Davies' Carriby Islands," because the title bore the
statement "Rendered into English by John Davies." In another library, the
great work of the naturalist, Buffon, was actually lettered "Buffoon's
Natural History." Neither of these blunders was as bad as that of the
owner of an elegant black-letter edition of a Latin classic, which was
printed without title-page, like most fifteenth century books, and began
at the top of the first leaf, in large letters--"HOC INCIPIT," signifying
"This begins", followed by the title or subject of the book. The wiseacre
who owned it had the book richly bound, and directed it to be lettered on
the back--"Works of Hoc Incipit, Rome, 1490." This is a true story, and
the hero of it might perhaps, on the strength of owning so many learned
works, have passed for a philosopher, if he had not taken the pains to
advertise himself as a blockhead.
Some of the commonest blunders are stamping on the back the translator's
or the editor's name, instead of that of the author of the book; putting
on adjectives instead of substantives for titles; modernizing ancient and
characteristic spelling, found in the title, (the exact orthography of
which should always be followed); mixing up the number and the case of
Latin titles, and those in other foreign languages; leaving off entirely
the name of the writer; and lettering periodicals by putting on the
volume without the year, or the year, without the number of the volume.
"No one but an idiot", said Mr. C. Walford to the London Librarians'
Conference, "would send his books to the binder, without indicating the
lettering he desires on the backs." The only safe-guard is for the
librarian or owner to prescribe on a written slip in each volume, a title
for every book, before it goes to the binder, who will be only too glad
to have his own time saved--since time is money to him. I would not
underrate the book-binders, who are a most worthy and intelligent class,
numbering in their ranks men who are scholars as well as artists; but
they are concerned chiefly with the mechanics and not with the
metaphysics of their art, and moreover, they are not bound by that rigid
rule which should govern the librarian--namely--to have no ignoramus
about the premises.
In writing letterings (for I take it that no one would be guilty of
defacing his title-pages by marking them up with directions to the
binder) you should definitely write out the parts of the title as they
are to run on the back of the book, spaced line upon line, and not "run
together." I think that the name of the author should always stand first
at the head of the lettering, because it affords the quickest guide to
the eye in finding any book, as well as in replacing it upon the shelves.
Especially useful and time-saving is this, where classes of books are
arranged in alphabetical sequence. Is not the name of the author commonly
uppermost in the mind of the searcher? Then, let it be uppermost on the
book sought also. Follow the name of the author by the briefest possible
words selected from the title which will suffice to characterize the
subject of the work. Thus, the title--"On the Origin of Species by means
of Natural Selection", by Charles Darwin, should be abbreviated into
Darwin
--------
Origin of Species.
Here are no superfluous words, to consume the binder's time and
gold-leaf, and to be charged in the bill; or to consume the time of the
book-searcher, in stopping to read a lot of surplusage on the back of the
book, before seizing it for immediate use. Books in several volumes
should have the number of each volume plainly marked in Arabic (not
Roman) numerals on the back. The old-fashioned method of expressing
numerals by letters, instead of figures, is too cumbrous and
time-consuming to be tolerated. You want to letter, we will say, vol. 88
of Blackwood's Magazine. If you follow the title-page of that book, as
printed, you have to write
"Volume LXXXVIII," eight letters, for the number of the volume, instead
of two simple figures--thus--88.
Now can any one give a valid reason for the awkward and tedious method of
notation exhibited in the Roman numerals? If it were only the lost time
of the person who writes it, or the binder's finisher who letters it, it
would be comparatively insignificant. But think of the time wasted by the
whole world of readers, who must go through a more or less troublesome
process of notation before they get a clear notion of what all this
superfluous stuff stands for instead of the quick intuition with which
they take in the Arabic figures; and who must moreover, by the antiquated
method, take valuable time to write out LXXXVIII, eight figures instead
of two, to say nothing of the added liability to error, which increases
in the exact ratio of the number of figures to be written. Which of these
two forms of expression is more quickly written, or stamped, or read? By
which method of notation will the library messenger boys or girls soonest
find the book? This leads me to say what cannot be too strongly insisted
upon; all library methods should be time-saving methods, and so devised
for the benefit alike of the librarian, the assistants, and the readers.
