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Title: The Book - Its History and Development
Author: Davenport, Cyril
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "The Book - Its History and Development" ***

This book is indexed by ISYS Web Indexing system to allow the reader find any word or number within the document.

produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries.)

Transcriber’s Notes:

Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_), and ^ precedes
a superscript (x^2).

Additional Transcriber’s Notes are at the end.

       *       *       *       *       *

The “Westminster” Series.


       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: Golden Binding of “The Gospels of Charlemagne,” with
Jewels and Enamels, 11th or 12th Century. [_Frontispiece._]






       *       *       *       *       *




  Rock inscriptions--Marks on wood--Quipus--Wampum--Modern
    ideographs--Indian palm-leaf books--Ideographs and
    alphabets--Diptychs                                        _p._ 1


  Papyrus and vellum rolls--Quaternions--The sewing
    of books--Headbands--The rounding and backing of
    books--Mediæval books--Irish cumdachs--Byzantine
    bindings--Oriental books--Modern methods of sewing and
    binding                                                   _p._ 26


  Paper--Watermarks and quiring                               _p._ 62


  Assyrian bricks with printed inscriptions--Oiron
    ware--Chinese types--Block books--Costeriana--Types and
    stereotypes--Printing presses                             _p._ 85


  Wood engraving--Line
    --Photography                                            _p._ 102


  Book edges and their decoration--Embroidered books--Cloth
    bindings--Account books--End papers--Small metal-bound
    books--Books bound in tortoiseshell--Chained books--Horn
    books                                                    _p._ 141


  Vellum--Calf--Pig skin--Sheep skin--Goat skin--Seal skin,
    etc.                                                     _p._ 169


  Blind tooling and stamping--Panel stamps--Cut
    leather--Stained calf--Cut vellum--Transparent vellum    _p._ 181


  Gold tooling in leather introduced from the East to
    Venice--Early Italian gold tooled work--The spread of
    gold tooling in Europe--Modern work--Gold tooling in
    leather--Early Venetian gold tooled bindings--The work
    of Thos. Berthelet, John Day, John Gibson, Mary Collet,
    Samuel Mearne, Suckerman, Eliot and Chapman, Roger Payne,
    Richard Wier, Charles Hering, Kalthœber, Staggemeier,
    Walther, Charles Lewis, T. J. Cobden-Sanderson, Sir Edw.
    Sullivan, Douglas Cockerell, E. M. MacColl, S. Prideaux,
    Adams, Woolrich, Etienne Roffet, Geoffrey Tory, Nicholas
    and Clovis Eve, Le Gascon, Florimond Badier, Macé Ruette,
    L. A. Boyet, Padeloup le Jeune, J. le Monnier, Derome le
    Jeune, Capé, Duru, Thouvenin, Bauzonnet, Trautz, Lortic  _p._ 205

  INDEX                                                      _p._ 245


      JEWELS AND ENAMELS, 11TH OR 12TH CENTURY. (_See_ p. 54)

      (LONDON, 1766)                                 _To face p._  98

                                                     _To face p._ 104

                                                     _To face p._ 108

                                                     _To face p._ 110

      1824)                                          _To face p._ 124

      TOOLED IN THE POINTILLÉ MANNER                 _To face p._ 238

       *       *       *       *       *



  Rock inscriptions--Marks on wood--Quipus--Wampum--Modern
  ideographs--Indian palm leaf books--Ideographs and

The idea of making records by means of marks cut on stone or wood did
not originate in any one place, for signs of it are found more or less
all over the world wherever primitive man has existed. It was not until
a comparatively late period that the various kinds of record keeping
were unified after a fashion and true writing evolved itself out of the

There are some forms of record keeping that have been largely used
by the human race which, as far as we can at present tell, have not
influenced our present form of book except negatively; but indirectly
they may still have done so in some manner that we cannot distinguish.

Mankind is naturally imitative, and among his early efforts in this
direction are the scratchings on bones and antlers. They comprise
outlines of deer, mammoths, reindeer, seals, bears, horses and other
animals. Several instances of these early drawings have been found in
the caves of the Dordogne in France. These, however, are not records,
they are only pictures of what the artist saw, and a large proportion
of rock and stone markings come into the same category. But there is
no doubt that many of the latter are intended to commemorate certain
events; they show groupings of marks, animals and men in positions and
attitudes which are clearly intended to mean something, and now and
then it has been possible to make a good guess at their interpretation.

The earliest marks made by man that still exist are to be found
among the rock markings or carvings, as these are often in protected
places where the weather has not worn them away. Prehistoric caves
and tombs are prolific in such treasures, and the marks, ideographs
or hieroglyphics are always of the greatest interest. There seems to
be some analogy between the great megalithic temples like that on
Salisbury Plain and many of the rock inscriptions, but little is at
present known on this point.

Cup and ring markings on rocks or stones are among the most remarkable
of rock inscriptions because they are not isolated as to their design.
From Ireland to India these marks are found possessing the same radical
forms, and it is impossible to avoid the conclusion that they have been
made by tribes of men who had some thought or idea in common. What this
idea was is still a disputed point among archæologists.

Cup and ring markings are held by some authorities to be astronomical,
sun signs, but these speculations, especially in Scandinavian examples,
soon land us in pure symbolism, ring crosses, swastikas, triskeles and
the rest.

Apart from these, marks are found in the British Isles and in India
particularly through which a dominant idea is clearly present. It seems
likely that some common religious symbolism is really the key to the
mystery, and this belief, disavowed by Sir J. Simpson, is strongly
held by Col. J. H. Rivett-Carnac, as well as by many others. By these
archæologists the cup and ring markings are considered to be the
ideographic expressions of one of the primitive religions of the world
which was very widely spread, and the remains of which exist in India
at the present day.

[Illustration: FIG. 1.--Stone cist with ring marks. Found at Coilsford
in Ayrshire.]

But even admitting the possibility of this interpretation, there are
still many points left unexplained. For instance, in the drawing, it
will be seen that the cups with their rings are cunningly attached to
each other, and the whole design appears as if it “means something.” No
doubt some day further light will be thrown upon this curious form of

The Assyrian and Babylonian sculptures both in the round and in
bas-reliefs are commonly covered with cuneiform inscriptions, and
these are also plentifully found inscribed on stone stelæ and bronze
figurines. The famous Rosetta stone is a familiar example of a
tri-lingual inscription that will probably last as long as the world
lasts. It is now in the British Museum, and bears an inscription in
Hieroglyphic, Demotic and Greek. The Greek being understood, it gave at
once the key to the interpretation of the Hieroglyphic. The date of
the cutting of this stone is about the beginning of the second century
before the birth of Christ. An earlier stone of a similar kind is known
as the tablet of Sen; it contains a decree of the priests at Canopus in
honour of Ptolemy Evergetes I. It was made in B.C. 238, but has not yet
got to England.

The ten commandments were engraved on stone, and instances of
inscriptions on small stones are very numerous. From Egypt to North
America amulets bearing mystical sentences have been commonly made.
Familiar to most of us are the turquoises engraved with Arabic words
run in with gold, and the curious “Garuda” and other stones, with
magical inscriptions and credited with magical powers, have been common
in the East from time immemorial.

[Illustration: FIG. 2.--Garuda amulet.]

In India inscriptions, holy names, invocations and quotations are cut
on small flat pieces of jasper, agate, onyx, carnelian, amethyst,
hematite, jade, and materials of less value like coral or glass, some
of the old and some new. Musulman amulets of similar kinds are also
sometimes found on gold, silver, iron, and even on small bricks of
baked clay.

Many of these amulets have pierced ears for suspension, and they were
worn as jewellery on the neck or ears or sewn on girdles. They were
also fixed on weapons of war and horse furniture. Some of the stones
are engraved in reverse so as to make impressions. These are seal
stones, but the greater number are engraved simply so as to read
straightforwardly. They are in Arabic, Persian, and rarely Turkish.

Greek and Roman cameos and intaglios are often found bearing short
inscriptions as well as the names of their engravers. Even the diamond
has not escaped, but inscriptions on this stone are very rare because
of the difficulty of engraving it. Numbers of inscriptions, names and
mottoes can be found on ring stones of all times as well as on real

Curious Chinese books are made of leaves of jade, and in these
inscriptions are cut in the decorative Chinese character, run in with

It should be noted that the forms of letters have always been much
influenced by the manner in which they could be most easily made. It
is easier to cut a square form of letter on stone than a cursive form,
so we find that the majority of rock or stone inscriptions favour the
square form rather than the rounded form of letter. We derive our
angular forms of letters from the distant past, but the rounded forms
are adapted from the later times of papyrus or vellum, when reed or pen
writing was understood.

Writings on metal have been made from time to time, but never very
largely. In India inscribed plaques of bronze, kept together by
metal rings, have been often used. Tablets of lead are recorded as
having been used by ancient peoples, and Oriental as well as European
talismanic formulæ have been engraved on small plates of silver,
bronze, brass or lead, the letters being now and then damascened with
gold and silver. In ancient Rome name-brands were cut in bronze, and
impressions could have been printed from them. They were beautifully

The Nicene creed was cut in silver by order of Pope Leo III., and in
the East strips of metal have constantly been substituted for the long
thin pieces of palm leaf which formed the normal books. The metal
leaves are found of gold, silver, or gilded copper particularly. The
plates are quite thin, and the characters upon them are generally
engraved, but sometimes they are chased with tracer and hammer. Such
records are not only very permanent but they are also very decorative.
The modern engraving of inscriptions on metal has mainly found refuge
in monumental brasses, and in this case the letterings are usually run
in with some pigment.

[Illustration: FIG. 3.--Runic calendar on bone.]

Another primitive form of record is found in the case of notches cut in
wood. A savage warrior of a literary turn of mind would naturally wish
to keep some record of the number of his enemies that he had killed
and perhaps eaten, and an obvious way of doing this would be to cut or
scratch marks on his war club. Such records would, no doubt, become
customary among war-like tribes. The handles of war axes or spears
would offer excellent ground for such marks, and presently, especially
in peace times, similar marks may well have kept tallies of the numbers
of game killed.

From such personal notes the transition to others of wider interest
is not difficult, and so we find the notches used, on bits of wood or
sticks, for almanacks and calendars.

Ogham and Runic inscriptions follow the ancient idea of notches cut
along an angular edge, and these notches and rods are the very distant
ancestors of our modern types of metal; the German word “Buchstab,”
meaning type, is etymologically “a wooden rod.”

In Denmark and Sweden in ancient times almanacks were cut on flat
pieces of metal, bone, horn, box, fir or oak. The majority of them
are of wood, but the other materials were sometimes used. They are
variously known as Rune staves or stocks, Prime staves, Messe dag
staves or Brim stocks, and they are generally hinged along one side by
cords run through holes, several slabs being thus fastened together.
Wooden calendars are also often found among the records kept by
primitive peoples; they have been found in Sumatra and in many other

Similar almanacks were used by our Saxon ancestors, who no doubt
borrowed the idea from the Scandinavians. One side was kept for the
summer and the other for the winter, and notches for the days were made
across the edges.

[Illustration: FIG. 4.--Staffordshire clog almanack.]

During the reign of Queen Elizabeth a modification of the Scandinavian
Rune staves was largely used in England, chiefly in Staffordshire, but
not exclusively. These are known as “clog almanacks,” and Dr. Plott
says that “Clogg may mean Logg, or that they are like the cloggs with
which we restrain our doggs.”

English clog almanacks are squared pieces of wood, measuring from about
two feet to nine or ten inches in length, and the larger ones are
sometimes as much as three inches square. They are notched along the
angles, small notches without ornamentation indicating week days, big
notches stand for Sundays, and Saints days have all kinds of ornamental
flourishes, which now and then show familiar forms such as Saint
Catherine’s wheel and Saint Lawrence’s gridiron.

[Illustration: FIG. 5.--Modern hop-tally of wood.]

Some of the clogs show a hole at the lower end, evidently so that they
could stand upright upon a peg, others, and these are the most usual,
have a flat pierced handle so that they can be suspended by a loop.
They were commonly kept in churches. Details of several well known
examples of clog almanacks will be found figured in _The Reliquary_ for
January, 1865, in illustration of an excellent article on the subject
by Mr. John Harland. Exchequer and other wooden tallies were common
in England in the 14th century, and in modern days a certain survival
of them exists in the form of hop-tallies. These are two strips of
wood which fit closely together with a tongue, and when in contact
notches are made across the two edges in apposition, so that when the
two pieces are apart, neither party can falsify the notches without it
being at once apparent when the slips are finally brought together.
The principle is exactly the same as that utilised in the old legal
“indentures,” by virtue of which a piece of vellum was cut in two
by an indentured, or toothed line, and if these did not exactly fit
whenever they were brought together it became evident that they had
been tampered with. In parts of France tallies like these are still
used by bakers.

Wooden tallies are also found among the inhabitants of Torres Straits,
where they use them made of short sticks tied together at their tops.

Curious inscriptions, as yet undecipherable, have been found at Easter
Island; they are cut in thick slabs of wood and are ideographic.

Bones have been from very early times the recipients of men’s marks;
the earliest of these, however, were only copies of things seen. But
inscriptions and symbols were presently scratched on them, and the
blade bones of buffaloes in North America as well as the shoulder
blades of sheep used by the Arabs are equally convenient for writing
upon. In Sumatra inscriptions are commonly cut in flat pieces of bone.
Instances of inscriptions in ivory are very numerous, and the finest
examples of these occur in the case of the Roman consular diptychs
which are described a little further on.

Information as to direction is still often given by means of marks
or “blazes” on trees, a survival of a primitive method, and American
lumbermen or “loggers” cut hieroglyphic marks of ownership on their
logs when they send them down stream.

In times of trouble it often happens that primitive methods of
communication are resorted to, like that received by a Cavalier from
his lady love who heard that the Roundheads were after him--she sent
him a feather, and he flew away and escaped.

[Illustration: FIG. 6.]

Such symbolical messages are common enough among savage tribes, but
without some key it is almost impossible to interpret them. They are
so various in their composition that no useful analysis of them can
be made. On one such message from West Africa, strung on a string of
flat fibre knotted at each end, are a bit of shell, a bit of fur, a
bean, a cylindrical stick, a piece of leather, a mass of frog’s eggs
or something like it, a flat piece of bark, a feather, a tooth and a
shell. In another are two pieces of flat glass kept together with red
thread, and two teeth on each side of it, all strung on fibre, and so

[Illustration: FIG. 7.]

The Battas of Sumatra use different and probably more elaborate
messages, as they consist of carefully cut strips of wood, resembling
the old spillikins with which our childhood’s days were made happy.
These strips of thin wood, about three inches in length, are cut into
various shapes which have no obvious collective meaning. In one of
them is a capital model of a little broom, accompanied apparently by a
series of little clubs and spikes. Such a message might have been sent
by an absent brave to his squaw at home, and may have meant that if
she didn’t sweep up the wigwam before his arrival she would experience
the effect of one or other of the clubs.

The Incas of Peru had a regular system of keeping records by means of
coloured pieces of string knotted in a peculiar way.

[Illustration: FIG. 8.--Peruvian Quipu.]

These knotted records, or Quipus, had special keepers who held office
in the provinces, and the results of their energy were forwarded
annually to the capital city for examination and preservation. The
provincial keepers were called “Quipu Camayas,” and the records they
kept were mainly statistics concerning the people of their districts.
The knots were arranged either on a strong piece of cord or upon a
stick, and formed a sort of fringe; the word “Quipu” means a knot.
According to the position of the knot a certain number was probably
indicated, and the class of person referred to is shown by the colour
of the bit of string which represents it.

But it is also likely that more elaborate interpretations could be
made by skilled interpreters of Quipus. Little is really known as to
that, but it is suggested by competent observers that, for instance,
red meant war, yellow meant gold, white meant peace, and silver. But
this is probably guess work. The same idea has been utilised in the
case of a rare Chinese book, the leaves of which were of differently
coloured silks. Each colour was supposed to convey a certain emotion
to the student, and when he had exhausted the emotion caused by one
colour, he turned over the leaf so as to experience the effect of

[Illustration: FIG. 9.--Cardinal’s hat.]

The use of knots as reminders is not quite obsolete, as it is common
enough even now to make a knot in one’s handkerchief, if anything easy
is to be remembered. It is curious if this custom is really a survival
of the Peruvian Quipu!

A form of knotted record is used among several of the tribes in the
Pacific Islands, and the Jewish “Taleth,” or scarf, has fringes which
imply certain facts.

The ordinary rosary with its ten beads for Ave Maria’s and single ones
for Pater Nosters has also something in common with knots, and possibly
the abacus of the Greeks and the Chinese may have a similar origin. But
probably these last are only used as aids in mathematical calculations.

Something analogous to the Peruvian knots is to be found in the
tasselled and knotted fringes which adorn the ceremonial hats of
dignitaries in the Romish church.

The hats themselves are always of the same shape, round shallow crowns
with broad brims. The fringes, however, differ in size and colour
according to the rank of the wearer. The master cord is drawn through
the brim of the hat at its inner edge, at a point over each ear, and
kept in place by a large ornamental knot on the outside.

The tassels start from one, and from this two others depend, and from
these three, and so on, one more in each row. An abbot wears a black
hat with six green tassels on each side; a bishop wears a green hat
with six green tassels on each side on a gold cord; an archbishop has
a violet hat with ten violet tassels on each side on a gold cord, and
a cardinal has a red hat with fifteen red tassels on a gold cord,
depending on each side.

[Illustration: FIG. 10.--Portion of North American wampum belt.]

The wampum belts of North America were primarily used as money, but
they were also made sometimes in such a way that they formed historical

The true “Six Nation” wampum belts were made of little white and
purple cylinders of shell very laboriously cut, and the purple ones
very difficult to get. “Wampum” means white, and there is generally
a preponderance of this colour. The short beads are strung upon long
threads or strips of leather, and the design shows sometimes in purple
on a white ground and sometimes in white on a purple ground.

The designs are sometimes easy to decipher, like the belt which
typifies the Iroquois League, showing the one heart of the ruling
nation in the centre, and the allied nations, each shown by a square,
united together in one bond.

A very fine and interesting wampum belt was given as a record of
friendship to William Penn at the Great Treaty in 1682, by the Sachems
of the Lenni Lenape. It is now preserved by the Historical Society
at Philadelphia. It is made of eighteen rows of white and purple
cylindrical shell beads, the ground white and the designs in purple.
The beads are laced upon nineteen parallel “horizontal” strips of
leather by means of thinner strips running vertically across them and
brought twice through each bead, one running being above the horizontal
strip and the other below it. It is a curious way of stringing
beads, and was practised in England some sixty or seventy years ago
in the making of small bead ribbons. In the centre of the belt is a
conventional figure of Penn shaking hands with the chief Sachem.

Many of the wampum belts seem to have only geometrical designs upon
them, but doubtless, without exception, these fine white and purple
shell belts, cut with infinite patience and skill, and put together
with the greatest care, always have some meaning. The Iroquois could,
until recently, interpret them at once, but now they are less able to
understand the work of their ancestors.

There are plenty of imitation wampum belts, usually made of small
shells or ordinary beads. The genuine belts are flat and strong, and
the little shell cylinders nearly all of the same size. The imitations
are much more irregularly and carelessly made, and they are often
without any colour but white.

A common form of book in Oriental countries consists of long narrow
strips of palm leaf, kept together by two strings run through holes
near each end. The writing upon the leaves is carried right along the
length of each leaf in successive lines, and is scratched in, and
usually strengthened by means of lamp black rubbed over it so as to
stick in the scratches.

[Illustration: FIG. 11.--Oriental palm-leaf book.]

This form of book rests by itself. Apparently it has never altered
materially, neither has it in any way affected the production of the
book as we know it. The palm leaves are brittle, they are troublesome
to turn over, and are likely to split and break where the cord touches
them. But the leaves are frequently made of stronger materials than
palm leaf, some of them being of gold, silver, or gilded copper, and in
these cases the lettering is engraved or punched. Others are written on
plates of ivory, the letters being gilded, others again on plates of
lacquer with letters inlaid with mother-of-pearl; indeed, the variety
is large.

The leaves are always enclosed between two covers of stronger make
but of the same shape, and these covers are often very elaborately
ornamented. Some of them have exquisite carved work and inlaid work
and others are painted. In the case of Indian examples they are often
messed over with red stains. When this is found the manuscript has
belonged to some shrine, and worshippers have daubed it with rice and
red paint as a sort of peace offering. The strings with which the
leaves are bound together are also sometimes handsomely ornamented.

Ancient rock inscriptions, tallies, quipus and wampums are all more or
less ideographic, and among trade signs there are still many ideographs
in common use, some of them of considerable antiquity. There are the
three golden balls of the pawnbroker, which mean that money can be
borrowed there. They are derived from the coat of arms of the Medici of
Lombardy. The Lombards were mediæval bankers and money lenders, and for
their badge they took three of the golden balls, or pills, out of the
Medici coat.

These balls varied in number and colour, they were sometimes red, and
sometimes blue, and three blue balls upon a white ground was one of the
mediæval signs used by money lenders, but the three golden balls have
proved more lasting.

Another old ideograph is the white barber’s pole, with its red spiral,
the image of the red bandage used to tie up an arm which had just been
bled. It was originally the mark of a barber surgeon, but the barber
still uses it although he no longer bleeds his clients. An old sign for
a barber is also a shaving dish. This is oftener seen on the continent
than it is here.

The embowed arm holding a hammer is an old sign of a gold beater,
and is generally itself gilded. It is clearly an ideograph, as is
also the fishing rod with a golden fish, which is a usual sign over a
fishing tackle maker’s shop. A modern instance of the same kind is a
gilded ham which is not uncommonly seen over provision shops, quite
a modern sign. The rapidly disappearing Highlander taking snuff is
another modern ideograph. There are plenty more of such signs, most of
which tell their story directly and simply, while others, the older
ones particularly, may at first seem arbitrary, but often a little
examination will reveal a simple origin.

The curious hieroglyphics still used by gypsies are no doubt derived
from Egyptian hieroglyphics, and although most of them have changed
considerably, a certain resemblance in some of the forms can still be

Ideograms are still used in North America in out of the way places. A
common mark for a cheese is a circle, and this sign was found opposite
a farmer’s name, but he had never had one. He did, however, owe for
a grindstone, and the draughtsman clerk had forgotten to put in the
centre dot which would have marked the difference between the stone and
the edible.

In common use more or less all over the civilised world is the pointing
hand, meaning either “Look there” or “This way.”

Some signs are also ideographic in character; among these are certain
of the deaf and dumb signs, and also some of the arm signals used
in the navy. In the army some of the bugle calls imitate as far as
possible the sounds to which they refer. For instance, the “prepare for
cavalry” has some resemblance to horses galloping.

Ideographs used in written languages soon change in character. No
longer do they mean simply what they portray, but the sound of its
name, and then by degrees they represented the first syllable, and
eventually only the first letter of its name. These changes of meaning
are accompanied by changes of form, and it is very curious to trace
how an apparently arbitrary letter form is really only the survival
of the main lines of an ancient ideogram. There are several most
interesting instances of these changes given by Dr. Isaac Taylor in his
classic “History of the Alphabet,” as well as by other writers on the
subject, particularly Sir E. Maunde Thompson and Mr. Falconer Madan.

Egyptian inscriptions show both ideographs, hieroglyphics and
alphabetic signs, as there is usually a word spelt out in syllables
or letters, and at the end of it the complete word shown as a little
picture. The hieroglyphics altered into a style of writing which was
not so pictorial about the nineteenth century B.C., and although
alphabetical symbols were actually used as early as 4,000 B.C., yet it
was very many years later than this that they became of general use.
The earliest piece of hieroglyphic known is cut upon stone on a tablet
now preserved in the Ashmolean Museum at Oxford. It is supposed to have
been made about 4,000 B.C., and on it the name of King Send is written

Our present alphabetic writing is by no means final, as it is even
now undergoing a remarkable change, in which neither ideograph,
hieroglyphic, nor alphabet plays any part. Shorthand will in time
supersede our comparatively cumbrous process, and it is purely phonetic.

Chinese writing is still in the syllabic state, but the Japanese, which
is formed from it, has advanced many steps towards the alphabetical

The earliest handwriting known is that on the Papyrus Prisse, now in
Paris. It is in Egyptian hieratic writing, and is supposed to date
perhaps from about 4,000 B.C. The hieratic is a cursive form of
hieroglyphic, and was used particularly by priests.

We derive our present letters “longo intervallo” from Egyptian
hieroglyphics, and the history of their evolution is full of interest.

It may be well here to review rapidly how it is that we have acquired
an alphabet for printing purposes which is clear, though not beautiful.
Our present type shows two alphabets; one, the capital letters, are of
Roman origin, the other, the small letters, are a modification of what
are called Carolingian minuscules, and both alphabets have reached us
through the Latin, Greek, Phœnician and Semitic.

Up to the seventh or eighth centuries in Europe the various styles of
writing were in a mixed condition, but about that time the different
forms of letters began to arrange themselves, and to follow distinctive
lines of development in different countries.

Charlemagne interested himself in the matter, and saw that the time
had arrived when something could be done towards clearing away the
many difficulties which cropped up by reason of the different forms of
letters which then existed. He caused careful studies to be made of
existing styles so that some sort of common ground could be found. At
Tours the Emperor set up a sort of Royal Commission to enquire into the
matter, and at the head of it he placed a learned Englishman, Alcuin of
York, who was known as a great student and was himself a calligraphist.
Alcuin was trained in the beautiful Hiberno-Saxon hand, of which so
many magnificent examples still remain--the Book of Kells, the Gospels
of Lindisfarne, and several more.

At Tours the Carolingian minuscules, which are the direct ancestors of
our small, or lower-case letters, were developed.

Our capital letters have developed themselves on different lines. They
are like the ancient Roman types, which in the twelfth century had
modified themselves somewhat and become very clear, and these forms
commended themselves to the scribes of the Renaissance period, and
underwent still more improvement in details. The early type cutters who
formed their letters directly after the shapes of letters written by
hand, soon saw that these capitals were not only easy to cut but were
in every way the best they could find to copy.

[Illustration: FIG. 12.--Roman diptych.]

During some excavations at Pompeii in 1875 a large collection of small
wax writing tablets or Pugillaria was found. These tablets resemble
small slates; they are of wood, and one side is slightly hollowed
out so as to receive a filling of blackened wax. Generally two of
the tablets were hinged together, hence their name of diptychs, but
sometimes they were in threes or even more, like a tail or “Caudex,”
from which it is said we derive our word Codex. Diptychs are the direct
prototypes of our modern books.

The writing was marked on the wax by means of a style in the same way
that writing was formerly done in England on the curious sand tables.
These styles are usually of iron, sometimes inlaid with brass, but they
were also made of bronze, brass, wood or bone. They always have one
end pointed to write with and the other flat to erase with. A space was
often left in the thickness of the wooden edge of a diptych to keep
the style in. The erasing in the case of the diptych was effected by
rubbing the flat end of the style over it, and in the case of the sand
writing-tablet by a plasterer’s level or a good shake. Sand tablets
have been used up to quite recent times in elementary schools. But
the sand writing was always temporary, whereas the wax writing is
very lasting, one of those found at Pompeii bearing the date A.D. 55.
It records a payment to Umbricia Januaria, and is the earliest Latin
manuscript known.

[Illustration: FIG. 13.--Roman diptych stylus.]

Diptychs of similar form were widely used. They have been found in
Egypt, and in England--remains of the Roman occupation--together with
numbers of the styles used for writing with.

Diptychs were kept together at the back by means of metal rings or
thongs of leather, run through holes made in the wood, so that they
are true prototypes of our modern books both as to form and manner
of keeping together, the “stabbed” form of binding, that is to say,
threads or bands or wires run through holes pierced along the back edge
of the sections of a book, having been in continual use ever since
rolls were first turned into books.

When the diptychs were used as private letters they were further
fastened with a tie or clasp in front, and this tie was often sealed
with the sender’s signet in wax or clay.

The Pompeian and all the other small wooden diptychs are unornamented,
but at a later period, particularly from the second to the seventh
century, Roman diptychs became of much importance and were often
decoratively treated, being made of ivory and elaborately carved.

Labarte, Gori, Westwood and Maskell have all written valuable works
concerning these ornamental diptychs, and specimens of more or less
excellence can be found in most museums that have any collection of
carvings in ivory. The earlier examples are the best; later specimens
rapidly decline in art value, although they are always of great
historical interest.

[Illustration: FIG. 14.--Byzantine diptych of ivory.]

One leaf of one of the finest diptychs in existence is fortunately in
the British Museum; it shows a full-length figure of an archangel with
globe, cross and long-staff, and is supposed to have been made in the
third or fourth century. A curious point about this leaf is its unusual
size, about 16 by 6 inches, and it is said that such a piece could not
be cut from any known elephant tusk. It is possibly mammoth ivory.

For a long time the supreme power at Rome was vested in the consuls
who held office for one year. Naturally anyone elected to this high
position was anxious to inform everyone holding any high place or
office of his accession to the dignity, and the usual way of doing
this was to send round diptychs of ivory announcing the event, as well
as subsequent ones concerning any other important matters which might
occur during the consulate.

[Illustration: FIG. 15.--Ivory diptych, of the consul Valentinian, A.D.

Not only was the communication inscribed upon the wax, all of which is
now gone, but the outside ivory was carved with invaluable portraits,
scenes and inscriptions. By examining these carvings we can frequently
ascertain who was the consul that issued them, and often enough we can
find his portrait carefully drawn. In one of the many excavations made
in the Forum at Rome, tablets containing a list of Roman consuls were
found, and these serve as an official check upon our interpretation of
the records existing upon the consular diptychs.

Consular diptychs were generally larger than the wooden pugillaria,
which were always small. Ivory diptychs are rarely less than six or
seven inches in length.

The privilege of giving away finely carved ivory diptychs was highly
esteemed, and in the fourth century the Emperor Theodosius issued an
edict forbidding any but one of the two consuls, one at Rome and the
other at Constantinople, to issue them.

In the matter of consular and official costume the Roman carved ivory
diptychs are of great importance.

Figures often appear on coins or gems, but they are always very small.
On the diptychs, however, they are sufficiently large to show full
details. The subjects depicted on them are various. There are games,
combats in the circus, scenes from the Passion, boys emptying sacks of
prizes, figures of Saints, Adam and Eve, busts and portraits of consuls
both in medallions and full length. The best collections of consular
diptychs are to be found at Rome, Milan, Monza, Paris, Munich, Berlin,
Liverpool and London.

Besides the consular there are also ecclesiastical diptychs, the
majority of which were probably only diverted from their original
intention and altered and adapted to a new use. The original wax was
removed and new inscriptions engraved on the ivory, mostly lists of
martyrs or benefactors to the particular church which had possession of
the diptych.

There is one at Liège on which the names of the bishops of Tongres are
written, and there is another similar one at Novara. It is probable
that the liking for ivory carvings on books arose from the lead given
by the ivory diptychs. Indeed in several instances the sides of ivory
diptychs are actually inlaid in late bindings of MSS.


AGLIO, A.--Antiquities of Mexico. _London_, 1830-48. (Vol. 4, at end.)

BERGER.--Histoire de l’ecriture dans l’antiquité. _Paris_, 1891.

GORI, A. F.--Thesaurus reterum diptychorum consularium et
ecclesiasticorum. _Florentiae_, 1759.

HARLAND, J.--_The Reliquary_, Jan., 1865. (Clog almanacks.)

LABARTE, J.--Histoire des Arts Industrielles au moyen age. (Diptychs.)
_Paris_, 1864-66.

LACROIX, P.--Les arts au moyen age. (Diptychs.) _Paris_, 1809.

LUBBOCK, SIR J.--Prehistoric Times. _London_, 1865.

MADAN, F.--Books in Manuscript. _London_, 1893.

MASKELL, W.--Ivories Ancient and Mediæval. _London_, 1875.

MASKELL, A.--Ivories. _London_, 1904.

PLOTT, R.--Natural History of Staffordshire. (Clog almanacks.)
_Oxford_, 1686.

PRESCOTT, W. H.--History of the Conquest of Peru. (Quipus.) _London._

REINAUD.--(Description des monumens Musulmanes du cabinet de M. le Duc
de Blacas.) (Indian amulets.) _Paris_, 1828.

RIVETT-CARNAC, J. H.--Prehistoric Remains in Central India. _Calcutta._

RIVETT-CARNAC, J. H.--Ancient Rock Sculptures in Kamaon. _Calcutta_,

SIMPSON, SIR J. Y.--Archaic Sculpturings. _Edinburgh_, 1867.

SMITHSONIAN REPORT, 1879, p. 389. (Wampum.)

TAVERNIER, J. B.--Voyages. _Paris_, 1810.

TAYLOR, I.--The Alphabet. _London_, 1883.

THOMPSON, SIR E. M.--Handbook of Greek and Roman Palæography. _London_,

WESTWOOD, J. O.--Cat. of Fictile Ivories. _London_, 1876.


  Rolls of papyrus and vellum--Quaternions--The sewing of
  books--Headbands--The rounding and backing of books--Mediæval
  books--Irish cumdachs--Byzantine bindings--Oriental books--Modern
  methods of sewing and binding.

The length of ancient rolls of vellum has often puzzled bibliophiles.
Rolls of narrow breadth are found 16 or 17 feet or more in length. A
learned scholar on being asked how he accounted for this extraordinary
length was quite puzzled, never having realised that the roll was in
one piece. The neck of the giraffe seemed the only possible solution.

[Illustration: FIG. 16.--Egyptian papyrus roll, with mud seals.]

The writer however consulted a clever leather worker and gave him a
skin measuring about 3 feet by 2, suggesting certain ways of cutting
it. He produced eventually, by wetting, pulling and pinning, a
beautiful roll of nearly 4 inches in breadth and 16 feet 9 inches in

Mediæval leather workers were no doubt more skilled and practised in
this particular art than anyone now is, and the experiment showed that
there is really nothing out of the way in the very long rolls which at
first sight seem so surprising.

Rolls were written upon in three ways. In the oldest rolls the usual
way was to write lines across the breadth of the roll, which was held
upright before the reader, and unrolled from the top downwards.

[Illustration: FIG. 17.--Roll written upon across its shorter diameter.]

A rare form of writing upon rolls is that found in the prayers written
on the strips which are rolled up inside Buddhist prayer wheels. Such
prayers, however, are never read, but are counted as being read through
on each revolution of the wheel. Each line of manuscript runs along
the entire length of the roll, which is unrolled sideways. The prayer
wheels vary immensely in size, the best known being the little hand
ones chiefly used in Thibet; they are variously ornamented.

[Illustration: FIG. 18.--Roll written upon longitudinally.]

The form of writing in rolls that is of most interest so far as books
is concerned is a modification of the Thibetan form. Instead of each
line running the whole length of the roll, a space limit is now fixed,
and the lines of writing follow under each other, so that the page form
is at once apparent. This form, a late one, can be seen in the case of
the Jewish scrolls of the law. The roll is unrolled sideways, and the
rollers at each end are often very handsomely decorated.

