Vieux maître relieur, l’or que tu ciselas
Au dos du livre et dans l’épaisseur de la tranche
N’a plus, malgré les fers poussés d’une main franche
La rutilante ardeur de ses premiers éclats.
Les chiffres enlacés que liait l’entrelacs
S’effacent chaque jour de la peau fine et blanche;
A peine si mes yeux peuvent suivre la branche
De lierre que tu fis serpenter sur les plats.
Mais cet ivoire souple et presque diaphane,
Marguerite, Marie, ou peut-être Diane,
De leurs doigts amoureux l’ont jadis caressé;
Et ce vélin pâli que dora Clovis Éve
Évoque, je ne sais par quel charme passé,
L’âme de leur parfum et l’ombre de leur rêve.
[Illustration: 32. BOUND BY LÉON GRUEL.]
Here in the Galliera we realize how complete is the revolution now
finally effected by a people who clung long and faithfully to the
traditions of a style made famous by Grolier and by the Eves, Le Gascon
and Derôme. All through the nineteenth century these traditions were
adhered to, carried out by Thouvenin, Simier and Capé, by Chambolle,
Duru, Trautz and Cuzin, the inspired copyists of the great masters.
These looked on originality as the most dangerous of innovations and a
sort of disloyalty to the precedents handed down to them across the
ages. Nevertheless the impending change was slowly and surely making
way, fostered by Lortic and Marius Michel, the latter through his
writings as well as in his work. Henri Marius Michel followed in his
father’s steps: his essay on _L’ornamentation des reliures modernes_
showed clearly the direction taken by the modern school; while the
sumptuous book, _La reliure du XIX siècle_, by Henri Béraldi, who is
both a patron and collector of distinction, may be said to have given
final expression to the movement as a whole. Bookbinding, in common with
larger subjects, has its bibliography. A glance over the names of the
books that relate to it published during the last half-century shows
well enough how interest has been displaced from the historic schools to
those which have initiated entirely new forms of decoration as applied
to book covers. If, then, we are struck by the contrast between past and
present as regards the nature of this application of art to bindings, we
are equally impressed by the contrast between the position of the binder
then and now. It is no wonder that the small world of binders and their
patrons in Paris were proud of the position of honour assigned to their
craft in 1902. They inaugurated a series of exhibitions, which is to
include ivories, lace, jewellery, furniture—every art, in fact, to which
there attaches the personality that can only come from having at some
time had as its exponents ‘the masters of those who know.’ Even so late
as 1870 the name of Trautz was unknown, not only to the ordinary public,
but to such collectors as Eugène Paillet and Quentin Bauchart, though he
had been producing admirable work for thirty years. In 1878 he was
decorated with the Legion of Honour, the first time that any such
distinction had been offered to a binder. It was only after his
retirement and subsequent return to business at the age of sixty that
his fame grew till it culminated in a sort of worship that is
inconceivable outside of France. Nowadays the many means of publicity
would render such a state of things quite impossible. It is an age in
which every one longs to see himself reflected in print or show-case;
and if the workman in any line does not himself take measures for
bringing his efforts to the light, there is a class whose chief
occupation it is to be the discoverers of hidden talent, and to act as
middlemen between the producer and the public. In Paris, binders have
now a status that is looked upon with surprise and envy in England. They
are still, it is true, mostly congregated on the left bank of the Seine,
the quarter which was formerly in the parish of Saint-André-des-Arts,
and where their guild had its church of that name, now no longer in
existence. Up to five-and-twenty years ago there was hardly one that
lived elsewhere, and even now it is the exception to find a binder in
the more fashionable quarter. One has to climb high to reach their
ateliers, invariably of very modest dimensions and where but few workmen
are employed. The extensive businesses that we know in London hardly
