BOOK BINDINGS
A book as we know it is usually contained in a case or cover intended
primarily for its protection. The fastening together of the different
sections of the book, and the providing it with a cover, and,
incidentally, the decoration of that cover, come under the head of
bookbinding, or bibliopegy, as the learned call it. The process of
binding consists of two parts: first, the arrangement of the leaves and
sections in proper order, their preparation for sewing by beating or
pressing, the stitching of them together, and the fastening of them into
the cover. This is called "forwarding." The other half of the work is
the lettering and decoration of the cover, and is called "finishing."
With the decoration of the cover only can we concern ourselves here.
The art of binding books is far older than the art of printing. The
first known attempt to provide a cover by way of protection for a
document was made by the workman who devised a clay case for the clay
tablet-books of Babylonia, but this is as far from our notion of
bookbinding as the tablets themselves are from our notion of books. Nor
do the Roman bindings, which consisted of coloured parchment wrappers,
come much nearer the modern conception. The ivory cases of the
double-folding wax tablets or diptychs, too, of the second and third
centuries, A.D., are also outside the pale, strictly speaking, but they
deserve mention on account of the beautiful carving with which they are
decorated, and on which some of the finest Byzantine art was expended.
One of the earliest bookbinders or book-cover decorators whose name has
come down to us was Dagæus, an Irish monk, and a clever worker in
metals. Among the many beautiful objects in metal wrought in the old
Irish monasteries were skilfully designed covers and clasps for the
books which were so highly prized in the "Isle of Saints." Nor were
covers alone deemed sufficient protection from wear and tear. Satchels,
or polaires, such as that mentioned in Adamnan's story of the miraculous
preservation of St Columba's Hymn-book, were in common use for conveying
books from place to place. Very few specimens now remain, but there is
one at Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, containing an Irish missal,
and another, which is preserved at Trinity College, Dublin, together
with the _Book of Armagh_, to which it belongs, is thus described by the
Rev. T. K. Abbott, in the _Book of Trinity College_:--
"An interesting object connected with the _Book of Armagh_ is its
leather satchel, finely embossed with figures of animals and interlaced
work. It is formed of a single piece of leather, 36 in. long and 12½
broad, folded so as to make a flat-sided pouch, 12 in. high, 12¾ broad,
and 2¼ deep. Part of it is doubled over to make a flap, in which are
eight brass-bound slits, corresponding to as many brass loops projecting
from the case, in which ran two rods, meeting in the middle, where they
were secured by a lock. In early times, in Irish monastic libraries,
books were kept in such satchels, which were suspended by straps from
hooks in the wall. Thus it is related in an old legend that 'on the
night of Longaradh's death all the book-satchels in Ireland fell
down.'"
In Ireland, too, specially valuable volumes were enclosed in a
book-shrine, or cumhdach; and although, like the satchels, these
cumhdachs are not bindings in the proper sense of the word, yet since
they were intended for the same purpose as bindings, that is, the
protection of the book, it will not be out of place to speak of them
here.
The use of bookshrines in Ireland was very possibly the survival of an
early custom of the primitive Church. It seems to have been applied
chiefly, if not always, to books too precious or sacred to be read. We
are told that a Psalter belonging to the O'Donels was fastened up in a
case that was not to be opened; and were it ever unclosed, deaths and
disasters would ensue to the clan. If borne by a priest of unblemished
character thrice round their troops before a battle, it was believed to
have the power of granting them victory, provided their cause were a
righteous one.
Cumhdachs were also used in Scotland, but no Scottish examples have
survived. The oldest cumhdach now existing is one in the Museum of the
Royal Irish Academy, which was made for the MS. known as Molaise's
Gospels, at the beginning of the eleventh century. It is of bronze, and
ornamented with silver plates bearing gilt patterns. Another
book-shrine, made for the Stowe Missal a little later, is of oak,
covered with silver plates, and decorated with a large oval crystal in
the middle of one side. The Book of Kells once had a golden cumhdach, we
are told, or, more correctly, perhaps, a cumhdach covered with gold
plates; but when the book was stolen from the church of Kells in 1006 it
was despoiled of its costly case, with which the robbers made off,
leaving the most precious part of their booty, the book itself, lying on
the ground hidden by a sod.
One of the earliest bookbinders in this country was a bishop, Ethilwold
of Lindisfarne, who bound the great Book of the Gospels that his
predecessor Eadfrid had written. For the same book Billfrið the
anchorite made a beautiful metal cover, gilded and bejewelled. The
Lindisfarne Gospels still exists, but the cover which now contains it,
though costly, is quite new. Like most ancient book covers the original
one has been lost, or destroyed for the sake of its valuable material.