[Illustration: FIG. 19.--Thibetan prayer wheel.]

But writing of this last kind on rolls has suggested another
arrangement in which the reading is more easy, and the re-rolling of
the roll itself avoided.

It will be seen that a blank space is left between each of the written
“pages.” Now if the vellum, bark, or paper be folded across these
vacant spaces, one after the other, backwards and forwards, like
accordion pleating, we shall find that we get a form of book well known
in the East and also among primitive nations.

[Illustration: FIG. 20.--Roll written upon in page form.]

Curious examples of such converted rolls can be seen in most museums,
and they are generally kept flat by means of two boards front and back,
but not otherwise fastened.

The Chinese and Japanese have taken this particular form of evolution
from the roll to the book a step further, and by help of the ancient
device of “stabbing” the flattened roll along one of its sides, they
produce a form called an “Orihon,” easy to consult, strong, and the
blank back of the roll so hidden up that its existence is frequently
not realised. But if some of the leaves of an Orihon are cut, its real
structure becomes at once evident, and a book will be produced with
letterpress and blank paper alternately in pairs. A similar kind of
alternation shows now and then in the case of MS. rolls that have been
cut up, but they are oftener arranged letterpress and blank alternately.

[Illustration: FIG. 21.--Sumatran bark book in the form of a folded

[Illustration: FIG. 22.--Orihon.]

Without realising it we still preserve this blank and letterpress
sequence, found in the converted roll, in official and legal
manuscripts as well as in those intended for the printer.

When the printing press took the place of the scribe, the blank leaves
had no further _raison d’être_, so they dropped out for good.

Following the rule that the forms of binding have always followed
tolerably closely the forms of the manuscript they have covered, we
find that rolls were kept in cylindrical boxes, called “scrinia.” Each
roll was usually provided with a little tag, so that if there were
several of them in one box they could easily be distinguished. The same
sort of tags are used to-day in the case of rolled maps kept on shelves.

Until a late period the term parchment must be understood to mean
vellum. Now we call sheep skin “parchment” and calf skin “vellum,” and
they are prepared in the same way with lime, so that not being tanned
they are not strictly “leather.” The finest vellum is prepared from
the very youngest and smallest calves, and it is the most beautiful
and suitable material for writing or printing upon that has ever
yet been found. The surface is singularly even and offers little or
no resistance to a pen, so that every sort of handwriting, square or
round, is put upon it with equal ease. Vellum has one fault alone,
particularly when bound in book form as distinct from a roll, and this
is that the edges are apt to cockle, and by so doing they not only make
the pages look ugly, but they also admit the dust. Often and often
magnificent vellum books, especially at the top, show large vandykes
of dust-stained spaces due to this cockling, and all such books should
be provided with a close fitting cardboard cap, to be kept upon them
whenever they are not in use.

Parchment and vellum were both well-known to the ancients, but their
value as materials for writing upon does not seem to have been fully
acknowledged until the second century B.C., until which period papyrus
had held undisputed pre-eminence for that purpose. At that time for
some reason the supply of papyrus from Egypt ran short, and Eumenes
II., King of Pergamum, successfully introduced parchment in its stead.
Parchment is so called because it was first produced at Pergamum.

Until about the fifth century A.D., vellum MSS. were in the roll form,
but then came a change to the book form as we now know it. This change
was probably due to the fact that stabbed binding, the only sort then
used, was not suited to vellum. The few papyri that exist in book
form were stabbed, that is to say, the rectangular pages were kept
in position by a binding cord laced through holes pierced sideways
right through the entire thickness of the back of the book. The marks
of these holes can often be seen along the inner margins of ancient
papyri, and they also show in many instances of rebound copies of our
early English printed books. To-day plenty of examples of this form of
sewing can be seen in the Chinese and Japanese books, “Orihons,” which
are really links between the roll and the book form. It is also largely
used for thin books of little value, and a modification of it can be
seen in numbers of magazines, books of advertisements, and the like,
which are kept together by abominable little clamps of wire attached
on the same principle. When such books have to be properly bound the
little clamps have to be carefully removed, and it is generally found
that they have made an indelible stain of rust on the paper, even if
they have not also torn it considerably.

[Illustration: FIG. 23.--Stabbed binding.]

In mediæval libraries or monasteries when a book was to be made,
vellum leaves were cut into the required size and folded once across
the middle. The folded leaves were then fitted inside each other in
groups of four (quaternions) or five (quinternions), or whatever other
number seemed good to the bookmaker. The leaves were then marked in
some slight way so that their order might not be lost, and sent to the
scribe to be written upon.

The books count as folios because each original sheet only forms two
pages; the fact of their being arranged in groups is accidental,
and does not theoretically alter the size of the book. For this the
original skin of vellum would have to be folded with certain further
divisions, and in the case of early manuscripts this was never done.

Vellum shows a different surface on the flesh side to that on the hair
side, and the scribe usually made his rule marks with a blunt style
to guide his writing on the hair side, so that on this side the ruled
lines are slightly indented, whereas on the flesh side they show as
little ridges.

This point is apparently trivial, but if, as seems likely, both Greek
and Latin scribes were really very particular and consistent in the way
they alternated the two sides of the vellum, then the matter becomes
one of much critical importance. Indeed, it has already been of the
utmost value in deciding questions as to whether new pages had been
added or not to an old book.

[Illustration: FIG. 24.--Quaternion threaded together.]

When the scribe had made his rulings he then doubled up his sheets
once, and arranged them as he desired with regard to the hair or flesh
sides. When a section of four sheets were fitted into each other,
so that when pressed together they made a solid gathering, such a
gathering is called a “Quaternion,” from which term we derive our word
“Quire.” This is a normal state of things, but it is obvious that
abnormal arrangements might easily be made, from the insertion of a
single leaf to that of an entirely additional section.

Now the question arose of how best to fasten the quaternions together,
not only as to themselves but also as to the other quaternions, which
together formed the entire book.

As to the quaternion itself, it must have been evident at once that
a stitch of thread or fibre run from the innermost fold right through
to the outermost would hold the leaves firmly together. It is likely
enough that this was done separately at first, and then the binder
would have looked at a small heap of such gatherings wondering how best
to keep them together, and it would soon occur to any constructive
mind to knot the loose ends of the threads together, or else to supply
a supplementary cord or cords laid at right angles to the back of the
sections on which the projecting ends of the threads might be tied or

[Illustration: FIG. 25.--Four threaded quaternions ready to be tied

[Illustration: FIG. 26.--Four threaded quaternions tied on to
transverse bands.]

This, in fact, was done, and very shortly the best way of fastening the
sections on to such cords or threads was hit upon--a method indeed that
we have never bettered, and which can still be found in the work of
many of our best modern binders.

At first this fastening together of the sections of a book was no doubt
done uncomfortably and roughly by hand, but it soon became evident
that some simple device in the form of a skeleton frame might be
contrived which would render the operations of sewing and binding much
easier. Not only easier to execute but also giving a more regular and
workmanlike result.

The earliest known sewing frames were the same as are used now. There
are two strong columns of wood fixed on a broad platform, with a slot
between their bases. From capital to capital extends a bar, and the
strips of leather, vellum, or hempen cords which are to form the bands
of the book are looped upon it, and are kept taut by means of metal
keys attached to the other end, which lock into the slot at the bottom.
The bands can be quite easily adjusted to any space the worker desires.

[Illustration: FIG. 27.--Modern hand-sewing press.]

The book, ready for sewing and in proper order of sections, is laid
near the worker’s hand, and he, or she, takes it up by sections, one at
a time. The section to be worked upon is laid downwards on the little
platform, with its back close against the bands, and the worker’s left
hand keeps the section open in the middle, while with the right hand a
thread is drawn through the back fold, from the inside to the outside,
round the band, and then back from the outside to the inside, and so
on until all the bands have been caught round. Then to end up, the
thread is passed through near the extreme end of the fold and knotted,
forming what is called a “kettle stitch,” and from this point the whole
operation is repeated, backwards, with the next section. It sounds
complicated, but is not so really, and several sections could have been
sewn together in the time that it has taken me to describe the sewing
of one of them.

[Illustration: FIG. 28.--Faulty sewing over a band.]

Now comes an interesting point, and that is the exact way in which the
threads are passed over the bands. We will first see that if the thread
is drawn through the back fold of the section, round a hand and back
again through another hole, that there is a weak construction, inasmuch
as the thread will have a strong tendency to cut through the paper at
_a_ and _b_, because there is in each case a side strain. It therefore
seemed necessary that the thread should make its return journey by the
same hole through which it emerged, but if simply done, this did not
mend matters much, as the strain still tended to pull this hole open
wider. A line of exit and entrance without any side pull was needed,
and this was found by means of a very clever device. A broad band of
leather or vellum was cut through lengthways, leaving a solid piece at
each end.

[Illustration: FIG. 29.--Mediæval sewing round double band.]

Now when the sewer came to this band he ran the thread straight through
the slot, then brought it round the entire band, under it, between it
and the back of the book, and down again, back through the slot, and
in at the same point from which it emerged. The result of this is that
there is no strain at all on the needle hole through which the thread
passes, as the pull is quite straight both coming and going. This is
undoubtedly the best form of sewing a book on bands, and a book so
treated is said to be sewn on “double bands.” But our recent work is
not always true, although from the outside it appears correct, because
in numbers of cases such double bands are simply glued on the outside
of the back, the real sewing, of a very inferior kind, possibly even
done by machinery, being hidden underneath the leather. Few great
binders except Charles Lewis have ever used sham bands.

Flexible sewn books can be had now if wanted, but the sewing on the
bands is not quite the same as the fine mediæval double bands I have
described. It is, however, practically nearly as good, and the bands
themselves can be made smaller.

[Illustration: FIG. 30.--Modern sewing round single band.]

The modern method is to bring the needle and thread through the back
of the section as usual, then give it one turn onwards over the band
and back again through the same hole. It will be seen that this is a
thoroughly sound principle, and brings no strain upon the back of the

The ends of the bands of limp vellum books have always been treated in
the same way; they are drawn straight through the vellum at the joint
and then back again and fastened inside by means of the end paper.

The manner of drawing the bands of a “limp” vellum bound book through
the limp vellum cover is of much interest, and it survives in many
instances where boards are used.

In principle it is the same process as is described further on with
regard to boarded books, but in the case of the limp vellum bindings
the ends of the bands are normally visible for a short length, but in
the case of boarded books they are always covered up with the exception
of some vellum-covered boarded books in which the limp vellum
peculiarity is preserved.

Another small point of interest about the old limp vellum bindings is
that the head and tail bands are made of the same sort of thin vellum
strip as the main bands and carefully drawn diagonally through the
vellum at the corners and fastened inside. Dealt with in this way the
head band becomes of real structural value, much of which is lost if it
is cut off short as is done in the large majority of cases.

William Morris liked limp vellum bindings and often used them, but
without head bands. Instead of the short strips of vellum used for
bands in old books Morris used specially prepared silk tapes, and
brought them through the vellum at the joint in the old-fashioned way.
Instead of being cut short and pasted down as the old limp vellum
bands were, Morris continued his tapes and brought them out again near
the front edge of the vellum, where they could be tied. This is an
excellent arrangement and keeps such a book together in an admirable
and effective way.

Vellum bindings required flat backs because the material would not
yield sufficiently to be tucked round the projecting bands of a normal
flexible bound book, in which the leather back is firmly fixed over the
bands. Nevertheless in several instances old vellum books, in boards,
which have been sewn on raised bands show traces of these bands in low
relief across the back. In such cases it is common to find that some
padding has been put in the spaces between the bands so as to level
the back up. Books treated in this way are usually stiff to open and
uncomfortable to consult.

The flat back, which was necessary for the same reason in the case
of books bound at a later date in velvet, cloth, silk or canvas,
necessitated some modification of the thick projecting bands of the
ordinary book, and the requisite flatness was attained by using strips
of vellum or tape instead of cords of hemp. Then it was found that it
was not necessary to fasten the back of the cover to the back of the
sections, so the “hollow back” came into existence.

[Illustration: FIG. 31.--Book bound with “open” or “hollow” back, and
modern headband, cut off at each end.]

The majority of modern books are bound with hollow backs; it can be
recognised by opening a book to the full and seeing if the back is
separate, and it has one real virtue as well as several vices. If a
book should happen to be printed too far back, a hollow back binding
will enable it to “throw up,” and show the printing right down to the
inner edge of the paper, whereas a flexible binding always tends to
open less freely, especially in the middle.

For books that are likely to be much used hollow backs are unadvisable
as they are sooner worn out, but for small light books there is no
doubt much to be said in their favour.

[Illustration: FIG. 32.--Back of book prepared with cut trenches to
hold the bands.]

Among English binders of note I think Charles Lewis was the first to
use hollow backs extensively. But for fine books there is no doubt that
the old-fashioned flexible sewing on raised bands is the best in the
long run. Books bound with hollow backs often have the bands “sawn in,”
that is to say, a trench is cut for each band across the back of the
sections. In these trenches the bands are laid, and the sewing is of a
simpler and quicker sort than it is when the thread is brought round
each band as it is in the flexible style. Moreover, there is a weak
point where the thread touches the edge of the saw cut, and at this
place the paper is always apt to give. It is obvious that to cut away
paper from the back of a section must always be not only a barbarism
but also structurally wrong. Such a method of sewing a book can only
be excused on the score of cheapness, and it may be urged that in this
case it does not matter.

Towards the end of the fifteenth century it was found that the extreme
tops and bottoms of the backs of the sections of bound books not only
looked untidy and unfinished, but also that they tended to gape, in
fact they were weak points both structurally and artistically. When it
was once realised it was soon rectified, and a small additional band
was made of a strip of leather or vellum, to fit along the outer edge
of the top and bottom at the back. This slip was then sewn on by means
of thread and button-hole stitching, being caught in at intervals by a
long stitch drawn through the centre of one or other of the sections
of the book. The loose ends of the headband itself were drawn in to
the boards, forming in fact an additional band. The headband is a
point in the forwarding of a book which has not received much notice
as yet, but it is of some importance, as there is no doubt that much
attention has been paid by binders to the ornamentation of headbands
from mediæval times until now, and it is the first point in the binding
of a book in which ornament is considered.

[Illustration: FIG. 33.--French sixteenth century headband.]

[Illustration: FIG. 34.--Italian fifteenth century headband.]

[Illustration: FIG. 35.--German fifteenth century headband.]

[Illustration: FIG. 36.--English seventeenth century headband.]

[Illustration: FIG. 37.--English eighteenth century headband, by Roger

[Illustration: FIG. 38.--English nineteenth century headband, by
Charles Lewis.]

Some of the early headbands are sewn over with strips of soft leather,
and at a later time they are cut in distinctive ways, flat or round,
and sewn over with silks of particular colours or combinations of

Of late years the vice of cutting off the ends of the headband has
come into being; these ends ought to be drawn properly into the boards,
as Mr. Douglas Cockerell has indeed done for me in several instances.
But no words can adequately condemn the miserable ready-made coloured
slips which are often found simply _stuck on_ in the proper place.

[Illustration: FIG. 39.--What a book may do if the back is not properly

Vellum books were the first to be properly bound. The papyri which were
stabbed are so rare that they may be passed by. As I have already said,
vellum is apt to be curly; for this reason the boards used for binding
in early days were made of thick wood, the heaviness of which, even
when unaided by clasps, tended to keep the vellum flat.

[Illustration: FIG. 40.--Book with flat back.]

Beech wood was largely used for these old covers, and from the German
word “Buch,” meaning beech, we derive our word “book.” Beechen boards
were light, decorative, and very carefully dried and seasoned. It is
remarkable how flat such old boards are, and they were no doubt very
highly valued as they often have upon them the stamp of the monastery
in which they were used.

The edges of the boards are sometimes bevelled, from the upper side in
English or French books, and from the under side in German books--but
such a distinction must not be taken as invariable. Boards often show
signs of having been used more than once, and it is rarely that any
decoration shows on the wood. In a few cases of German books may be
found outline drawings of an heraldic nature.

[Illustration: FIG. 41.--Book with flat back falling in.]

The first bound books were made with flat backs, and the boards fitted
close upon the outer sheets of vellum, papyrus or paper. In this
formation, however, it was found that there was a strong liability for
the back to fall in and the foredge to project outwards.

As early as the fifteenth century, in the case of printed books on
paper, this fault of the back falling in led some few binders to
neutralise it by giving the back of the book a rounded form by means
of hammering, and this quite prevented the falling in of the back. The
exact extent of the rounding can easily be seen by looking at the front
edge of a book, because the curves of the back and front correspond.
The boards, however, remained in their first position, flat on the
outer sheets.

[Illustration: FIG. 42.--Book with rounded back.]

But another trouble was apparent in both these cases, namely, that
when such books were opened, the joint between the boards and the back
showed a tendency to pull up the few pages next adjacent. In time these
pages became torn and injured, and constructively there was something
wrong with the principle of attachment.

Paper is soft, and when a “rounded” book was fitted with hard boards
and strongly pressed there would be a certain tendency for the boards
to sink into the mass of the paper and to throw up a small ridge along
the edge of the back. Such a small accidental ridge is often found on
old paper books.

[Illustration: FIG. 43.--Book with back rounded and backed.]

[Illustration: FIG. 44.--Book rounded and backed, before the boards are
put on.]

But there is no doubt that the actual process of making an intentional
groove for the boards to fit in was practised by a few fifteenth
century binders in England. This groove is made by an extension of the
process of rounding the back, and it is produced by hammering the back
over two hard boards carefully placed in the proper position. The shape
of a back thus treated is theoretically as shown in Fig. 44, and it
will be seen that the actual joint now falls away from the body of the
book and is removed to the artificial line along the outer edge of the
groove, and from this line the projecting bands are drawn in to the
boards. If this operation of “backing” is properly done it is almost
impossible for the back of a book to fall in. It will always open
easily and return to its original form, and if the bands are properly
attached to the boards, the latter will never fall off.

Although the principle of backing was known at the early time
mentioned, it was not universally understood and practised until quite
recent times. Now, however, it is fully recognised as one of the most
important processes in the binding of books, especially large ones.

We have seen that the book sewn in leather bands has the ends of these
bands left loose, projecting in the case of a large book some two or
three inches. Holes were now carefully cut along the back edge of the
board to fit the ends of the bands, sloping upwards, and some little
way in other slots were cut from the upper surface of the board to meet
them. Into these holes the ends of the bands were drawn, and when in
proper position they were pegged down with one or more small wooden
pegs. Sometimes the bands were drawn right through the boards and
fastened inside. Numbers and numbers of instances of this work exist
and are quite sound to-day. But such books do not open satisfactorily,
as there is a disagreeable pull upon the outer sections when the book
is opened. In fact, the junction between the bands and the boards is
not scientifically correct, because the backs are not rounded.

[Illustration: FIG. 45.--Half-bound book.]

The vulnerable part of the binding will now be seen to be the soft
threads which cover the bands where they adjoin the back of the
sections of the book, and to protect these delicate threads a strip of
leather was cut, damped and pressed over the bands so as to fit quite
closely, and fastened on with glue, projecting a short way over on to
the board itself so as to cover up the holes used for the bands. This
is called a “half-binding.” On the leather of such half-bindings there
is usually some blind tooling, lines or rolls or even small cameo

Mediæval bindings are commonly provided with clasps. The original
reason of this was to help to keep the vellum leaves flat, but of
course artistic binders saw that clasps might be made very ornamental,
and so many of them are. They have survived as ornamental adjuncts to a
binding until the present day, although there is no necessity for them.

[Illustration: FIG. 46.--Mediæval book with bosses, corner pieces and

Bosses in the centre and at the corners of mediæval bindings were of
structural use, as they protected the actual boards of the book from
wear. In early days books were kept upon their sides and probably
had flat boards between each volume. So the bosses took the wear and
preserved the books. Many of the mediæval bosses and corners have
ornamental settings; they are generally of brass, but sometimes of
silver or wood. The titles of such books were sometimes written on the
front edges and sometimes on a slip of paper fastened under horn on
the upper board, and in the late fifteenth century they were sometimes
lettered in gold or blind, also on the boards.

It happened that the art of Byzantium was in its prime just about
the same time that vellum began to be arranged in sections--in book
form--in contradistinction to the roll form. So we find some of the
finest examples of Byzantine art on bookbindings. Of course it must be
understood that these richly worked covers are only ornamentally added
to the true binding underneath, and the actual work of the binding is
more or less as I have already described it. But the decorative art
in these cases is so predominant that they are generically known as
“Byzantine” bindings.

[Illustration: FIG. 47.--German binding of about the eleventh century,
with cabochon crystals.]

The large majority of the known specimens of this kind are no longer
in company with their original manuscripts. Many of them are preserved
simply as loose covers, and alien manuscripts have been inserted in
others. I expect that there are still considerable numbers of these
bindings preserved in remote churches and monasteries in Central
Europe, and some day perhaps some traveller with sufficient knowledge
and time at his command will make search for them. But for the present
fine and genuine examples of Byzantine bindings are of great rarity. It
is said that there are not more than about three hundred of them known.
The life history of many of these is well known, and so are many of
the additions and alterations to which they have been subjected during
their long life. Luckily some of the finest are now safely housed in
our London museums, and others are, or are likely to be, safe in a
great local museum.

To be able to judge whether these bindings are genuine, a librarian
must be an antiquary, a goldsmith and silversmith, skilled both in
repoussé work, engraving and cast work, a gem cutter, an enameller,
a skilled bookbinder, and an artist, and if he fails in one of these
knowledges his judgment cannot be relied on. An ordinary art critic who
possesses “Flaire” can pick up a certain amount of knowledge by reason
of having made many mistakes and profited by them, and if he has been
fortunately able to associate himself only with true and known fine
examples for a long time, he may eventually be a good guesser. But no
true judgment can be given without actual technical knowledge.

[Illustration: FIG. 48.--French binding of the thirteenth century with

The result of all this is, that collectors of such bindings have been
freely victimised. It is not really difficult to copy or to imitate a
Byzantine binding--it is not nearly so difficult as to counterfeit a
fine Le Gascon or a fine Roger Payne. It does not so much concern the
binder as the metal worker, and in metal a little skill goes a long
way, and so it does in the cloisonne enamel work which alone is found
in these bindings. The present market price of a very fine Byzantine
binding--a known one--will run into five figures, so it is little to be
wondered at that it pays the clever _faussaires_ of the Continent to
direct their attention to covers of this kind. They need not even take
the trouble to provide manuscripts for the inside; loose covers will
sell with equal readiness.

Ivory carving played an important part on early bindings. Apart from
diptychs, the earliest known decorative binding consists of plaques
of ivory carved with Biblical scenes, and having in the centre a lamb
within a wreath of cloisonne work, with inlays of coloured glass. It
is now kept in the cathedral treasury at Milan, and is without its
original inside; it is attributed to the fifth century.

Early Irish manuscripts were usually bound in quite simple limp leather
covers, but these were kept in book boxes or “Cumdachs,” all of which
still existing are of the greatest interest.

[Illustration: FIG. 49.--The upper cover of the Cumdach of the Stowe

One of the finest is that of the Stowe Missal, dating from about the
eleventh century. It belonged originally to the monastery of Lorrha in
Tipperary, whence it was taken to the Irish monastery of Ratisbon. In
1784 it was found by Mr. John Grace in Austria, and afterwards belonged
to the Stowe Library, and Lord Ashburnham, from whom it was purchased
by the nation in 1883 with the rest of his library, and then deposited
in the museum of the Royal Irish Academy.

The lid is ornamented with a large cross set with pearls and metal
bosses, having in the centre a large oval crystal over a pink ground,
and enclosed with recent enamels, no doubt replacing old ones. At each
end of the cross is a large jewel. The spaces between the arms of the
cross contain silver gilt plates engraved with figures of Saints, and
on the silver edge plates is an inscription in Irish inviting the
reader to “Pray for Dunchad descendant of Taccan of the family of
Cluan who made this.” This may therefore be called the earliest signed
binding in the world, if a cumdach can be considered a binding. No
doubt much of the work now on this lid, as well as some of the jewels
and their settings, have been added since the original work was made.

The base of the box has a similar ornamentation upon it, but the jewels
and enamels are all gone, the spaces between the arms of the cross
being filled with silver plates cut into an open pattern set over
bronze gilt.

The sides of the box are much destroyed, but they have fortunately
not been restored. The ornamentation consists of enamelled bosses or
curious castings in the centre of each side, flanked by panels of open
designs cut out of thin silver over gilt, and corner ornaments of cast
work. There are small bosses of blue enamel.

The remarkable open work over gilt bronze occurs again in the base of
the cumdach containing Molaise gospels, it also belongs to the eleventh
century, and this sort of ornamentation seems to be characteristic
of Irish work of that time. The lid of the box is ornamented in a
modification of the same idea, but in this case the bronze showing
through the silver is beautifully worked. The main idea is a cross,
and between the arms are the evangelistic emblems, and with their
names, Leo, Aquila, Homo, Taurus. An inscription asks us to “Pray for
Cenn, for the successor of Molaise for whom this case was made by
Gillabaithain the artisan.” It is possible that this may be a little
earlier than the Stowe cumdach.

A few more cumdachs are known, about ten of them altogether, and others
are recorded only.

There is that of Dimma’s book, of the Cathach of the O’Donnells, and
several others, some of which are quite plain.

Other book cases were made of beautifully worked leather. The satchel
of the Book of Armagh is one of these, and leather cases or “Forels”
were made of cuirbouilli in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries,
particularly in Italy. These forels were in the shape now known as
“slip off” cases, and they generally had attachments for a strap. They
are always charmingly chased, and often bear heraldic ornamentation.

Cuirbouilli was calf or hide, worked with knife, style, or hammer, and
then probably boiled in oil, but the exact process that was used is now
unknown. It is very strong, and its value was known in England, where
it was used to make wrist guards for archery, but as far as I know it
was never used here for bindings or covers for bindings. I have heard
the calf or sheep bindings of the early sixteenth century, bearing
panel stamps, described as cuirbouilli, but they are not so.

The earliest cover still containing its original manuscript is probably
that given with other treasure to Theodelinda, Queen of the Lombards,
by Pope Gregory the Great, in the seventh century. It is now kept in
the cathedral treasury at Monza.

The manuscript is described in a contemporary document as being “theca
persica inclusam,” and, so far, its cover resembles the Irish cumdachs.
The case is of gold, ornamented with a large cross, outlined with lines
of small flat garnets, with sapphires and emeralds, set in cloisons.
The body of the cross is richly jewelled with cabochon cut stones and
pearls, and at the extremity of each arm is a curious glass bead of
millefiori glass, green with a little red flower in the centre.

Between the arms of the cross are four gamma shaped ornaments, each set
with small flat jewels. Across the sides are bands of gold on which are
PROPE PALATIUM SUUM. A handsome border with flat garnets enclosed the
whole, and the four cameos set near the gammas are a recent addition.
Byzantine art is generally considered as a decadent form of Roman art,
but in this particular instance there is much Greek feeling, and it is
in all respects, excepting perhaps the inscription, a magnificent piece
of work.

[Illustration: FIG. 50.--The binding of the Gospels of Lindau, the
older side.]

The binding of the Gospels of Lindau has now two sides of different
dates, each of which has been repaired and added to in recent times.
The earlier of the two, far the finer, is probably contemporary with
the manuscript, having been made about the later half of the ninth
century, as the Abbey of the Noble Canonesses at Lindau was founded by
the Emperor Lewis the Pious in A.D. 834. A large golden cross pattée is
the chief motive of this beautiful piece of work, and it is ornamented
with rare enamels showing bust figures wearing stoles, and jewels in
great variety, the borderings being inlaid with small flat pieces of
garnet. The spaces between the arms of the cross are filled with bronze
plaques elaborately ornamented with Celtic interlacings in chiselled
work. The workmanship is probably Irish, and was most likely done
abroad, possibly enough at Lindau itself, by some Irish artists who
had emigrated. Irish jewellers and enamellers of this early time were
justly celebrated, and their services were secured whenever possible.

The later side of the binding is one of the finest existing specimens
of Carlovingian art. It is radically different from the earlier side
and was probably added about the eleventh or twelfth century.

[Illustration: FIG. 51.--The binding of the Gospels of Lindau, the more
recent side.]

In the centre is a large cross on which is a gilt figure of our Lord in
the attitude of the crucifixion. The cross is outlined by a structure
of open work of gold ornamented with filagree work and thickly set with
jewels. Between the arms of the cross are angels worked in repoussé,
and rich bosses of gold and jewels, raised on arcades of open work. The
border is of great richness, and is thickly sown with large jewels cut
“en cabochon,” many of them pierced longitudinally, betraying in all
probability an Oriental provenance. No doubt this was originally made
for some valuable manuscript now lost, and it was used to replace the
original simple lower cover of the Gospels of Lindau at some unknown

The book was formerly in the possession of the Earl of Ashburnham, but
now it is gone to America.

Beautiful Byzantine work of the twelfth century is to be seen upon the
carved and jewelled binding of the Psalter of Melissenda, daughter of
Baldwin II., King of Jerusalem, and wife of Fulk, his successor. The
ivory covers measure eight by six inches, and are elaborately carved in
bas relief with Biblical scenes. On each side are six circles, and in
each circle a little figure group, on one side representing episodes in
the life of David and on the other works of mercy. There is lettering
run in with red, giving the names of each of the personages shown, and
their eyes are set with tiny rubies or emeralds cut “en cabochon” like
coloured grains of sand. The spaces between the circles are filled
with other Biblical or symbolical figures, scrolls and animals, and a
beautiful interlacing border encloses the whole, set with turquoises
and rubies.

The carver’s name, “HERODIUS,” is cut in the lower cover. The
workmanship on these ivories is extremely fine, and there is no doubt
they were made to be used as a binding. The majority of ivory carvings
found on mediæval bookbindings appear to have been simply added, having
been originally made for some other purpose. But there are notable
exceptions, particularly in the Bibliothèque Nationale at Paris. The
shape in which the plaque of ivory is cut will often give a valuable
indication in this matter.

The finest Byzantine binding now in England is probably that known as
the Gospels of Charlemagne, now in the Victoria and Albert Museum.
It is nearly square, and the upper side is overlaid with gilt metal,
enamels and gems. In the centre is a seated figure of Our Lord in
the attitude of Benediction, in repoussé work. Round this is a band
of white and green enamelled lettering, restored, on which are two
REBOAT TE XPE REDEMPTOR.” The outer border is made up of rectangular
plaques of enamels, gold work and jewels.

The work here is also largely restored, but it is, as a rule, admirably
done, and where the old work remains, especially in the gold, it is of
a high excellence. The jewels have, for the most part, been restored.
As the book is now it is a splendid and dignified example of its kind;
the under side is simply covered with strong red leather, with a cross
marked by small studs. Like many of these splendid altar books, this
one is said to have served as a Pax.

The manuscript itself is of the tenth century, and belonged to the
Abbey Church of St. Maurice d’Agaune, and from here it was stolen in
the fourteenth century. It afterwards found a home at Sion, and was
purchased for the Victoria and Albert Museum at the Spitzer sale in

No doubt examples of rich monastic bindings did exist in England,
but none of them are now known. It is likely enough that their value
condemned them, and that they were entirely destroyed in the earlier
half of the sixteenth century to swell the revenues of the king. The
manuscripts belonging to these destroyed covers have, luckily, been
kept, and numbers of them came to the British Museum by gift of George

Two ornamental bindings only of English origin now remain; these are
both simple, they are the St. Cuthbert’s Gospels and the English
coronation book of Henry I. These are described in Chapter VIII.

There were plenty of leather bindings ornamented with blind tooling or
cut leather work in mediæval times, and these also are described later

The idea of ornamenting bindings with sunk panels is of Arab origin.
The fashion came to Europe by way of Venice, and the Venetians
themselves quickly saw that the possibilities of decorating bindings
were largely increased by this device. It is done by means of two
boards, the upper of which is pierced, then the whole is covered
with leather and ornamented with painted work or stamped work as the
case may be. In inferior bindings of this sort, the sunk panels are
sometimes produced simply by hard pressure, but the state of the edges
of the panels will soon show how they are made. If they are steep
there are the double boards, if very sloping there may only be one.

Queen Elizabeth had some of these Venetian sunk bindings presented to
her and she liked them. Consequently there were a few examples of it
made in England in the sixteenth century. At a later time Charles Lewis
bound several large books with double boards in this way, and I think
he was the only important English binder who has ever done so to any
great extent.

The double boards have left a trace of their existence in the form of
a trench which is frequently found along the edges of the boards of
sixteenth century bindings of English, Italian, and French workmanship.
The trench, however, is merely a survival and does not necessarily
imply the actual existence of double boards. It is a distant tribute to
our indebtedness to the East.

In some of the double-board books bound for Queen Elizabeth, with
sunk panels, the headband is curiously produced away from its normal
finishing point and is carried right round the entire edge of the
boards in the trench between the boards. It is a decorative and curious
peculiarity, and I have never met with it in any foreign books.

Wooden boards were used for bindings until about the end of the
fifteenth century, when the idea of using several layers of paper
pasted together--paste boards--was thought of. In fact, paste boards
may be considered to have been introduced about the same time as
printing, and waste printed matter was often used for making them with.

There are many instances in which valuable printed matter has been
found hidden up in binder’s boards, and as these can generally be
soaked apart and cleaned, we already owe the preservation of several
unique fragments to the fact of their having been used for bindings.

[Illustration: FIG. 52.--Painted Persian binding (Nadir Shah at the
battle of Karnul).]

Persian manuscripts of the seventeenth to the nineteenth centuries are
often ornamented in a manner which is of considerable interest. They
are bound in paste boards like all other Oriental bindings known to
me, and are covered with some sort of gesso applied in a thin layer.
On this gesso are paintings of varied merit; some of them, especially
the historical and hunting scenes, are extremely well done, and others,
mostly floral, are of a commonplace character. The boards are sometimes
painted inside and out.

The painting is done in water-colours, and is of the same sort as is
found with the manuscript inside, but generally by an inferior artist.
When finished the painting was thickly varnished, and this varnish
has darkened by time into a mellow golden colour which improves the
appearance of the colour work underneath.

The darkening of this varnish has, however, had a remarkable result:
the photographic ray cannot pierce it except here and there--in fact,
the painting is covered by a non-actinic curtain. A photograph will
only show the surface of the varnish with here and there a patch where
the blue colour underneath succeeds in making itself felt.

Ornamental though these painted and varnished bindings are, there is
unfortunately a great and inherent delicacy about them, and it is that
the varnished surface is badly given to chipping off. It is difficult
to say what the best remedy for this chipping or flaking off is; it is
probably due to the discrepancy in hardness between the hard varnish
and the soft boards; it seems to be radical.

Experiments are needed in this matter, but owners of fine specimens,
even if chipped, are naturally chary of allowing experiments which may
do harm as well as good. I should say that probably much good might be
done by dropping a little collodion so as to make it run down between
the loosened surfaces; it will act as a cement and strengthen as well
as fasten them together. It is also likely that thin glue applied
several times might also do good used in the same way, but I believe
collodion is better and penetrates weak places more readily.

