THE STUDY OF BOOKBINDING.

Too little attention has been paid, in this country at any rate, to the fact that some knowledge about early bookbinding is essential to the student of early printing. At first the printer was also a stationer and bookbinder, and the three occupations were hardly clearly defined or definitely separated within the first hundred years after the invention of printing. Books always required some kind of binding, and the early printer sold his books to the purchaser ready bound, though copies seem always to have been obtainable in sheets by such as wished them in that state. The binder ornamented his books in certain ways and with a limited number of stamps, and there is no reason why a careful study should not make his binding ornamentation as easily recognisable as his woodcuts or his type. Of course the majority of early bindings are unsigned, and therefore it is not often possible to assign particular bindings to particular men; but comparison may enable us to attribute them to particular districts and even to particular places, so that they may often afford additional evidence towards placing books which contain no information of their origin.

A very little attention paid to a binding might often result in most valuable information, and with the destruction of the binding the information disappears. Many years ago there came into the hands of a certain Mr. Horn a very valuable volume consisting of three block-books, the Biblia Pauperum, the Ars Moriendi, and the Apocalypse, all bound together, and in their original binding, which was dated. Incredible as it may seem, the volume was split up and the binding destroyed. Mr. Horn asserted from memory that the date was 1428; of the first three figures he was sure, and of the last he was more or less certain. Naturally the date has been questioned, and it has been surmised that the 2 must have been some other figure which Mr. Horn deciphered incorrectly. The destruction of the binding made it impossible that this question could ever be set at rest, and a very important date in the history of printing was lost absolutely.

In the last century no regard whatever seems to have been paid to old bindings, the very fact of their being old prejudiced librarians against them; if they became damaged or worn they were not repaired, but destroyed, and the book rebound. Nor did they fare better in earlier times. Somewhere in the first half of the seventeenth century all the manuscripts in the Cambridge University Library were uniformly rebound in rough calf, to the utter destruction of every trace of their former history.

Casley, in his catalogue of the manuscripts in the Royal Library, specially mentions a curious old binding, with an inscription showing that it was made at Oxford, in Catte Street, in 1467. Even the special note in the catalogue did not save this binding, which, if it had been preserved, would have been one of the earliest, if not the earliest, dated English example.

There is no need to multiply examples to show how widespread the destruction of old bindings has been as regards public libraries; indeed, their escaping without observation was their only chance of escaping without destruction, In private libraries much the same thing has happened. The great collectors of the period of Dibdin thought nothing worthy of notice unless ‘encased’ in a russia or morocco leather covering by Lewis or some bookbinder of the time. Nor are collectors of the same opinion now obsolete, for many of our better known binders can show specimens of rare and interesting old bindings which they have been ordered to strip off and replace with something new. Ignorance is the cause of much of what we lament. So many collectors are ruled entirely by the advice of their booksellers and binders, and these in their turn are influenced purely by commercial instincts. Collectors with knowledge or opinions of their own are beginning to see that the one thing which makes a book valuable (not simply in the way of pounds, shillings, and pence) is that it shall be, as far as possible, in its original condition. Our greatest books of the seventeenth century were issued in simple calf bindings, with no attempt at ornamentation but a plain line ruled down the cover about an inch from the back. If a collector wants modern ornamental bindings, let him put them on modern books, there only are they not out of place.

About the German binders, who necessarily concern us most at the time of the invention of printing, we know very little; but, on the other hand, there is a great deal to be learnt. Their bindings, both of pigskin and calf, are impressed with a large number of very beautiful and carefully executed dies, which could with a little care be separated into groups. Many of them, curiously enough, are very similar to some used on London and Durham bindings of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. There are the same palm-leaf dies and drop-shaped stamps containing dragons.

It is in Germany that the earliest dated bindings are found. A copy of the Eggesteyn forty-one line Bible, in the Cambridge University Library, has the date 1464 impressed on the metal bosses which protect the corners; and as the book is without a colophon, this date is of importance. A binder named Jean Richenbach dated all his bindings, and added, as a rule, the name of the person for whom they were bound. The earliest date we have for him is 1467, and they run from that year to 1475. Johannes Fogel is another name often found on early German bindings. A few printers’ names occur, such as Ambrose Keller, Veldener, Zainer, Amorbach. About the time of Koburger, great changes were introduced into the style of German binding, a harmonious design being produced by means of large tools, and the use of small dies given up. The custom was also introduced of printing the title on the side in gold. The panel stamp, so popular in other countries, was not much used in Germany for calf books; it is found, however, on innumerable pigskin and parchment bindings of the latter half of the sixteenth century. The earliest of the bindings of this class have often the boards of wood; at a later date they are almost invariably of paper or millboard. On early French books the work is finer, but as a rule less interesting; but the panel stamps, especially the early ones, are very good. A very large number are signed in full. One with the name of Alexandre Alyat, a Paris stationer, is particularly fine, as are also the series belonging to Jean Norins. The Norman binders produced work very like the English, no doubt because many of the books printed there were intended especially for the English market.

