Chapter 3: The Art of Book Binding (2)

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.