The same styles of ornamentation are used on mirror cases and other
small objects, so that although many bindings are so treated, yet the
method is not one exclusively used for such purpose. But no doubt the
finest work was put on bindings, some of which are large.

Another Persian manner is that of using large metal stamps impressed
with elaborate arabesques. The impressions from these stamps of course
give a design in relief. The whole impression is generally gilded in
various tints, and the small design itself is often picked out with a
little colour. Many of these arabesque panel stamps are of wonderful

Arabic and other Oriental bindings have a curious flap projecting from
one of the boards, which covers and protects the front edges. The flaps
are ornamented in the same way as the rest of the binding.

The sewing and the paper of all these books is weak and light, but
there is always work of much interest on the bindings. The backs are
flat and the paste boards are thin and covered with very thin leather.
They are usually ornamented inside and outside with blind and gilt
work, stamped and cut work, and hand painting, in much variety.

[Illustration: FIG. 53.--Oriental binding with flap.]

The open work cut with a knife from thin leather is remarkable for
its extraordinary precision and delicacy; it is usually in arabesques
with small flowers, and often coloured by hand. It is always set on a
background of colour, either painted or a bit of coloured paper. But
the work is very frail, and panels of it are rarely found perfect.

Oriental bindings are altogether weak, and they will not stand hard

Now we have, chiefly from America, machines that will do almost every
one of the hand-operations for binding a book. There are sewing
machines that only want to be fed with thread and the books to be sewn;
there are casing machines of wonderful speed and accuracy, backing
machines and binding machines. The only one thing that cannot yet be
done by a machine is the pasting down the ends of the bands or tapes
inside the boards. I rather think that many of these machines strain
the paper badly, and also they require setting elaborately to a certain
size. They are very useful for large, cheap editions, but little
use for good miscellaneous work. Nothing is really so good as the
old-fashioned sewing on raised bands by hand.


COCKERELL, D. Bookbinding. _London_, 1901.

DAVENPORT, C. Cantor Lectures on Decorative Bookbinding. _London_, 1898.

DAVENPORT, C. (Encyc. Brit. Article Bookbinding). _London_, 1902.

DU SOMMERARD, A. Les arts au Moyen Age. _Paris_, 1838-46.

GORI, A. F. Thesaurus vet. Diptychorum. _Florentiæ_, 1759.

LABARTE, J. Hist. des Arts au Moyen Age. _Paris_, 1864.

LIBRI, COUNT G. Catalogue. _Paris_, 1857.

MADAN, F. Books in Manuscript. _London_, 1893.



Although we get our word “paper” from “papyrus,” this latter was not
a paper at all. The essential characteristic of a true paper is the
matting or felting together of small fibres, whether these be of wood,
linen, or other substance. Papyrus was the inner bark of a beautiful
reed, which grows along the banks of the Nile, and from a very remote
period strips of this bark were laid over each other at right angles,
fixed together with gum, or perhaps a little Nile mud, and used for
writing upon with a soft pen. The right-angular lines of the two layers
of papyrus bark can easily be seen on any papyrus MS.

Papyrus is not a good substance for writing upon; it is at first too
soft, and then it gets brittle and is apt to crumble away. By sticking
successive strips of papyrus to each other ancient scribes produced
long rolls of manuscript, and from these rolls we derive many of the
book terms which are still in use. The most obvious is “volume,” which
is from “volvere,” “to roll up”; and “Bible” comes from the Greek
“βυβλοἱ,” meaning the inner bark of papyrus.

In China the possibility of making thin feltings with silk fibre was
probably known at a very remote period, and it is likely enough that
from some such unsatisfactory production the better and usable kinds
made of vegetable fibres evolved itself. We cannot now say when the
possibility of felting together fibres of wood or grass first became
known to the Chinese, but it was certainly well understood in the fifth
or sixth centuries, because specimens of it still exist.

In the middle of the eighth century, in 751 A.D., there were certain
tribal disturbances on the Chinese frontier of Persia, and one of the
combatants called in the help of the Chinese. These, however, suffered
defeat at the hands of the Arab governor of Samarkand, who brought back
some Chinese prisoners to his town. These men were acquainted with the
Chinese methods of making paper.

From these Chinese prisoners the Arabs and their friends the Persians
learnt the art of paper-making with vegetable fibres, but the supply in
this particular very soon gave out, and because enough suitable fibres
were difficult to get they mixed them with pulped rags. Eventually
the Samarkand paper-makers used rags only, and these they easily got
in sufficient quantities from old linen clothes, and also the mummy
wrappings from Egypt were made use of in the same way.

From the Arabs the knowledge of paper-making passed rapidly to Europe,
and by the middle of the tenth century it had entirely superseded the
use of papyrus.

The researches of Dr. J. Wiesner and Dr. J. Karabacek, both professors
of the University of Vienna, have been of incalculable value as
regards the composition and history of ancient paper, and they were
fortunate enough to have the opportunity of examining the papers in the
collection of the Archduke Rainer, among which are specimens of very
early work. The professors have examined these and other old papers
microscopically and chemically, and found that from the beginning it
was considered necessary to load papers with some binding or filling
substance; they found starch, starch flour, probably from rice, and
among the Chinese papers a dressing of powdered gypsum. Without some
such dressing the papers would have resembled our blotting paper, and
it would have been almost impossible to write upon them.

Professor Wiesner found that Chinese papers of the eighth century were
really mixed papers; they contained fibres of mulberry bark, hemp and
rags. Rags of fishing nets themselves would contain fibres of flax,
hemp, and China grass. But the main constituent of ancient Chinese
paper is fibre of mulberry-bark, and I believe it is so still, although
China grass fibre is also much used.

Specimens of Chinese papers from the eighth century onwards can be seen
at the British Museum. They are soft, but have lasted fairly well, and
do not appear to show any wire marks. The colour of these papers is
much the same as Chinese papers made now, but in some instances they
have certainly darkened as modern wood pulp papers also do.

One of the later specimens, a bank note issued during the reign of the
Emperor Hung-wu, A.D. 1368-1399, is made of a darkened pulp, probably
due to admixture with a little lamp black, and on it are lighter
impressions from large stamps bearing the square seal letters. It is
just possible that these marks may be of the nature of watermarks, and
were impressed while the pulp was soft and wet, but it is not possible
now to take the bank note up from the cardboard on which it has been
pasted, as to do so would probably cause it to fall to pieces, so it
cannot, for the moment, be properly examined.

Corean and Japanese papers were the same as Chinese, and they all look
as if there are no wire marks or watermarks upon them, with the one
exception I have mentioned, but Dr. Wiesner says that by the ninth
century marks show in many instances which prove that papers were made
in moulds or sieves with network bottoms, the impression of which
remains like our “chains” or laid marks. In the King’s Library at the
British Museum is shown a piece of Oriental paper, an official letter
in Coptic, dated A.D. 1048. It does not look so strong or good as the
Chinese paper, but resembles thin blotting paper, and shows no wire

[Illustration: FIG. 54.--Watermark used by John Tate in 1495.]

An early example of European paper is preserved in the Record Office in
London. It is a letter from the Count of Toulouse to Henry III., and is
dated A.D. 1216. In France, however, by this time, the making of paper
had been understood for some time, as it was made there in 1189. In
Belgium it was not made until 1551, in which year a paper mill was set
up at Tourneppe by Henri de Nevere.

By the end of the fifteenth century paper-making in Europe was
perfectly understood, and the papers of that date, and for some time
after it, are frequently excellent in every way, and as sound, strong,
and good now as they were when first made.

The first English book printed on English paper is Bartholomaeus, _De
Proprietatibus Rerum_, published 1495-6. The paper is of high quality,
it shows a fine wire mark, and a watermark of a double circle enclosing
an eight-pointed star. The paper was made at Hertford by John Tate, who
was afterwards Lord Mayor of London; the title page is cut in wood, and
the book is illustrated with outline wood-cuts.

At the end are some verses, and among these occur the lines:--

  “And John Tate the younger Joye mote he broke,
  Which late hath in England doo make this paper thynne,
  That now in our Englysch this boke is prynted Inne.”

It is paper to be proud of, and John Tate the younger would
unquestionably look upon the large majority of our modern papers with
the utmost scorn, and he would be perfectly justified in doing so.

The early method of making paper was to allow the pulp to settle at the
bottom of a trough like a sieve, with a wire bottom, in which the wires
were arranged in a certain way, thick and thin, the trade mark of the
maker also being outlined in wire. The faint marks these wires cause
in the paper are called watermarks, and although at first they were
makers’ marks, they eventually denoted the size of the sheet of paper
on which they were shown.

The present method of making paper from rags is to pulp them thoroughly
in water, and let the white particles become so thoroughly diffused
that the liquid in which they float looks like thin milk.

This thin mixture, however, if left quiet, very quickly resolves itself
into a sediment of white fibres with clear water above them. If now
the superambient water can be drawn off, and the sediment pressed
flat, paper is the result. But it is not so easily done as said. In
order to catch the sediment in the most satisfactory way, the milky
fluid containing the rag fibres is allowed to flow in a thin stream
over a long, shallow trough, which is kept moving onwards and is also
so arranged that it has a sideways tremble, backwards and forwards as
well. The effect of this is that when the further end of the trough
is reached, on its floor there is a thin continuous film of slightly
matted fibres, the water from which has flowed away along the sides of
the trough. Now another device comes into play; a thin light roller of
wire presses lightly on the wet film, and by this pressure the little
fibres are pressed upon each other so that they mat, interlace, and
cohere together. The paper in this state is of course very delicate,
but by reason of a quick drying and carrying off on light rollers it
soon acquires the strength necessary to enable it to hold together
until it is quite dry. Then it goes through several other stages,
the most important of which is pressing. The various processes can
obviously be modified easily enough so as to make a thin paper or a
thick one. Paper made in this way with a vibratory trough is called
“machine made,” and by reason of its fibres laying more or less in
a uniform direction the resulting paper is more easily torn in one
direction than in the other. If a circular piece be cut out of such
pulp and laid on water it will tend to fold up two of its opposite

But ancient paper was made in a trough held by hands and given a
lateral movement, then pressed and dried in some simple way. By such
a procedure the fibres are thoroughly mixed, and do not lie in one
direction more than in another, so that if a circular bit of such
paper be laid in water it will turn upwards at the edge evenly all
round, and look like a little saucer.

I have mentioned a light wire roller which presses the wet film more
or less into shape just before it leaves the long trough to be dried.
As long ago as the thirteenth century in Europe the fact that devices
could be impressed upon the undried film by thinning it and making it
more transparent where touched appears to have been known, and from
about that time onwards “watermarks” have fortunately been applied in
the same manner, namely, so as to come in the middle of the first leaf
of the pair forming a folio. It is also fortunate that the “chains” or
wires forming the rollers have always been laid in the same way; it is
certainly the obvious one, but obvious ways are not always adopted. The
result is that by observing the direction of the strong chain marks
and the fine “laid” marks between them much information concerning the
folding of the original sheets can be obtained.

In very early papers these rules cannot be safely followed, because
early chain marks as well as early watermarks were not produced in the
same reliable way. The paper being made in moulds with wire netting at
the bottom, the impression came below the paper instead of above it as
in the case of the roller, and also the sizes of the sheets were more
likely to differ.

Watermarks are the semi-transparent devices which show on certain pages
of a printed book. They are to be seen on most papers of the fourteenth
to the eighteenth centuries, and there has been a good deal written
about them, especially abroad. The devices were outlined in wire and
set in the bottom of the trough or on the wire roller I have just
described, so that the lines are impressed upon the pulp just when it
is in its most sensitive condition. The pressure from the wire device
thins the pulp wherever it is touched, and so when dry the device shows
lighter than the rest of the paper.

These marks should be called wire marks rather than watermarks, and
the French word for them, “Filigranes,” is more correct than ours. The
difference in tint between a watermark and the rest of the paper is so
distinct that a photographic negative placed under one will render a
capital photograph of it, far better than any drawing, but it needs a
long exposure.

Watermarks are already of considerable value to Bibliographers, and
it is likely that in the near future they will be much more noticed,
especially in English books. Many frauds have already been detected by
reason of the watermarks, as it is a point that _faussaires_ have so
far paid little attention to. The marks are, however, not to be relied
on after about 1750, as they do not run reliably in machine made or
wove papers.

Armorial devices have been largely used as watermarks. Many of the
earlier marks show the arms of towns, especially continental ones, and
among others there are the arms of France, Portugal, William and Mary
and Queen Anne, shown in full heraldic outlines.

[Illustration: FIG. 55.--English “hand” watermark, 1512.]

The Holbein family of Ravensburg bore a bull’s head as their armorial
badge, and they were paper makers, so the bull’s head shows on their
paper as a watermark. It was afterwards much copied, and during the
fifteenth and sixteenth centuries it became a favourite mark on German
papers. There does not seem to have been any strict copyright in any of
the devices used as watermarks. They were freely used by any one who
cared to do so, but the copies were never very carefully made, they
were always variants of the original. They were moreover generally
accompanied by another mark, that of the maker, on another part of the
paper. The same privilege of using a “maker’s” mark was also allowed to
the silversmiths in addition to the official hall mark.

To some slight extent watermarks on paper made for particular books
have followed the subjects of those books, and in accordance with a
loyal feeling there are instances of a crown watermark being used on
paper prepared for special copies of books intended for presentation to
reigning sovereigns.

[Illustration: FIG. 56.--English “crown” watermark, 1745.]

On papers used for early English printed books we find the favourite
German bull’s head, bunches of grapes, unicorns, dogs, hands with
stars, and shears. These appear in several sizes, and show many
varieties and modifications of their original designs.

In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries a greater variety occur;
on English paper there is found the post horn and the fool’s cap,
sometimes showing as a cap only and sometimes as a fool’s head with
cap and bells. A similar design was largely used abroad. In the time
of Charles I. a crown was a usual watermark on official folio paper,
but the Rump Parliament ordered that the foolscap should be in future
substituted for it, which was done. “Double foolscap” is still used
as a designation for a certain size of printing paper, so also is

[Illustration: FIG. 57.--English “foolscap” watermark, 1661.]

[Illustration: FIG. 58.--English “Britannia” watermark, 1907.]

The foolscap itself shortly gave way to a figure of Britannia or a lion
rampant. The post horn was another common watermark here; it gave its
name to its paper about 1670, when the mail carrier was accustomed to
announce his approach by a blast from his horn. The name “Post” still
designates a certain size of printing paper. The smallest folio paper
of the seventeenth century was marked with a watermark of a “pot,” and
hence the name.

For specially printed books it is a pretty fancy to have a coat-of-arms
set as a watermark, and it is now and then done, but I fear few readers
notice it. Many papers are now made without watermarks, and it is
likely enough that, except for trade terminology, they will gradually
die out altogether as being unnecessary.

[Illustration: FIG. 59.--English “post” watermark, 1679.]

[Illustration: FIG. 60.--English “pot” watermark, 1640.]

The possibilities of artistic watermarking have not yet been fully
realised. At the St. Louis Exhibition in 1904 there was a German
exhibit which showed the remarkable effect which could be made by
impressing paper pulp by means of a photographic plate in relief.

The papers which had been so treated were set up in a frame with a
light behind them, and they looked like most delicate paintings in
monotone. Those exhibited were portraits of celebrities, and they
were not only excellent but possessed the quality of permanence in a
remarkable degree.

Printing papers are generally white, but sometimes they have been used
in colour, green, pink, blue or yellow. Such papers are now and then
found in Italian, German, and English books, more rarely in French.
Silk and satin have both been used for printing on in England from the
seventeenth to the nineteenth century. Vellum has also been largely
used for special copies of fine printed books.

A recent French book of prayers is entirely woven in white and black
silk. It looks like a beautifully printed book with monotone borders.

[Illustration: FIG. 61.--“Chain lines” thick, and “laid lines” thin, on

An original sheet of paper can of course be made and cut to any size,
and the terms folio, quarto, octavo, and duodecimo do not indicate
any actual size except in bookbinders’ specifications. The terms only
indicate the number of times the original sheet has been folded, and
this obviously is a matter which is subject to as much variation as the
printers choose. But fortunately such foldings do not vary much, and
so we may safely mention those that are most commonly used. There are
several ways of finding this out, the most obvious being to count the
leaves which follow any one letter in the white line at the bottom of
the leaf. This letter is called the “signature.” If there is an A or
A 1 at the bottom of the first leaf, and when eight leaves have been
turned over a B or B 1 appears, then the book is an octavo, and so on.
Another way of determining the same thing is by means of the direction
taken by the chain or wire marks all over the paper, and yet another
is to be found by studying the position of the watermark. But neither
of these tests are conclusive, and often enough there are neither chain
marks nor watermarks to be found at all, and the sheets are not always
rightly or carefully cut, which brings the watermark all wrong, so the
following notes are only what may be expected in normal books.

If a piece of paper or page of a book printed before 1750, and possibly
in later work, be held up to the light, certain lines may be seen all
over it in a lighter tint than the rest of the page. These appear as
long thick lines crossed at right angles by short thin ones. The long
thicker lines are known as “chain” lines, and the shorter ones “laid”
lines, and they are of some value when they exist for helping to
determine the “size” of the book.

[Illustration: FIG. 62.--Fol.]

--Fol. If the original sheet is folded once it is called a folio, and
in this case the chain marks are perpendicular and the watermark is in
the middle of the first leaf. In a folio there is one fold, two leaves
or four pages, and nothing to cut. Most of Caxton’s books are folios
although they are quite small.

[Illustration: FIG. 63.--4^o.]

--4^o in size. If the once folded sheet be folded again across the
other way we get a gathering with four leaves, or eight pages, called
a quarto. The chain lines are horizontal, and the watermark in the
middle of the back of pp. 4 and 5; there are two foldings and two tops
of leaves to be cut.

--8^o. If the quarto be again folded we get a gathering of eight
leaves, or 16 pp., called an octavo, which is the commonest size for
English books. In an octavo there are three foldings, the chain lines
are perpendicular, the watermark is quartered at the tops of pp. 3, 4,
11 and 12, and there are two tops and two fronts to be cut.

The further foldings of 16^o, 32^o, and 64^o are the same operations
carried further, but although such sizes do exist they are so uncommon
that a further description of them is not necessary.

--12^o. In the case of a duodecimo a different initial folding is
followed. The original sheet instead of being folded once across the
middle, as in the case of a folio, is now folded into three equal
divisions. The parallelogram thus formed is folded across its shorter
diameter, and this again along its longer diameter. There is now a
gathering of twelve leaves, or 24 pp., with four foldings, the chain
marks perpendicular, the watermark halved at the tops of pp. 3 and 9,
and there are two tops and four fronts to be cut. It is the commonest
size of the smaller French books.

[Illustration: FIG. 64.--8^o.]

[Illustration: FIG. 65.--12^o.]

As to sizes, folios run from the great Atlas of Charles II., measuring
five feet nine inches and a half by three feet two inches and a
half, and requiring eight skins of morocco for its binding, to the
tiny _Galileo a Madame Cristina de Lorena_, 1615, “imprimé en 1897,”
measuring one half by one quarter of an inch. A folio cannot be
recognised by its shape.

The sizes of quartos and octavos are also very varied, but, roughly
speaking, they can be recognised by their shapes, especially in the
case of modern books. A quarto is generally squarish in outline, nearly
as broad as it is long; an octavo is an elongated rectangle, its
breadth considerably less than its length. A duodecimo is always much
longer than its breadth.

As curiosities, books have been made in many forms, circular,
heart-shaped, octagonal, flower or animal forms, but they are of small
importance, and have been chiefly made as Christmas cards, valentines,
and such ephemeral publications.

The rules as to quiring of books printed on paper do not apply to books
printed on vellum. Such books are always folios, and they are generally
quired in gatherings of ten leaves, following the fashion used in the
ancient manuscripts, but, of course, they can equally well be gathered
together in any even number that may be preferred. There is no rule.

In Europe, until the nineteenth century, paper was always made from
triturated rags, but the demand for cheap literature which has become
so urgent in recent years has compelled paper manufacturers to find
some commoner material from which to make their paper.

It is possible that the way out of the difficulty was suggested by an
analysis of Japanese paper. This has been known here for some time. It
is strong, soft, and valuable for many reasons, and is cheaply made of
fibres from plants of the mulberry tree species. Japanese paper is hand
made and has a certain amount of dressing, its surface is dull, but
takes impressions from engraved plates or type easily. It appears to
last fairly well, but would probably not stand much wear at the joints.

The idea of using pulped vegetable matter for paper was, however, not
new, even to the Japanese, as there was such a thing as paper made from
papyrus, but it does not seem to have been much employed, because it
was not necessary in view of the fact that the papyrus did quite well
by itself without any further manipulation.

For reliable papers, the Committee on the Deterioration of Paper
appointed by the Society of Arts in 1898 give in their report a
statement that 70 per cent. should consist of fibres of cotton,
flax, or hemp, but about the middle of the nineteenth century it was
found that passable paper could be very cheaply made from straw and
from esparto grass, and this paved the way for the disastrous use of
mechanical wood pulp for cheap newspapers and books.

Many sorts of wood pulps are now made for this purpose, and there is no
doubt that the industry of breaking up wood for the purpose of paper
making is a large and increasing one. In Norway there are several large
establishments already working at this output. The fibres of spruce,
pine, birch, poplar, jute, and manilla are all extensively used. The
wood is cut up into small pieces and triturated until it is in a state
of fine dissemination, a mass of small fibres, in which condition it
is mixed in certain proportions with the other materials of which the
paper is to be composed. In spite of the warnings of the Society of
Arts Committee, there is no doubt that the use of “mechanical” wood
pulp for paper is increasing, and this regardless of the fact that
there is no lasting quality in such material, for the fibres of the
wood are invariably brittle, and they also darken rapidly under the
influence of light.

The dressing of such papers with resin or gelatine effects a certain
improvement; gelatine particularly adds to the life of a paper and
increases the elasticity of the wood fibres, but this good effect tends
to die out in time. Resin is of less use.

One particularly troublesome result of having to deal with wood pulp
papers is that it will not hold the threads used in ordinary binding;
the thread cuts right through the paper because of the shortness or
brittleness of the fibres, and if a book printed on such paper has to
be bound, the only safe way to do it is to frame each page in a border
of sound rag paper, and then have it sewn as usual. Wood paper will not
stand bending, but breaks off short if there is anything like a joint
or fold in it, and the framing or mounting prevents this. The process
of mounting every leaf of a book is, however, a very expensive one; a
couple of pounds may well be spent on a comparatively small book for
this operation alone, so that the prospect before owners of libraries
who wish to keep their books in good order is not brilliant. No amount
of dressing can make such paper really strong, as it is the fibres
themselves that are in fault.

But there is another form in which the use of wood is not so harmful,
and in this case the fibres are no longer there to be found fault with.
“Chemical” wood pulp is a form of cellulose, and it is likely that it
is destined to play an important part in the paper of the future, in
conjunction with fibres of various sorts.

Chemical wood pulp is prepared from the wood fibres by “digesting” with
caustic soda or bisulphide of lime, as reducing agents. The process is
one of much interest, and moreover a good deal of wood has to be used
to make a comparatively small amount of wood cellulose. Esparto and
straw celluloses are not so good as wood cellulose.

The invention of the “half-tone” process, by which a dotted block can
be produced from a toned drawing, print, or photograph, can be made, is
responsible for much dangerous procedure with regard to the paper upon
which the prints from the dotted blocks are to be made.

In itself the invention of the half-tone process is a wonderful and
beautiful one, but it has done more to ruin the already decadent modern
paper than anything else, because it has made the dressing of the paper
of greater importance than the paper itself.

Incidentally, the half-tone block has given the death-blow to the old
and beautiful art of wood engraving, which is now only found in quite
exceptional instances. But the half-tone block has, nevertheless,
provided some small solace for the dispossessed wood engravers, because
the soft metal blocks go wrong in light places and themselves need
careful revision with a graver. This touching-up is so general, and
so much technical skill is required for its proper execution, that it
has already become a recognised profession, and the engraver’s name is
often enough recognised in the lettering of the prints made from such
blocks, especially in American publications.

The dots of half-tone blocks were at first of an easily visible size,
but as the method of production became better understood it was found
that they could be made so small that they were no longer visible as
separate dots to the unaided vision, but that the effect produced was
really that of a tone-wash.

But the very finely grained blocks were difficult to print from, the
ink stuck too readily between the dots, where it was not wanted,
and the surface of the paper was not even enough to give a clear
impression, even if it was calendered and super-calendered. So
something had to be done to give the paper a more level surface, and
the needed material was found in china clay mixed more or less with
barytes. It is laid down in the _Society of Arts Report_ that the
amount of this dressing should in no case exceed 10 per cent. in any
paper, but modern “art” papers have for a long time much exceeded this
fair proportion.

From the beginning some kind of dressing has always been found
necessary in the manufacture of paper, but nothing so dangerous as
china clay has ever been used. The net result is that almost all modern
editions-de-luxe, and fine illustrated books generally, either having
half-tone plates or colour plates done by the three colour process,
consist of little else but thin sheets of china clay supported by the
smallest possible skeleton of wood or other cheap fibres.

It must be at once granted that the impressions from delicate half-tone
blocks made on clay paper are admirable, and it is also true that the
printing ink makes the clay insoluble in water wherever it touches it.
But the clay has a certain affinity for damp, and books printed on clay
paper very readily show damp stains, and if left for any time in a
really damp place they are liable to become solid bricks of white mud,
quite impossible to repair.

If very dry the non-cohesive clay will turn to a white powder.
Moreover, this clay-laden paper will not hold binding threads, so again
it has to be preserved. A book printed on such material has to be
treated in the same way as I have described in the case of wood pulp

There is, however, a plan of preserving prints on clay, and this is
to fasten down the printed portion on a piece of sound paper from
the beginning. This is already done to some extent, and it should
be universal in the case of isolated plates, but when a book is all
printed on clay paper, as many fine and valuable books unfortunately
are, it is difficult to say what is best to be done. The only real
remedy seems to be a refusal on the part of purchasers to buy such
books. But purchasers do not always know when they are buying clay
instead of paper. It is, however, not difficult to tell, as the
clay-laden paper feels very smooth and soft to the touch of a dry
finger. This peculiarity can be easily detected in one or other of the
American magazines, Harper’s or Scribner’s, and the difference between
the feel of a page holding an impression from a fine half-tone block,
and that having only text, will at once be evident.

If a mark may be made on a suspected sheet, a drop of water should be
put upon one corner, left a second or two, and then dried off with
blotting-paper. Now a light scrape with a knife over the damped place
will remove a layer of white clay if it is there.

There is no doubt that the large majority of our modern books will not
be in readable condition in about a hundred years’ time from the date
of their publishing.



ARTS, SOCIETY OF.--Report on the Deterioration of Paper. _London_, 1898.

BLADES, W.--(_Athenæum_, March 30th, 1889, p. 409. Paper on Watermarks).

BLANCHET, A.--Essai sur l’histoire des Papier. _Paris_, 1890.

BREITKOPF.--Versuch die Einfuhrung des Leinenpapieres. _Leipzig_,

BRIQUET, C. M.--La Legende Paléographique du Papier de Coton. _Genève_,

BRIQUET, C. M.--Recherches sur les Papiers du x^e au XIV^e siècles.
_Paris_, 1886.

CAMPREDON, E.--Le Papier. _Paris_, 1901.

CHARPENTIER, P.--Le Papier. 1890. (Frémy, E.)

DUNBAR, J.--Notes on the Manufacture of Wood Pulp Papers. _Leith_, 1892.

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GIRARD, A.--Le Papier. _Lille_, 1892.

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York_, 1894.

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Wales. (Phil. Trans., Abr. III., p. 105, 1684).

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PIOT, G. J. C., and PINCHART, A.--Specimens des Papiers recueillis dans
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les diverses coll. des documents qui composent les archives générales
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  Assyrian bricks, with printed inscriptions--Oiron ware--Chinese
  types--Block books--Costeriana--Types and stereotypes--Printing

There are numbers of instances of impressions from small devices,
cyphers and letterings cut on blocks of wood or soft metal and made
on pieces of pottery. These stamps are the forerunners of the types
with which our modern books are printed. Among these impressions those
which are made on the tablets or cylinders of baked clay, many of which
have been found among the ruins of Babylon and Nineveh, are by far
the earliest. They are covered with inscriptions printed in cuneiform
characters, and contain records of sales of slaves, loans of money,
sales of land and the like, and on the larger bricks and cylinders are
longer inscriptions of greater interest, among them stories of the
Flood. Many of these records are contained within an outer shell of
the same shape, in which is either a short title with seal or even a
duplicate inscription. These outer cases are the earliest examples of
anything in the shape of a cover or binding over written or printed
matter. Some of the cuneiform bricks are said to date from the third
thousand years B.C., and many of the later examples belonged to the
libraries of Sennacherib and Ashurhani-Pal, Kings of Assyria.

[Illustration: FIG. 66.--Assyrian tablet of clay, impressed with
cuneiform inscription. With outer case.]

Similar bricks, impressed with inscriptions, have been found in North
America. The letters on these bricks, tablets, or cylinders were
printed letter by letter by hand upon the clay when it was wet and
soft, without ink, then the brick was dried either in an oven or in the
sun, so that this earliest method of printing is diametrically opposite
to the modern process, in which case the letters are inked and kept
rigid, while the paper or other substance on which the impression is to
come is lightly pressed upon them.

In the eleventh century the Chinese made types of clay or porcelain,
and set them up in a frame and printed from them, and afterwards they
cut the original types in wood and made impressions, or stereotypes
from them in porcelain, and when this had been baked they cast leaden
types from it. Chinese and Japanese letters are always most decorative,
whether in the cursive or square seal characters.

Babylonian and Assyrian tablets, cylinders, and cones of baked clay
impressed with cuneiform inscriptions have proved themselves to be the
most permanent and reliable form of record that has yet been invented
by mankind. The hammer alone seems to be able to destroy them.

The most precious faience in the world is that variously known as
“Oiron,” “Henri Deux,” “Diane de Poictiers,” or “Faience de Saint
Porchaire.” There are fewer than seventy pieces of this ware known,
and each example is a masterpiece, no two being alike.

It is said to consist mainly of clay found at Saint Porchaire, a
village in Poiton, and not far from Oiron, and at one of these places
it was probably made.

[Illustration: FIG. 67.--Italian book stamps impressed upon the faience
de St. Porchaire.]

The pieces are often ornamented with armorials and devices of Francis
I., Henri II., and Diane de Poictiers, as well as those of members of
the French nobility of about the middle of the sixteenth century.

There are jugs, covered cups, biberons, dishes, salts, flower
vases, and candlesticks, all curiously put together in sections,
and ornamented with impressions from binders’ stamps run in with
differently coloured clays.

This use of binders’ stamps is unique, and has been made with the
utmost skill and taste. Sometimes casts have been made from the stamps
so that the impression shows in reversed colours. The ornamentation
is like a book-finisher’s work, and several of the same stamps and
rolls show on contemporary Italian bookbindings. At that time there
was a strong Italian influence both in French as well as in English
decorative bookbindings.

It has already been supposed that the ware may have been sent as a
present to Henri II. from the family of Catherine de Medici, and M. H.
Delange even goes so far as to credit Girolamo della Robbia with the
work. He, as well as many other Florentine craftsmen, worked in France
for Francis I.

It is not now likely that any definite knowledge as to the maker of the
Saint Porchaire Faience will ever be obtained, but it will always be a
notable example of the high decorative importance of binders’ stamps,
which are designed upon certain principles, especially with regard to
their combination in groups or lines of groups.

Attempts to imitate this ware have often been made, but so far they
have failed; the original seems to possess qualities and peculiarities
that are impossible to imitate closely. Art forgeries are now so common
and so excellent that there are really very few things that cannot
be copied so exactly that it is difficult to distinguish between the
original and the copy, but the Saint Porchaire ware is so far one of
the very few things that completely baffle the cleverest artist, and
this is largely due to the curious use of the binders’ stamps.

Engraved wooden blocks were used in China, Corea, and Japan as early
as the sixth century, and quite likely long before. These blocks were
cut in the same manner as the European block books, except that type
and illustrations were not shown on the same block. In Thibet similar
blocks were cut and charms were printed from them.

The use of separately engraved types which could be arranged as desired
seems to have been known in these countries at about the same time, but
it was not so suitable to their then requirements, and so it made no
headway. They soon reverted to the simple block engraving as better. No
doubt the reason of this was that the number of separate letters that
might be required was so great that it was practically prohibitive. The
letters both in China and Japan are still mainly in the syllabic stage,
and so there are a great number of them. The alphabetical stage is,
however, gradually being reached, especially in Japan.

It is very likely that the European idea of cutting block books was
borrowed from China, and here from the later half of the fifteenth
century until the earlier half of the sixteenth century such books were
produced plentifully in Germany, Holland, and England, and more rarely
in France.

Single-sheet pictures were made at first, the earliest dated example
known being the “St. Christopher” of 1423, now in the Rylands Library
in Manchester. From being cut on wood these curious prints are
generally known as xylographs. Criticism and comparison of them is a
very difficult matter, as they were designed and cut on such broad and
easy lines that they were easily copied almost exactly, but now all
the important and very early specimens are so well known and have been
so carefully listed and described by competent bibliographers like
Mr. Gordon Duff, Sir Martin Conway, Hain, Ottley, Bradshaw, Hessels,
Proctor, and others, that there is little risk of fraudulent imitation
remaining long unrecognised.

The block book proper however, shows text as well as illustrations,
the text gradually becoming more and more important. Block books are
printed in pale coloured ink, so that they may take colour as well as
possible, and are usually coloured more or less, sometimes by hand
and sometimes by means of stencil plates, or perhaps a combination of
both methods. Many of them are astronomical, but as a rule the subjects
are more or less religious, such as the “Ars Moriendi” or “Biblia
Pauperum”; the illustrations and the text being variously arranged.
Each page is cut on one block, sometimes printed page by page,
sometimes two pages at a time, and always on one side of the paper only.

Now and then, as in the case of the “Speculum Humanae Salvationis,” the
text is separately cut; this remarkable book is supposed to have been
printed at Utrecht about 1470-72. Block books are always printed on
paper of excellent quality.

Printing from moveable types in Europe is considered by many
authorities to have been invented by Laurens Janszoon Coster, of
Haarlem, during the earlier half of the fifteenth century. Actual
proofs are wanting, but there exist several books and fragments of
books, many of which have been recovered from the boards of old
bindings, which certainly are not the work of Gutenberg. These
fragments were printed in Holland, and are known as “Costeriana”;
several of the letters used correspond to the Dutch manuscript letters
of the time, and many of them are copies of the school books known as
“Donatus’.” Some of the letters look much as if they had been cut in
wood. At Avignon it is recorded that in 1444 experiments with printing
types were made.