The bookbinding of the Low Countries was always fine; but the great improvement which was first introduced there was the use of the panel stamp, invented about the middle of the fourteenth century. It was not till after the introduction of printing, and when books were issued of a small size, that this invention became of real importance; but at the end of the fifteenth and during the first twenty or thirty years of the sixteenth centuries, innumerable bindings of this class were produced. The majority of Netherlandish panels are not pictorial, but are ornamented with a double row of fabulous beasts and birds in circles of foliage; round this runs a legend, very often containing the binder’s name. Discere ne cesses cura sapientia crescit Martinus Vulcanius is on one binding; on another, Ob laudem christi hunc librum recte ligavi Johannes Bollcaert. Some binders give not only their name, but the place also—Johannes de Wowdix Antwerpie me fecit. Though there are few pictorial Flemish panels, some of these are not without interest. A number were produced by a binder whose initials are I. P., and who was connected in some way with the Augustinian Monastery of St. Gregory and St. Martin at Louvain. One which contains a medallion head, a small figure of Cleopatra, and a good deal of arabesque ornament of foliage, is his best; while another panel, large enough for a quarto book, with a border of chain work, and his initials on a shield in the centre, is his rarest, and is in its way very artistic. At a still later date the binders in the Low Countries produced some panels, which, though still pictorial, show how rapidly the art was being debased. The designs are ill drawn, and the inscription, originally an important part, has come to be degraded into a piece of ornamentation without meaning, cut by the engraver purely with that object, ignoring the individual letters or legibility of the inscription, and anxious only that the finish which an inscription gave to his models might be apparent to the eye in his copies. A similar debasement is not uncommon in late English examples.

Italian and Spanish binding, though interesting in itself, affords little information as regards printers or stationers. No bindings were signed, and the designs are in all cases so similar as to afford little clue to the place from which they originally came.

The earliest English bindings are extremely interesting and distinctive. Caxton, our first printer, always bound his books in leather, never making use of vellum or pigskin. Bindings of wrapping vellum, which he is erroneously said to have made, were not used in England till a very much later period. His bindings, if ornamented at all, were ruled with diagonal lines, and in the centre of each compartment thus formed a die was impressed. A border was often placed round the side, formed from triangular stamps pointing alternately inwards and outwards, these stamps containing the figure of a dragon.

The number of bindings which can with certainty be ascribed to Caxton is necessarily small. We can, in the first place, only take those on books printed by him, and which contain, besides this, distinct evidence, from the end-papers or fragments used in the binding, that they came from his workshop. Under this class we can place the cover of the Boethius, discovered in the Grammar School at St. Alban’s, an edition of the Festial in the British Museum, and a few others; and from the stamps used on these we can identify others which have no other indication. It must always be remembered that these dies were almost indestructible, and therefore were often in use long after their original owner was dead. The Oxford bindings, though very English in design, are stamped with dies Netherlandish in origin. An ornament of three small circles arranged in a triangle occurs very often on these bindings, and is a very distinctive one. These bindings when in their original condition are almost always, like those of the Netherlands, lined with vellum, and have vellum guards to the centre of the quires. The only two copies known of one of Caxton’s indulgences were found pasted face downwards, used to line the binding of a Netherland printed book. Another binder, about the end of the fifteenth century, whose initials, G. W., and mark occur on a shield-shaped die, used always printed matter to line his bindings and make end-papers, though they were not necessarily on vellum. All the leaves now known of the Machlinia HorÆ ad usum Sarum whose provenance can be ascertained, came from bindings by this man, scattered about in different parts of the country. It is not known in what part of the country he worked.