Among the earlier mediæval bindings those of the Byzantine school of art
rank very high. They were exceedingly splendid, for gold was their
prevailing feature, and jewels and enamel were also lavished upon them.
The ordinary books of the middle ages were usually bound in substantial
oak boards covered with leather, and often having clasps, corners, and
protecting bosses of metal. In the twelfth century the English leather
bindings produced at London, Winchester, Durham and other centres, were
pre-eminent. Miss Prideaux instances some books which were bound for
Bishop Pudsey, and which are now in the cathedral library of Durham, as
"perhaps the finest monuments of this class of work in existence." The
sides of these volumes are blind-tooled; that is, the designs are
impressed by means of dies or tools with various patterns and
representations of men and of fabulous creatures, but not gilded.
Certain volumes, however, were treated with particular honour, either at
the expense of a wealthy and book-loving owner, or for the purpose of
presentation to some great personage, and for these sumptuous bindings
the materials employed were various and costly. A Latin psalter which
was written for Melissenda, wife of Fulk, Count of Anjou and King of
Jerusalem, has a very wonderful French binding. The covers are of wood,
and each bears a series of delicate ivory carvings of Byzantine work.
The upper cover shows incidents in the life of David, and symbolical
figures, and the lower cover scenes representing the works of Mercy,
with figures of birds and animals. Rubies and turquoises dotted here
and there help to beautify the ivory. This book is in the British
Museum.
[Illustration: UPPER COVER OF MELISSENDA'S PSALTER (_reduced_).]
Another specimen in the same collection may be taken as an example of
the use of enamel as a decoration for bindings. This is a Latin
manuscript of the Gospels of SS. Luke and John, which is enclosed in
wooden boards bound in red leather. In the upper cover is a sunk panel
of Limoges enamel on copper gilt, representing Christ in glory. The work
is of the thirteenth century. These enamelled bindings were often
additionally decorated with gold and jewels.
A curious little modification of the ordinary leather binding was
sometimes made in the case of small devotional works. The leather of the
back and sides was continued at the bottom in a long tapering slip, at
the end of which was a kind of button, so that the book might be
fastened to the dress or girdle. Slender chains were often used for the
same purpose.
About the time of the invention of printing, leather bindings began to
be decorated with gold tooling. Tooling is the name given to the designs
impressed upon the leather with various small dies so manipulated as to
make a connected pattern. When the impressions are gilded the dull
leather is brightened and beautified in proportion to the skill and
taste expended by the workman. The art of gold tooling is believed to
have originated in the East, and to have been brought to Italy by
Venetian traders, or, as it has also been suggested, through the
manuscripts which were dispersed at the fall of Constantinople. In any
case, it was in Italy that it was first adopted and brought to
perfection, and other European countries learned the art from Italian
craftsmen. Chief among the early Italian gilt bindings are those made of
the finest leathers and inscribed THO. MAIOLI ET AMICORVM. Nothing
whatever is known of Thomasso Maioli, except that he had a large library
and spared no expense in clothing his books in bibliopegic purple and
fine linen.
What Maioli appears to have been among Italian book-collectors, Jean
Grolier, Vicomte d'Aguisy, was among French bibliophiles. He held for a
time the post of Treasurer of the Duchy of Milan, and while in Italy he
collected books for his library and made the acquaintance of Aldus
Manutius. Many of the Aldine books are dedicated to him, for Aldus
occasionally stood in need of financial aid and found in Grolier a
generous and practical patron of literature. Some of the famous bindings
which distinguish Grolier's books were executed in Italy, others in
France, where Italian bookbinders were then teaching their art to the
native workmen. They display the same style of design that decorates the
books of Maioli, and Maioli's benevolent inscription too, Grolier
adapted to his own use, and stamped upon certain of his books IO.
GROLIERII ET AMICORVM. The exact signification of these words is
obscure. At first sight they might appear to refer delicately to the joy
with which the owner of the book would place it at the disposal of his
friends, but this does not accord with what is known of the character
of book-lovers. Perhaps their only meaning is that Maioli and Grolier
were at all times ready to please their friends and to gratify
themselves by exhibiting their treasures. But since several copies of
the same work are known to have been bound for Grolier--for instance,
five copies of the Aldine Virgil--it has been suggested that he
occasionally made presents of his books, though he drew the line at
lending them.