The Coster legend appears to have been started by Adrianus Junius, who
in his _Batavia_, published at Antwerp in 1588, speaking of Haarlem,
says: “Redeo ad urbem nostram cui primam inventae ist hic artis
typographical gloriam deberi.”

There is no doubt that the Costeriana have a family likeness between
them, and the types used in them have been carefully compared by Mr.
Hessels with those found in the edition of Ælius Donatus’ grammars, and
in the _Doctrinale_ of Alex. de Villa Dei, and in his opinion they have
the same origin.

Whether the rival claims of Avignon, Haarlem, or Mainz, for the honour
of having been the first town in which printing from moveable types was
done in Europe will ever be finally settled, is questionable. But there
is no doubt that Johann Gutenberg was the first printer in Europe who
made printing with moveable type of real usefulness. In 1472, Fichet
wrote that Gutenberg, who worked in Mayence, was the first inventor
of the art of printing by means of moveable types. Curiously enough
the work credited to him shows no amateur feeling whatever. Both the
Indulgences of 1454, which may be his, and the Mazarin Bible of about
1455, which certainly is, are as finely and perfectly printed as any
books ever have been since.

It must be noted here that certain authorities still maintain that
this Bible was printed by Fust and Schöffer, but the weight of expert
opinion is nevertheless strongly in favour of Gutenberg.

But however this may be, in the case of the beautiful Mainz Psalter,
we are on absolutely safe ground. In this book appears the date 1457,
and also the names of the printers Johann Fust and Peter Schöffer. It
is in every way a magnificent specimen of typography, and the letters
are very large. It is also a fine example of colour printing, as the
initial letters are cut in wood and printed in red and blue. Peter
Schöffer was originally an illuminator of manuscripts, and no doubt we
owe the splendid initials of the Mainz Psalter to his liking for colour.

The first printed date in a Dutch book is 1473, when books were printed
both at Utrecht and Alost.

The moment separate letters were cut in wood for the purpose of
printing, it must have been obvious to any workman interested in the
matter that it would be far better to use them as models only, and that
for actual use casts in soft metal would be more economical. In J. E.
Hodgkin’s “_Rariora_” there is an excellent detailed account of the
manner in which types are cast.

At first the method of casting type was probably much the same as it
is now, except that it was done slowly by hand instead of quickly
by machines. The matrix was set at the bottom of a short funnel in
a little hand press. This press was held in the left hand, funnel
upwards, then a little melted metal was run in from a ladle held in the
right hand. The metal set almost immediately, and the little letter was
jerked out, to be trimmed by hand. What the earliest metal used for
types was cannot now be known for certain, but it was probably much the
same as is now used, lead with tin and antimony, and perhaps a little
copper--a composition which expands in cooling. By this hand process a
good workman could produce two or three thousand letters in a day.

Now things are managed differently, and there are several automatic
machines which not only save the handwork of a type caster, but do the
work equally well and at a much greater speed.

For the casting of separate letters the Wick Rotary type casting
machine is perhaps one of the most ingenious. It consists of a
horizontal wheel with radiating channels in which the matrices of the
various letters are set. The wheel revolves, and as the opening of each
little channel reaches a certain point a jet of type metal is driven
into it and forms a letter. A little more revolution and the letter is
automatically ejected and caught on an endless chain. This machine is
capable of producing 50,000 letters in an hour.

The monotype is, however, even a cleverer invention because it only
casts the particular letter that is wanted. An operator translates
the manuscript, by means of a key-board, into a series of holes on a
strip of paper. This strip then moves on to the monotype machine, which
not only casts the letter indicated by each hole, but puts it in its
proper place, and jerks it forward until one line is complete. On the
completion of a line the machine has a spasm, and the line is driven
bodily upwards, leaving a space for the next line. This is probably the
printing machine of the future, as it only requires the one operator,
who translates the manuscript into dots.

The methods used in the Linotype and the Monoline are somewhat similar,
and effected by the use of a key-board, but instead of casting each
letter, like the monotype, they cast complete lines, which are more
troublesome to correct if any mistake creeps in.

When the printing press was first used is not known, but the printing
of the block books would no doubt have suggested some sort of board
press long before types were used in Europe. A block book might be
printed by hand only, but it would be a troublesome and laborious
process, and the use of a flat padded board to put over the whole
block and press upon it seems obvious enough, and the screw press
evolved itself out of some such expedient. The familiar napkin press
with a large wooden screw and cross handle is the type of the earliest
printing presses of which we possess any record, the screw presently
giving way before the more effective lever handles, and it should not
be forgotten that excellent results can be obtained from these old
presses acting with a direct downward pressure. They are, however, very
slow in action, and that is not consistent with modern requirements.

[Illustration: FIG. 68.--Printing press of about 1600. From Stradanus.]

The Dutch were the pioneers in improvements in these presses, and W. J.
Blaew, of Amsterdam, a clever engraver, printer, and mechanician of the
seventeenth century, made several improvements in many of the details,
especially as regards the box, table, or forme, in which the type was
set. But until Charles, third Earl Stanhope, invented the iron printing
press with levers, in 1800, they were always made of wood, with screw

Lord Stanhope was a most remarkable man. He was not only an ardent
politician but also a notable man of science and an inventor. Among
other things we owe to him the Stanhope lens; a system of logotypes,
which was not received by the printing trade with much sympathy,
because it lessened the need for hand labour, improvements in
stereotyping, and above all the Stanhope press, which would have made a
fortune for its inventor if he had wanted it. Lord Stanhope, however,
gave his press to the Clarendon Press at Oxford, in exchange for a
pension to his assistant. This press with its levers was for a long
time the model for all printing presses used in this country.

But before the Stanhope press was invented, W. Nicholson, of London,
had patented, in 1790, a device which was destined to supersede Lord
Stanhope’s lever press and all others like it. This was the use of a
revolving iron cylinder driven by steam to carry the paper over the
inked surface of the type. Nicholson’s invention fell flat so long as
it remained in his hands, but in about 1807 it was taken up by Koenig,
of London, improved, and put upon the market, and it attracted the
attention of Mr. Walter, of _The Times_.

In the issue of this paper on the 20th of November, 1814, readers were
informed that it was printed by steam machinery driving the cylinders
holding the paper. By cylinder presses upwards of 9,600 impressions
can be made in an hour. Minor improvements since that time have been
legion, and it may safely be said that no more wonderful sight is to be
seen in the whole of London than the printing of one of our great daily

Newspapers are usually printed from stereotypes fixed on cylinders; but
books are always printed from _flat_ formes, the paper being applied by
cylinders. Paper can now be printed on both sides simultaneously. In
Rotary machines both the printing as well as the receiving surfaces are
arranged on cylinders.

The locking up of type in the case of long books was soon found to
be a great inconvenience, and the idea of making a cast of such type
in the form of a block, so as to set the original type free, was
an obvious one. It was not, however, put into practical form until
the early part of the nineteenth century, when someone unknown made
casts from book types in plaster of Paris. Lord Stanhope made several
improvements in this, and it is possible that the use of softened paper
pulp--flong--for this purpose was his invention. Whether this is true
or not, paper was certainly used for stereotyping in France about 1850,
and it has been universally used in this important connection ever

The paper pulp is hammered on to the type by means of a hard brush, in
exactly the same way that antiquaries make impressions from incised
rock sculptures. The antiquaries, however, make their casts from the
paper moulds in plaster of Paris, but the printer makes his in soft

When the paper mould is properly dry and hard the melted metal is
poured over it, and makes a perfect cast. Such casts can either be used
flat for book printing, or curved to fix on cylinders for newspaper
printing. The metal used is practically the same as type metal. It sets
very quickly, and the heat necessary to melt it is so low, that several
casts can be made from one paper mould.

Another way of making a harder printing plate is by means of a galvanic
battery. In this case the mould from the type is made in wax, either
impregnated or carefully dusted with black lead, and these moulds, when
correct, are put into a galvanic bath, where a strong metallic deposit
is laid all over them, the deposit being afterwards backed up with

Good types have always been difficult to design. The types used in
block books, and in early printed books generally, were simply copies
of the handwriting of the periods to which they belonged. Even in later
and in modern times certain founts have been designed on the lines of
cheirographic writing, for example, the “caractères de civilité,” much
liked by French printers, imitated the graceful calligraphy of the
eighteenth century.

But a certain differentiation in the direction of squareness soon
became apparent, as we have already noticed in the case of rock
inscriptions; it was found easier to cut squarely-shaped letters than
rounded or cursive forms.

So letters cut for the purpose of being printed tended gradually to
differentiate themselves from their written analogues, and a new kind
of designing came into existence. It was, however, always necessary
to preserve as much of the original form of the letters as possible,
otherwise they might fail to be recognised.

Printers have always liked to show their types, and from the catalogue
printed by Schöffer about 1469 to Caslon’s eighteenth century
specimens, there have been numbers of them made and issued. A short
study of these specimens will show, firstly, how very much they are
copied one from another, and secondly, that no designer of genius seems
ever to have appeared. All that can be said is that some are uglier
than others. It has not been for want of trying, as Geoffrey Tory shows
in his _Champfleury_, but, except as to Greek types, in which Robert
Procter has, by his counsel, met with much success, there is no doubt
that good types for printing are rare.

In the eighteenth century P. E. Fournier caused much improvement in
French types, both by his example and his writings. He was the son of
a typefounder, and began as a wood engraver, but eventually followed
in his father’s footsteps and became a typefounder himself. Fournier
published a table of types in 1737, with suggestions for designing
them, but his most important work is the _Manuel typographique_, which
is an important work on the subject, and had widespread influence.

In the matter of facsimiles of early printed books, it may be well here
to say a word or two of warning. Photography has revolutionised many
things, it has destroyed some of the minor arts, but in book production
it has had far-reaching effect, much of which is good.

It has also opened up several new industries, and now photo-lithographs,
collotypes, half-tone blocks, and prints from line blocks made by the
swelled gelatine or other processes, can be so wonderfully like the
original, that a page of old printing made by one or other of these
methods will often deceive an ordinary purchaser. There are many such
facsimiles in the market, and the best advice I can give as to them is
that very great attention should be given to the _paper_ on which they
are done, as this will often give the secret away. The texture and
appearance of old paper is worthy of careful study, because nearly all
the photo-mechanical processes need a paper which is radically different
to the thick good rag-made papers which were used before cheap modern
papers were thought of.

Type founding in England was first carried on in the sixteenth
century, when John Day made some Anglo-Saxon types for Archbishop

Moxon, who wrote the “Mechanics of Printing” in 1693, issued the first
English specimen sheet of types in 1669, and in 1776 William Caslon,
“Letter-founder of London,” issued a specimen of his printing types.

[Illustration: Page from William Caslon’s “Specimen of Printing Types.”
(_London_, 1766.) [_To face p._ 98.]

John Baskerville, who lived and worked about the same period, was also
a very eminent typefounder, but Baskerville’s types were too thin in
the up-strokes to be considered equal to Caslon’s. Since that time such
sheets of types have become common.

Late in the nineteenth century William Morris revived several of the
old English block-letter types, and called them by the old names,
“Chaucer,” “Golden,” “Troy.”


AMERICAN ART REVIEW, I.--1880, pp. 75-80. _Boston._

BERLAN, F.--La invenzione della stampa a tipo mobile fuso rivendicata
all’Italia. _Firenze_, 1882.

BLADES, W.--Who was the inventor of Printing? _London_, 1887.

BOUCHOT, H.--Le Livre. _Paris_, 1886.

BOUCHOT, H.--L’Œuvre de Gutenberg. _Paris_, 1888.

BREITKOPF, J. G. L.--Versuch die einfuhrung des Leinenpapieres, &c.
_Leipzig_, 1784-1801.

BUCHER, B.--Die Faiencen von Oiron. _Wien_, 1879.

DEGEORGE, L.--L’Imprimerie en Europe aux XV^e et XVI^e siécles.
_Paris_, 1892.

DELANGE, H. & C.--Recueil de ... la Faience dite de Henri II. _Paris_,

DELON, C.--Gutenberg et l’invention de l’Imprimerie. _Paris_, 1881.

DUPONT, P.--Histoire de l’Imprimerie. _Paris_, 1883.


ENTSCHEDE, C.--L. J. Coster de uitvinder van de boekdrukkunst.
_Haarlem_, 1904.

FAULMANN, C.--Illustrirte geschichte der Buchdruckerkunst. _Wien_, 1881.

FILLON, B.--Les Faïences d’Oiron. _Paris_, 1862.

FOURNIER, P. S.--Manuel typographique. _Paris_, 1764-66.

GOEBEL, T.--Fr. Koenig und die Erfindung der Schnellpresse. _Stutt._,

HESSELS, J. H.--Gutenberg. _London_, 1882.

HESSELS, J. H.--Haarlem the birthplace of Printing. _London_, 1887.

HODGKIN, J. E.--Rariora. _London_, 1902.

JULIEN.--L’Imprimerie en chine au sixième siécle de notre eré. _Paris_,

JUNIUS, A.--Batavia. _Antwerp_, 1588.

LINDE, A. V. D.--Geschichte der Erfindung der Buchdruckerkunst.
_Berlin_, 1886.

MAITTAIRE, M.--Annales Typographical. _Hagae_, 1719.

MALINKROT, B. A.--De ortu artis Typographical. _Col. Agripp_, 1639.

MARTENS, W. J.--Gutenberg und die Erfindung der Buchdruckerkunst.
_Karlsruhe_, 1900.

MIDDLETON-WAKE, C. H.--The Invention of Printing. _London_, 1897.

MOUET.--Les machines et appareils Typographiques. _Paris_, 1879.

MONNOYER, C.--Recherches sur les origines de l’Imprimerie avant
Gutenberg. _Le Mans_, 1888.

NOBLE.--Machine Printing. _London_, 1883.

POLLARD, A. W.--Titlepages and Colophons.

RENAULT, R.--Debuts de l’Imprimerie. _Quebec_, 1905.

SCHAAFER, J. C.--Attempts towards making Paper from Plants and Wood.
(German.) _Regensburg_, 1765.

SINGER.--Researches into the History of Playing Cards.

SMITH, G.--Assyrian Discoveries. _London_, 1875.

SOLON, H. L.--History of old French Faïence. (Saint Porchaire.)
_London_, 1903.

TAINTURIER, A.--Les Faïences dites de Henri II. _Paris_, 1860.

VITU, A. C.--Histoire de la Typographie. _Paris_, 1886.

WOLFIUS, J. C.--Monumenta Typographica. _Hamburg_, 1740.

WILSON, F. J. F.--Typographic Printing Machines. _London_, 1883.

WILSON, F. J. F.--Stereotyping and Electrotyping. _London_, 1880.

       *       *       *       *       *

N.B.--There are a large number of works on this subject, both general
and concerning Printing in particular countries.


  Wood engraving--Line

Writing in early manuscripts was continuous, no stops, no spaces,
no initials. The inconvenience of such an arrangement soon became
apparent; the effect of it can be well seen in the case of the _Codex
Alexandrinus_, written in the fifth century, although this has large
initials, and the difficulty of knowing when a word ends is bad enough,
to say nothing of sentences. The manuscript is at the British Museum.

Presently the first letters of sentences, or perhaps of important
words, were enlarged or rubricated--marked in red--and from that
starting point came the gradual development of beautiful ornamental
letters with sprays starting from them. These sprays ultimately became
rich borderings and spread all over the page, and at last we get to
the illuminated manuscripts of mediæval times filled with exquisite
miniatures, borders, and arabesques of all imaginable kinds.

The subject of illuminated manuscripts has been fully dealt with by
several competent authorities, and it is not necessary here to enter
into it, but so far as printed books are concerned it will be of
interest to survey shortly the chief styles of illustrations with
which they have been provided.

When printed books first began there were no illustrations in them, but
initial letters were often added in red, by hand, and other important
printed letters were marked by a dab of red or yellow across them. The
outline wood cuts which shortly made their appearance were frequently
intended to serve as guides for hand colouring, and many of them are so

Wood cutting in the case of block books was well understood in the
fifteenth century, but when similar illustrations appear, in company
with the text, in early printed books, the art level both of the
designer and wood cutter is singularly low. This criticism only applies
to the pictorial illustrations, as in the matter of scroll work or
ornamental initials the work is excellent.

The great letter “B” in Fust and Schöffer’s _Mainz Psalter_, issued in
1457, is as fine as anything of its kind that has ever been done. It is
printed from two wood blocks which fit into each other, and which were
inked alternately either red or blue, and then printed together with
the text. A slow process but thoroughly effective. The initial letters
throughout this book seem to have been touched up in places by hand,
especially in the long scrolls which meander up and down the margins of
the pages.

The earliest known book illustration cut on wood is a beautiful outline
sketch of the Goddess of Mercy. It is full page and illustrates a
chapter from a Chinese version of the Saddharmapundarika Sutra, and was
printed in 1331, nearly a hundred years before the earliest European
print from a wood block, the St. Christopher, of 1423, which moreover
was not a book illustration.

Chinese, Japanese, and Korean wood cuts are always in outline,
thickened here and there, but quite different in character and far
better in drawing and execution than early European work of the same
sort. Most of the blocks from which these prints are made are of soft
wood, not box, and are cut with a short knife of peculiar form set in a

The drawings are made on thin paper and stuck downwards on the blocks;
then the knife is carefully run along the edges of the various lines,
cutting outwards, the interlinear spaces being cut away with a gouge
and hammer. The wood cutting was often done by women. The method of
work is probably the same as was used in Europe in the case of early

Besides the design block, always printed in dark neutral tint or
black, during the eighteenth and succeeding centuries, the Chinese and
Japanese cut accessory blocks which were inked in various colours. The
registering of the various colour blocks was managed either by pegs
or notches, and the colours were mixed with water or rice paste. Most
of the European colour processes of printing require oil colours, but
water colours on the Japanese principle have been used with admirable
effect in some of the illustrations to Henry Shaw’s books on Mediæval
Dresses and Decorative Arts, and notably by Edmund Evans and his
successors in more recent times.

From the earliest illustration, mentioned above, until the present day,
the style of Chinese and Japanese wood illustrations has not altered.
There have been several engravers of great skill in both countries,
but I think the Japanese colour prints are best known to us.

The blocks are frequently signed with the names of the designers,
particularly in later times, and many names are already well known to

In the seventeenth century Korin was one of the best of the Japanese
illustrators; in the eighteenth century there is admirable work signed
by Hokusai and Hiroshige, and among the many skilled designers of the
nineteenth century the work of Kitigawa Utamaro is perhaps the best

[Illustration: Page from the “Hypnerotomachia Poliphili.” (_Venice_,
1499.) [_To face p._ 104.]

The first Italian book in which wood engravings were used is, as far
as is now known, the “Meditations” of Turrecremata, printed at Rome
in 1467, by Ulrich Hahn. The illustrations are of a simple character
in outline. Then came instances in books printed at Naples, Rome,
Verona, and especially at Venice, where Erhard Ratdolt produced several
with beautiful initials, borders, and pictures. Numbers of the books
published at Venice in the later part of the fifteenth century are
illustrated with exquisite wood cuts; among them the most celebrated
and the most beautiful is the _Hypnerotomachia Poliphili_, printed in

This celebrated book was written by Francesco Colonna, whose name is
curiously shown by the initials of the chapters, which read “Poliam
Frater Franciscus Columna peramavit,” “Brother Franciscus Columna loved
Polia very much.” Polia has been presumably identified with Lucretia
Lelio, who was a native of Treviso, the place of Polifilo’s dream. The
many engravings are in outline, and several of them are full page.

Italians have always excelled in wood cutting, but although there have
been numbers of illustrated books issued in the sixteenth and later
centuries, those of the fifteenth century still remain pre-eminent. Dr.
Paul Kristeller has, moreover, shown that the Italian printers devices
are well worthy of attention, and many of them are very fine both in
design and execution.

Block books, Japanese wood blocks, and all very early wood cuts, were
cut by a knife, and such outline work, not too small, is easier to
execute with a properly shaped knife than with anything else. But as
soon as wood cutters began to be more skilled, and compared their work
with line engraving, they found that a knife was not so useful as an
engraver’s burin, and so wood _engraving_, as distinct from _cutting_,
came into being. The cuts in the _Nuremberg Chronicle_ of 1493 show
some sort of a transitional stage; there are hatchings and shadowings
which would have been much more easily done with a graver than with a
knife, but I believe, nevertheless, they are all knife work.

Roughly speaking, it is easier to cut a broad outline drawing with
a knife than with a graver, and it is easier to cut a small detail
drawing with a graver than with a knife. At the same time we must
remember that a skilled engraver could execute either sort of engraving
in the wrong way, just as William Harvey cut his well known wood blocks
of the Death of Dentatus in such a way as to show every technical
peculiarity, except one, of an engraving on metal.

Both wood blocks and metal blocks intended to illustrate printed books
were always made of the same depth as the type, so that they could all
be printed together, and that is done to-day in the case of process
or half-tone blocks, which are actually wooden blocks faced with the
soft metal bearing the design. There is always some interest in the
question as to whether a certain print has been cut on a wood block
or on a metal block, and if the print is in perfect condition it is
a very difficult matter to decide. But it is rarely that some small
defect or peculiarity does not appear by help of which a tolerably
certain judgment can be arrived at. Early engraved blocks were often
used again and again until they became quite old, and at last they were
got at by insects who ate small holes in them. If therefore a print
shows little white circular marks upon it there is no doubt that it
was made from a wood block. Instances are by no means unknown in which
experts have decided that a certain block had been cut on metal, and a
later impression has turned up _with worm holes in it_! The grain of
wood will sometimes show on an old print, or a broken edge will show a
sharp fracture indicating wood, in contradistinction to a rounded one,
indicating metal.

The blacks on prints from an engraved metal plate always show very even
spaces, and there are usually plenty of them, often broken, however,
by small white dots, the presence of which denotes the style known as
Pointille, the finest examples of which can be found among the French
Horæ printed for Pigouchet in the fifteenth century. The metal used
was probably a sort of pewter, lead and tin, very easy to engrave
upon, and strong enough to bear many printings. But in many instances
these little blocks seem to have been roughly treated and have fallen
about, and the result is that outer lines which show perfectly straight
in early copies, show as slightly rounded lines on late ones. This
is taken as a decided proof that the original block was made of soft
metal, although I am by no means certain that it is impossible for a
straight edge on wood to warp into a curved line.

Prints from old wood cuts in outlines were frequently added to early
printed books and painted over thickly with opaque colour so as to
produce a different design. The original outline has only been used
as a slight guide. Instances of these curious changes can be found
in numbers of the fine vellum books illustrated in colour which were
printed for Antoine Vérard at Paris in the fifteenth century.

In other cases, particularly in Italy and France, ornamental printed
borders and illustrations have been very carefully painted by hand
just as if they belonged to ordinary illuminated manuscripts. But the
art work in all these cases is not good. The true _illuminatores_ were
obsolescent. A few instances of attempts at colour printing either
by means of blocks or stencil plates were made by Erhard Ratdolt at
Venice, and a few others.

There are two distinct schools of wood engraving, and they are easily
recognised from each other whenever either of them is exclusively new,
but the large majority of the more recent book illustrations cut on
wood show traces of both styles.

These styles are firstly that of the black line, the type of which
may be found in Caxton’s _Myrrour of the Worlde_ printed in 1481, and
secondly that of the white line, the best type of which may be found in
the _History of British Birds_, illustrated with engravings by Thomas
Bewick in 1797.

[Illustration: Page from Caxton’s “Myrrour of the Worlde.” (_London_,
1481.) [_To face p._ 108.]

In judging whether an illustration in a book is printed from a block
cut and printed in the manner of a wood block, the first thing to
observe is whether the black lines are pressed into the paper or not.
The amount of the depression of the black lines may be very slight, but
it must always be looked for because although the necessary pressure
for printing from type and block is slight, still there is always some
of it, and before the introduction of the modern clay-laden papers,
the paper used for printing upon was always softened by damp, and
consequently very susceptible to pressure. If the depression of the
black lines can be recognised, the print is made from a block of some
sort, and printed with a slight pressure.

William Blake’s curious illustrated poems are exceptions to any rule.
He was very poor and unable to afford to have his writings properly
published, so he wrote and drew them out himself on copper, and then
etched away the ground very strongly so as to leave his lines in
relief. The plates were then printed as relief blocks. As curiosities
they are of great interest, and they preserve the individual touch
of the artist to just about the same extent as an etching does. The
process is exactly analogous to the manner in which names or designs
are etched on sword blades, key rings, knife blades and the like, only
Blake allowed the acid to work a little more strongly so as to get a
slightly higher relief.

The first English printed book that is illustrated is Caxton’s _Myrrour
of the Worlde_, printed in 1481; the cuts are quite elementary in
character, like all the wood cuts in English books for a long time.
Ornamental borders are found in Caxton’s _Fifteen Oes._, printed about

Early English books were not freely illustrated, and it must be
supposed that wood cutters were scarce. Many of the cuts used are of
foreign origin. One early book is charmingly illustrated in colour;
Dame Juliana Bernes’ so-called _Book of St. Albans_, printed in 1486,
has a long series of coats-of-arms printed from wood blocks. The colour
has been added either from other blocks separately inked or else by
means of stencil plates.

In the sixteenth century wood illustrations became more numerous, but
many of them were still of foreign workmanship.

Borders and designs by Holbein were used by Pynson, and these had a
renaissance feeling which was quite foreign to the existing style. The
mixed style which consequently made its appearance is very curious.
It shows well in the semi-classical device of Lucretia used by Thomas
Berthelet, royal printer to Henry VIII. Towards the end of the century
there were several large volumes of chronicles published in England,
Halle, Grafton and Holinshed, and these and similar volumes are all
well illustrated with wood cuts. Foxe’s “Book of Martyrs,” published in
1563 by John Day, is also an example of a well illustrated and popular
book, the cuts in which were all probably made here.

[Illustration: “The Peacock.” Wood engraving by Thos. Bewick, from the
“History of British Birds.” (_Newcastle_, 1797-1804.) [_To face p._

Wood engravings in England gave way gradually in the seventeenth and
the earlier half of the eighteenth centuries before the advancing tide
of line engraving, but in the latter half of the eighteenth century
Thomas Bewick came to give it a new impetus. Bewick’s style was quite
original, and although his particular “white line” style, good as it
was, does not ever seem to have retained any hold upon the mass of
engravers, yet somehow or other we find that the revival of wood
cutting, both here and abroad, is generally put down to his influence.

Bewick worked on an entirely different principle to that of any of his
predecessors. He gave up imitating the black line of the metal engraver
and used the white line to gain his effects. No doubt this is the true
theory of wood engraving. Bewick took several apprentices, many of whom
afterwards became famous, but, curiously enough, none of them kept long
to their master’s style. In modern days Timothy Cole has revived the
use of the white line; his work is most excellent and learned in every
way. I have never found a wrong line in it, and if Bewick had not shown
the way, and therefore put Mr. Cole in the position of a follower, the
latter would have ranked as the greatest master who has ever worked on
wood on the white line principle.

William Harvey was one of Bewick’s apprentices; he did an immense
quantity of work, which is always excellent. He soon gave up Bewick’s
“white line,” and most of his wood engravings are like line engravings
on copper. The engraving of the Death of Dentatus, after B. R. Haydon,
is Harvey’s most celebrated piece of work. It shows every appearance
and characteristic of a line engraving, but the black marks are in
intaglio. It is a _tour de force_, and cannot but be considered as a
waste of energy. It was engraved upon several blocks clamped together
by an iron band, and prints of it can now and then be picked up at
printsellers for two or three shillings, as it is seldom recognised as
a wood engraving.

Luke Clennell also worked with and helped Bewick, and much of his early
work is like that of his master. But, like Harvey, Clennell soon
evolved a style of his own. He cut some of the beautiful little cuts,
after Stothard, in Rogers’ “Pleasures of Memory.” No doubt the Bewick
training had much influence for good over Clennell’s manner.

Charlton Nesbit followed Bewick closely for a time, and then, like his
fellow apprentices, he worked out his own style. His work is very good
and true, and he was particularly successful in his illustrations to
Northcote’s _Fables_ and _Rinaldo and Armida_.

John Thompson was quite one of our greatest wood engravers. He worked
well into the nineteenth century, and did an immense quantity of
work. He engraved a celebrated set of illustrations to the _Vicar of
Wakefield_, after Mulready, and was also very successful with those to
Tasso’s _La Gerusalemme Liberata_ in 1826. His work is quite different
from that of Bewick.

The nineteenth century in England was rich in numbers of excellent wood
engravers, and a list of their names alone would be a long one. A proof
of the high estimation in which the work of many of these artists was
held is to be found in the fact that their services as engravers were
freely sought by continental publishers of finely illustrated books.

J. B. Jackson, who introduced tone colour-printing, actually worked
with J. M. Papillon in France in the eighteenth century. Then there
were the Landells, Gray, Whimper, Wright, Folkard, and Green, and,
quite late in the century, J. W. Whymper, Horace Harral, James Cooper,
W. J. Linton, the Dalziels, and Swain. These two last have signed an
immense quantity of excellent work, but they were large firms, and
the greater part of their work was done by their workmen. Many of the
artists of this time did most excellent work as designers for wood
engravings, especially Sir John Millais, D. G. Rossetti, Fred. Walker,
Fred. Sandys, Lord Leighton, Birket Foster, Sir E. Burne-Jones, G. du
Maurier, and Cecil Lawson.

[Illustration: FIG. 69.--Knife for engraving on soft wood.]

J. M. Papillon, who worked during the earlier half of the eighteenth
century, belonged to a French family of wood engravers, and wrote a
treatise about wood-cutting with the knife, which is of great interest.
His work is small and excellent. Papillon makes mention of a foreigner
who worked with him and used the _end_ of the wood to work upon, and
that he used a graver. This foreigner is supposed to have been the
English artist J. B. Jackson, who was eminent here not only as an
engraver, but also as the pioneer in the matter of colour-printing from
wood blocks.

No doubt up to about the beginning of the eighteenth century wood
cuts had been made on planed pieces of pear or other soft wood cut
lengthways. The grain upon such a piece of wood necessitating the use
of a knife to cut it, the knife may be a single blade or a double blade
of the kind known as a “scrive,” but it cannot be cut with a solid

It is possible enough that to Jackson we owe the idea of making
engravings on the cross-cut of a piece of wood, and if so he is
entitled to great honour, as all wood work since his time has been done
in that way. The graver had long been used on metal, but until the
device of cutting blocks across the grain of a hard wood was thought
of it could not be used on wood. Hard wood was now wanted with as
little grain as possible, and box is the ideal.

In the nineteenth century much excellent wood engraving was done in
France. Indeed, after a period of practical non-existence the art once
more became one of great importance, and a school of wood engraving
grew up that was not only very large, but the work done was of very
high quality.

Bewick’s style is not there, although it seems likely that the revival
was really due to his influence; the old black line, resembling the
engraved metal line, holds undisputed sway. Moreover, the French
nineteenth century revival owes much directly to the work and influence
of another great English wood engraver, J. Thompson, and with him
worked an equally great French engraver, H. L. Brevière. These two men
were highly gifted, and their work is always of a high order, and they
met with much powerful support from contemporary engravers, followers
of their own, the excellence of whose work in many instances ran their
own very close.

Among the many engravers of this time whose work is always pleasant
to meet with and admire we may particularly note Thiébault, S. Soyer,
Sears, Porret, Roux, La Coste and both his sons, Rouget, and Nivet.

The work of many of our contemporary English engravers was also much
liked in France, and they often helped to illustrate fine French books.
Among the more notable of these engravers we find the names of Orrin
Smith, Thomas, Samuel, and Mary Ann Williams, and A. Best.

It must be noted that the work of the artists whose work was
interpreted by this school of highly-skilled engravers was admirably
fitted for small book vignettes, especially the military designs so
profusely issued by Meissonier, Horace Vernet, and Raffet, and, for
larger work, the charming figures of Gavarni.

Augsburg in the fifteenth century was a great centre of wood engraving.
A Bible with small woodcuts was issued there about 1470 by Jodoc
Pflanzmann. These cuts were meant to be coloured by hand. Several other
books illustrated with woodcuts were issued by Gunther Zainer and Johan

Then notable illustrated books were published at Ulm and Lubeck,
and from Nuremberg we have the great “Nuremberg Chronicle,” full of
woodcuts, the best of which are cut by Wilhelm Pleydenwurff and Michael
Wohlgemuth. The work in this book gets away from the mere outline, and
we find much clever hatching and shading, but there is much coarseness.
From Basle came Seb. Brant’s celebrated “Narrenschiff,” one of the
most popular books ever written, and illustrated with most amusing
cuts of the various follies of the various sorts of fools described.
Albrecht Dürer did a few illustrations for books towards the end of the
fifteenth and beginning of the sixteenth centuries.

Several more illustrated wood books were issued from Nuremberg, Basle
and Zurich, and some of the printers’ devices were designed by Holbein.

During the seventeenth century a lull occurred in the production of
German books illustrated with woodcuts; but the art has always been
popular in Germany, and it never quite died out.

The very decorative “Triumph of the Emperor Maximilian,” with large
woodcuts, designed by Hans Burgkmeier of Augsburg in the early
sixteenth century, was published in 1796. German wood engraving for
books revived in the nineteenth century, and became of high excellence.
German wood engravings have had a certain strength and vigour all their
own from the time of the “Nuremberg Chronicle” until modern times.

Artists, moreover, have not been wanting; the quite delightful
vignettes of A. Schrödter, L. Richter, G. Osterwald, R. Jordan and
others, have received adequate and sympathetic treatment at the hands
of engravers who are second to none. Nuzelmann, E. Kretschmar, A.
Vogel, Beneworth, Joch, and the Leipzig firms of Allanson and Sears,
Nicholls and Bosse, and Peupin, some of whom were foreigners.

Line engraving on a small scale plays an important part in book
illustration. It is the simplest, and yet requires the most technical
skill of all the methods of marking metal surfaces for the purpose
of making prints. The engraver cuts out a thread of metal, producing
a little track on the surface, and to do this properly requires the
utmost skill.

It has been held for a long time that prints from engraved metal plates
owe their existence to the proofs in sulphur which were taken from time
to time from engravings intended to be filled with niello.

In the museum at Berlin there is a print on paper from an engraved
metal plate, representing the Flagellation of Christ. It is German
work and dated 1446. The lettering shows rightly on the print, so the
engraving was made with the intent that prints should be made from it.

There is in the Bargello Museum at Florence a beautiful Pax with a
nielloed plate attributed to Maso Finiguerra, the date of which is
put at 1452. From this plate, before it was nielloed, prints on paper
were taken, and one of them is at Paris. But the letterings on this
engraving read rightly on the metal, so it was not engraved with the
intent that prints should be made from it; indeed, they, as well as the
impressions in sulphur, were only made to help in the working.

So that it is only safe to say that the possibility of making prints
on paper from engraved metal plates was known about the middle of the
fifteenth century both in Germany and in Italy.