Trade bindings between 1500 and 1540 form an important series. All small books were stamped with a panel on the sides, and these often have the initials or mark of the binder. Pynson used a stamp with his device upon it; many others used two panels, with the arms of England on one side and the Tudor rose on the other, both with supporters. On the majority of these panels, below the rose, is the binder’s mark and initials; on the other side, below the shield, his initials alone. Not many of these binders’ or stationers’ names have been discovered, and there are few materials to enable us to do so. Pynson and Julian Notary’s bindings have the same devices as they used in their books, and some of Jacobi’s have the mark which occurs on the title-page to the Lyndewode of 1506 printed for him. Reynes’ various marks are well known and of common occurrence.

Without a distinguishing mark of some kind beyond the initials, it is hopeless to try and ascribe bindings to particular stationers, though a careful examination of the style or evidences as to early ownership may help us to determine with some accuracy the country at least from which the binding comes. Even a study of the forwarding of a binding is of great help. The method of sewing and putting on headbands is quite different in Italian books from those of other countries. Again, all small books were, as a rule, sewn on three bands in England and Normandy; in other countries the rule is for them to have four. The leather gives sometimes a clue, e.g. in parts of France sheepskin was used in place of calf. Cambridge bindings can often be recognised from a peculiar red colouring of the leather. So little has been done as yet to classify the different peculiarities of style or work in these early bindings, that it can hardly be expected that much should be known about them; at present the study is still in its infancy, but there is no doubt that, if persevered in, it will have valuable results. These bindings were for the most part produced, certainly in the sixteenth century, by men who were not printers, and whose names we have consequently few chances of discovering. All that can therefore be done is to classify them according to style, and according to such extraneous information as may be available. It is useless with no other information to attempt to assign initials.

But while the bindings and the designs afford valuable information, the materials employed in making the bindings are also of great importance. The boards were often made of refuse printed leaves pasted together, and were always lined, after the binding was completed, with leaves of paper or vellum, printed or manuscript. On this subject I cannot do better than give the following quotation from one of Henry Bradshaw’s Memoranda, No. 5, Notice of the Bristol fragment of the Fifteen Oes:—

‘After all that has been said, it cannot be any matter of wonder that the fragments used for lining the boards of old books should have an interest for those who make a study of the methods and habits of our early printers, with a view to the solution of some of many difficulties still remaining unsettled in the history of printing. I have for many years tried to draw the attention of librarians and others to the evidence which may be gleaned from a careful study from these fragments, and if done systematically and intelligently, it ceases to be mere antiquarian pottering or aimless waste of time. I have elsewhere drawn attention[40] to the distinction to be observed between what may be called respectively binder’s waste and printer’s waste. When speaking of fragments of books as binder’s waste, I mean books which have been in circulation, and have been thrown away as useless. The value of such fragments is principally in themselves. They may or may not be of interest. But by printer’s waste I mean ... waste, proof, or cancelled sheets in the printer’s office, which, in the early days when printers were their own bookbinders, would be used by the bookbinder for lining the boards, or the centres of quires, of books bound in the same office where they were printed. In this way such fragments have a value beyond themselves, as they enable us to infer almost with certainty that such books are specimens of the binding executed in the office of the printer who printed them; and thus, once seeing the style adopted and the actual designs used, we are able to recognise the same binder’s work, even when there are none of these waste sheets to lead us to the same conclusion.’

The number of books known only from fragments rescued from bindings is much larger than is generally supposed. Of books printed in England before 1530 more than ten per cent. are only known in this way; and now that more attention is being paid to the subject, remains of unknown books are continually being discovered.

Blades in his Life of Caxton [edit. 1861, vol. ii. p. 70] gives a most interesting account of a find of this sort in the library of the St. Alban’s Grammar School. ‘After examining a few interesting books, I pulled out one which was lying flat upon the top of others. It was in a most deplorable state, covered thickly with a damp, sticky dust, and with a considerable portion of the back rotted away by wet. The white decay fell in lumps on the floor as the unappreciated volume was opened. It proved to be Geoffrey Chaucer’s English translation of Boecius de consolatione PhilosophiÆ, printed by Caxton, in the original binding as issued from Caxton’s workshop, and uncut!... On dissecting the covers they were found to be composed entirely of waste sheets from Caxton’s press, two or three being printed on one side only. The two covers yielded no less than fifty-six half-sheets of printed paper, proving the existence of three works from Caxton’s press quite unknown before.’