Grolier's copy of the _De Medicina_ of Celsus, which is in the British
Museum, is bound in a somewhat different style from that usually
associated with his name. It is in brown leather; blind-tooled except
for some gold and coloured roundels in different parts of the device. In
the centre of both covers is a medallion in colours, that on the upper
cover representing Curtius leaping into the abyss in the Forum, and that
on the lower cover representing the defence of the bridge by Horatius.
This is an Italian binding.
Although it was Italy who first improved upon the usual methods of
mediæval binding, and from her that France took lessons in this new and
better way of clothing books, it was France who was destined to bring
the art to its highest excellence. Having learned her lesson, she
perfected herself in it, and the workmen of the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries, such as Geoffroy Tory, Nicholas, Clovis, and
Robert Eve, and Le Gascon, carried French bookbinding into the very
first rank, where it may be considered to remain to this day.
Some of the finest French examples extant are those which were executed
for Henry II. and Diana of Poitiers, Duchess of Valentinois. Both were
ardent bibliophiles, and both indulged in very sumptuous bindings for
their books. Some of the chief treasures in our great libraries to-day
are the beautiful volumes which Henry presented to the duchess, and
which are ornamented with the royal lilies of France, accompanied by the
bows and arrows and crescents which were Diana's own badges and the
initials of the king and the duchess.
Catherine de Medicis also was an enthusiastic book collector, which may
surprise those who think that a person who is devoted to books is
necessarily harmless. Some of her books she brought to France as part of
her dowry, others she acquired by fair means or foul as was most
convenient, and to their bindings she paid particular attention and kept
a staff of bookbinders in her employ.
To such a pitch of extravagance did the bibliophiles of the period go in
the binding of their books, that in 1583 Henry III. of France decreed
that ordinary citizens should not use more than four diamonds to the
decoration of one book, and the nobility not more than five. The king
himself, however, was as extravagant as any of his subjects, at any rate
as regards the designs he favoured. Many of his books are clad in black
morocco, bearing representations of skulls, cross-bones, tears, and
other melancholy emblems. He developed his taste for these strange
decorations, it is said, when, as Duke of Anjou, he loved and lost Mary
of Clèves.
The early printers at first executed their own bookbinding, but
presently left it to the stationers. It was generally only the larger
works which they thought worth covering, and the small ones were simply
stitched. Antony Koburger, of whom mention has already been made, bound
his own books and ornamented them in a style peculiarly his own. Caxton
bound his according to the prevailing fashion, with leather sides, plain
or blind-tooled with diagonal lines, forming diamond-shaped compartments
in each of which is stamped a species of dragon.
About the sixteenth century it became fashionable to have one's books
"Full goodly bound in pleasant coverture
Of damask, satin, or else of velvet pure,"
as a writer of the time expresses it, and this style naturally lent
itself to the needleworked decoration. This decoration was especially
favoured in England, and the ladies of the period executed some very
fine pieces of embroidery as "pleasant covertures" for their books,
using coloured silks and gold and silver thread on velvet or other
material. One of the earliest embroidered bindings covers a description
of the Holy Land, written by Martin Brion, and dedicated to Henry VIII.
It is of crimson velvet, with the English arms enclosed in the Garter,
between two H's, and the Tudor rose in each corner, and it is worked in
silks, gold thread, and seed pearls. Queen Elizabeth is said to have
preferred embroidered bindings to those of leather, and to have been
very skilful in working them. The copy of _De Antiquitate Britannicæ
Ecclesiæ_, which the author, Archbishop Parker, presented to the Queen,
has a cover which is very elaborately embroidered indeed. It is of
contemporary English work, and is thus described in the British Museum
_Guide to the Printed Books exhibited in the King's Library_:--
"Green velvet, having as a border a representation of the paling of a
deer park, embroidered in gold and silver thread; the border on the
upper cover enclosing a rose bush bearing red and white roses,
surrounded by various other flowers, and by deer; the lower cover has a
similar border, but contains deer, snakes, plants and flowers; the whole
being executed in gold and silver thread and coloured silks. On the back
are embroidered red and white roses." Embroidered bindings remained in
fashion during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and plain
velvet, too, was often used, sometimes with gold or silver mounts.