To make a print from an engraved plate requires great pressure, as the
paper has to be forced down into every mark, and the resulting mark on
the paper is consequently always in relief.

The principle of a print made from an engraved wood block is that the
projecting parts are covered with a thin film of ink, and when the
paper is lightly pressed down upon these lines it picks up the ink from
the surface wherever it touches it. In the case of an engraved metal
plate, the lines on which are cut in the same way and with a similar
graver to that used for white line engraving on wood, the inking and
printing is quite different. Now it is the incised lines which print
black, and in order to ensure this the whole plate is well rubbed
over with ink so as to fill up all the incised lines, and then the
unengraved polished surface is carefully wiped clean so as to leave
the ink sticking in all the dots, lines and curves. Now damped paper
is very strongly pressed upon the inked plate, so as to be squeezed
right down into every dot, line and curve. The paper consequently is
in relief wherever it has been pressed into a depression, and as there
was ink there waiting for it, it will be found to have picked up and
absorbed all the ink, so that the print shows black lines in low relief.

It will be easily realised that a print from an engraved metal plate
cannot be printed with ordinary type at the same operation a wood-block
can, so that whenever a book occurs in which such engravings show on
the same page with type, there must have been two printings, one strong
for the engraving and one light for the type.

We find, therefore, that in several instances where engraved
illustrations have been used for a book which is for the most part
printed from type, that the small piece of text which comes on the same
page as the engraving, is also engraved. Not only this, but from time
to time entire books have been engraved, illustrations as well as text.
The finest English example of such work is to be found in the beautiful
edition of the works of Horace, plentifully illustrated and engraved
throughout on copper by John Pine. It was published in 1733-7.

John Sturt, who engraved numbers of book frontispieces, also produced a
Book of Common Prayer, engraved throughout on silver, in 1717. He also
engraved many of John Ayres’ calligraphic works. Abroad, especially in
France and Germany, small books have been engraved, in the seventeenth
and eighteenth centuries, by P. Moreau, F. Mazot, Druet, and others,
but none of them are as important as the English. Music books are
engraved, and so are numbers of calligraphic books of small interest.

The first line engravings illustrating any book appear in Bettini’s
“Monte Santo di Deo,” printed in 1477. They are said to be after
designs by Botticelli. Some of the prints are full page and others are
printed on the same paper as the text. They are not very good. The same
kind of illustration appears in Dante’s “Divina Commedia,” printed in
1481. Some of these prints are, however, pasted in, but a few are on
the same paper as the text.

The great excellence of Italian book illustrators on wood seems to
have eclipsed all other kinds. Italian line engravers have excelled in
large plates, but in books there is little of this kind of work that
is at all good. Examples of small work of the kind were done in the
eighteenth century by Grandi, Schedl, Pomarade, I. Frey, and C. Gregori.

In English books line engravings do not appear until 1521, when an
edition of Galen published at Cambridge possesses an engraved border.

Raynald’s “Byrthe of Mankind,” published in 1540, has engraved plates.
From this time engravings appear at intervals until towards the end of
the sixteenth century, when frontispieces and portraits, always printed
on separate paper and inserted as extra leaves, became common.

In the seventeenth century the same style prevailed, engraved portraits
and frontispieces, but gradually small pictures came into use. The
plates are often signed, and we find the name of Renold Elstrack, who
worked also in the preceding century, Marshall, Hole, Cecil, Grover,
and others of less merit.

In the eighteenth century native engravers seem to have given way to
foreigners, and the same thing happened during the early nineteenth
century. We find many beautiful engravings in English books signed
by Du Bosc, Grignion, Scotin, De Launay, and others. Later, in the
nineteenth century, our English line engravers rallied, and we owe much
beautiful work to them. Many of their names are widely known, and their
work will be more highly appreciated as time goes on, especially as
this small line engraving is practically a lost art.

_The Keepsake_, published by Charles Heath, 1827-57, started the
fashion in England of small books illustrated with delicate engravings
on steel, but it must be noted that although there is engraved work in
them, the greater part of the work is really etched. Exquisite work
in this style was done by W. Finden, D. Allen, C. Rolls, T. C. Lewis,
J. H. Robinson, E. Goodall, H. and R. Wallis, W. R. and D. Smith, W.
Humphreys, John Pye, T. S. and F. C. Engleheart, F. and J. Goodyear,
and these engravers were supplied with beautiful subjects by several
of the eminent contemporary artists, J. M. W. Turner, Stothard, Samuel
Prout, and numbers more.

Among the best examples of finely illustrated books of this period the
two volumes of Rogers’ _Italy_ and _Poems_ may safely be noted. They
were published in London in 1830, and the very best results were aimed
at in their production. They are uniform, and usually bound in red
watered silk.

Large numbers of small books illustrated profusely with line engravings
were published about the middle of the nineteenth century. They often
have engraved title-pages, with little pictures in them, the full page
illustration being inserted throughout. The names of both artist and
engraver are usually added at the lower edge of the print.

There are _Oriental Annuals_, _Landscape Annuals_, _New Year’s Gifts_,
_Friendship’s Offerings_, _Comic Offerings_, _Juvenile Forget-me-nots_,
and a host of similar periodicals, and good work is to be found in all
of them. They were either bound in thin panel stamped leather or else
in watered silk, and in either case the binding is of interest, and
wherever it exists it should be carefully preserved. A quaint little
woodcut often appears in these books, printed with the text.

Besides the engravers whose names I have already mentioned, there are
many others whose work appears more particularly in small periodical
publications; among these may be noted J. C. Armytage, Geo. Corbould,
Charles and J. Heath, James Mitan, John Sharpe, R. J. Baker, W.
Greatbach, J. C. Edwards, W. Fry, W. Chevalier, S. Davenport, H.
Robins, C. Warren, T. J. Williams, J. Cousins, W. Miller, S. Sangster,
R. Rhodes, F. Bacon, R. J. and E. Portbury, T. Willmore, R. Brandard,
J. H. Kernot, W. D. Taylor, and G. Hollis.

After about 1850 small line engravings in books began to disappear,
and now they are rarely if ever done. In fact, line engraving has
been killed by mezzotint and photography, and now takes refuge in its
original goldsmiths’ use, or in book plates.

Line engraving in France did not appeal to popular taste until a
comparatively late period. The block engravings in the “Horae” of the
fifteenth century, although they were line engravings, were cut in
the manner of wood blocks, and the method of printing from them was
different to that used in the case of ordinary metal engravings. In
the seventeenth century there were several beautiful books illustrated
by line engravings by Sebastian Leclerc, L. Gaultier, J. Sauné, F.
Chauveau, Le Mire and H. J. Duclos.

In the eighteenth century in France the graceful designs of Ch. Eisen
and J. H. Fragonard found many worthy interpreters. La Fontaine’s
fables and stories provided a suitable literature for these
illustrations, and among them may perhaps be found the high water mark
of small line engraving. Indeed, the work is all so good that any
choice becomes almost invidious; but quite beautiful work was done by
J. B. Patas, Choffard, N. Le Mire, De Longueil, L. Bosse, Delvaux,
Johannot, Leroux, Lefebre, Ficquet, Mottet, Prevost, J. B. Tillard,
J. L. Delignon, C. L. Lingée, Dupréel; and then come L. Halbon, J.
Aliamet, J. Dambrun, J. B. Simonnet, P. Trière, C. S. Gaucher, and many
more, some of whom worked also in the next century.

In the nineteenth century the French level of small engraved
illustrations remained exceptionally high, especially in the earlier
half, but many of the plates have much etching mixed up with line work;
this may very likely mean that the work was done on steel, which will
admit of the production of large editions; but steel is very difficult
to engrave, although it is quite easy to etch. Among the line engravers
who used accessory etching I have noted Pauquet, Aze, P. Choffard, and
De Villiers.

The engravers whose work may be safely considered of high quality are
R. De Launay, Bertonnier, Villerey, P. Savart, H. Dupont, Girardet, J.
P. Marillien, L. Petit, J. F. Ribault, Chifflart, and V. Foulquier.
Towards the end of the century photography came and gradually crowded
out the small line engravers.

An etching is a drawing done with a needle point upon a sheet of metal
protected by a thin impervious coat of soft varnish. The lines made
by the etching needle pierce the varnish or “ground,” and reach down
to the metal, usually copper, exposing it in those places. When the
drawing is complete the plate is put into a bath of strong water,
usually dilute nitric acid, and wherever the surface is not protected
by the ground the acid will eat away the metal.

When now the ground is cleaned off with the help of turpentine, the
original design will be seen transferred to the surface of the copper
in the form of dull lines, shallow if the acid has only been allowed to
act for a short time, but broad, deep and irregular if the “biting” has
been long. So that an etching always has a little more “effect” than
was put into the original work.

It is not necessary here to enter into the mysteries of “stopping out,”
and several other variations of procedure, but it is sufficient to say
that variations of tone and texture _can_ be obtained; but, in fact, so
far as book illustrations go, the etchings I know of are always simple,
and the best of them are those by George Cruickshank.

The printing of etchings is analogous to that of line engravings, and a
similar ink is used. A strong press is required, the paper is damped,
and the impression is in slight relief. Line engravings are always
printed in the same way as a visiting card, the untouched parts are
clean, and print white, but in the case of etchings more ink is usually
left, so that the untouched surfaces often show grey, none of the ink
having been allowed to remain upon the plate. The French call this
“retroussage,” and printers can produce strange effects by its use. A
bad etching can be made to look like a good one; a good etching can be
made to look weak and wretched. In fact, a clever artist printer can
produce a capital picture from a plate which has nothing at all on it
but the ink.

Etchings first appeared in English books about the end of the
seventeenth century, but they are seldom signed, neither are they good.
There is an etched frontispiece to Latroo’s “English Roque,” 1665, and
another to “Æsop’s Fables,” published in the same year.

Wenceslaus Hollar, a Bohemian who worked in London, illustrated a few
English books with etchings in the seventeenth century. Soft ground
etchings printed in red and black appear in Pennant’s “Account of
London,” printed in 1795. In the eighteenth and early nineteenth
centuries William Blake made a few etchings for book illustrations.
In the nineteenth century came Alken’s etchings of animals, usually
coloured, Samuel Hewitt, Doyle, and especially the excellent work of
George Cruickshank, which was very much admired by John Ruskin.

[Illustration: Title-page of Grimm’s “German Popular Stories.”
(_London_, 1824.) Illustrated with etchings by George Cruickshank. [_To
face p._ 124.]

Combined with line engraving a number of small illustrations were
published in the nineteenth century. They were etched on steel, and
carefully finished with small line work, with ruled skies. They are
generally classed as engravings, but should, I think, rather be called

Etching has not played a very important part in French books any
more than it has in English. There are the amusing sketches of Callot,
good work by Abraham Bosse and Sebastian Leclerc, and in quite recent
times the beautiful etchings by Jules Jacquemart of works of art, in
their way unsurpassed, and marvels of technical skill. I have already
mentioned a few French etchers who combined that work with small line
engraving, probably on steel; of these probably Choffard is best known
and most highly appreciated.

Engraving by dots has been for a long time practised, as by its means
a graduated tone can be more easily obtained than it can by the use of
line alone, and stipple is the same idea carried out by the etching
needle instead of the graver.

Stipple is done by means of small bunches of needles, with which
irregular dots are made in the etching ground and then bitten by acid,
as usual. In most cases a few small finishing dots are put on the
copper by hand afterwards. Stipple is excellent for faces, and is best
known in the work of Bartolozzi, who excelled in it. It is said to have
been invented by Jacob Bylaert, a Dutchman, in 1760.

In England stipple engraving was largely used in the early nineteenth
century for book illustrations. It is found chiefly in faces, and is
generally supported by line engraving or etching. The best stipple
engravers did not illustrate books, but the work of W. Finden, C.
Knight, J. Parker, C. Marr, and W. Holl is always good, though, of
course, very small. Besides these there were numbers of lesser stipple
engravers, whose work is fair--Jenkinson, Dean, H. Cook, C. Wagstaffe,
H. Robinson, and many more.

The same sort of usefulness was found for stipple abroad, for
faces particularly, and it was successfully practised by Pfeiffer,
Vangelisty, and others, but it never took the same hold upon the
Continent that it did here, either in the case of small book
illustrations or in the more important matter of large stipple

Mezzotints are not satisfactory if they are on a small scale. Delicate
and minute work cannot be done well by the mezzotint process alone, but
require supplementary line or etched work. So we find that mezzotints
have not been much used for book illustration.

The process of mezzotinting was invented by Ludwig von Siegen, an
officer in the Hessian Army, about 1642, and at first it was practised
chiefly by foreigners, but it soon became the favourite method of
engraving upon metal in England; indeed, the competition of the
mezzotint eventually ruined the slower and more costly process of line

Some books concerning mezzotints have explanatory plates in them,
beginning with Le Blon’s “Coloritto,” written about 1721, but these can
hardly be considered as fair instances of ordinary book illustrations.

A copper plate is prepared for mezzotint engraving by being uniformly
roughened all over, so that if it were inked and a print made from it,
the print would show a uniform velvety black. The art of the “scraper”
consists in so skilfully cutting away or burnishing down the roughened
surface of the copper that when a print is made a picture appears. The
scraper works from black to white whenever the surface is scraped or
burnished away, so in exact correspondence the print will show grey
or white. It is quick work, and easy work up to a point, but to make
a first-rate mezzotint is a great art, and only a few engravers have
succeeded in doing it.

Among the first students of the art was Prince Rupert, who was an
excellent artist and an accomplished workman all round. He engraved a
large plate after Spagnoletto, called “The Great Executioner,” and when
John Evelyn wrote a little book called “Sculptura,” which was published
in 1662, and included in it a short description of the new art, the
Prince mezzotinted a plate for him, showing only the head of the great
executioner. This head, the first mezzotint done for a book, is a finer
piece of work than the head in the larger plate.

There were several anatomical plates, mostly printed in coloured
inks, which were mezzotinted about the same time, but they are not
important; then Faber’s portraits of founders of the Colleges of
Oxford and Cambridge were used as illustrations to Rolt’s “Lives of
the Reformers,” published in 1759. These plates bear Houston’s name as
mezzotinter, but this is only one of a number of such re-letterings
which occur in the history of mezzotints.

Robert Dunkarton engraved several book illustrations, mostly
portraits, and he also helped in the mezzotinting of some of the
plates in Turner’s “Liber Studiorum.” He was a portrait painter, and
his mezzotints are better than Faber’s. John Young was an eminent
mezzotinter, and in 1815 he issued a large book of portraits of the
Emperors of Turkey printed in colours. They are not particularly good,
but are interesting as being the first set of mezzotints to be issued
in colour as book illustrations. The book is rare and, if the colour is
strong, of considerable value.

Turner’s “Liber Studiorum” was issued between 1807 and 1819, and many
mezzotinters helped in the work--F. C. Lewis, Charles Turner, W. Say,
R. Dunkarton, G. Clint, J. C. Eastling, T. Hodgetts, W. Annis, H. Dawe,
T. Lipton, and S. W. Reynolds. The plates were not pure mezzotint, but
were strongly etched as well with some aquatinting; the first etching
was done by J. M. W. Turner, and some of the mezzotinting. I think he
probably worked finally upon all the plates in various ways with burin,
scraper and roulette.

Several books of landscapes are illustrated with mezzotints, done on
copper or steel, by T. G. Lupton, many of them after Turner, and John
Constable’s landscapes have been admirably mezzotinted by David Lucas;
perhaps the best known is “English Landscape Scenery,” published in

In all mezzotints, large or small, it should be noted that the
_condition_ of the print is important. The blacks should be deep and
velvety; if they show greyish or spotted, the print is from an old
plate. Mezzotints on steel last better than if they are on copper. I
know of no foreign books illustrated with mezzotints.

There are several ways of making aquatints, but the best is the oldest.
It was invented by a Frenchman, J. B. Le Prince, towards the end of the
eighteenth century, and although of foreign origin, the art has been
most extensively and successfully practised in England.

Le Prince allowed powdered resin to settle evenly on a copper plate,
fixed the minute grains by heat, and then treated the plate with acid
as if it were an etching. When the plate was cleaned the acid is found
to have bitten a little line round each grain of resin, so that an
aquatint made by this method consists of a series of small rings more
or less thick. The different thicknesses are produced by stopping out
some portions and re-biting others. The general effect of aquatint is
delicate and pleasing, and it can be strengthened where necessary with
a little etching. Aquatint helps its followers considerably, and a
good aquatint made from a drawing or painting will often have luminous
effects that are wanting in the original.

There is one other method of aquatinting that must be mentioned, but
there are more which are too numerous and too unimportant to require
explanation here. It is a modern invention, and consists of coating the
plate with resin dissolved in alcohol; when this dries it breaks up
into little pieces, and the acid can penetrate between these pieces as
in Le Prince’s method. But the resulting prints do not show Le Prince’s
little circles, but small irregular polygons.

Le Prince sold his secret to Charles Greville, and he passed it on to
Paul Sandby, who not only became an eminent aquatinter but published
a book in 1775 called _Twelve Views in Aquatinta_. This drew much
attention to the beautiful new art, and it rapidly became very popular
in England. English aquatinters, like English wood and stipple
engravers, always liked colour, whether added by hand or printed in
ink, and so we find that the large majority of English aquatinters
enjoy the added beauty of colour.

The publishers Ackermann and Boydell both deserve much honour for their
consistent patronage of aquatints, and no doubt our splendid record in
that art is largely due to their enterprise.

Towards the latter part of the eighteenth century we already find
several fine books with hand-coloured aquatint illustrations published
in England, among these are W. Hodge’s _Select Views in India_, 1786;
T. Hassell’s _Picturesque Guide to Bath_, 1793; Combes’ _History of the
River Thames_, with aquatints by J. C. Stadler; E. Orme’s _Twelve Views
of Places in the Kingdom of Mysore_, with aquatints by J. W. Edy; and
H. Repton’s amusing _Sketches of Landscape Gardening_, with moveable
plates to show how good his suggested improvements were, all published
in 1794, and from this time for the next thirty years were numbers of
books issued with coloured aquatints concerning domestic architecture.

Early in the nineteenth century there are still numbers of books
with aquatint views in them: J. Webber’s _Views in the South Seas_,
published in 1808, and Boydell’s _Picturesque Scenery of Norway_, with
aquatints by J. W. Edy, in 1820, and several more.

Then Rowlandson, the caricaturist, aquatinted the illustrations for
Goldsmith’s _Vicar of Wakefield_ in 1817, and the inimitable _Tour
of Dr. Syntax_, by Combe, in 1820, thereby setting the fashion for
caricature in aquatint, which had a considerable vogue.

In Pyne’s _History of the Royal Residences_, the out-door views
are printed in coloured inks, blue for the skies and brown for the
foregrounds. They have additional hand-colouring. It is an important
book, and was published in 1819; the aquatints are engraved by T.
Sutherland, W. F. Bennett, R. Reeve, and others.

Then came a series of fine books on Indian scenery, mostly engraved by
T. Medland, Hassell and Ellis, and many books of English views, mostly
engraved by D. Havell, T. Sutherland, T. H. Fielding, J. Baily, or T.

Of less importance, but now becoming more esteemed, are the numbers of
graceful costume and fashion plates which were done in aquatint and
coloured by hand from about 1790 to 1840. These books are already much
sought after, and will probably be more and more so in time; the plates
are generally anonymous.

William Daniell illustrated Ayrton’s _Voyage Round Great Britain_ with
beautiful coloured aquatints; it was published in 1825.

There are many cases in which several kinds of work appear on the same
plate; there may be aquatint and etching, mezzotint with etching,
engraving or aquatint, so it is very important to be able to judge from
the aspect of a line or dot or a point by which method it has been

The magnificent account of the _Coronation of George IV._, published
in 1825, under the care of Sir George Nayler, Garter King of Arms, is
illustrated with mixed engravings, stipple, etching, line, aquatint and
mezzotint, by S. W. Reynolds and other engravers, chiefly after designs
by F. and J. Stephanoff. The plates are coloured by hand, and several
of the special copies have much extra artistic work added. It is said
to be the most expensive book ever published, and it never repaid its
cost, but received a grant in aid from the Government of the day. The
majority of the figures are careful portraits, and it is the highest
authority for the State costume of the time.

Lithography is the art of drawing upon stone in such a way that prints
can be made from the drawing. The drawing has to be done upon a
particular sort of stone either directly or by means of transfer from
lithographic paper, and it can be done either with a point of solid
lithographic ink resembling black chalk, or by a liquid ink, in which
case the drawing is called a lithotint. J. M. Whistler was remarkably
successful in this latter manner, but it had been used long before by
Hullmandel and Cattermole.

The discovery of lithography was due to the experiments of Aloys
Senefelder, a native of Prague, who was born late in the eighteenth
century. He accidentally found that some writing he had put on one of
the stones he used for sharpening his tools upon came off easily on to
paper or linen. Then he tried what effect acid would have, and found
that it would eat away the stone wherever the ink did not prevent it,
so he got a block in low relief. The protective ink is made essentially
of wax, tallow, soap, shellac, and lamp black, and the acid renders
this insoluble, so that when acid is applied to the stone the parts
drawn upon remain unaffected. The drawing ink is now removed, and when
printing ink is applied by means of a roller, it sticks only where the
drawn lines are, and from this inked stone a print can be obtained.

The surface of a lithograph is quite smooth, and the process will not
help an artist in the least--as the drawing is so will the lithograph
from it be; the only difference is in the power of reproduction.

Senefelder was unfortunate; he introduced an art to the world which
has been very largely followed, but his own efforts were failures from
a business point of view. He came to London early in the nineteenth
century, and his methods soon found votaries, but he shortly returned
to Munich, where his brother had assisted him in setting up a
lithographic establishment, and this practically failing, it was taken
over by the Bavarian Government and put under the management of H. J.
Mitterer, a professor of drawing.

But it was in France that lithography made most rapid progress. The
clever French draughtsmen that happened to exist about that time very
quickly mastered the process, and between them they established a
school of lithography that is unequalled. Many of the greatest French
artists worked in it, and some of them specialised in it.

Lasteyrie introduced it, and it was quickly taken up by Horace Vernet,
Pierre Guerin, Charlet, and many others for small book illustrations,
and about 1830 there are large numbers of caricatures done in this
quick and easy way. Then Gericault, Henri Monnier, Eugène Delacroix,
and J. B. Isabey swelled the list of French lithographers, most of
the book illustrations being of small size; and a little later there
is notable work done by Honoré Daumier, Achille Deveria, Raffet, Jean
Gigoux and Gavarni, several of them specialising in military subjects.
Towards the end of the century we find a new set of artists, many of
whom use colour as well as monotint, Fantin-Latour, Chéret, O. Redon,
Gandara and Willett.

The social side of French life is perhaps the most illustrated in

In England lithography received its first impetus from Senefelder
himself, who came and worked in London, where in 1819 his _Complete
Course of Lithography_ was published.

C. J. Hullmandel and J. D. Harding were friends and co-workers in the
new art, and they were both adepts at it; Hullmandel drew several of
the beautiful plates of birds for John Gould, and they were afterwards
coloured by hand. From the beginning colour has been much liked by
English lithographers, either added by hand or produced by means of
“chromo-lithography,” that is, several plates inked in different
colours and then printed over each other on one piece of paper.

Roberts’ _Holy Land_ is magnificently illustrated with lithographic
plates by Louis Haghe, a left-handed Belgian, who worked here, and
these plates were afterwards coloured by hand. Clarkson Stanfield and
Cattermole both worked in lithography, and Nash’s _Mansions of England
in the Olden Time_, 1839-49, are familiar to most of us. Nash coloured
several copies by hand.

Owen Jones’ _Plans of the Alhambra_, published 1842-5, are excellent
chromo-lithographs. In quite modern times the old tradition is worthily
upheld by William Griggs, whose colour plates of _Illuminated MSS. in
the British Museum_ are in every way excellent--indeed, for truth and
fidelity to their originals they have never been equalled.

Munich was a sort of headquarters of lithography in the early part of
the nineteenth century, when H. J. Mitterer succeeded to Senefelder’s
establishment there. Among the first lithographers in Germany were J.
M. Mittenleiter, who also invented the art of engraving on stone, and
Joseph Hauber.

Most of the German lithographers contented themselves with making
copies of existing pictures, and one of the finest examples of this
kind of lithography is to be found in the _Gemälde Galerie des K.
Museums in Berlin_, published in 1842, and containing excellent work by
Fr. Jentzen, C. Fischer, and others.

Adolf Menzel did some notable lithographic work about the middle of the
century, and Mouilleron, Eybl, and Ritter were all excellent workmen.

Belgian lithographers have nearly always been very good; besides Haghe,
who worked in England, there were, with others, Tuerlinckoe, Van der
Meulen, and Van Loo.

Although there have been lithographic workshops set up at Rome,
Florence, Turin, Milan, and other towns, the art has never flourished
much in Italy: it never appealed to the sensitive artistic Italian
nature. Such examples as do exist are mostly portraits.

Lithography has been popular in Spain, and Spanish artists have done
excellent work in this manner.

In 1824 J. de Madrazo published the most important Spanish work
illustrated with photographs; it is called _Collection lithographica
de cuadros del Rey ... Fernando VII., lithographiada por habiles
artistas_, among whom are named J. Jollivet, P. Blanchard and A.
Guerrero. The work of all of these is excellent. Lithographic work
in Spain, so far as books are concerned, has been mostly of an
archæological character--views of old buildings or old pictures
particularly. F. Goya, however, worked largely in this manner.

All these methods of illustrating books worked by hand have now been
superseded by one or other of the wonderful processes made possible
by the invention of photography. Some of these are expensive, but
generally they are cheap.

The most elaborate, and when well done the most wonderful, of these
processes is that known as heliogravure. By means of this method
reproductions of line engravings can be made so perfectly that
detection is almost impossible. A metal plate is so treated by help of
a photographic negative that the lines of the engraving are deposited
in an insoluble form upon the plate, which is otherwise clean, then a
thin film of metal is deposited on all the clean places by means of
electrotyping, so that when the lines are dissolved out, they are in
intaglio, just as they were in the original engraved plate. From this
artificial plate prints can be made as if from an engraved plate.

For the mezzotint another method is adopted, known as photogravure,
and this is also a wonderful invention. A metal plate is slightly
roughed--if it could be more roughed it would be better--and then a
photographic relief in gelatine is put upon it and etched. The result
is a plate resembling a fine grain mezzotint, but the prints made from
it are always deficient in the blacks. To remedy this and other defects
which at present seem to be inherent, an engraver generally goes over
the plate with roulette and burnisher. The Photogravure has ruined the
Mezzotint. The coating of the copper-plates with steel largely adds to
their life.

Then we come to the wood engravings, which are all perfectly imitated
by the zinc block, made directly from the original drawing, and set
on a wood block so as to range exactly with type in height. Wash
drawings are closely copied by the half-tone process, which is also
used with blocks that can be printed with type. The drawing to be
copied is photographed through a glass screen very finely etched with
minute lines crossing each other, so that the picture is ultimately
represented by a series of little squares, black or white according
to the tones of the original. But the whites are never quite
satisfactory, the dots of the screen always show a little, so the
dispossessed wood engraver has to be called in after all to touch
them up with a graver. In America, where the half-tone process has
reached a very high degree of excellence, the names of these helpful
engravers are frequently added. A curious “shot-silk” effect is often
seen in half-tone illustrations where the lines of the screen fall at a
particular angle with the lines on the original. The same peculiarity
sometimes shows in the ruled sky lines in the small nineteenth century
line engravings.

The three-colour process consists of half-tone blocks printed in
colours one over the other, but although they look well they are not
particularly true to their originals. The reason of this is that each
block is a little wrongly inked, as the tint of the pigment put upon
it depends entirely upon the printer. He has of course a carefully
coloured key given him to match for each block, but he never quite
succeeds in doing more than get near it. There are line keys and colour
blocks, and half-tone and colour blocks, and many other varieties of
combinations of processes.

The half-tone process is certainly responsible for much charming and
valuable work, but it has done one very great harm not only to itself
but even to literature, it has been the chief cause of the introduction
of clay-laden paper (see Chap. III.).

The beauty of photographic illustrations can be best seen in some of
the recent French illustrated books in colour published by the Société
des Amis des Livres. Other exquisite illustrations are to be found in
Octave Uzanne’s books, many of them from the drawings of Paul Avril.
The way in which many of these illustrations are made to show over the
printed page is often quite charming.


BAER, L.--Die Illustrirten Historienbücher des 15 Jahrhunderts.
_Strassburg_, 1903.

BAYARD, E.--Illustrations et les Illustrateurs. _Paris_, 1898.

BLACKBURN, H.--The Art of Illustration. _London_, 1896-1901.

BONNET, G.--Manuel de Phototypie. _Paris_, 1889.

BONNET, G.--Manuel d’Héliogravure et de Photogravure en relief.
_Paris_, 1890.

BOUCHOT, H.--Le Livre, L’Illustration. _Paris_, 1886.

BOUCHOT, H.--Les Livres a vignettes. _Paris._

BRIVOIS, J.--Bibliographie des livres a gravures sur bois du XIX^e
siècle. _Paris_, 1883.

BROUGH, W. S.--Book Illustration. _Leek_, 1891.

BULLOCK, J. M.--Art of Extra Illustration. 1903.

CRANE, W.--Of the Decorative Illustration of Books. _London_, 1901.

DAVENPORT, CYRIL.--Mezzotints. _London_, 1904.

DOBSON, A.--(Chapter on Illustrated Books in Lang’s “The Library.”)
_London_, 1881.

DOBSON, H. A.--Bewick and his Pupils. _London_, 1884.

DUCHOCHOIS, P. C.--Photographic Reproduction Processes. _London_, 1892.

FARQUHAR, H. D.--Grammar of Photo-engraving. _London_, 1895.

GERRING, C.--Notes on Book Illustration. _Nottingham_, 1898.

GEYMET, T.--Traité de Gravure en demi-teint par l’invention du cliché
photographique. _Paris_, 1888.

GEYMET, T.--Traité de Gravure et impression sur zinc. _Paris_, 1887.

GEYMET, T.--Traité de Photogravure. _Paris_, 1886.

GEYMET, T.--Traité de Photo-lithographie. _Paris_, 1888.

GROLIER CLUB, New York.--Catalogue of Engraved Titles and Frontispieces
published in England during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.
_New York_, 1898.

HARDIE, M.--English Coloured Books. _London_, 1906.

HENRICH, M.--Iconographie de las ediciones del Quijote de M. de
Cervantes Saavedra. _Barcelona_, 1905.

HINTON, A. H.--Handbook of Illustration. _London_, 1895-1905.

HODSON, J. S.--Guide to Art Illustration. _London_, 1884.

HUSON, T.--Photo-Aquatint. _London_, 1897.

JACKSON, J. B.--An essay on engraving in Chiaro Oscuro. _London_, 1754.

KIRKBRIDGE, J.--Engraving for Illustrations. _London_, 1903.

KRISTELLER, P.--Early Florentine Woodcuts. _London_, 1897.

KRISTELLER, P.--Die Strassburgher Bucher-illustration im XV. und XVI.
Jahrhunderts. _Leipzig_, 1888.

LIETZE, E.--Modern Heliographic Processes. _New York_, 1888.

LINTON, W. J.--The Masters of Wood Engraving. _New Haven, Conn._, 1889.

LINTON, W. J.--Wood Engraving in America. _London_, 1881.

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VII. 1824.

MARTINEAU, R.--The Mainz Psalter of 1457 (Bibliographica, Vol. I.).

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  Book edges and their decoration--Embroidered books--Cloth
  bindings--Account books--End papers--Small metal-bound books--Books
  bound in tortoiseshell--Chained books--Horn books.

The projecting bosses and corners which occur in mediæval bindings
were to protect them against the friction of other books which lay
upon them, a thin piece of wood dividing them. The books were piled
upon each other, so that if one of the lower ones was wanted it was
necessary to remove the upper ones. This caused much trouble, so that
in due time it was found better to stand the books up on end on shelves.

The prone position is, however, the better one for the book, and the
respective levels of the edges of the book and the edges of the boards
are designed for this position. When the books were set up on end, the
discrepancy between the levels of the book edges and the board edges
was never rectified, and the result is that a large amount of damage
has been done. When a large book is set up on end, the weight of it
rests entirely upon the lower edges of the boards, and the lower edges
of the book itself are up in the air above the shelf by so much as the
projection of the edges of the boards beyond them. The result is that
the whole of the weight of the vellum or paper of the book pulls upon
the bands of the back in their weakest direction, from within and more
particularly from the top, thereby pulling the back inwards. The mass
of the book falls forward slantingly, until the lower edge of the front
of it rests upon the shelf.

It is difficult to describe, but my sketch will show what I mean, and
the truth of it can be easily seen in almost any library of old books
that are kept “on end”; the edges will be found grubby from resting on
the shelf, and the top of the back will be found pulled forward.

[Illustration: FIG. 70.--Inside of heavy book fallen forward, by reason
of being kept upright.]

Valuable books that are kept upright should have the edges of the
boards level with the edges of the leaves, and then this disastrous
pull would not occur.

A remedy, however, may be found by means of a piece of wood cut the
same size as the lower edge of the book so as to fit closely into the
hollow between the outer edges of the boards and the lower edges of
the leaves. Such a slip will neutralise the drop of the leaves, and
preserve the proper form of the backs of heavy books.

But before the upright position was finally adopted for books, and
their titles were put on their backs, the front edge or “forage” of the
leaves was always kept outwards, in view, and on this space or long
panel all sorts of devices and letterings were put.

Leaves of a book, pressed tightly together, provided too tempting a
space to be ignored, to say nothing of the usefulness of giving the
name or title of the book, or the device of its owner, or even a
decorative design. So on fine mediæval books and also on later books,
following the earlier manner in their own way, we find all sorts of
designs on book edges. It is not a subject which has attracted much
attention as yet, but it probably will in time, and there is already
enough known about it to show that much valuable knowledge is lying
hidden up in it. For instance, if a book, otherwise likely, has the
words “Rex in Æternum Vive” painted in gold on the edges, it is a
positive sign that it issued from the workshop of Thomas Berthelet,
printer and binder to Henry VIII.

[Illustration: FIG. 71.--Forage decoration in colour. Tenth century.]

Edge decoration of some sort seems to have been done from the tenth
century onwards; at first elementary or symbolical designs were simply
painted upon the edges, and not counting the mere book titles or press
marks, it may be said that since the fourteenth century heraldry has
played a very important part in edge decoration. In England this form
of adornment for a bound book has been largely followed from that time,
and there are fine examples of it in books bound for Henry VII. and the
other of our Tudor sovereigns, as well as for private persons of the
same period. The edges are treated as panels and the painting done upon
them when pressed firmly and solidly together. The edges are generally
coloured some neutral colour as a groundwork and sometimes lettering in
gold is done upon them.