exist in Paris, and M. Gruel’s is probably the only one employing a
large number of hands. For the most part two or three ‘forwarders’ and
the same number of ‘finishers’ will suffice for the yearly output of a
single workshop. But to these ateliers go personally the great
collectors who are wealthy patrons, to discuss in detail different
points of design and technique with a connoisseurship that is reserved
with us for painting or sculpture. To the unstinted help and intelligent
appreciation afforded by such a class of amateurs is undoubtedly due the
superior position of the artistic crafts in France. Many of the bindings
in the Galliera were achieved at a cost of two thousand francs, and
others for three and even four thousand. There are two papers entirely
devoted to the craft—_La Reliure_, which is the organ of the Chambre
Syndicale, an association of master binders founded by M. Gruel; and _Le
Relieur_, organ of the Chambre Syndicale Ouvrière, which is the
corresponding association for workmen. Every year binders can exhibit at
each of the rival Salons, at the Société des Artistes Français and the
Société Nationale des Beaux-Arts, and the Galliera Exhibition is but the
latest and most effective of the special exhibitions organized from time
to time for the exclusive display of their work. There is a desire to
make such exhibitions recurrent every ten years, so as to get a periodic
outlook on the art as a whole; but it is unlikely that the next few
decades will show such marked characteristics of difference as may be
seen by comparison of this collection with that even of 1892 organized
by the Cercle de la Librairie. It may, in fact, be suggested that the
evolution—or revolution, according to the point of view taken—now at its
height, will probably produce a reaction towards that greater sobriety
of treatment which distinguished the best work of the past. There are,
indeed, already signs that the future of binding will not lie in that
emancipation from all restrictions of form and material which would seem
to be the ideal of some. Precisely what that future will be rests
largely, no doubt, with the collectors, who are, as has been indicated,
a powerful body in France, largely on the increase. It is they who, like
MM. Béraldi, Spencer, Bordes, Villebœuf, Roger, Marx, Claude Lafontaine,
Baron de Claye, Louis Barthou, and many others, not only furnish binders
with the means of giving full play to their imagination, but often
devote their pens with enthusiasm to introducing new efforts to the
numerous body of amateurs who look to them for guidance in matters of
taste and are ready enough to follow their initiative.
[Illustration: 33. BOUND BY LÉON GRUEL.]
[Illustration: 34. BOUND BY LÉON GRUEL.]
The modern movement in binding may be said to have sprung out of the new
form of book-collecting which began about 1870. Up to that time the book
lover had confined himself entirely to eighteenth-century literature.
For forty or fifty years there had been a mad rush in the salerooms for
books of that period, which were then confided to Thouvenin, Simier, or
Trautz, who had exercised their skill in marvellous imitations of the
past, with an execution often more technically perfect than the
originals. There came a time, however, when such works were
exhausted—already stored away, that is to say, on the shelves of
collectors, the few that occasionally appeared on the market being only
to be had at prohibitive prices. Book-buyers were thus faced with the
problem of what was to be their next move. Obviously to create a new
taste in books and establish a fresh motive for collecting was a
necessity, and a few pioneers decided to set the fashion in illustrated
books of the nineteenth century. Léon Conquet, whose reputation as a
publisher is associated with the production of many fine works, at once
rose to the occasion, and made a name first with his editions of the
romantics of the nineteenth century, and then with original editions of
contemporary authors. Clients for whom the old tastes had become too
rare and costly an indulgence were thus provided with the means of
gratifying a new enthusiasm.
[Illustration: 35. BOUND BY LÉON GRUEL.]
[Illustration: 36. BOUND BY LÉON GRUEL.]
