THE RENOVATION OF BOOKS--DAMP--GREASE MARKS--SURFACE
STAINS--BOOK WORMS AND OTHER PESTS.
The great enemy of books is unquestionably damp, which corrodes the
paper, covering it with reddish brown spots, or, in extreme cases,
patches. These unsightly marks, if once they have taken a firm hold,
cannot be removed, and the most that can be hoped for is some preventive
against an aggravation of the evil. Damp, unlike mere surface stains,
attacks the tissue of the paper, rotting it completely through, and not
infrequently destroying it altogether. It is like a vital disease which
insinuates itself into the very seat of life, and, with more or less
despatch, consumes its victim.
Unslaked lime, as is well known, has a strong affinity for moisture of
every kind, and when there is plenty of this substance about, damp is
irresistibly attracted to it. Small saucers full of lime should
therefore be placed in close proximity to valuable books, on the shelves
if necessary, but never in immediate contact with the books themselves,
or the remedy will be as bad as the disease to be guarded against. The
action of lime upon moisture has been very well known for centuries, yet
no one seems to have thought of applying it to this useful purpose, and
books have been doomed to slow but sure destruction for the want of a
precaution as simple as it is obvious. Only the other day a
correspondent, writing to an American bibliographical journal, pointed
out what he called a new remedy against damp, which turned out to be
based upon nothing else than the well-known relationship which exists
between lime and water. If damp has only just commenced its attack, the
part affected should first be touched with a wash of spirits of wine,
and when dry with a very weak solution of oxalic acid. If the "fox
spots," as they are called, do not then disappear, the injury is
permanent and no remedy exists, as far as we at present know.
A really valuable book which stands in need of a thorough cleaning
should be placed in the hands of some competent person, as considerable
experience is necessary before even a reasonable degree of success can
be assured. If the marks to be obliterated are numerous, the book had
better be taken to pieces by removing the cover and separating the
leaves, first cutting the binder's threads and taking especial care not
to _tear_ anything. Each leaf must then be examined, both on the flat
and when held up to the light, for it is essential that the particular
description of dirt should be identified as closely as possible.
If grease is apparent, it should first of all be removed, as its
presence will interfere with some of the subsequent processes. With this
object, the leaf must be laid perfectly flat on a sheet of glass and the
grease marks damped out with a pad of cotton wool moistened with
benzine. Rubbing is never resorted to; the spots must be merely patted
over and over again until they disappear, which they will do after a
time. Sometimes the text itself will vanish as well, but whether it will
do so or not depends upon the character of the paper and the quality of
the printer's ink. If there is any danger, benzine should not be used,
as the whole sheet may be cleared of grease marks almost equally well by
covering it with a layer of chalk, placing a piece of blotting paper on
the top of it, and pressing with a hot iron. Each leaf will, if
necessary, have to be treated in the same way, and it may occasionally
be found necessary to work on both sides of the paper.
When this process is complete, the next step is to give each leaf a good
general cleaning, and this may be done effectually by placing it in a
leaden trough and pouring upon it a shallow surface of water. Two or
three days of exposure to the rays of the sun will bleach the paper
perfectly white, and all kinds of stains except fixed dyes will come
out. The leaf is then dried (not in the sun or it will turn yellow), and
is ready for the next process. It may happen that the sun is not
available for this, or, indeed, any other purpose, and when such is the
case, the surface dirt may be bleached off with a solution of chloride
of lime in the proportion of one part to forty of water. The paper must
be soaked in cold water before this mixture is poured on it, and both
sides must be operated upon. This solution being essentially weak--if it
were otherwise it would eat into the material--it is possible that it
may be found unequal to the task of removing some of the more obstinate
stains, which must therefore be touched with nitro-hydrochloric acid.
Finally, the leaf must be well washed in a stream of running water, and
allowed to dry naturally.
Another method of removing surface stains sometimes used by restorers is
to cover the paper with a thin layer of fine powdered salt. Lemon juice
is then squeezed on the surface in sufficient quantities to dissolve the
mineral, and the subject finally washed in boiling water. The chief
objection to this process is the use of hot water, which, as may well be
imagined, is apt to pulp the paper, or in some cases even to efface the
printed text.