[Illustration: FIG. 72.--Italian forage decoration in gold and colour

Henry VIII. often had the legend “REX IN ÆTERNUM VIVE NEZ” written
in gold on the cream coloured edges of his books, and all that are
so lettered are attributed to Thomas Berthelet as binder. The “Nez”
is rather a puzzle, and it was suggested by Mr. J. L. Scott, of the
British Museum, that it stands for the three initial letters of the
phrase in the Book of Daniel, Ναβουχοδονὀσωρ Εσαει ζῆθι--a quite
possible solution.

[Illustration: FIG. 73.--German forage decoration in gold and colour.
The arms of Nuremberg (1566).]

Queen Anne Boleyn’s copy of the New Testament has her name, “ANNA
REGINA ANGLIÆ,” written in red upon its gilt edges.

For Queen Elizabeth, book edges were usually gilded, and on this
gilding designs were impressed with ordinary binding tools. This is the
commonest form of edge decoration, and is called “gauffring.” Gauffred
edges are found in abundance in French, German and Italian work. There
are fine examples of it on books bound for Henri II. of France and all
his children, and on those made for Diane de Poictiers, Duchesse de
Valentinois. In all these cases colour is often added to the designs
on the gold. Le Gascon put some elaborately painted edges on some of
his hooks; on Italian books and English books colour is sparingly used;
on the other hand, in Germany and the Low Countries colour was often
overdone and the result is garish.

Until the time of Samuel Mearne, towards the end of the seventeenth
century, all edge paintings were done on the edges of the leaves
simply pressed solidly together, but Mearne invented a new fashion
of arranging the leaves. In the case of the older manner we usually
find the upper and lower edges painted as well as the fore-edge, or
“forage,” but it is only the forage that can be painted in Mearne’s
style, and so in all instances of this kind the upper and lower edges
are left plain.

[Illustration: FIG. 74.--Book fanned out to show forage painting in
Mearne’s style.]

Mearne had his book forwarded, finished, and the edges gilded before
beginning his painting. Then he opened the book by the upper board
only, and laid it down flat on its back and kept it in that position
by weights. In this position it will be found that the forage fans
out into a larger panel than exists when the book is shut up. On
this fanned-out panel the painting was done in water-colours with as
dry a brush as possible. When the painting was finished and the book
allowed to resume its normal shut position, the edge painting entirely
disappeared, and the gilding on the forage looked as if nothing was
behind it. So thoroughly does such a painting disappear that I have
found several that were quite unknown to their owners, and I have no
doubt that there are plenty of unrecognised examples in English private
libraries in perfect condition and safe obscurity.

[Illustration: FIG. 75.--Portrait of Charles II. in colour, on the
forage of a book bound for the king by Samuel Mearne.]

The only name I have found on any of Mearne’s forage paintings is that
of “Fletcher.”

After Mearne, for about one hundred years, I know of no particular
development of forage decoration, but towards the end of the eighteenth
century, the same principle was revived by James Edwards of Halifax.
Edwards had an artist brother, and it is likely enough that he painted
the edges on his brother’s curious vellum-bound books. The designs are
not so markedly heraldic as the earlier examples were, but are often

Edwards’ delicate paintings, always on small books, were copied for
some considerable period, and many little books were made with such
work upon them for many years. Windsor and Eton are both favourite
subjects, and country houses of all sorts. Landscapes are particularly
suitable for this form of painting, and many specimens are very

All the foregoing paintings are done so as to be complete on each book,
but some time ago a remarkable set of Italian books, I believe of
the sixteenth century, were brought to England. The forages of these
volumes were painted in such a manner that the complete design only
showed when they were all arranged in proper order on a shelf with
their forages outwards. In the case of sets of books bound uniformly,
this manner of ornamenting them is worthy of the attention of some of
our enterprising modern binders.

Although the greater number of books, both in manuscript and printed,
have been bound in leather or vellum, there are still very many that
have been covered in other materials.

[Illustration: FIG. 76.--English velvet binding, with seals, made for
Henry VII.]

The commonest of these materials are velvet, canvas, satin, silk,
cloth, linen, and buckram. I believe that all of these, except perhaps
the last three in recent times, have been more used in England than
they have been in any other country.

Velvet is the most interesting, as its use is the most ancient, of
any of these textile materials. It is strong and beautiful, the fur or
pile being produced in a very curious manner. Two warps are used in
the manufacture of the fabric, and small hollow brass wires, slightly
flattened at the sides, and having a groove along the top, are inserted
transversely under the raised “pile” warp at intervals as the weaving
proceeds. These wires keep the thread in the form of upright loops,
resembling those which can be seen on a Brussels carpet on a larger
scale. The wires are then cut out by drawing a sharp specially-designed
knife called a truvat along the groove at the top. The consequent
separation of the warp threads which formed the rows of loops now forms
the pile, each thread standing upright. It is wonderful how well velvet
lasts, and what hard wear it will stand before all the pile is worn

Books bound in velvet are not uncommon in Dutch work; they are
sometimes inlaid in differently coloured velvets, and sometimes
embroidered. In France books have rarely been bound in velvet, in Italy
and in Germany still more rarely.

In England, however, there has been a considerable output of velvet
bindings. Examples still exist that were made in the fifteenth century
for Henry VII., whose library was in all probability entirely bound in
this material. Nothing earlier than Henry VII.’s books are now known
of English bindings in velvet, but these are so fine that it is likely
enough that earlier work of the kind was done in the case of very
choice manuscripts.

Not only are Henry VII.’s books, which are still in their original
covers, in marvellously good condition, but they are also among the
most decorative bindings that have ever been made, here or in any
other country. Fine examples may be seen in the library at Westminster
Abbey, at the Record Office, and in the British Museum, and in every
case their beauty and interest well repay the trouble of obtaining
access to them.

These volumes all are in the same style, but they vary in detail. All
I have seen are in red velvet, and have metal bosses in the centre and
smaller ones in the corner.

[Illustration: FIG. 77.--English embroidered book, velvet. Made for
Henry VIII.]

One of the handsomest, which may be taken as a type, is a copy of the
indentures made between Abbot Islip and Henry VII. for the foundation
of the chantry at Westminster. It is a large manuscript on vellum, and
is covered in rich red velvet projecting liberally over the edges, and
bound with gold fringe. In the centre is a circular silver cup-like
boss, containing the royal coat of arms, France and England quarterly,
with supporters of red dragon of Cadwallader and white greyhound of De
Beaufort, cut out of silver and enamelled in proper colours. At each
corner is a circular silver boss containing the De Beaufort device
of a portcullis gilt and cut in low relief, and set on an enamelled
background of the Tudor livery colours, green and white, per pale.
There are clasps of cloth of gold braid, fastening with a chased
silver-gilt button bearing an enamelled rose, and dependent from the
lower edge of the board are five silver boxes bearing Tudor emblems in
relief, each containing an impression of the great seal.

It is also recorded by Paul Hentzner that in 1598 he saw Queen
Elizabeth’s library, and that many of them were bound in velvet and
embroidered, a note that is fully corroborated by such of her books as
now remain.

But there were also books embroidered upon canvas in the fifteenth
century, one of which is now in the British Museum. It is a psalter
of the fourteenth century, and is covered in fine canvas on which are
delicate embroideries in the manner known as “Opus Anglicanum,” which
looks like a chain stitch, but is really a cleverly managed split

This remarkable book, the earliest known example of an embroidered
binding, has upon one side a beautiful representation of the
Annunciation, and on the other a Crucifixion. It is supposed to have
been worked by Anne de Felbrigge, a nun in the convent of Minoresses,
at Brusyard, in Suffolk, and daughter of Sir Simon de Felbrigge, K.G.,
standard bearer to Richard II. It is considerably worn and faded, but
the designs can all be made out.

The velvet books which were made in the next reign were ornamented with
embroidered designs appliqués, and many of them are very handsome. The
designs on such books were nearly always heraldic, judging from those
that remain, but arabesques and floral ornamentation are often met
with on satin. Queen Katharine Parr is said to have embroidered some of
these books, and there is one in canvas in the British Museum, and one
in canvas and one in velvet at the Bodleian, which are supposed to have
been worked by the Princess Elizabeth, always with braid.

When Elizabeth came to the throne she continued her evident liking for
velvet bound books, and she had them of several colours--red, green,
or black. Several of these are richly embroidered, sometimes with
armorial designs, sometimes floral, and sometimes arabesque. Others are
decorated with brilliant enamels or gold, centrepieces, cornerpieces,
and clasps, and others again have appliqué pieces of coloured satin,
on which is gold tooling, some of which is actually put on the velvet

Canvas is rarely found during Elizabeth’s reign, but it does exist, and
is usually embroidered in a coarse manner with tent-stitch.

[Illustration: FIG. 78.--English embroidered book, canvas (1648).]

In the seventeenth century the taste for velvet bindings still
remained, but not so exclusively, as there were many more bound in
silk or satin, usually white. The majority of these books are small,
Prayers, Bibles, Psalms, and the designs upon them are of great
variety, but generally have a symbolic tendency--figures of Faith,
Hope, Charity, Peace, Plenty, and numbers of biblical subjects,
David and Bathsheba, Solomon and Queen of Sheba, Jacob’s Dream, Jacob
wrestling with the Angel, Abraham and Isaac, and many more; and besides
these there are numbers of quaint little bindings with floral designs.

[Illustration: FIG. 79.--English embroidered “double” book, satin,
seventeenth century.]

The period of Nicholas Ferrar’s curious establishment at Little Gidding
in Huntingdonshire was coincident with the reign of Charles I. Here
were contrived most interesting Harmonies of the Scriptures, done under
Ferrar’s superintendence by his nieces Mary Collet and her sisters.
These ladies, moreover, bound the Harmonies themselves, and were not
only the first English lady binders but also the first amateur binders,
and they bound exceedingly well. Mrs. Wordsworth was another pioneer
among lady binders. She covered her books in pieces of her own old

Not only did the ladies of Little Gidding bind their Harmonies,
sometimes very large, in sheep skin, morocco and calf, but also in
velvet, curiously ornamented. I have already mentioned that in the
sixteenth century the art of gilding upon velvet was known, but it was
reserved for the ladies of Little Gidding to bring it to perfection.

[Illustration: FIG. 80.--English, embroidered binding canvas,
seventeenth century.]

There will always be some little doubt as to whether these magnificent
gold and silver tooled velvet books were done entirely by the binders
at Little Gidding, or with the assistance of their masters, Bucks of
Cambridge. There is a marked similarity of general style as well as
of detail, but the larger Little Gidding books appear particularly to
bear the impress of more irresponsible genius than that of the orthodox
university printers.

Gilding upon velvet is still practised a little in England; the service
books used at the wedding of the present Prince of Wales were in red
velvet with the royal monogram impressed in gold upon it.

With the eighteenth century an end came to any great output of bindings
in velvet, canvas or satin; now and then an isolated specimen is found,
and the era of cloth bindings began in the nineteenth century.

The main difference is that the earlier books in velvet, canvas or
satin were always specially broad, but the cloth bindings were trade
bindings from the beginning, with very few exceptions.

At first backs of paper bound books were strengthened by pieces of
ordinary linen or calico pasted over them, the title being added on
a label; but a special cloth for binding purposes was made early in
the century by James Leonard Wilson, and in 1822 Pickering’s Aldine
Classics bound in that material were issued. This use of a special
cloth was largely helped and fostered by Mr. Archibald Leighton, who
made a speciality of it. The cloth was sometimes watered and sometimes
plain. Cloth soon became a favourite binding for cheap books, and in
time Wilson found a way of gilding upon it, probably by the use of
dried and powdered albumen.

Some of the early cloth bindings were ornamented by impressions from
engraved cylinders, the pattern showing in low relief. The great
pressure which was used to make this impression had so hardened the
cloth as well as the boards upon which it is fixed, that many of the
existing examples of the work are still in perfect condition.

Then gradually came ornamentation stamped in gold on the sides and gold
lettering on the back, and of recent years designs and pictures stamped
in colours upon cloth, canvas and buckram have become common. Many
of these designs are excellent, and the work required for them gives
employment to a large number of designers as well as colour printers
and block makers. Books bound in these materials look well and last
well for a time, but they are essentially short-lived if handled much.

About the middle of the nineteenth century numbers of small illustrated
periodicals, landscape annuals, and the like were covered in watered
silk, generally red, blue or green. These also do not last well; but
if any copies that are still in a good state are found, they should be
carefully preserved as they are, and not be rebound; they represent a
type of binding that is by no means without charm. Perhaps the most
important books which were originally issued in this form of cover were
the two beautiful volumes of Rogers’ _Poems_ and _Italy_. They have
gilt edges and are bound with flat open backs and sawn in bands.

Buckram is generally used for large books, as it is stiff and
troublesome to fold over in a small way. If a large book is properly
sewn and has proper boards it may well be covered in buckram, provided
it is not to be much used. The joints soon look unsightly, as the hinge
movement causes the dressing, of which there is a large proportion, to
powder out. Buckram is rarely ornamented; indeed, it may almost be said
that a book bound in it is only intended to keep together until such
time as it can be properly bound in some better material.

Art canvas is sometimes used for bindings, and it is fairly
satisfactory, but has the same delicacy at the joints as buckram, and
soon looks shabby.

There is now such a quantity of cheap literature that is not likely to
last, or to be wanted to last, that there is a large and increasing
demand for cheap binding materials other than leather. So there is an
important future for specially prepared binding cloths and buckrams.
The only libraries that are likely to suffer by the more general
introduction of such materials are the few large ones that are obliged
to keep all their books, old or new, in working order inside and

Account book bindings are peculiar and very strong. They have been
used for a long time in banks and business houses, and are purely
utilitarian and comparatively quite modern.

Strong sound paper is an essential for account books. The sewing is
done in the flexible style, but on broad flat bands of vellum or
leather instead of raised bands of hemp. The ends of the bands are
fixed between two boards, pairs of which form the boards of the book.
The space between the edge of the back of the book where the bands
leave it and their inset to the boards is not drawn close, but a narrow
margin is left so that a perfectly flexible and strong leather joint
is left. In small books this peculiarity is known as a French joint,
and it obviates the common failing of sides falling away from otherwise
sound bindings along the joint-line at the back.

The back of account book bindings looks very strong, but it is really
nothing of the sort. It is only a show back, to take the lettering and
cover up the real joints, which are securely laid along the edges of
the boards.

When an account book is opened it “sets up” so that it can be easily
read right down to the sewing at the back. This is of great value in
many cases other than the keeping of accounts, and it is the only
advantage of the common, but weak, bindings with “hollow” backs. But
there is no doubt that a modified form of account book binding, with a
French joint, is a style which might with advantage be studied by our
modern art binders.

The study of end papers is to some extent necessary for the true
judgment of the work of certain binders. For instance, Thomas Berthelet
normally used white end papers, Samuel Mearne used red marbled end
papers, and Roger Payne used purple or pink end papers. The Italian
binder who worked for Grolier used vellum for end paper, and so on. The
knowledge of such details is useful in detecting frauds, as they are
apt to be under-estimated in importance by a forger.

Of all end papers the most common is marbled paper, and one of the most
curious usages of it is when a beautiful and delicate French binding
has a charmingly gold tooled doublure of splendid leather faced by a
wretched leaf of marbled paper.

The usual marbled paper is made by means of a bed of size on which
colour is sprinkled by a brush, the colour lies on the top of the size
and is moved about by means of a wide-toothed comb or a pin or anything
that is handy, until the resulting pattern is to the satisfaction of
the operator. Then the paper is laid down in the size, and when raised
up it brings all the colour with it. It is generally easy to see how
the pattern has been made by looking at the paper, and it will be found
that the most usual forms have been made by the use of a broad-toothed
comb. I should think that the process might well have produced
something better than it ever has; undoubtedly if J. M. Whistler had
ever known of it we should have had some remarkable results.

Marbling is probably of Oriental origin, and was most likely first
practised in Germany, so far as Europe is concerned. It was certainly
understood in Nuremberg in 1599, as specimens made there are to be
seen in the _Album Amicorum_, of J. Cellarius, of that date. It is, of
course, obviously capable of endless modifications, and of late years
some very delicately and prettily coloured end papers have been made.

More or less in continuation of the mediæval fashion of covering
book-bindings with richly-worked metal overlays, we find, in the
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries particularly, numbers of small
books bound in metal or with metal enrichments in the form of
centrepieces and cornerpieces. Clasps occur all along, and although
I hardly think that they have followed out any very marked line of
development, I expect that some day a careful study will be made
of them, when some such development may possibly be discovered. No
student, as far as I am aware, has made any attempt to classify book

[Illustration: FIG. 81.--English golden book, made for Henry VIII.]

But the English, German, French, Italian, and Dutch bindings with metal
enrichments are pretty well known and generally admired. The English
are the finest by far, and, as far as I can ascertain, the earliest.
In the reign of Henry VIII. it was the fashion for ladies to carry
small books of devotion at their girdle. These little books were always
ornamental, and they had a ring fixed on the lower edge of the binding
so that when the book was lifted up it came right for reading. One of
these belonged to one of the queens of Henry VIII.; it is a copy of
the Psalms, and is bound in gold with a delicate leafy spray in high
relief. On it are remains of enamel, and in the beginning is a tiny
miniature of the king.

Another beautiful little golden book with a design, probably by
Holbein, in black enamel, is now the property of Lord Romney.

Several small golden bindings with scriptural subjects in high
relief and enamelled were made late in the sixteenth century. Most
of these are now divorced from their original texts, and are only
kept as specimens of enamel work, but in one instance the whole book
is perfect. This is a little book of prayers that belonged to Queen
Elizabeth. On one side of it is the Serpent in the Wilderness and on
the other the Judgment of Solomon.

For the same queen a little copy of _Christian Meditations_ was bound
in red velvet with golden centrepieces, corners, and clasps. The
enamels in this case are champlevé, and still perfect in colour. They
are said to have been the work of George Heriot, Elizabeth’s goldsmith,
who founded a hospital in Edinburgh.

James VI. of Scotland wrote the βασιλικον Δωρον for his son Henry, and
the precious MS. was bound in purple velvet with golden centrepiece and
clasps. The gold is cut out thin and then finished by engraving. When
king of England James had some of his books bound in velvet with silver
enrichments. On one of these, a little book of _Christian Meditations_,
which is bound in purple velvet, the royal coat-of-arms is engraved on
the centre oval, and on the corners are the national crests of England
and Scotland, the crowned harp of Ireland, and the fleur-de-lis of

A beautiful little New Testament of 1643 with silver portraits of
Charles I. and Queen Henrietta Maria, and cornerpieces and clasps
engraved with allegorical figures, shows that metal on velvet was still
a popular style, but on later bindings in England metal centrepieces
fell quite out of use. Metal corners, however, were still used for some
time, and clasps occasionally.

Bindings entirely of silver are rare in English workmanship, but they
were not unknown, as a fine specimen with a repoussé figure of Charity
covers a Common Prayer of 1632.

[Illustration: FIG. 82.--German binding in silver filigree and niello.]

Of German and Dutch workmanship many metal bindings exist, and they
are of varied styles. All these bindings have solid metal backs with
hinges along the sides, and usually a sort of cap projecting over the
headband. Many of the later examples are not good, but are made of bad
metal and coarsely worked in repoussé. The worst of them are probably
Dutch work.

Some of the earlier German silver bindings are prettily ornamented
with niello work, and others have filigree work over gilt metal, and
the use of tortoiseshell with silver or gilt mounts is also found of
Spanish, German, or Dutch workmanship. I should say that the best
guide to determine to which of these countries the work belongs is to
take the place of imprint as authoritative. The imprint on a printed
book does not by any means always imply that a binding was made there,
but in many doubtful cases it is undoubtedly of much value as to mere
nationality; the style of the binding itself should always be the
first consideration. Some Dutch bindings are made in base metal, gilt,
often with open work and engraving. They are neither good to look upon
nor pleasant to handle.

Italian bindings in metal are rare, and it is only in the case of very
small books that it was ever used. The manner of this is usually fine
filigree work over a gilt groundwork. There is one example in the
Victoria and Albert Museum, which is, however, more likely to be quite
an exceptional production than one in any way representing a national
type. It is an exquisitely enamelled golden book cover, having on one
side the Garden of Eden and on the other the Fountain of Youth; it
contains a missal, and is said to have been made for Queen Henrietta

In France a few silver bindings of the sixteenth century with enamels
have been made, but they are very rare, and the enamels of the basse
taille style, usually badly chipped.

I believe some small metal bindings with rough enamels upon them have
been made in comparatively modern times in Russia. These all have a
strong Byzantine feeling and are clear survivals of the same style
that was in vogue in Russia in mediæval times, and was used not only
for bindings but also for ikons and triptychs. The work is coarse and

[Illustration: FIG. 83.--Dutch binding in tortoiseshell and silver.]

Tortoiseshell mounted in metal has been largely used for bindings in
Holland, Germany, and Spain. The backs are hinged to the sides with
long snuff-box hinges, and the shell itself is sometimes beautifully
inlaid with silver and mother-of-pearl. Some of these covers are very
small, particularly the Dutch ones, and designs are sometimes impressed
upon them.

Mother-of-pearl has now and then been utilised for binding very small
books. The backs and hinges are usually of silver.

[Illustration: FIG. 84.--German chained book, fifteenth century.]

The curious custom of fastening books to their shelves by means of
chains was common enough in Europe in mediæval times and became almost
universal in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries in churches. It
was of course done as a safeguard against thieves, and as far as I
know only in the case of printed books. Although printed books soon
became plentiful, yet no doubt in the case of Bibles and Prayer Books
it is likely enough that a considerable leakage took place. Such small
books were commonly chained to the backs of the pews in private chapels
throughout England, and undoubtedly the custom, though inconvenient in
use, was effective enough for its purpose.

Larger books would naturally belong to important libraries, those of
cathedrals and churches particularly, and of these there are still left
plenty of examples still in chains.

The chains are of iron, average 3 feet long, and are clamped to the
front edge of the upper board by means of a rivet; the other end of
the chain is provided with a ring which runs freely to and fro along
a locked metal rod. Enough play is given by the chain to allow of the
book being taken off its shelf and rested on the desk close at hand
which is always provided for it.

There is a certain fashion in the way of attaching these chains. In
foreign books the fastening is usually found at the top of the upper
board, while in the case of English books it is usually fixed on the
front edge of the upper board. The books were normally kept with
their forages outwards, and on these edges the titles were written or

The Laurentian Library at Florence has a large number of chained books
kept in beautifully carved shelves.

The Church of St. Wallberg in Zutphen has several chained books. There
is a legend that the devil carried off so many of the holy books that
something had to be done, so the chains were blessed in due form with
holy water, since when the books have been safely preserved.

Plenty of examples of chained libraries are still left in England,
particularly at Hereford Cathedral, the old treasure house at Wimborne
Minster and All Saints’ Church at Hereford; a complete list of them is
given in Blades’ “Books in Chains,” published in London in 1892.

The inconvenience of chains must have been considerable, and no doubt
careless readers often got into trouble about them. On a notice
concerning the library at King’s College, Cambridge, in 1683, readers
are requested to replace the volumes “decently without entangling the

About the middle of the eighteenth century the inconvenience of
chains on books was fully realised, and from that time there has been
a general tendency to their removal, except in cases where their
retention is advisable for antiquarian reasons.

True horn books were used in England and America, but similar
constructions also existed in other countries--chiefly France, Germany,
Italy, and Holland--but without horn covering.

[Illustration: FIG. 85.--English seventeenth century horn book.]

They were for children’s use, and the alphabet and the Lord’s Prayer
are the commonest letterings upon them, always beginning with a cross,
giving the first line the name of the “Christ cross” or “criss cross”
row. The paper for true horn books is printed only on one side, and
then laid down upon a flat piece of wood. Some unused eighteenth
century horn book sheets are preserved in the Bagford fragments at the
British Museum. Over the printed slip a piece of horn is put, kept in
place by strips of brass fastened with nails having facetted tops, but
it must be noted that after about 1820 the facetted tops were often
replaced by flat heads.

Like all books or objects which were originally cheap and common, horn
books are now very rare, but they are so valuable that it is unluckily
worth while to imitate them, and many fraudulent modern specimens are
about. A horn book is, unfortunately, easy to copy, and it is sometimes
a very difficult thing to say positively whether a given specimen
is genuinely old or not. Modern frauds are often wrong in either the
printing, the paper, the horn, or the nails, but they are often right
as to the wood, which is easily made to have every proper appearance
of age by means of soaking in water, rubbing with sand, staining by
ammonia, and so on. Collectors should, if possible, get a properly
authenticated history with every specimen offered to them.

Small plaques for teaching the alphabet seem to have existed before the
invention of printing, but in printed form they were most used towards
the end of the sixteenth century until the nineteenth, when their
character altered, the wooden frame and its horn covering disappeared,
and a degenerate production in varnished cardboard, preserving the old
form in some respects, took their place. These cards are often called
battledores, but this name was an old one, and originally used for true
horn books. The name battledore is probably derived from the batlet,
which was used for beating clothes, the horn books somewhat resembling
this in shape.

Although the general run of horn books are simple, there are many
instances in which they have been decorated; a certain analogy thus
exists between the diptychs and the horn books. Lord Egerton of Tatton
has a beautiful sixteenth century example, the back of which is
ornamented with silver filigree work, and horn books backed with Dutch
silver, engraved, are sometimes found. These generally have a bird or a
tulip engraved upon them.

Other ornamental examples are to be found in the Birmingham Museum and
in private ownership. They are very decorative, and some of them have
talc instead of horn in front.

In 1851 some curious stone moulds were found at Hartley Castle by Sir
George Musgrave, and one of them was undoubtedly used for casting
lead “horn” books, and similar moulds have been found in Germany; the
English ones may have been made about the earlier half of the sixteenth

But more curious devices were found on the other side of the same piece
of stone: these are undoubtedly the emblems of saints’ days as shown on
clog almanacks of the same period, so that the horn books may possibly
have originated from the makers of cast leaden almanacks.

Horn books were also cut in ivory or bone, often with designs engraved
on the back or on the handle. The lettering and devices were originally
run in with heelball or some such material. They were also made of
boxwood with letters burnt in, or engraved pewter, or gingerbread, and
sometimes covered in paper with panel stamp impressions in blind or
black ink.

Several of the later seventeenth and early eighteenth century horn
books were covered with leather and stamped in blind, gold, silver,
or, in Dutch examples, Dutch metal, which nearly always turns black,
from panel stamps; sometimes the designs were arabesques or flowers,
and at other times we find figures of saints or kings--St. George and
the Dragon, mermaids, and the like--and several of Charles II. on
horseback, the Duke of Cumberland, and other great people.

These same stamps are also often impressed on paper backs as well as on

The late cardboard horn books either leave out the cross at the
beginning or replace it by a meaningless X; they also often show
additional alphabets with little wood-cut illustrations. At last the
horn book form is quite lost, and at last we find folded pieces of
cardboard with stamped or marbled backs, retaining only the alphabet to
show that they are survivals.


BLADES, W.--Books in Chains. _London_, 1892.

DAVENPORT, C.--English Embroidered Bookbindings. _London_, 1899.

DAVENPORT, C.--Book Edges. (Bibliographica.)

DAVENPORT, C.--Little Gidding. (Bibliographica.)

DAVENPORT, C.--Royal English Bookbindings. _London_, 1897.

LABARTE, J.--Hist. des Arts Industriels au Moyen Age. _Paris_, 1864-66.

LACROIX, P.--Le Moyen Age et la Renaissance. _Paris_, 1848-51.

LIBRI, COUNT G.--Monuments Inedits. _Londres_, 1862.

PRIDEAUX, S. T.--Historical Sketch of Bookbinding. _London_, 1893.

TUER, A.--History of the Horn Book. _London_, 1896.

WOOLNOUGH, C. W.--The Art of Marbling.


  Vellum--Calf--Pig skin--Sheep skin--Goat skin--Seal skin, etc.

Prepared skins of animals have been the most generally used of all
materials for covering bindings of manuscripts or printed books.
Leather is tanned skin, and the hair is generally removed. Bindings
that have the hair still left on the leather are usually of an
elementary kind and are intended to be carried about in pockets. They
are not common. Vellum (calf skin), and parchment (sheep skin), are
not tanned, but are prepared with lime and are white. Not uncommonly,
especially in Germany, other skins were so prepared. Pig skin, deer
skin, goat skin, horse skin, and donkey skin were all “vellumised,” and
are all very strong and take excellent impressions in blind.

It is likely enough that vellum was used for the first covering of
books, simply enclosing the sections, the ends of the bands drawn in,
without boards. Such bindings are excellent for thin books, and they
were successfully re-introduced in recent times by William Morris,
always used with ties, as otherwise the vellum crinkles up.

“Vellum” bindings made now, unless specially ordered, are only ordinary
bindings in boards covered with vellum. Vellum is strong, but has
some disadvantages. Although gold looks beautiful upon vellum it is
difficult to work, and title labels do not stick to it well. If kept
near the light it turns to something very like egg-shell and chips off.
This defect was known to librarians in past times, and they met it by
keeping their vellum books backs inwards, the forages outwards. Many
instances of this manner of keeping vellum books occur in the Bodleian
Library at Oxford, and they generally have their old pressmarks, and
sometimes titles, written across the top of the forage. Old vellum
was cut thick, and seldom ornamented, and if kept dry in the dark it
is an excellent material. The same peculiarities exist in the case of
parchment, which is, however, a very inferior skin, thinner, weaker,
and not so good looking. Parchment is frequently described, and used,
as vellum, and few purchasers know the difference; but the market value
of parchment is less than half that of vellum. Vellum is particularly
well suited for bindings kept in large towns, as dust does not stick
to it, and it is easily cleaned. In time it assumes a creamy colour
that is delightful. From the late sixteenth century until now, vellum
stained green has been commonly used in England.

White vellumised leather, probably deer skin, has always been much
liked in England from the time of Henry VIII., many of whose books
were bound in this material: among them a copy of Elyot’s “Image of
Governance,” printed in London in 1541, which is one of the first books
with gold tooling upon it done in this country. Several books were
bound in the same thick white leather for the other Tudor sovereigns,
as well as for some of their richer subjects, but in the seventeenth
century limp vellum once more asserted its sway and became very popular
in England for highly valued books. The brilliancy of the gilding upon
some of these bindings is quite wonderful; it is certainly doubtful
if any modern finishers could equal the technical beauty of the work.
Then in the eighteenth century, vellum, though still much esteemed,
only took its place as a covering for boards, and once more, in the
nineteenth century, Morris restored it to its proper use as a limp

In 1785, James Edwards of Halifax patented a way of rendering vellum
transparent, so that paintings underneath it showed through, and he
used it with much success. The process has been revived of late years
in England.

The Dutch binders have always liked vellum, but it is used with boards
and never limp. Dutch vellum bindings are usually coloured, not well
done, but at a distance they look decorative, and were certainly very
popular. They often have clasps and painted edges.

A few bindings have been made in England, France, and Holland, covered
with pierced vellum, showing coloured silk underneath. They are not
very satisfactory and soon get out of order.

After vellum comes calf, the outer skin of the same animal, tanned.
Calf is a good second, and I think altogether, up to about the end
of the eighteenth century, that it has been more used than any other
leather. The main difference between old calf and modern calf is that
the old leather was properly tanned with oak bark or sumach, and cut
thick, whereas modern calf used for binding is abominably tanned,
quickly and disastrously, and cut thin. There is no better leather than
old calf, and it was used universally; England, France, Germany, and
Italy all liked it; it was delightful to decorate, either in blind or
gilt, and it mellowed with age to a rich mahogany brown. Italian and
sixteenth century English binders stained their fillets black, and
several of these calf bindings, richly gilded, and with black fillets,
are quite splendid, in perfect taste.

The surface of calf is smooth, and it is very sensitive to all sorts of

Calf is seen at its best when it is used to take impressions from panel
stamps, but its beautiful surface and sensitiveness to stains of all
kinds has made it a favourite ground for all sorts of fancy markings,
most of which, however charming they may be at first, end by destroying
the leather.

Russia leather is calf prepared with willow bark and scented with
birch oil. It is a modern leather, and lasts badly, and is generally
diced,--that is to say, covered all over with diagonal rulings. It
was a favourite leather of Roger Payne’s. It is said that a book
bound in Russia leather will last better if much used, and no doubt
this is true, not only of Russia but of any other leather. As a rule
leather bindings in libraries are starved; they get dry, and readily
absorb animal oil from the human hand. The truth of this may be found
in the fact that numbers of dictionaries and books of reference were
preferentially bound in Russia leather some thirty or forty years ago,
and whereas unused books bound at the same time in the same way now
show rotting leather, the reference books which have been continually
used are quite sound and supple.

Cow hide is like a magnified calf leather, and shows a slightly pitted
surface. It is not often used, but is of much value for very large
books that are worth full binding, as one piece of hide could be cut
large enough, for instance, to full-bind the _Skibbereen Eagle_, one
of the largest Irish newspapers. It would take three or four of the
largest goat skins to do this, and it is always advisable to avoid
joins, wherever possible, in a binding. But there is one drawback to
the use of hide for binding: it is practically impossible to cut it
smooth; however skilfully it may be pared, when it gets on the book
it is always ridgy. This is, of course, not very important, but it
militates against the use of hide except when absolutely necessary. For
the rest, hide takes colour well, and it is a very handsome leather,
and when it is finished simply with very broad gold fillets it is very

Pig skin is perhaps the most familiar of all bookbinding leathers to
the outside world, because saddles are made of it. It is a thick, rich
leather, and, so to speak, full of life. It is not suitable for small
books, but very good for large ones, and has been used in England off
and on for a long time, but never very much. Charles Lewis executed
some fine examples of his larger bindings in pig skin, but I think he
never cared much for it.

Pig skin responds admirably to treatment with lime, the same method of
preparation as used for vellum; and this white “vellumised” pig skin
has always been the most favoured material for the covering of fine
German books of the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries.
Many of these bindings are perfect in their way, covered all over with
delicate roll stamps showing marvellous definition and clearness on the
hard white surface.

Fine though all their impressions are, it cannot be denied that they
are difficult to see; the impressions are shallow, and indeed the
designs can often be more easily made out by help of a rubbing with
heelball on soft white paper than by examining the binding itself.

Pig skin can be recognised by its smooth hard surface, strongly pitted
with bristle holes. It is closely imitated in inferior leather, bristle
holes and all, and when such imitation is actually on a book it is very
difficult to detect, but if in skin form it can easily be recognised.
In real pig skin the bristle holes penetrate right through the leather,
and show quite as much at the back as they do in the front, whereas in
the imitation they show little, if at all, at the back. Also the back
of real pig skin is of very firm, close texture, but the imitation
shows a more or less woolly or loose grained back, as it is generally
made of sheep skin. French binders have never favoured pig skin
much--it is not dainty enough for them.

Sheep skin has always been a favourite leather for bookbinding, but it
is not a fine leather and has never been used for first-rate binding.
It has, however, been more worked up than anything else into imitations
of fine leathers.

The imitation of fine leather in inferior sheep skin has been for a
long time a very important industry, and it is one which is still with
us. All fine leathers show a particular and well known grain on their
surface, but the most largely imitated is that of goat skin or morocco.