The old Royal Library, which was given to the nation by George II.,
contains a large number of sumptuous bookbindings; and that our
Sovereigns were not unmindful of the welfare of their literary treasures
may also be gathered from various entries in the Wardrobe Books and from
other documents. Thus, we read that Edward IV. paid Alice Clavers, "for
the makyng of xvj. laces and xvj. tassels for the garnysshing of divers
of the kinge's bookes ijs. viijd."; and "Piers Bauduyn, stacioner, for
bynding gilding and dressing of a booke called _Titus Livius_ xxs., for
binding gilding and dressing of a booke of the _The Holy Trinity_
xvjs.," and so on. Again, in the bill delivered to Henry VIII. by Thomas
Berthelet, his majesty's printer and binder, are found such entries as
these:--
"Item delyvered to the kinge's highnes the vj. day of January a Psalter
in englische and latine covered with crimoysyn satyne, 2s."
"Item delyvered to the kinge's hyghnes for a little Psalter, takyng out
of one booke and settyng in an other in the same place, and for gorgeous
binding of the same booke xijd.; and to the Goldesmythe for taking off
the claspes and corners and for setting on the same ageyne xvjd."
Among the various styles which may be classed as fancy bindings may be
instanced the seventeenth century tortoise-shell covers with silver
mounts and ornaments, which have a very handsome effect, and the mosaic
decoration of the same period. This mosaic decoration was made by
inlaying minute pieces of differently coloured leathers, and finishing
them with gold tooling. It was work which called for great dexterity in
manipulation, and in skilful hands the result was very pretty and
graceful.
Even from this slight sketch it will be seen that bookbindings have
always presented unlimited opportunities for originality on the part of
the worker, as regards both design and material. Wood and leather, gold
and silver, ivory and precious stones, coloured enamels, impressed
papier-mâché, gold-tooled leather and embroidered fabric, pasteboard and
parchment, have all been pressed into the service, and the subject of
bookbindings is a fascinating branch of book history. But from their
nature bindings are difficult to describe in an interesting manner, and
words can hardly do justice to them without the aid of facsimile
illustrations.
The ordinary bindings of to-day are practically confined to two styles,
the cloth and the leather, and those combinations of leather and cloth
or leather and paper which make the covers of half-bound and
quarter-bound volumes. Cloth binding, the binding of the nineteenth
century, is an English invention, and came into use in 1823. On the
Continent books are still issued in paper covers and badly stitched, on
the assumption that if worth binding at all, they will be bound by the
purchaser as he pleases. But although the English commercial cloth
binding is often charged for far too highly, no one can deny its
convenience, and its superiority over the paper undress of foreign
works. Moreover, it is the homely, everyday garb of the great majority
of our favourite volumes, and though, no doubt, it is delightful to
possess books sumptuously bound, book-lovers of less ambition, or of
lighter purses than those who can command such luxuries, are not very
much to be pitied. There is something characteristic about a book in a
cloth cover which it loses when it dons the livery of its owner's
library. Cloth is not only more varied in texture, but admits of greater
freedom and variety of design than does leather, so there is something
to be said in its favour in spite of the contention that direct
handicraft is preferable to handicraft which works through a machine,
and that one of a batch of bindings printed by the thousand is not to
be compared with a single specimen of tooled leather which has cost a
pair of human hands hours of careful toil. The little libraries with
which so many of us have to be contented owe their bright and cheerful
appearance to the cloth covers of the books, in which each book stands
out with modest directness, wearing its individuality instead of losing
it in a crowd of neighbours dressed exactly like itself. In a series
uniformly bound, however, a family likeness is not only admissible, but
pleasing. It gives an idea of unison among, perhaps, widely differing
individuals. But the unison which is becoming to a family makes a
community monotonous.
On the other hand, something stronger than cloth is necessary when books
are to be subjected to special wear and tear, and desirable when a
volume is to be particularly honoured or when the library it is to enter
is large and important. Protection is the first purpose of a binding,
and endurance its first quality, and the experience of centuries has
shown that the walls in the fairy-tale were right when they said,
"Gilding will fade in damp weather,
To endure, there is nothing like LEATHER."
In which, perhaps, the book-lover will see a parable. For, after all,
the book is the thing, and the cover a mere circumstance, and those who
wish to make books merely pegs to hang bindings upon deserve to have no
books at all. Yet it is right that though the binding should not be
raised above the book, it should be worthy of the book, and much of the
cheap and good literature which is now within the reach of all who care
to stretch out their hands for it, is clothed in a manner to which no
exception can be taken on any score. Those who have not realised how
charming some of the modern bookbindings can be, should consult the
winter number of _The Studio_ for 1899-1900.