Stains which cannot be removed by these processes are of several kinds.
Lead pencil marks, for instance, will become fixed if the paper is
damped, and they should therefore be helped out first of all with fine
bread crumbs. Indian ink stains give way before a camel's hair brush and
a cup of hot water, and all kinds of grease marks yield to benzine,
turpentine, or ammonia.
Lead stains can be got rid of by an application of peroxide of hydrogen,
or even hydrochloric acid; but the greatest care will have to be
exercised in handling the latter, or it will corrode the paper in a very
short time, causing it to crack and break to pieces. If mixed with its
own weight of water, and to three parts of this compound one part of red
oxide of lead is added, its power for evil will be very materially
diminished; but even under these circumstances it is dangerous to use.
Each of these remedies has to be very carefully undertaken, as the fatty
matters in the printer's ink are exceedingly liable to resolve, in which
case the book will be spoiled. With care and attention I doubt not that
almost any book can be very materially improved, if not made quite as
good as new, by a combination of the processes described; and the best
plan is to practise on some dirty and worthless specimen until the
requisite degree of proficiency is attained.
A "Literary Note" in the magazine entitled _Book Lore_ for July, 1887,
observes as follows: "The renovation of books is, of course, a work of
art in itself, and so clever are experts in the manipulation thereof,
that many a dirty and decrepit volume has left their hands looking
quite fresh and new. One of the most difficult processes has hitherto
been to take dirt off the leaves without injuring the print. With this
object bread crumbs were at one time used; but modern science has
discovered three ways of effecting the same object in a much more
satisfactory manner. Oxalic acid, citric acid, and tartaric acid, when
in solution, will eliminate every trace of dirt without in any way
acting on the printer's ink. Writing ink is not, however, proof against
the attack of any one of the three, and this, too, being considered for
the most part as 'dirt,' comes out with the rest. If the leaf is
afterwards bleached with chloride of lime, the regenerating process is
complete. The remedy for oil stains, it may be observed, is sulphuric
ether. If the stains are extensive, it is best to roll up each leaf and
insert it into a wide-mouthed bottle half full of ether, shaking it
gently up and down for a minute or so. On its removal the oil marks will
be found to have disappeared, and, as ether rapidly evaporates, a little
cold water is all that is afterwards required. Mineral naphtha and
benzoline each possess the property of dissolving oils fixed and
volatile, tallow, lard, wax, and other substances of this class."
Worm-holes, another source of disquietude to the collector, are caused
by grubs, which are popularly supposed to be the larvae of beetles. They
bore a circular hole through all the leaves, utterly destroying the
appearance of any volume upon which they have fixed their attention.
The book worm has a pedigree in comparison with which the family tree of
a Howard or a Talbot is a wretched weed. Lucian, in days remote, chides
the voracious worm, and other ancient authors have called attention to
its ravages. Another pest, called the "acarus," feeds on the paste and
glue in the binding; in fact, these two parasites between them will very
quickly digest the contents of an ordinary-sized book unless steps are
taken for their destruction. The late Sir Thomas Phillipps, in a
communication to the British Association in 1837, observes: "My library
being much infested with insects, I have for some time turned my
attention to the modes of destroying them, in the course of which I
observed that the larva of certain kinds of beetles does not seek the
paper for food, nor the leather, but the paste. To prevent their
attacks, therefore, in future bound books the paste used should be mixed
up with a solution of corrosive sublimate, or, indeed, with any other
poisonous ingredient. But to catch the perfect insects themselves, I
adopt the following plan: _Anobium striatum_ commonly deposits its ova
in beech wood, and is more partial, apparently, to that than any other
wood. I have beech planks cut, and smear them over, in summer, with pure
fresh paste (_i.e._, not containing anything poisonous). I then place
them in different parts of the library where they are not likely to be
disturbed; the beetles flying about the room in summer time readily
discover these pieces of wood, and soon deposit their eggs in them. In
winter (chiefly) the larva is produced, and about January, February, and
March I discover what pieces of wood contain any larvae by the sawdust
lying under the planks, or where it is thrown up in hillocks on the top
of them. All the wood which is attacked is then burnt for firewood: by
this simple method I have nearly extirpated _Anobia_ from my library."