In a well grained skin of morocco, the beautiful grain is strongly
marked, whether it be “pinhole” or “straight”--so strongly marked
indeed that a cast of it can well be made in plaster of paris. From
such a cast a metal die can be made, and when this die is strongly
pressed upon a prepared piece of sheep skin, which will take an
impression extremely well, the result is that a surface is produced
which is so exactly like a piece of morocco that even a leather expert
may be, and often is, taken in by it. In course of time, however, the
impression flattens out, and the fraud betrays itself.

When such a stamped sheep skin is new on a book, and finished with
gold, no one would for a moment suspect its genuineness, but if in skin
form, the back of the leather will at once betray it. Real morocco has
a hard close grain, but the back of the imitation will show a loose
soft texture. Other leathers are imitated in the same way: pig skin,
lizard skin, and others; and although there has been, and still is,
much of such imitation used in the matter of bookbindings, there is
still more of it used in the furniture trade.

But putting aside these base uses of sheep skin, it has a very fair
record to show on its own unaided merits. Many early Italian bindings,
good ones, were made in sheep skin; certainly it has not lasted well,
but no doubt when new it was pleasing enough. In England, many of the
early fifteenth century panel stamp bindings were made in sheep skin,
not quite satisfactory now, but also probably well enough when new.

It is impossible to say much in favour of modern roan, the trade name
for sheep skin, which has suffered badly at the hands of the tanner
and the dyer; also probably the binders have not been without fault,
as in order to get the leather flexible for joints and bands they have
acquired a pernicious habit of paring it too thin, and another, equally
hurtful, of unduly pulling and stretching it so that the fibres, or
what is left of them, get strained and broken.

Skiver is part of a split sheep skin, the surface of which is
altogether artificial. It is much used for cheap pamphlet bindings
and looks well for the moment, but is not so strong as good paper. It
is wonderful how cleverly the “paste grain” or artificial surface of
skiver is made; it deceives most people easily. The remaining part
of a split sheep skin is prepared quite differently and is made into
“chamois” leather. Although this is not used for actual bindings, it is
often enough made into linings for loose covers of fine books. It does
well for this purpose, but must be kept in a very dry place as it has a
certain affinity for damp.

The finest of all leathers for binding is goat skin, morocco as we
now call it, from the reputed land of its origin. “Levant morocco” is
still the name of the finest skins. Goats, however, have of course been
common enough all over the world for ages, and so we find very ancient
bindings in goat skin, quite possibly the most ancient, although I
rather incline to vellum in this connection.

Many of the English twelfth to fourteenth century blind tooled bindings
are in goat skin, tanned brown, most likely with oak bark, and from
that period until now it has always been used here, at some periods
more than others.

Goat skin always shows small hair dots in groups all over its surface;
it is not quite smooth like calf, and also it shows certain structural
striations. In early goat bindings both these marks show clearly, and
until the time of Roger Payne in the eighteenth century, the leather
was left in its natural state so far as surface marks went.

Italian bookbinders at an early date saw the beauty of natural sunk
lines on goat skin, and accentuated them by rubbing in gold leaf. On
such bindings the markings on the leather show as fine gold lines; it
is a pretty idea, and can often be found on sixteenth century bindings,
especially on those that were made for Tommaso Maioli.

French morocco bindings are frequently stained with colour,
particularly those which were made about the time of Henri II. in
the sixteenth century. The stain is usually put on the fillets or
arabesques surrounding a central oval, in which is often a painted
coat-of-arms. But as a rule such coloured bindings are in calf, which
takes stain more easily than morocco.

Goat leather has never been so much liked by German binders as calf or
pig skin. This is partly due to the fact that German bindings are as a
rule ornamented with blind tooling, and goat skin is never satisfactory
when treated in this way: its grain is against it; but for gold
tooling, which has been brought to its greatest perfection by Italian,
French and English binders, there is nothing that gives so fine a
result as goat leather.

Roger Payne saw and liked the natural grain of goat skin, or, as we
may now call it, morocco. But he found that in many cases he could
get a better impression from his very delicately cut stamps in Russia
leather. Here, however, he was restricted to one colour, and his
favourite colour, a neutral green, could only be procured in morocco.
So he ironed the morocco to flatten its natural hills and dales, and
produced something like what is now called “crushed” morocco. Payne’s
smooth morocco is, however, not quite our modern “crushed”; it is
smoother, because now we “grain” our leather strongly before crushing
it, whereas Payne ironed his without first increasing its natural
grain by artificial means. Morocco is often badly injured by the
ironing being done with irons that are too hot.

But Payne went a step farther. No doubt he experimented much with
morocco, and it is likely enough that before endeavouring to smoothen
out his skins he wetted them thoroughly. If he wetted a fine skin of
morocco overnight and left it alone, perhaps doubling it or rolling
it up, he would have noticed next morning that the natural grain had
become much intensified, due to a slight shrinkage of the leather,
and showed as a particularly effective breaking up of the surface.
Some such chance led him to make definite experiments with a view to
exaggerating the natural grain of morocco, and he very soon found out
that if a damped skin was well rolled in one direction it assumed
permanently what is now known as a “straight” grain. That is to say,
the surface of the leather is lined in the same sort of way as a
ploughed field is, but not quite so regularly. The ridges and furrows
all run in one direction. Several of Payne’s bindings are bound in
straight grain morocco, but judging from his own work, he never got any
farther with his graining.

At a later time, I think towards the middle of the nineteenth century,
it was found out that if the process of straight graining was carried
out a second time at right angles to the first operation, the little
straight furrows and ridges were broken up, and a surface was produced
that consisted of a series of minute hillocks, like a field that has
been harrowed, and this is known as a “pin-head” grain. Both these
grainings improve the strength of the leather, as it contracts after
the wetting and also the wear falls on the tops of the ridges or
hillocks before it reaches the body of the leather.

French binders have always preferred smooth or crushed morocco for
their bindings, as it is easier to gild upon. Morocco is sensitive to
damp, and if affected it quickly betrays it by giving out the strong
scent of goat which is normally quite absent.

Two new leathers have been recently put upon the market as rivals
of morocco: one of these is seal skin and the other the skin of the

Seal skin is finished in the same way as morocco and looks very like
it, but it is, I think, not so good. It is softer, more full of oil and
has a peculiar, almost fishy, smell. The softness of seal leather makes
it unfit for binding books that are likely to have much hard wear, but
the oiliness is probably its worst fault, as books standing next to it
are apt to be stained. But it is undoubtedly a good-looking and useful
leather, and if it can be put upon the market at a less cost than
morocco it is sure to have a considerable vogue. Sea-lion skin is only
fit for use on big books; it is very strong and is curiously ridged in
large ridges. It has the same oiliness that seal has, but not in so
marked a degree.

There are, of course, several other leathers in which books have been
bound as curiosities, and these are generally noted in some way; a book
in the British Museum is lettered outside “Kangaroo,” and manuscript
notes are in others telling us in what strange materials they are
covered. Fish skin, known as shagreen, has sometimes been used for
bindings; it is very strong but inelastic, and soon goes at the joints.
In the seventeenth century it was largely imitated in calf, stamped
with a grain.

Perhaps the most curious leather in which any book can be bound is
human skin. Such treasures are by no means unknown. It is said that a
friend of Camille Flammarion the French writer, possessed beautiful
shoulders, and that when she died she bequeathed her skin to him as he
had always admired it. He had the skin tanned and used some of it for
a binding of one of his own books, “Ciel et Terre.” There are other
examples in private ownership, but so far as public libraries are
concerned the only instance I know of is now in the Carnavalet Library
at Paris. It is a copy of the Constitution of 1793, and is bound in the
skin of one of the revolutionaries who was killed at the time. The skin
was tanned at Meudon. Human skin, undyed, looks like thick calf, and it
is most difficult to get entirely rid of the hair.

It is to be regretted that of late years the desire for beautifully
coloured leathers has induced the need for much treatment before the
dyes, mostly aniline, could be properly applied. In the course of
this treatment there has been an undue use of sulphuric acid, and the
presence of this acid is fatal to the lasting qualities of any leather.
Attention has, however, been drawn to the evil from authoritative
sources, and now sound leathers can be obtained, and it is to be hoped
that the public will second the endeavours of the committee appointed
by the Society of Arts by always insisting on the use of sound and
certified leather to bind their valuable books in.


SOCIETY OF ARTS.--Report of the Committee on Leather for Bookbinding.
_London_, 1905.

LIBRARY ASSOCIATION.--Leather for Libraries. _London_, 1905.


  Blind tooling and stamping--Panel stamps--Cut leather--Stained
  calf--Cut vellum--Transparent vellum.

The true binding of a book consists of the sewing of the sections on
bands, and the covering of leather is really wanted to protect the
threads on the outer surfaces of the raised bands.

But this is generally taken for granted, and now when we speak of the
binding of a book we normally mean only the outside ornamentation.
In short, the term has changed its meaning; so in the remainder of
this chapter, when I speak of the “binding” of a book, it is to be
understood as the generally accepted meaning: namely, those parts of
the leather covering that are visible.

From an artistic and æsthetic point of view we are justified in
considering only the final ornamentation of a book binding. We rightly
presume that in all great bindings, and even in the case of most good
bindings, the technical procedures have all been truly and properly
carried out. It is safe to presume this in the case of all bindings
made before the latter half of the nineteenth century, but I regret
to say that it is not safe to say it of bindings made then and later.
There has been much improper use made of false bands, false headbands,
“sawn in” backs, bad leather, and scamped sewing of sections even in
books costing upwards of a hundred pounds for their bindings.

The consideration of the ornamentation of leather bindings without
the use of gold is of itself a large study, and one that has received
much attention of late years. In the trade, ornamental outside work is
called “finishing,” as distinct from the previous work, which is known
as the “forwarding.” As a rule, now, these operations are not done by
the same hands, but a finisher does the finishing only and makes it his

Patterns stamped on leather by means of punches or small dies are found
in numbers of early instances on horse trappings, shoes and boots, and
accoutrements of various sorts; and almost as soon as it was found out
that skins of animals could be rendered soft so as to be wearable, it
was also found out that they could be ornamented by patterns cut or
impressed upon them.

Such patterns are made when the leather is damp and soft, and on drying
they become hard and permanent. Many of the earlier impressions made on
leather bindings are done by means of hard styles held in the hand and
drawn along the leather. Beautiful Celtic interlacings done in this way
are found in the ancient Irish “polaires” or book covers. Others are
small ornamental stamps which have been impressed on the leather in the
same way as we now make an ordinary seal.

One of the earliest instances of a leather binding with ornamental
covers is on a Coptic MS. on papyrus, dating from about the eighth
century, which has been originally stabbed, and the pattern is an
interlacing one with ornamented fillets, between which are impressions
from small cameo stamps. In time special tools were carefully cut
in hard wood or metal for the avowed purpose of ornamenting leather
bindings. The exact date at which this occurred it is impossible to say.

So far as Europe is concerned, the earliest known blind tooled bindings
range from about the twelfth century onwards. Earlier books were
either covered with the rich metal and jewelled mediæval work that I
have already noticed, or else bound in vellum with ties and without

[Illustration: FIG. 86.--English blind tooled binding, 12th century.

In England the art of blind tooling reached its highest level from the
twelfth to the fourteenth century, and, thanks to the researches of
Mr. W. H. J. Weale, there is little doubt that the English excelled in
this art. The Germans succeeded best after the English, but German work
never approaches the English, either for excellence of general design
or for delicacy and beauty of the small engraved stamps. The English
work was on goat skin or calf, the German generally on pig skin.

The stamps used in blind tooling--that is to say, without gold--are
cut in the same manner as a seal stone is, only that the cutting is
much deeper, and in deep places needs no finishing. When this is
pressed upon the soft, damp leather, the leather rises up of itself
into the deep hollows cut in the stamp, and so a charming, natural, and
apparently much studied relief is automatically given. Such stamps are
called “cameo” stamps because of this relief.

The general typical arrangements used by England, Germany, and France
in planning out the disposition of the stamps is a subject that is
deserving of careful attention by any student of blind stamped work.
Some valuable plans of these dispositions can be found in Mr. W. H.
J. Weale’s _Catalogue of Bookbindings and Rubbings of Bindings in the
National Art Library, South Kensington_, and they are well worthy of

Roughly, it will be found that the most elaborate of these bindings
have come from Durham, London, Winchester, or Oxford, that series of
close perpendicular lines of small stamps are characteristic of French
early stamped work, and that the marking out of the boards with large
lozenges is a German plan. But these types must not be studied alone,
as they travelled about freely; the character of the stamps themselves,
as well as the leather used, must all receive careful consideration.

London bindings often show perpendicular lines of stamps, sometimes
touching, sometimes separate; several of the stamps are round, and
others drop-shaped.

The Winchester Domesday Book, now in the library of the Society of
Antiquaries, is a beautiful and typical specimen of English twelfth
century blind tooling. It is bound in deep brown goat skin, and each
side is differently ornamented.

The upper board shows an arrangement of two large circles, largely
made up by impressions of the common English drop-shaped stamps. These
circles are flanked by two rows of rectangular stamps bearing monsters,
and the corners are filled in with circular and drop-shaped stamps.

Durham bindings must be studied at Durham Cathedral, where Bishop
Pudsey’s books are kept. They are twelfth century work, and splendid
examples. On some of these bindings occur interlacings of basket work
designs, borrowed from the East.

One of the most curious English bindings in existence is known as St.
Cuthbert’s Gospels. Its history is of great interest. It is a copy
of the Gospel of St. John, and is said to have been buried with St.
Cuthbert at Lindisfarne in the seventh century. The saint’s coffin was
shortly afterwards moved to Durham. The tomb was opened in the reign
of Henry I. in 1105, when the little copy of the Gospel was found in
it, and removed and kept in the treasury at Durham.

[Illustration: FIG. 87.--English binding of St. Cuthbert’s Gospels, in
embossed leather.]

It then passed through many hands, and at last found a home at Liège,
whence one of the Jesuit Fathers brought it to Stonyhurst College,
where it now is.

The binding is of thin lime wood covered with red leather, the upper
board is ornamented with a nearly square central panel bearing a Celtic
scroll in raised work. Above and below this are two rectangular panels
ornamented with scroll-work impressed with a style and coloured by
hand with blue and yellow paint. A narrow border is ornamented with a
twisted line painted yellow. On the lower cover is a geometrical design
drawn in lines and also coloured yellow.

It is not known what the date of this binding is, and it is likely
enough that the extraordinary state of preservation in which it still
is may be due either to very careful keeping, or else that the seventh
century work has been carefully copied on one or other of the many
occasions during which such copy could easily have been made.

Mr. Gordon Duff inclines to about the tenth century, but I should
imagine that the most likely time for such a copy to be made was when
the tomb of St. Cuthbert was opened in 1105, and the book, then some
four hundred years old, was removed. It is likely enough that the
authorities of the Cathedral library treasury at Durham would have
admired the binding, which was probably much out of condition, and had
it carefully copied in new leather.

Even if it were made then, it would still be the earliest decorative
English binding left, apart from blind tooled work, and it is
undoubtedly a most decorative and effective example. But it is
permissible to think and hope that at all events it preserves the
colour and designs of the seventh century binding, which was the first
cover of the old manuscript.

Another very early English binding, covering a Latin Psalter of the
early twelfth century with interlinear Saxon version, is now kept in
the British Museum among the Stowe collection.

It is bound in oaken boards nearly an inch thick, the central portion
of which is hollowed into a rectangular depression. On the lower board
is a bronze figure of our Lord in the attitude of the Crucifixion.
The figure has been gilded, but most of the gold has now worn off.
The corners have small bosses set in triangular pieces of thin metal,
which are impressed with a design of a _fleur-de-lys_ in outline within
a circle. The boards are covered with brown leather, much worn and
faded, probably deer skin, and the brass fastenings for a clasp still
remain _in situ_.

[Illustration: FIG. 88.--English binding of the twelfth century, with
bronze figure of Christ.]

The history of the book is as curious as the book itself; there are
several manuscript notes in it, and also much has been written about it.

It appears to be the original book on which our sovereigns took their
coronation oath, and it seems to have been so used from the coronation
of Henry I. to that of Henry VII.

Powell in his _Repertory of Records_ mentions this as a fact, and it
was repeated by Thos. Madox, historiographer, and also by Thos. Astle,
Keeper of the Records in the Tower of London, to whom it belonged, and
it is believed to have been written and bound for the coronation of
Henry I.

From the library of Thomas Astle the little book passed into the
possession of the Marquis of Buckingham, and was kept at Stowe in a
beautiful Gothic room built for a library. In June, 1849, the Stowe
library changed hands and became the property of Lord Ashburnham, and
in 1883 it was acquired by the Trustees of the British Museum.

So the coronation book is now the property of the nation, and in
company with the greater part of the Stowe library, but the Irish MSS.,
some of them in beautiful bindings, went to Ireland, where they are now
safely kept in the library of the Royal Irish Academy.

Caxton’s styles of binding are not distinctively English in character.
The reason for this is that in all probability he brought foreign
stamps and styles with him when he returned from Bruges and set up in
Westminster in 1477. So the few blind stamped bindings that appear
to have issued from Caxton’s workshop bear the diamond-shaped spaces
characteristic of foreign work, filled with impressions for cameo
stamps, often triangular. Wynkyn de Worde used the same stamps.

[Illustration: FIG. 89.--English blind tooled bindings. Caxton. (1491.)]

White deer skin bindings were used much in England in the fifteenth
century; they were unornamented, and usually had small clasps. A fine
copy of the Book of St. Albans, in a contemporary binding of this kind,
was recently sold by Mr. Quaritch.

A curious treatise in bookbinding, the earliest known, is in the
Bibliothèque Nationale; but there are two treatises by John Bagford
which may be of about the same date, early in the eighteenth century.
These treatises have been published by the Bibliographical Society,
and are full of interesting matter. Bagford mentions inscriptions on
stone, “slate books,” or diptychs, paste-boards, sewing, headbands,
covers, bosses, clasps, horn books, and gives curious rules for
collating, folding, and binding.

At Oxford fine blind tooled bindings were produced in considerable
numbers. In the fifteenth century Theodoric Rood and Thomas Hunt did
fine work, and in the seventeenth, Dominick Pinart and Edward Miles
were especially prominent. The main characteristic of early Oxford
bindings is the presence of small rectangular stamps closely arranged
in rows.

Cambridge has also been notable among English towns for the production
of fine blind tooled bindings. The main characteristic of these
bindings may, perhaps, be considered to be the existence of rolls on
which are variations of the Royal Tudor badges, rose, fleur-de-lys,
portcullis, the castle of De Beaufort, and the pomegranate. Larger
rolls have devices of monsters, and frequently the initials of the
binders may be found.

In the sixteenth century the works of Garrett Godfrey, Nicholas
Spierinck and John Siberch are, perhaps, most usually met with. They
show the initials of their respective binders.

[Illustration: FIG. 90.--French blind stamped binding of the sixteenth
century. With figure of S. Barbara.]

Blind tooled bindings of French origin are numerous enough, especially
those impressed with panel stamps. The main characteristic of early
work is the existence of perpendicular lines of blind tooling, but
although this peculiarity is oftener found on French work than on any
other, it is by no means unknown in bindings made by English and German
workmen, so must not be taken as an absolute proof of French origin if
unsupported by other evidence.

Late in the fifteenth century the panel stamp was invented in Holland,
or the Netherlands, and it soon attained a great measure of popularity.
It reached England in the early part of the sixteenth century, and
although at first foreign dies were freely used here, in time our
native binders made their own.

In France and Germany panel stamps were also popular, used on calf
bindings, but I think that in Italy it never made much headway.

The Netherlands panel stamps often have the names of the binders upon
them, Bollcaert, Bloc, and many more, and the same valuable information
is also often found on French panel stamps of the sixteenth century.

The best known names are André Boule, Jean Moulin, R. Macé, and Denis
Roce. All these are plentiful, and are often found in excellent
condition. The English panel stamps do not bear names upon them, but
they often have initials, but whether it is safe to interpret these
is difficult to say. We generally consider that J. R. stands for
John Reynes, I. N. for Jean Norins, R. L. for Richard Lant, G. G.
for Garrett Godfrey, R. P. for Richard Pynson, and so on; but it is
probable, anyhow, that although panel stamps of English design bearing
these initials were used here, they were largely of foreign, probably
Netherlandish, origin.

[Illustration: FIG. 91.--English blind stamped binding, with the arms
of Henry VIII.]

In the early sixteenth century in England, heraldry was an important
science, and began to show itself as a fertile source of ornamentation
of bindings. Many of the panel stamps of the early Tudor period are
heraldic. The most interesting of these stamps is one which is found
in combination with several others; it seems to be a sort of backbone.
The design consists of a large Tudor rose, partly enclosed by ribbon

At the side are two angels and in the corners the arms of London and
the Cross of St. George.

Then there are numbers of other stamps bearing in the centre the
coat-of-arms of Henry VII. and Henry VIII. up to 1526, namely, France
and England quarterly, with supporters, the red dragon of Cadwallader
and the white greyhound of De Beaufort.

Belonging to the same school of design are fine panel stamps bearing
the armorial devices of Anne Boleyn and Queen Katharine Parr.

[Illustration: FIG. 92.--English sixteenth century panel stamp, with
the initials of Julian Notary.]

[Illustration: FIG. 93.--English blind stamped binding, with the arms
of Queen Katherine of Arragon.]

The question as to whether these stamps are royal or not inevitably
occurs to any student, but as with one or two exceptions they carry
with them extraneous ornament, such as the sun and moon, and arms of
London, I think that any such stamp cannot have been royal, but it is
possible enough that when the royal arms alone are found the stamp
may have been originally cut for royalty. Such stamps as these are
very strong and are not likely to have ever been worn out--indeed, it
is curious that instances of unauthorised use of royal stamps is not
commoner than it is.

One of the most curious of these panel stamps, not armorial, is one
which bears upon it the device of John Reynes. It shows a fancy
coat-of-arms on which are the emblems of the Passion, with two unicorns
as supporters, a royal helmet, above which are scourges, &c., and a
crowing cock, and below on a ribbon the words “Arma redemptoris mundi.”
One cannot forget here that Dame Juliana Berners, in the Boke of Cote
Armour, declares the Christ was a gentleman of coat armour by right of
his mother Mary.

[Illustration: FIG. 94.--English blind stamped binding, with arms of
Christ. Bound by John Reynes, c. 1530.]

The English panel stamps, as well as rolls, of the early Tudor period
often bear the Tudor badges of double or Tudor rose, the fleur-de-lys,
and the portcullis of the De Beauforts. These badges are usually

Panel stamps were cut on latten, a metal alloy resembling brass. The
thin engraved plate was fixed on a wooden block by means of two pegs,
and the impression was made on the leather either by the use of a
hammer or by means of weights, very likely by a combination of both
these, methods.

After a time the pegs worked loose, and very frequently panel stamps
are found in which the impression from these loosened pegs can be seen.

[Illustration: FIG. 95.--English blind stamped binding. Pynson, 1499.]

Many German calf bindings of the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth
centuries are beautifully ornamented with cut work. The outlines of
the designs are cut with a sharp small knife held slantingly, and
afterwards worked into shape with blunted tools. The designs upon these
bindings are often very fine, and the workmanship is most skilled and
effective. The earliest example I know of is elaborately ornamented
on the upper board with a groundwork of floral scrolls, and has in
the centre the Austrian coat-of-arms supported on an eagle, which is
stained black. On a scroll above the eagle are the words “Fridericus
rex, etc., 1451” and below it in a long panel the letters “A E I O U,”
standing for the proud motto “Austria est imperare orbi universo.”
Along the lower edge is cut the name of the binder, “Petrus Ligator.”

[Illustration: FIG. 96.--German cut leather binding, made for the
Emperor Frederick of Austria. Dated 1451.]

Hunting scenes and scenes of religious life are usually found on these
early German cut leather bindings, now and then, as in the case of the
splendid sixteenth century copy of Ranierus de Pisa’s _Pantheologia_,
now in the British Museum, showing a monk at his desk; the borders
are ornamented with small stamps. Cut leather bindings are done with
consummate skill, and must always have been very costly, so we find
that they were, and are, very cleverly imitated by skilfully cut
stamps. An example of this is so well done that it has over and over
again been described as hand work, but in fact it is only a stamp.
German leather workers are still pre-eminent in this small cut manner.
At the St. Louis Exhibition of 1904, in the German section there were
several examples of cut leather work done in exactly the same way as
the fifteenth century work--and quite as good. It is not only used for
book bindings but also to cover boxes and small articles, but as we
have noted in the case of earlier work, many modern apparently hand-cut
German leathers are really only impressions from large panel stamps.

[Illustration: FIG. 97.--English blind stamped binding, with the arms
of Henry VIII.]

Notable among German bindings are those made by John Richenbach, of
Gyslingen, who lettered and dated many of his fine volumes. The dates
run from 1467 onwards. There is one fine example in the British Museum;
it is like all the rest, in pig skin, and stamped in blind, a little
transparent colour being put over many of the stamps. Round the outer
borders of the boards runs the inscription in large black letters:


[Illustration: FIG. 98.--German binding, by J. Richenbach. Dated 1475.]

All Richenbach’s bindings are still thoroughly strong and good, and
the small touch of colour upon them redeems them from the monotony of
colour which is so marked in the later German bindings in white pig

German blind tooled bindings are very numerous, as the art was always
much liked by German binders, and whereas both in England and in France
blind tooling and stamping quickly gave way before the more beautiful
and popular art of gold tooling, in Germany the quieter blind work
has retained its supremacy. German binders never took kindly to gold
tooling, and when they had to do it they generally used bad metal.
Most early German gold tooled work is now badly discoloured for this

[Illustration: FIG. 99.--German stamped leather binding with portrait
of Charles V. Dated 1570.]

German bindings in calf are usually designed with a central panel
crossed by diagonals at considerable intervals, and in the diamonds
thus formed are impressions of various stamps. On white pig skin,
however, are to be found the most characteristic of the German
blind tooled works. We find large books elaborately ornamented with
impressions of finely cut “cameo” rolls, and having a centre panel
stamp showing the portrait of some notable person, or a coat-of-arms.
The rolls are worthy of much attention, as they are very carefully
designed and beautifully cut. They show an infinite variety of
designs, and may be roughly divided into two classes, namely, those
showing human figures, busts in profile, and those only bearing
floral or arabesque designs. Among the former there is a long series
of allegorical figures, all with their respective emblems, and often
lettered and dated. There are Faith, Hope and Charity; Sweetness,
Prudence, Justice; figures of the Evangelists, Christ, David, St.
Paul, Lucretia, and heads of the reformers, Luther, Melancthon and Hus

Some of the German panel stamps are very large, also numerous and
finely cut. There are splendidly executed stamps of Charles V. and
other distinguished personages, emperors and grand dukes, Rudolf and
many others, and others of Luther and Melancthon. Some of these are
set in an arabesque framing with a space left in the middle for an
insertion. These are found impressed on calf and on pig skin, and the
dies of many of them are most beautifully cut.

Several of the later calf bindings, done in the eighteenth and
nineteenth century, show an infinite variety of marblings, sprinklings
and “tree” patternings, done with one or other of the most appropriate
chemicals--potash, soda, oxalic acid--run on when the leather is wet.
But one and all of these rot away the surface wherever they touch
it, and many of these books can now be found from which the original
dyed spots have all entirely disappeared, leaving, however, a little
eaten-out depression in every case.

James Edwards, of Halifax, invented a style of ornamenting calf by
means of ordinary book stamps loaded with acid. The result is not
unpleasing, and such books are known as “Etruscan,” because many of
the designs are of classical feeling--little urns, the Greek fret and
the like. But Edwards’ little acid burnt designs are only used as
accessories; there is plenty of gold work and ordinary blind work upon
them as well.

John Whitaker, another eighteenth century binder, went a step further,
and drew designs upon his calf bindings with pen or brush. Some of
these are very effective, but as a rule they are now showing the
effects of time, the original darkest places, where the acid has
been most freely applied, suffering first, and showing the pale calf
underneath. But a fine specimen of Whitaker’s work is much to be
prized. He also used the “Etruscan” style. He had many imitators, but
whereas Whitaker’s bindings are generally ornamented with figure
drawings, the imitators as a rule preferred easier subjects--ruins or

Calf with the rough side outwards, like brown velvet, was used in
England from the seventeenth to the nineteenth century, sometimes
tooled in blind and sometimes in gold.

Vellum was used at Little Gidding. One such book is covered in vellum
painted orange colour and overlaid with openwork designs cut in white
vellum. It is a harmony of the Gospels. The centre design is circular,
and the corners have quarter circles. They are all helped with a little
gold tooling.

In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries several small French and
Dutch books were prettily ornamented with vellum cut in openwork
patterns. Underneath the open places bits of coloured silk are laid.
They are dainty but not very successful, as small edges and points of
the vellum are apt to curl up and catch.

James Edwards, of Halifax, invented a curious way of making vellum
transparent, and patented it in 1785. The vellum had to be soaked in
pearlash and subjected to various processes, pressure among them, and
cut very thin indeed, so as to be more like goldbeater’s skin than
anything else. Then the books were covered with fine white paper and
painted, generally in monotone, but sometimes in colour, and over
this painting the transparent vellum was skilfully fixed. The result
is that, except when the thin vellum is cracked or seen through,
the painting underneath is as fresh as ever it was; but it is to be
presumed that there is not much wearing strength in Edwards’ vellum,
chiefly because of its extreme thinness. But as a rule any fine
examples of his work, especially as they look dainty and precious,
have always been well kept and highly valued, and are in good and
clean condition. Some modern binders have essayed Edwards’ plan with a
certain measure of success.

Impressions of designs in low relief were made on thin leather
bindings by means of engraved cylinders in the earlier half of the
nineteenth century. They were chiefly used in the small and beautifully
illustrated periodicals which were so popular in England--_The Age_,
_Friendship’s Offering_, and many more--issued during the earlier half
of the nineteenth century and a little after it. Charming designs in
cameo are often found in these cases, on paste-boards covered with thin
leather, but they are nearly always rubbed badly in projecting places.
Some of the best of these designs are by Remnant and Edmonds, Smith
Elder & Co., and De La Rue & Co.


BAGFORD’S Notes on Bookbinding. (Bibliographical Soc. Proceedings, Nov.
16, 1903.)

BICKELL, L.--Buchereinbände des XV. bis, XVIII. Jahrhunderts aus
hessischen Bibliotheken. _Leipzig_, 1892.

BOUCHOT, H.--Les reluires d’Art à la Bibliothèque Nationale. _Paris_,

DAVENPORT, CYRIL.--Cantor Lectures on Decorative Bookbinding. _London_,

DAVENPORT, CYRIL.--Early London Bookbindings. _London._ (_The Queen_,

DUFF, E. G.--Early Stamped Bindings. (Prideaux, S. T.) _London_, 1893.

GIBSON, S.--Early Oxford Bindings. _London_, 1903.

GIBSON, S.--Some Notable Bodleian Bindings. _Oxford_, 1901-4.

GRAY, G. J.--The Earlier Cambridge Bookbinders. _London_, 1904.

GRAY, G. J.--A Note upon Early Cambridge Binders of the Sixteenth
Century. _Cambridge_, 1900.

GROLIER CLUB, New York.--Catalogue of Decorated Early English
Bookbindings exhibited ... 1899. _New York_, 1899.

LINDSAY, J. L. (_Earl of Crawford_).--Early Bindings Exhibited at the
Society of Antiquaries. _London_, 1886.

WEALE, W. H. J.--Catalogue of Bookbindings ... in the National Art
Library, South Kensington. _London_, 1894.


  Gold tooling in leather introduced from the East to Venice--Early
  Italian gold tooled work--The spread of gold tooling in
  Europe--Modern work--Gold tooling in leather--Early Venetian gold
  tooled bindings--The work of Thos. Berthelet, John Day, John
  Gibson, Mary Collet, Samuel Mearne, Suckerman, Eliot and Chapman,
  Roger Payne, Richard Wier, Charles Hering, Kalthœber, Staggemeier,
  Walther, Charles Lewis, T. J. Cobden Sanderson, Sir Edw. Sullivan,
  Douglas Cockerell, E. M. MacColl, S. Prideaux, Adams, Etienne Roffet,
  Geoffrey Tory, Nicholas and Clovis Eve, Le Gascon, Florimond Badier,
  Macé Ruette, L. A. Boyet, Padeloup le Jeune, J. Le Monnier, Derome le
  Jeune, Capé, Duru, Thouvenin, Bauzonnet, Trautz, Lortic.

The art of gold tooling on leather appears to have been known in
Eastern countries before it was known in the West. There are signs of
it in Saracenic work of the early fifteenth century, but it cannot be
quite certain whether much of this work was not simply painted with
gold. If a blind line is carefully painted with gold shell and then
burnished with a fine agate, a gilded line can be made that looks
nearly as well as a properly gold tooled line. No doubt a considerable
proportion of early gold tooling was done in this way, and some of it
was not even burnished.

Some early Venetian bindings show gold spaces gilded with gold leaf in
a very effective way, and in the Bodleian some English panel stamps of
the early sixteenth century are gilded all over.

[Illustration: FIG. 100.--Italian gold tooled binding, 1514.]

There is little doubt that gold tooling, done as it is now, was known
to the Venetians towards the end of the fifteenth century. It is a
curious art, and depends for its wonderful strength upon the fact
that albumen hardens with heat. The method used is simple: a stamp is
impressed in blind on the leather, and then the impression is painted
over with glaire of egg--albumen. When the albumen is dry it is again
painted over with palm oil or cocoa-nut oil, and on this a piece of
gold leaf is laid. The stamp is now heated, and when it is of the
proper temperature it is very carefully reimpressed in exactly the same
place as at first.

The heat of the stamp congeals the albumen under the gold, and the
now gilded impression is likely enough to be the strongest part of
the leather. I have often found old leather bindings badly worn away,
but the gold tooled work and lettering still remaining in places.
Thus, instead of being _impressed_, as it originally was, it is all in
_relief_, because the albumen has soaked into the leather a little and
then been hardened, so that instead of gilded hollows we find little
mountains with golden tops.

But to counterbalance this possible advantage, the albumen presents a
weak point. On an old gold tooled binding it is not uncommon to find
that a golden curve is partly gone; half of it perhaps shows no longer
as a thin gold line, but only as a shallow trench, hollowed out of the
leather. The meaning of this is that the albumen provides a nourishing
meal for some small grub, which, once it gets the trail, will follow
it, if not disturbed half over the book, and with wonderful accuracy
will eat away gold, albumen, and a little leather, following curves,
leaves, and letterings with close fidelity.

This particular damage is most liable to occur in instances where books
are laid down in show cases on cloth or velvet and not often moved.
The soft groundwork allows the grub more freedom than if the book is
standing up closely packed with others on a shelf.