Until one has learned the supreme value of moments, he will not be fit
for a librarian. The same method by Arabic numerals only, should be used
in all references to books; and it would be well if the legal fashion of
citing authorities by volume and page, now adopted in most law books,
were extended to all literature--thus:
"3 Macaulay's England, 481. N. Y. 1854," instead of "Macaulay's England,
N. Y. ed. 1854. vol. 3, page 481." It is a matter of congratulation to
all librarians, as well as to the reading public, that Poole's Indexes to
Periodical Literature have wisely adopted Arabic figures only, both for
volume and page. The valuable time thus saved to all is quite
incalculable.
Every book which is leather-bound has its back divided off into panels or
sections, by the band across the back or by the gold or plain fillet or
roll forming part of the finish of the book. These panels are usually
five or six in number, the former being the more common. Now it is the
librarian's function to prescribe in which of these panels the lettering
of the book--especially where there is double lettering--shall go. Thus
| COUSIN | | | | |
| ---- | | | | NEW |
2nd | HISTORY | 4th | WIGHT | End |YORK, |
panel | OF | panel | | |1852. |
| MODERN | | | | |
| PHILOSOPHY.| | | | |
Many books, especially dramatic works, and the collected works of authors
require the contents of the various volumes to be briefed on the back.
Here is a Shakespeare, for example, in 10 volumes, or a Swift in 19, or
Carlyle in 33, and you want to find _King Lear_, or _Gulliver's Travels_,
or _Heroes and Hero Worship_. The other volumes concern you not--but you
want the shortest road to these. If the name of each play is briefed by
the first word upon the different volumes of your Shakespeare, or the
contents of each volume upon the Swift and the Carlyle,--as they should
be--you find instantly what you want, with one glance of the eye along
the backs. If put to the trouble of opening every volume to find the
contents, or of hunting it in the index, or the library catalogue, you
lose precious time, while readers wait, thus making the needless delay
cumulative, and as it must be often repeated, indefinite.
Each volume should have its date and place of publication plainly
lettered at the lower end, or what binders term the tail of the book.
This often saves time, as you may not want an edition of old date, or
_vice versa_, while the place and date enable readers' tickets to be
filled out quickly without the book. The name of the library might well
be lettered also on the back, being more obvious as a permanent means of
identification than the book-plate or inside stamp.
Books should never be used when fresh from the binder's hands. The covers
are then always damp, and warp on exposure to air and heat. Unless
pressed firmly in shelves, or in piles, for at least two weeks, they may
become incurably warped out of shape. Many an otherwise handsomely bound
book is ruined by neglect of this caution, for once thoroughly dried in
its warped condition, there is no remedy save the costly one of
rebinding.
Books are frequently lettered so carelessly that the titles instead of
aligning, or being in straight horizontal lines, run obliquely upward or
downward, thus defacing the volume. Errors in spelling words are also
liable to occur. All crooked lettering and all mistakes in spelling
should at once be rejected, and the faulty books returned to the binder,
to be corrected at his own expense. This severe revision of all books
when newly bound, before they are placed upon the shelves, should be done
by the librarian's or owner's own eye--not entrusted to subordinates,
unless to one thoroughly skilled.
One should never receive back books from a binder without collating them,
to see if all are perfect as to pages, and if all plates or maps are in
place. If deficiencies are found, the binder, and not the library is
responsible, provided the book was known to be perfect when sent for
binding.
In the Congressional Library I had the periodicals which are analyzed in
Poole's Index of Periodical Literature thoroughly compared and
re-lettered, wherever necessary, to make the series of volumes correspond
with the references in that invaluable and labor-saving index. For
instance, the Eclectic Review, as published in London, had eight distinct
and successive series (thus confusing reference by making eight different
volumes called 1, 2, 3, etc.) each with a different numbering, "First
series, 2d series," etc., which Poole's Index very properly consolidated
into one, for convenient reference. By adding the figures as scheduled in
that work--prefixed by the words _Poole's Index No._ ---- or simply
_Poole_, in small letters, followed by the figure of the volume as given
in that index, you will find a saving of time in hunting and supplying
references that is almost incalculable. If you cannot afford to have this
re-numbering done by a binder in gilt letters, it will many times repay
the cost and time of doing it on thin manila paper titles, written or
printed by a numbering machine and pasted on the backs of the volumes.