In 1874 an association sprang up of about fifty-five collectors who
called themselves ‘Les amis des livres,’ from which sprang the new
departure which has had far-reaching results in book production. The
members determined that henceforth, instead of reprints from the past,
there should be books specially illustrated and specially produced in
small editions for the society, thus reviving the traditions of the days
of Grolier and De Thou, when book collectors were also book makers in
the best sense of the word. Authors and artists were to collaborate with
printers and publishers to produce the perfect work. In this way came
into existence _Eugénie Grandet_ with the drawings of Dagnan engraved by
Le Rat, _Monsieur, Madame et Bébé_, illustrated by Edmond Morin and many
another, to which Meissonier, Vierge and Lepère devoted their best
efforts. Illustrated books have always presented a special attraction
for our neighbours, and this new stimulus gave the most surprising
results. Out of it arose, too, all the excessive preoccupation with
‘states,’ ‘papier de chine,’ ‘papier de japon,’ and the like which has
been carried to a ridiculous extent. The cult of rarity in all such
matters surely reached its highest point when single copies were
specially illustrated for individual collectors, such as the _Fleurs du
Mal_, which Paul Gallimond had ornamented with marginal notes by Rodin,
and _Les Trois Mousquetaires_ with water-colour sketches by Maurice
Leloir. The original drawings for _Notre Dame de Paris_ by Luc Olivier
Merson were bought for 20,000 francs in the open market, while those for
_Les Trois Mousquetaires_ and _Manon Lescaut_ by Maurice Leloir fetched
the extravagant price of 60,000 francs apiece. These facts are
interesting as showing how a small number of genuine book lovers and
collectors can constitute a real power, and so far control the character
of the book market that they create a new taste which will be recorded
in history as the fashion of the age in which they lived. The success of
the ‘Société des amis des livres’ and the response of the editors such
as Conquet, Quantin, Testaud, and others, to their initiation, gave such
encouragement to amateurs that two new clubs were soon formed, ‘Les amis
des livres de Lyon’ and ‘Les bibliophiles contemporains.’ The last was
founded by Octave Uzanne with a membership of 160, and ceased to exist
only to be re-established as the ‘Société des cent bibliophiles,’
presided over by M. Eugène Roderigues. Besides all these associations
there grew up a class of literature entirely devoted to the instruction
of the amateur and the development of his taste in all matters relating
to books and their bindings. The earlier literature of binding had been
devoted to reproductions of fine specimens from historic collections,
but now there appeared in profusion such books as _L’art d’aimer les
livres et de les connaître_, _Connaissances nécessaires à un
bibliophile_, _Les livres modernes qu’il convient d’acquérir_, _De la
reliure, examples à imiter ou à rejeter_, not to mention monthly reviews
such as _Le Livre Moderne_, _L’Art et l’Idée_, _Le Livre et l’Image_,
and the like.
Grolier took the best books he could find, and put them into the best
bindings he could find, and the motto of the collectors of to-day was
henceforth to be, as M. Béraldi says in the work previously mentioned,
‘le livre de son temps dans la reliure originale de son temps.’ Thus out
of the new bibliomania grew naturally the reaction in binding with which
we are now dealing, and the latest expression of which was seen in the
Galliera Museum. These books of fine illustrations must have an
appropriate decoration; nothing will do that has served its turn
elsewhere, and every amateur stipulates that his binding shall be
unique. ‘Doublures,’ formerly the exception, are now the rule; ‘tools’
are cut freely for fresh designs, and expense increases with the
initiative demanded of the binder, till there seems no limit to what
will be paid by the enthusiast. With the craving for novelty there
naturally arises the problem, so difficult of solution, concerning the
limitations of material and how far audacity may be risked in decoration
without extravagance or eccentricity. Cuzin, at the height of his
reputation in 1885, was possibly the first to leave the grooves of
tradition and to create a style that he considered appropriate to the
books of the time. It consisted for the most part on the outer covers of
what the French call _jeu de filets_, or line patterns which are capable
of much diversity, while wreaths of flowers inside took the place of the
lace patterns that had hitherto formed the ornament of ‘doublures.’ He
also adopted emblematic designs, but these were exceedingly moderate in
their symbolism. Marius Michel, too, devoted himself to the research for
fresh motives of decoration. In 1889, when eighteen years of age, he had
gone into Gruel’s atelier and rapidly became a gilder of consummate
taste and skill. Ten years later he set up for himself as a finisher,
working for Duru, Capé, Chambolle, Cuzin and other binders. For the next
twenty years or more his fine talent was devoted to the reproduction of
bindings of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, to perfect copies
of Grolier, Le Gascon and others put upon the books of that time, which
were still to be bought freely and at moderate price. Some of his best
work is to be seen now in the library at Chantilly; for the late Duc
d’Aumale during his exile intrusted large numbers of books to Capé,
always accompanied with detailed instructions, and it is these which
constitute a large part of the elder Marius Michel’s title to fame.
[Illustration: 37. BOUND BY MERCIER.]