Off a stall in Booksellers Row the writer some few years ago bought for a couple of shillings an imperfect foreign printed folio of about 1510 in an original stamped binding, lined at each end with printed leaves. From one end came the title-page and another leaf of an unknown English Donatus printed by Guillam Faques; from the other end, two leaves, one having the mark and colophon of a hitherto unknown book printed by Richard Faques, and which is at present the earliest book known to have been issued from his press. The finding of these two fragments is further of interest as showing a connection between the two printers called Faques.

Nor do these early fragments always come out of very old bindings. From a sixpenny box at Salisbury the writer bought a large folio of divinity, printed about 1700, in its original plain calf binding. The end leaves were complete pages of the first book printed in London, the Questiones Antonii AndreÆ, printed by Lettou in 1480.

The boards of a book in Westminster Abbey Library, which must have been bound at Cambridge in the second quarter of the sixteenth century, were composed of leaves of the Pontanus de Roma, one of the ‘Costeriana.’

Service-books were very largely used by the bookbinders, for the many Acts passed for their mutilation or destruction soon turned the majority of copies into waste paper. Several copes of Henry VIII.’s Letters to Martin Luther of 1526, which remain in their original bindings, have their boards made of such material, a practical commentary on the King’s opinions.

Manuscripts, many of the utmost importance, have been cut up by the bookbinders; sometimes in early days the librarian handed out what he considered a useless manuscript to the bookbinder whom he employed. Bradshaw notes that Edward VI.’s own copy of the Stephen’s Greek Testament of 1550 contains in the binding large fragments of an early manuscript of Horace and Persius. Vellum was often used in early books to line the centre of each quire so as to prevent the paper being cut by the thread used for the sewing. Many pieces of Donatuses and Indulgences have been found in this manner cut up into long strips about half an inch wide. The copy of the Gotz Bible of 1480 in Jesus College, Cambridge, bound in London by Lettou, has the centres of the quires lined with strips of two editions of an indulgence printed by him, and which are otherwise unknown.

When the leaves used to line the boards of an old book are valuable or important, they should be carefully taken out, if this can be done without injury to the binding or to the fragments. A note should at once be put on the fragments stating from what book they were taken, and a note should also be put in the book stating what fragments were taken from it. In soaking off leaves of vellum, warm water must on no account be used, as it causes the vellum to shrink up. Indeed, it is better to use cold water for everything; it necessitates a much greater expenditure of time, but it is very much safer.

If the fragments are not of much importance, they should not be taken from the binding, for the removal, however carefully done, must tend to hurt the book. It will be sufficient to make a note of their existence for reference at any time. When important fragments are extracted, it is best to bind them up separately and place them on the shelves, and not keep them loose in boxes or drawers, or pasted into scrap-books. For many typographical purposes the fragment is as useful as the complete book.

In conclusion, a word may be said on the methods of treating and preserving old bindings. In the first place, a binding should never be touched or repaired unless it is absolutely necessary; and if it is of any value, it should be kept in a plain case. These cases should always be made so that the side opens, not, as is more usual, open only at the end, for then every time the book is taken out the sides are rubbed. If they are made in the form of a book with overlapping edges, they can be lettered on the back and stand on the shelves with other books.

If it is necessary that the binding should be repaired, nothing should be destroyed. If, for example, a portion of the back has been lost, what remains should be kept, and not an entirely new back put on. In repairing calf bindings, morocco should be used, as near the colour of the original as possible, and the grain should be pressed out. The old end-papers should, of course, be retained, and nothing of any kind destroyed which affords a link in the history of the book. No attempt should be made to ornament the repaired portion so as to resemble the rest of the binding; it serves no useful purpose, and takes away considerably from the good appearance and value of what is left, for a binding which has been ‘doctored’ must always be looked upon with some mistrust.

An old calf book should never be varnished; it does not really help to preserve it, and it gives it an unsightly appearance, besides tending to fill up the more delicate details in the ornamentation. Some writers recommend that old bindings should be rubbed with vaseline or other similar preparations. Nothing is better than good furniture cream or paste. A few drops should be lightly rubbed on the binding with a piece of flannel; it should be left for a few minutes, until nearly dry, and then rubbed with a soft dry cloth. Not only does this soften the leather and prevent it getting friable, but it puts an excellent surface and polish upon it, quite unlike that produced by varnish. When a binding is in good condition and the surface not rubbed through, it is best to leave it alone; if any dusting or rubbing has to be done, it should be done with a silk handkerchief.