To surprise and capture a book worm was at one time looked upon as an
impossible task; but lately a few successes have been chronicled, but
only a few. In order to ward off their insidious attacks, many devices
more or less satisfactory have been proposed, but none appear to be
absolutely preventative. Dr. Hermann, a noted bibliophile of Strassburg,
after careful experiments, has come to the conclusion that a combination
of safeguards such as he suggests will have the desired effect of
putting to flight not only the worm itself but all other enemies of the
library, always excepting biblioklepts and borrowers, against whom there
is no defence. The combination suggested by Dr. Hermann certainly seems
sufficiently powerful to resist almost any attack, in the same degree
that a huge man-of-war may be considered invulnerable when exposed to
the assaults of some cockle-shell of a boat. The only objection is the
immense amount of trouble and labour involved in preparation, as will
readily be perceived after a perusal of the preventives, ten in number.
1. Abolish the use of any wood in the binding processes. 2. Recommend
the bookbinder to use glue mixed with alum in place of paste. 3. Brush
all worm-eaten wood in the repositories of books with oil or lac
varnish. 4. Preserve books bound in calf by brushing over with thin lac
varnish. 5. No book to lie flat. 6. Papers, letters, documents, &c., may
be preserved in drawers without any danger provided the wafers are cut
out and that no paste, &c., is between them. 7. The bookbinder is not
to use any woollen cloth, and to wax the thread. 8. Air and dust the
books often. 9. Use laths separated one from the other one inch in place
of shelves. 10. Brush over the insides of bookcases and the laths with
lac varnish.
Dr. Hermann cannot at any rate be charged with any such sentimental
regard for "vermin" as that which influenced Mr. Day, a well-known book
hunter of the earlier part of the present century. One day, upon
removing some books at the chambers of Sir William Jones, a large spider
dropped upon the floor, upon which Sir William, with some warmth, said,
"Kill that spider, Day! Kill that spider!" "No," said Mr. Day, with that
coolness for which he was so conspicuous, "I will not kill that spider,
Jones; I do not know that I have a right to do so. Suppose, when you are
going in your carriage to Westminster Hall, a superior being, who
perhaps may have as much power over you as you have over this insect,
should say to his companion, 'Kill that lawyer! Kill that lawyer!' How
should you like that? I am sure to most people a lawyer is a more
noxious insect than a spider."
The simplest protection yet discovered against book worms is a liberal
use of common snuff, which should be sprinkled all over the shelves, the
process being repeated every three or four months. This is almost
infallible, and probably quite as effectual as Dr. Hermann's ten
preventives rolled into one. There is no magic in the art of preserving
books--the great art is to be able to get them, and to know what to buy
and how much to give for them. This acquired, the rest will come easily
enough. The contents of a whole treatise on the custody and preservation
of books might be very accurately and succinctly summed up in a few
lines. Keep out damp, let the shelves be lined if possible with good
leather, and last, but by no means least, look at the insides of your
books as well as at the outsides.
Collectors of books are continually being asked to lend volumes which
happen to take the passing fancy of a friend or even chance
acquaintance, and it is frequently a matter of some delicacy to refuse.
Not one person in a hundred knows how to treat a book properly, and the
borrower is therefore usually regarded as but one degree removed from an
enemy. Curiously enough, the famous bibliophile, Grolier, stamped his
books with a motto of invitation, "_Jo Grolierii et Amicorum_". So did
Charles de Savigny, who went to even greater lengths still with his
legend, "_Non mihi sed aliis_". The private history of neither of these
enthusiasts states how they fared, or how many choice tomes were
returned dog-eared and stained, even if they were returned at all. For
my part I possess no books that I should fear to lend, as my whole
library consists of "working copies," useful, probably, but not
valuable. The amateur who is the proud owner of a single book out of the
common should hide it from the borrower even as from a book worm. He may
well lay the couplet which graced the library doors of Pixerecourt to
his heart:--
"_Tel est le triste sort de tout livre prete
Souvent il est perdu, toujours il est gate_".