In all periodicals,--magazines and serials of every kind,--the covers and
their advertisements should be bound in their proper place, with each
month or number of the periodical, though it may interrupt the continuity
of the paging. Thus will be preserved valuable contemporary records
respecting prices, bibliographical information, etc., which should never
be destroyed, as it is illustrative of the life and history of the
period. The covers of the magazines, too, frequently contain the table of
contents of the number, which of course must be prefixed to it, in order
to be of any use. If advertising pages are very numerous and bulky, (as
in many popular periodicals of late years) they may well be bound at the
end of the volume, or, if so many as to make the volume excessively
thick, they might be bound in a supplementary volume. In all books,
half-titles or bastard titles, as they are called, should be bound in, as
they are a part of the book.
With each lot of books to be bound, there should always be sent a sample
volume of good work as a pattern, that the binder may have no excuse for
hasty or inferior workmanship.
The Grolier Club was founded in New York in 1884, having for its objects
to promote the literary study and progress of the arts pertaining to the
production of books. It has published more than twenty books in sumptuous
style, and mostly in quarto form, the editions being limited to 150
copies at first, since increased to 300, under the rapidly enlarging
membership of the Club. Most of these books relate to fine binding, fine
printing, or fine illustration of books, or are intended to exemplify
them, and by their means, by lectures, and exhibitions of fine book-work,
this society has contributed much toward the diffusion of correct taste.
More care has been bestowed upon fine binding in New York than in London
itself. In fact, elegant book-binding is coming to be recognized as one
of the foremost of the decorative arts.
The art of designing book-covers and patterns for gilding books has
engaged the talents of many artists, among whom may be named Edwin A.
Abbey, Howard Pyle, Stanford White, and Elihu Vedder. Nor have skilful
designs been wanting among women, as witness Mrs. Whitman's elegant
tea-leaf border for the cover of Dr. O. W. Holmes's "Over the Tea-cups,"
and Miss Alice Morse's arabesques and medallions for Lafcadio Hearn's
"Two Years in the French West Indies." Miss May Morris designed many
tasteful letters for the fine bindings executed by Mr. Cobden-Sanderson
of London, and Kate Greenaway's many exquisite little books for little
people have become widely known for their quaint and curious cover
designs. A new field thus opens for skilled cultivators of the beautiful
who have an eye for the art of drawing.
Mr. William Matthews, the accomplished New York binder, in an address
before the Grolier Club in 1895, said: "I have been astonished that so
few women--in America, I know none--are encouragers of the art; they
certainly could not bestow their taste on anything that would do them
more credit, or as a study, give them more satisfaction." It is but fair
to add that since this judgment was put forth, its implied reproach is no
longer applicable: a number of American women have interested themselves
in the study of binding as a fine art; and some few in practical work as
binders of books.
There is no question that readers take a greater interest in books that
are neatly and attractively bound, than in volumes dressed in a mean
garb. No book owner or librarian with any knowledge of the incurable
defects of calf, sheep, or roan leather, if he has any regard for the
usefulness or the economies of his library, will use them in binding
books that are to possess permanent value in personal or public use. True
economy lies in employing the best description of binding in the first
instance.
When it is considered that the purposed object of book-binding is to
preserve in a shape at once attractive and permanent, the best and
noblest thoughts of man, it rises to a high rank among the arts. Side by
side with printing, it strives after that perfection which shall ensure
the perpetuity of human thought. Thus a book, clothed in morocco, is not
a mere piece of mechanism, but a vehicle in which the intellectual life
of writers no longer on earth is transmitted from age to age. And it is
the art of book-binding which renders libraries possible. What the
author, the printer, and the binder create, the library takes charge of
and preserves. It is thus that the material and the practical link
themselves indissolubly with the ideal. And the ideal of every true
librarian should be so to care for the embodiments of intelligence
entrusted to his guardianship, that they may become in the highest degree
useful to mankind. In this sense, the care bestowed upon thorough and
enduring binding can hardly be overrated, since the life of the book
depends upon it.