The small gilt roundels found on early Persian and Arabic bindings as
well as on early Venetian work, were set with some sort of gesso under
the gold.

The trade of Venice with the East brought these matters of ornamented
leather to the notice of Venetian bookbinders, and these, men of
consummate taste, at once saw the possibilities of the new art. Indeed,
the Italian gold tooled bindings of the late fourteenth century are the
finest that have ever yet been made, even though many of them are quite
Oriental in feeling and others very strongly so. But the Venetians soon
crept away from the Eastern trammels and evolved beautiful styles of
their own. One of the first of these styles was the careful mingling
of blind tooled lines with gilded lines; another was the use of small
gilded roundels--themselves an Oriental idea--in connection with blind
tooling and blind tooling coloured by hand.

[Illustration: FIG. 101.--Cameo stamp of Apollo and Pegasus found on
binding that belonged to D. Canevari. Italian, sixteenth century.]

Then at an early date the Italians hit upon the effective use of
so-called “cameo” stamps. These were sometimes cut on a flat piece of
metal, as the “Canevari” stamps are, and sometimes on a bossed piece of
metal, as the Alexander and Cæsar are. When on the binding these stamps
show as a depression with the design in relief within it.

Many of the smaller stamps of this period are worthy of notice. There
is the “Arabic” knot, used on Aldine binding and derived from an
Oriental original from basket work, as many of the early stamps are,
the Florentine leaf and the Aldine dolphin.

[Illustration: FIG. 102.--Italian gold tooled binding made for Jean

Then there is no doubt that many of the finest of the bindings made
for Jean Grolier were Italian. Who designed them and who bound them
we do not know, but among the earlier examples there is no doubt that
splendid work can be found. They may have been done in the workshop
of Aldus Manutius, but it rather seems that the designs were made by
one man, and I think it is not unlikely that Grolier himself may have
always given the general idea of the decoration he wanted.

The later bindings made for Grolier are curiously inferior, and
sometimes in calf. The earlier and finer bindings are in morocco, which
is sometimes marbled. The words “GROLIERII ET AMICORUM” are always put
upon such bindings as were made for him, and the legend “PORTIO MEA
DOMINE SIT IN TERRA VIVENTIUM” also generally appears in the centre of
one or other of the boards.

[Illustration: FIG. 103.--Italian gold tooled binding made for Jean
Grolier, 1532.]

Whenever Grolier acquired a book which was already very finely bound
he added his autograph either on the flyleaf at the beginning or at
the end. Grolier was the first collector to have his books bound in a
particular way for himself.

“Grolier” bindings have been very freely imitated, especially by a
native of Bologna, who worked a good deal for Count Guglielmo Libri,
a great collector, and unfortunately the style lends itself well to
imitation. A fraudulent finisher looks out for an old Italian book of
the right date, bound in plain leather. Then he copies parts from one
or other of the many Groliers which can be seen and studied by any
Londoner or Parisian for the asking, and if he is fairly clever at his
trade it will take a very skilled expert to detect the fraud. Many such
imitations are about, and every day they become more like genuine

[Illustration: FIG. 104.--English gold tooled binding by Thos.
Berthelet. Made for Henry VIII.]

The styles of binding that have been most largely and successfully
imitated are those made for Jean Grolier, Henri II. and of his period,
and the so-called “Canevari” bindings.

[Illustration: FIG. 105.--English binding by Thos. Berthelet, 1552.
Made for Edward VI.]

From Italy the art of gold tooling rapidly spread through Europe, and
took hold particularly in England and France. There is no doubt that
an Italian gilder came to England and taught Thomas Berthelet, binder
and printer to Henry VIII. Not only are numbers of Berthelet’s stamps
of distinctly Italian character, but in many of his lists of books
he describes particular examples as being bound “after the Italian
fascion.” But Berthelet quickly enough evolved a style of his own. It
appears to me that English binders have from the time of Berthelet
until now succeeded better than those of any other nation in the
ornamentation of large books. In small books the palm must be given to
Italian and French binders, but large books have always puzzled the
best of these, and even Le Gascon has not been successful with them.

Many of the large books bound by Thomas Berthelet are as fine as any
such books can be. His best work was, naturally enough, done for
royalty, but he set the fashion for smaller binders, and although there
is a want of minute finish and technical accuracy in everything he did,
Berthelet’s fine work will always give him a place in the first rank of
bookbinders of this or any other country.

[Illustration: FIG. 106.--English inlaid and gold tooled binding by
John Day. Made for Queen Elizabeth.]

After Berthelet’s time gold tooling became general in England, but the
binders who used it are anonymous. There are some fine calf bindings
with inlays of white leather which were made in the reign of Queen
Elizabeth, on which appear the initials I. D. P., perhaps “John Day
Pegit,” and which are credited to John Day, but it is by no means
certain that they were done by that eminent printer. The style of
leather bindings of Elizabeth’s reign departed finally from that of
Berthelet, and more variety is found than at any other period. The
Oriental fashion of double boards was re-introduced, the centre panels
being filled with delicate paintings, portraits or coat-of-arms, and
the remainder of the boards variously ornamented with inlays of white
leather, toolings in gold and silver, and impressions from stamps cut
in arabesques. Some of these bindings are coloured, that is to say,
the arabesques, curves or flowers are painted by hand with some kind
of enamel paint. The main source of such coloured bindings was Lyons,
from which centre numbers of them were issued, but the fashion was
one which appealed to the English liking for colour, and many fine
examples, often heraldic, were made here. In royal bindings at all
times heraldry has played an important part, but from the middle of
the sixteenth century onwards it plays an equally important part on
bindings made for ordinary armigerous people.

[Illustration: FIG. 107.--Italian inlaid and gold tooled binding in
Oriental style. Made for Queen Elizabeth.]

Letterings often appear on the sides of bindings of the Tudor period,
mottoes, initials and names. Towards the end of the sixteenth century a
few bindings are found on which are semis of triple dots. This is the
beginning of the style which reached its ultimate form in the next
century. Also small triangular corner stamps occur now and then. These
also developed and eventually became one of the most characteristic
marks of Jacobean bindings.

When James VI. of Scotland came here as our James I. he may have
brought with him John Gibson, who was his binder in Scotland. Lists
of books bound by this binder still exist, but no book or binding
mentioned by him has so far been identified. But there are some
remarkable books among those which were certainly bound for James I.
which are not like the general type of his bindings, and it is likely
enough that these may be Gibson’s work. The style is a very fine one,
and the workmanship strong and good, but not, in my opinion, correct
enough to have been done by a foreign binder. The same binder did
some of the re-binding for Henry Prince of Wales, and one of its
characteristics is a dotted fillet of double lines.

[Illustration: FIG. 108.--The book stamp of Robert Dudley, Earl of

[Illustration: FIG. 109.--The book stamp of Lord Burleigh.]

It is probable that many of the richer bindings of the early
seventeenth century were the work of John and Abraham Bateman, the
king’s printers and binders, but, in spite of lists, this is again
only speculation. There is no doubt that about this time many bindings
were made which would now be called trade bindings as apart from
art bindings. Trade bindings often enough follow art bindings at a
respectable distance, and they are rarely made on original lines.

[Illustration: FIG. 110.--English binding by Thos. Berthelet, 1537,
with the title on the sides.]

[Illustration: FIG. 111.--English Jacobean corner stamp.]

Following the lead given by some of the later Elizabethan bindings,
we find from about 1603 to 1625 a considerable output of very showy
bindings, with elaborate semis or powderings of small stamps all over
the groundwork, very large and over-elaborated corner stamps and
centres of arabesque or heraldic motives.

Students of English royal bindings must note that with the coming
of James I. to the English throne, a great change was made in the
English coat-of-arms. The coat which had been used from the time of
Edward III., namely, France and England quarterly, was now used as
a quartering only, and shows in the first and fourth quarters. In
the second quarter we find the ancient coat of Scotland, or, a lion
rampant within a double tressure flory counterflory gu., and in the
third quarter comes the coat of Ireland, az., the harp of Apollo Grian,
stringed ar, _or_., given, it is supposed, by Henry VIII. as a mark of
admiration for the musical excellence of the Irish.

[Illustration: FIG. 112.--English gold-tooled binding made for James I.]

Also the late Tudor supporters of the lion and dragon give place to the
familiar lion and unicorn. The unicorn is one of the ancient supporters
of the Scottish coat. It is interesting to note in passing that the
present official coat of Scotland is, first and fourth Scotland, second
England, and third Ireland, with two unicorns as supporters. It appears
on Scottish official bindings. The interpretation of this is of course
that England and Ireland are appanages of Scotland.

But even if it is now correct to dissociate the arms of England and
Scotland, we must not forget the heraldic marriage between the two
countries which took place in 1706, on which auspicious occasion the
two coats were impaled as one. That is to say, they were treated in the
same way as the coats of married people.

The semis, with large corners, is a manner which has lasted a long
time, but it is not a great style; it is, however, one which has
been largely followed in the case of trade bindings. In this manner a
very rich and brilliant effect can be produced with a minimum of real
design and of technical skill. The centres of such bindings, if not
simply coats-of-arms, are always of oval outline, but at Little Gidding
the irregular Jacobean corners and oval centres turned into circular
centres and quarter-circle corners. The gold tooled leather bindings
made at Little Gidding followed closely in detail those made by Thomas
and John Buck, the Cambridge University printers, but in the main the
bindings made by Mary Collet and her assistants were original. In
the matter of semis also the Little Gidding bindings show a pleasant
departure from the quite regular arrangements aimed at by Jacobean

[Illustration: FIG. 113.--English inlaid and gold tooled binding made
by Mary Collet at Little Gidding.]

After 1625 the series and corners tended gradually to fall into
abeyance, and although they did not altogether disappear, they were
each modified. Corner pieces became smaller in proportion, and the
semis more artistically irregular.

Towards the end of the reign of Charles I. some unknown binder,
probably Samuel Mearne, had the hardihood for the first time to
bind royal books without any ornamentation on the boards except a
coat-of-arms. The red leather, goat skin, used on these bindings is
of extremely fine colour and quality. Simplicity in ornamentation of
bookbindings is usually accompanied by fine leather, and at no time has
this been more noticeable than in the case of Mearne’s simpler work.

[Illustration: FIG. 114.--Book stamp of the English Commonwealth.]

The political troubles of the later half of the seventeenth century
may of themselves have tended to incline bookbinders to simplify their
work, and so also may the Puritan spirit of the time. State bindings
of the time are studiously simple, and bear upon them a device with
shields, showing the English cross of St. George and the harp of
Ireland side by side, impressed upon black leather.

But there were other very decorative small bindings being produced in
considerable numbers about this period. Whether these also owed their
existence to Samuel Mearne is still uncertain, but he was, I expect, a
moving spirit in the matter of fine bookbindings from the end of the
reign of Charles I. to the end of the reign of Charles II. The little
books I allude to were made during the latter half of the seventeenth
century and are always bound in black morocco. They have inlays of
red, yellow, and white leather upon them and some very well designed
gold tooling. Many of the designs are in detail similar to those which
were certainly used at a later time by Samuel Mearne. John Bagford,
in a curious account of book binding written early in the eighteenth
century, mentions a workman named Suckerman, who was “one of the best
workmen that ever took tool in hand, and commonly worked for Mr. Merne
the Binder to King Charles the 2.”

It is quite possible that much of the finest English work of this
period was done by this man, but I expect he was only a workman, and
executed the designs made out for him by a skilled designer--possibly
enough Mearne himself.

[Illustration: FIG. 115.--English gold tooled “Rectangular” style
binding, by Samuel Mearne. Made for Charles II.]

Samuel Mearne was appointed royal binder to Charles II., and he was the
second great binder in England. Mearne bound the majority of his books
in the same beautiful red leather that I have already mentioned as
being used for some late bindings belonging to Charles I., and the same
coat-of-arms occurs on some of those bound for Charles II. This red
leather was probably dyed with cochineal. Before this no red leather
was used to any extent in England. Brown, olive, blue, and black were
all common, but not red. The ordinary bindings made by Mearne for
Charles II. were simply and tastefully ornamented with rectangular
lines having the royal initials at the corners, but others are more

We owe a national design to Mearne’s inventive genius, and it is known
as the “Cottage” style. The gold-lined parallelogram is the starting
point, and the upper and lower lines are broken outwards into a gable
form. From this starting point Mearne developed his further decoration
with supreme success, until indeed he succeeded in producing some of
the finest bindings for large books that have ever been made. Not
only that, Mearne’s style and even the details of his stamps continue
until the present time, and the Bible on which King Edward VII. took
the coronation oath was bound in the Cottage style. No style has ever
lasted so long, not only in England, but in any other country.

There was yet another beautiful style invented by Mearne. It is not
so real a design as the Cottage, as it partakes to some extent of
the principle of the semis, inasmuch as symmetrical repetition is an
integral part of it. There is no doubt that Mearne saw and admired the
work of the great French contemporary binder Le Gascon, and from him
he borrowed several ideas, among them that of the pointille or dotted
stamps, and also that of the interlacing fillets with interstitial
spaces filled with small gold tooling.

[Illustration: FIG. 116.--English gold tooled binding by Samuel Mearne.
Made for Charles II.]

The radical change that Mearne made with regard to Le Gascon’s
interlacing fillets was that he made them up by using successive
impressions of a two-horned curve instead of a continuous fillet or
ribbon. Although at first sight there would seem to be no connection
between one of these “all over” bindings by Mearne and one of Le
Gascon’s exquisite little interlacings, I think the connection is

[Illustration: FIG. 117.--English gold-tooled binding in “all-over”
style, by Samuel Mearne.]

The all-over bindings, always small, are not uncommon; they are in
black or red morocco, with colours interchanged, and are tooled in
gold, with the very decorative addition of silver paint, water-colour,
applied by hand here and there.

Eliot and Chapman did much excellent work in the eighteenth century and
invented large ornamental borders for their bindings. These borders are
not rolls, but the component parts are separately stamped. There is an
excellent design with arches, a bird and a fly, and another with a
globe, but all of them are admirably and effectively designed.

Except the work of Eliot and Chapman, the main English ornamentations
on bookbindings during the eighteenth century were modifications of one
or other of Mearne’s designs.

[Illustration: FIG. 118.--English gold tooled binding showing the
influence of Samuel Mearne.]

Eliot and Chapman bound largely for Robert Harley, first Earl of
Oxford, and their broad bordered style is known as the “Harleian.” The
centres, in the finest examples, are left unornamented, but there are
numbers of examples, especially in later work, in which the centres are
filled with a diamond-shaped mass of small gold toolings. Their style
has been very largely copied.

[Illustration: FIG. 119.--The book stamp of Robert Harley.]

Towards the end of the eighteenth century English binding received a
remarkable stimulus by reason of the advent of Roger Payne, a native of
Windsor, who set up in London as a bookbinder about 1770.

Payne’s two predecessors, Berthelet and Mearne, had both enjoyed Court
positions, but Payne never did; he worked when he chose, and only then,
and even if the brilliancy and genius shown of his work had ever been
known to George III., it is doubtful whether so unreliable a man as
Payne was could ever have been allowed to hold any responsible position.

[Illustration: FIG. 120.--English gold tooled binding, by Roger Payne.]

The main charm of Payne’s work consists in the spare ornamentation
of beautiful leather with exquisitely designed and cut stamps. These
stamps are said to have been cut by himself in iron, but most of them
were certainly of brass. One of Payne’s stamps only is specially cut
so as to be capable of being used in combination; it is a little sprig
of vine, and he used it not only by itself, but sometimes so as to make
an entire vine oval on the side of a book. Payne was also the first
great English binder to pay much attention to the inside of the boards
of his bindings. His “Doublures,” as they are called, often show more
elaborate work than exists outside the books. The masses of small
stamps which occur on the borders of the fine doublures and in the
corners of Payne’s bindings are arranged in parallel lines, but have
little constructive arrangement. The brilliancy of Payne’s gold tooling
has never been exceeded.

In his simpler bindings Payne used a deep soft purple end paper,
usually lined with gold round the edge. The leather joint red or green
is also often gilded, and shows a stitch or two of the silk thread
which Payne always used. The headbands are small and rounded, of green
silk, with sometimes a gold thread here and there.

The colours of Payne’s moroccos are deep blue, deep red, orange, deep
olive, or pale sea-green. If other colours are found on bindings
apparently by him, I should begin by suspecting the work is that of
Richard Wier. His Russia leathers are always dull brown in colour,
and diced. Payne lined his backs too thickly, and his books often
open stiffly. This is not of much importance when the binding is
morocco, but when Russia leather is used it causes it to break at
the joints. Some of the designs in the back panels of Payne’s more
decorative bindings are quite admirable. His moroccos are smooth or
straight-grained, a method of treating the leather that he invented.
Payne often added a manuscript note to his bound work and pasted it in
the beginning. Several of these notes are of great interest, as they
show the immense care and trouble he took to do the best he could in
every case. They are also of the greatest value in showing that certain
pieces of work are unquestionably from his own hand.

Richard Wier, a Scottish bookbinder, worked with Payne, and closely
copied his style. Wier was fonder of blind tooling than Payne was, and
they used the same stamps. Many of the bindings credited to Roger Payne
are really by Wier, who, as well as Mrs. Wier, was a highly skilled
mender of books.

Charles Hering founded his styles upon those of Payne, but soon
evolved a manner of his own. He finished some books that Payne had
left unfinished in the same style. Originals and copies are now in the
Rylands Library at Manchester. Hering’s work is, however, only high
class trade binding, as is that of his contemporary, C. Kalthœber. Both
Hering’s and Kalthœber’s work is often signed, either in small gilt or
blind lettering along the lower edge of one of the boards, or by an
affixed ticket.

Kalthœber frankly copied Payne’s styles and stamps, but elaborated
both so much that he quite lost sight of the characteristic simplicity
of the great master. Kalthœber bound several books for George III.,
and many of them are decorative enough, and if they had not been such
parodies of Payne’s work they would no doubt have taken high rank.

Staggemeier and Walther were both Germans, who worked much in the same
manner as Kalthœber. They both signed their bindings.

Charles Lewis was very nearly a great binder, but I do not think he
quite reached that level. He used flat double bands with gold tooling
upon them, but these are frequently only shams, and are in company with
hollow backs. After that his best work was borrowed; but his bindings
are always pleasant to handle and admirably forwarded and finished.
Lewis’ headbands are flat and upright, and generally sewn with green
silk or red and green silk. He was fond of brilliant doublures,
sometimes all gold, sometimes vellum edged with richly gilt morocco,
and he was also fond of gilded edges richly tooled.

In the nineteenth century we have in England produced one binder who
will probably in due time rank with the highest. The work of Mr. T.
J. Cobden-Sanderson will bear comparison with the best work the past
can show, either as to general design or beauty of detail. Most of the
good art binding done now owes its inspiration to Mr. Cobden-Sanderson,
and already many of his pupils and followers have achieved distinction
for themselves; one of the best of these is Mr. Douglas Cockerell. The
rare work done by Sir Edward Sullivan will also live. He is entirely
original in his work and in his manner of decoration.

Lady bookbinders in England have also done excellent and beautiful
work, particularly Miss E. M. MacColl, Miss Sarah Prideaux, and Miss N.
E. Woolrich.

Professional work of high excellence has been done in recent years
in England by Messrs. Bedford, Rivière, Zaehnsdorf, and Morell. The
younger Zaehnsdorf, G. Sutcliffe, F. Sangorsky, Fazakerly of Liverpool,
and A. De Santy are all reliable, and may be trusted to produce
work not only technically perfect, but also charmingly finished and
admirably designed.

Compared, however, to modern French professional bookbinding of the
first rank, by Capé, Duru, Lortic, Bauzonnet, and the rest, I find that
there is a certain heaviness in English forwarding--English binders
have always liked heavy boards; but I think that in the matter of gold
tooling our best modern finishers can hold their own safely.

Bookbinding has been more fostered and looked after in France than in
any other country. As early as 1401 a guild of all persons concerned in
book production was founded by charter from Charles VI., and continued,
with some changes, until 1791.

The chief change in this guild took place in 1686, when the binding and
gilding were treated as separate arts, as, indeed, they properly are.
From the time of Francis I. until about 1633 we find that nearly all
the Kings of France had official binders, and, as might be expected,
the best French work is to be among their work, with the exception of
that of Le Gascon, who, like our Roger Payne, was never favoured with
Court patronage.

Heraldry plays a considerable part in English bookbinding, but not so
remarkable a one as it does in French bookbinding. From royal books
downwards, persons of distinction, ecclesiastics of all ranks, ladies
and private persons, all liked to have their books ornamented with
their coats-of-arms as a principal ornament.

Etienne Roffet was Royal binder to Francis I., but I do not feel sure
that any binding of his is known. It may be, however, considered likely
that he bound most of the books bearing the King’s crowned initials and
his device of a salamander.

Several of Jean Grolier’s books were bound by French workmen. These are
in the main designed on similar lines to those bound by Italians, but
there is a difference in the details of the stamps used. One constant
difference may be found in the fact that on the Italian books the
small leaves and devices are _solid_, and on the French ones they are
_azured_, or scored across with fine lines. Some of the French bound
books have colour added on the fillets.

Geoffrey Tory lived well into the sixteenth century, and among other
artistic productions he designed a special stamp for gilding his
bindings with. Tory lost his only little daughter, and afterwards
adopted as his device a broken vase, symbolic of his broken life. This
vase is sometimes pierced by a “toret,” probably a play upon his own
name, as he describes it: “ung vase antique qui est cassé par lequel
passe ung toret.” The book stamps do not show the toret, but the vase
is there. In the other ornamentation and on these Tory bindings is a
strong Italian feeling. It is sure enough that the art of gold tooling
reached France by way of Venice, just as it did England.

[Illustration: FIG. 121.--French coloured and gold tooled binding, with
portrait of Henri II.]

The most gorgeous period of French bookbinding was that of Henri
II. and his children. Henri himself loved fine bindings, and so did
Catherine de Medici, but unfortunately we do not know who executed
them. They are in calf or morocco, and nearly always have coloured
fillets. Those which were bound for Diane de Poictiers, Duchesse de
Valentinois, are equally remarkable, and all of them have, as a rule,
heraldic ornamentation. A fine portrait cameo stamp, however, of Henri
II. appears as a centrepiece on some of his bindings, and the name
Dianne appears on one of Diane’s now in the Bibliothèque Nationale at

[Illustration: FIG. 122.--French sixteenth century binding, made for
Diane de Poictiers.]

The cyphers which appear on all these bindings are as a rule
straightforward enough, being either those of Henri or his Queen
Catherine, but among them is one which contains the initials H. and
D. intertwined. This may mean “Henri Dauphin,” but it is usually
interpreted as meaning “Henri” and “Diane.” I do not propose here
to enter into the vexed question of this curious cypher, as it has
already been fully discussed elsewhere,[1] but I may say that Henri’s
own device before he succeeded to the throne was a crescent with the
legend NEC IMPLEAT TOTEM ORBEM. An unstrung bow as well as the other
emblems of Diana the huntress undoubtedly appears on bindings made for
this king. I am rather inclined to think that these devices of bow,
crescents, and quiver, which show on the bindings made for Henri as
well as on those made for Diane de Poictiers, may really have been
separately chosen, and have no necessary connection with each other. On
the bindings made for Diane de Poictiers the bow is strung.

[Illustration: FIG. 123.--French binding by Nicholas Eve, 1578. Made
for Henri III.]

Henri III. was an eccentric king, and it has been said that among
other arts he learnt that of bookbinding. He lost his ladylove, and
ever afterwards grieved her loss. His bindings show the device of the
confraternity of the White Monks, to which order he belonged, and a
skull and “SPES MEA DEUS.” But besides these gloomy bindings we owe
some of the finest bindings ever made in France to the art of Henri’s
royal binder, Nicholas Eve.

The French order of St. Michel was founded by Louis XI., in 1466, in
place of an older order “De l’Etoile,” which had been instituted by
Jean II. Henri III., in 1578, founded a new order, the Saint Esprit,
and among the State papers of the time is a note to the effect that
Nicholas Eve bound forty-two copies of the _Ordonnances de l’ordre du
Sainct Esprit_ for the king. One of these books is now in the British
Museum. It is bound, as described in the official note, in orange
morocco, and agrees in all respects with that description.

[Illustration: FIG. 124.--French, gold tooled “Fanfare” binding. Made
for J. A. De Thou.]

A remarkable style, known as “à la Fanfare,” became common in France
about the end of the sixteenth century. They are generally attributed
to Clovis Eve, who was Relieur du Roy (1596), but there is really no
authority for such attribution. The style is a beautiful one, and
consists of interlaced fillets enclosing graceful sprays of laurel or
palm, and arabesque curves. Some of the finest examples were bound for
J. A. de Thou, the historian, and bear his arms, a chevron between
three gadflies, as a centre ornament.

Most of De Thou’s books are bound in morocco, and among those which
were made during the life of his second wife Gasparde de la Chastre
are some that are curiously ornamented. They are bound in pale yellow
morocco which has been stamped all over with impressions in black
outline, probably from a wood block, in floral or conventional designs.
The designs have afterwards been filled in by hand with colour stains,
green, red and blue. The leather has been cut for the binding without
any notice being taken of the coloured designs, which consequently
appear irregularly on the finished work. The books are finished with
gold lines and the arms of De Thou and La Chastre side by side.

It has been said that De Thou chose certain colours for certain
subjects, for the bindings of his books, but although it may be so in
some cases I do not think it is consistently carried out.

Certain colours have no doubt been chosen in some cases as distinctive
of ownership, as for instance in the libraries of the three daughters
of Louis XV., all of whom bore the same coat-of-arms. The books
belonging to Madame Victoire were bound in olive, those of Madame
Adelaide in red, and those of Madame Sophie in citron.

French bindings in morocco were sometimes stained with colour,
especially about the time of Henri II., but colour on morocco is more
generally added as a pigment.

In recent times some very decorative Spanish moroccos have been
curiously stained with a sort of marbling. Large consignments of these
coloured moroccos have been imported into this country, and they have
been used especially by Mr. Roger De Coverly, one of our foremost
bookbinders. The morocco is not of a very good quality, and it is too
early to say whether the stains are harmful to the leather, as they
probably would be if they were on calf.

Colour as indicating subject is usually given in the case of large
libraries that do their own binding. Red commonly indicates history and
art; blue, theology; green, agriculture and botany; and so on.

In the early seventeenth century the mysterious “Le Gascon” invented
the “pointillé” or dotted style of gold tooling, which has been more
universally copied than any other small peculiarity in book finishing.

[Illustration: French Seventeenth Century Binding. Inlaid and Gold
Tooled. By Le Gascon. [_To face p._ 238.]

Le Gascon was supreme in the binding of small books, whether ornamented
with interlaced fillets, inlaid, or with the curious design of a
swollen cross. Le Gascon’s small pointillé curves are most cleverly
designed; two or three of them suffice to cover a considerable space
with an apparently complicated design. The glittering effect of the
small pointillé work massed together is heightened by the free addition
of small golden dots wherever space can be found for them.

Red morocco was Le Gascon’s favourite groundwork, and on this he
frequently set inlays of coloured morocco, citron, olive and marbled
brown. These were mostly used in the case of bindings bearing a design
of interlacing fillets, with gold tooling between them. No signed
binding by Le Gascon is as yet known, but there are some bearing the
name of Florimond Badier, who was son-in-law to Jean Gillède, which
nearly resemble Le Gascon’s work, but lack his exquisite finish. On
some of these appears a small dotted profile head, which is supposed
to be a mark of Le Gascon’s. This same head is copied on some of the
bindings of our English Samuel Mearne, who must therefore have seen and
admired some of Le Gascon’s or Badier’s work. “Le Gascon” was probably
Jean Gillède.

Macè Ruette followed many of Le Gascon’s manners, and his son Antoine
did the same. These binders were royal binders to Louis XIII. and Louis
XIV. respectively, and probably bound most of the fine bindings made
for these kings, bearing their coats-of-arms.

The bindings made for the Baron de Longepierre are not uncommon.
They were probably bound by Luc Antoine Boyet, royal binder to Louis
XV. These little books bear upon them the device of a golden fleece,
because the Baron wrote plays, and the only successful one was called
“Medea” and dealt with the subject of the Argonauts. The bindings are
all exquisitely finished, and of beautiful red leather; they sometimes
have finely decorated doublures and marbling under the gold on the
edges, a charming detail which has been much liked by French binders
ever since.

Padeloup le Jeune was royal binder to Louis XV. after Boyet, and
belonged to one of the many French families of binders. Padeloup’s
work is luckily often signed by means of a small ticket on the title
page or end paper. He perfected the patterns known as “Dentelles,”
which had been first thought of by Boyet. These designs start from the
edges of the boards inwards, and the inner edge is deeply dentated and
is supposed to resemble lace. Padeloup used blue and red morocco, and
executed several small bindings with inlays of coloured leather in
geometrical designs.

[Illustration: FIG. 125.--French inlaid and gold tooled binding, 1718,
by Padeloup le Jeune.]

[Illustration: FIG. 126.--French gold tooled binding “Dentelle à
l’oiseau,” by Derôme le Jeune.]

Padeloup made several large bindings, and his stamps are often large
and boldly cut, but his successors gradually fined his style down until
the original bold indented work became quite small and lace-like in

The liking for inlaid work which was started by Padeloup rapidly grew,
and it caused a certain deterioration in the taste of French binding
because it gave such scope for minute technical skill that this
soon became more sought after than the power of fine designing. The
skill shown on inlaid bindings by Jean le Monnier, for instance, is
astonishing, but the designs on all his bindings are weak. The same may
be said of the work of J. A. Derôme. But the work of both these binders
is much sought after and esteemed by many collectors.

Derôme le Jeune was the most important French binder of the late
eighteenth century. He took Padeloup’s large “dentelles” and altered
them so much that he at last evolved a style of his own from them.
Derôme drew the whole design out in a much smaller and more delicate
way, and always put in some bird figures, and these designs are known
as “Dentelles a l’oiseau.” He used citron, olive and red morocco.
Derôme has not a good reputation as a forwarder; he is said to have
cropped his books badly, and also to have “sawn in” his bands so as to
get flat or open backs. Even so, he did not invent “sawn in” bands,
as that vice was practised in England a hundred years before Derôme’s
time, in the case of embroidered books; but the fact of these two
mannerisms having been noticed in the work of this great binder only
shows that the same faults were probably universally prevalent at the

Modern French work is astonishing for its technical skill. The
work of Capé, Duru, Thouvenin, Bauzonnet, Trautz, Lortic, Niedrée,
Marius-Michel, Chambolle, and many others is admirable from all
workmanlike points of view.

But there is no genius in any of it; a great French binder of this
century is yet to come.

Spanish bindings are often very handsomely gold tooled, and are usually
ornamented with heraldic designs. Little is known at present about
them, but it is certainly doubtful whether any great school of gold
tooling in bindings has ever existed outside Italy, England or France.


ANGLO-SAXON REVIEW.--_London_, 1899. (Articles at the beginning of each
vol., by Cyril Davenport.)

BAUCHART.--_See_ Quentin-Bauchart.

BERALDI, H.--La Reliure du XIX^e. Siècle. _London_, 1895-97.

BERNARD, A. J.--G. Tory. _Paris_, 1857.

BICKELL, L.--Bucheinbände des XV. bis XVIII. Jahrhunderts aus
hessischen Bibliotheken. _Leipzig_, 1892.

BOSQUET, E.--La Reliure. _Paris_, 1894.

BOUCHOT, H.--De la Reliure. _Paris_, 1891.

BOUCHOT, H.--Le Livre. _Paris_, 1886.

BOUCHOT, H.--Les reliures d’Art à la Bibliothèque Nationale. _Paris_,

BRASSINGTON, W. S.--Historic bindings in the Bodleian Library.
_London_, 1891.

BRUNET, C. G.--Etudes sur la reliure des Livres. _Bordeaux_, 1891.

BURLINGTON FINE ARTS CLUB.--Illustrated Catalogue of Bookbindings.
_London_, 1891.

CUNDALL, J.--Bookbindings Ancient and Modern. _London_, 1891.

DAVENPORT, CYRIL.--Cantor Lectures on Decorative Bookbindings.
_London_, 1898.

DAVENPORT, CYRIL.--Bagford’s Notes on Bookbinding. _London_, 1894.

DAVENPORT, CYRIL.--Life of Samuel Mearne. _Chicago_, 1907.

DAVENPORT, CYRIL.--Life of Thos. Berthelet. _Chicago_, 1901.

DAVENPORT, CYRIL.--Royal English Bookbindings. _London_, 1896.

DERÔME, L.--La Reliure de Luxe. _Paris_, 1888.

FLETCHER, W. Y.--Bookbindings in France. _London_, 1894.

FLETCHER, W. Y.--English Bookbindings in the British Museum. _London_,

FLETCHER, W. Y.--Foreign Bookbindings in the British Museum. _London_,

FOURNIER, E.--L’Art de la Reliure en France. _Paris_, 1888.

GRUEL, L.--Conférence sur la Reliure et la Dorure des Livres. _Paris_,

GRUEL, L.--Manuel de l’Amateur de Reliures. _Paris_, 1887.

GUIGARD.--Armorial du Bibliophile. _Paris_, 1890.

HOE, R.--One hundred and seventy-two historic bookbindings from the
Library of Robert Hoe. _New York_, 1895.

HOLMES, R. R.--Specimens of Bookbindings from the Royal Library,
Windsor Castle. _London_, 1893.

HORNE, H. P.--The Bindings of Books. _London_, 1894.

MATTHEWS, J. B.--Bookbindings Old and New. _London_, 1896.

MICHEL, M.--La Reliure Française. _Paris_, 1881.

PRIDEAUX, S. T.--Bookbinders and their Craft. _London_, 1903.

PRIDEAUX, S. T.--Historical Sketch of Bookbinding. _London_, 1893.

QUENTIN-BAUCHART, E.--Les Femmes Bibliophiles de France, XVI^e, XVII^e.
et XVIII^e. Siècles. _Paris_, 1886.

THOINAN, E.--Les Relieurs Français. _Paris_, 1893.

UZANNE, O.--L’Art dans la Decoration Extérieure des Livres en France.
_Paris_, 1898.

UZANNE, O.--La Reliure Moderne. _Paris_, 1887.

WHEATLEY, H. B.--Remarkable Bindings in the British Museum. _London_,


[1] _Anglo-Saxon Review_ and _Burlington Magazine_, July, 1907.



  Abacus, the, 12

  Account book binding, 157

  Ackermann, publisher, 129

  Æsop’s _Fables_, 1665 ... 124

  “A E I O U,” 197

  African symbolic messages, 10

  Alcuin of York, 19

  Aliamet, line engraver, 122

  Alken, H., artist, 124

  “All-over” style of binding, 223

  All Saints’ Church, Hereford, chained library at, 164

  Allanson and Sears, wood engravers, 116

  Allen, D., line engraver, 120

  Almanacks cut on wood, bone, etc., 7

  American loggers’ marks, 9

      ”    wampums, 13

  Amulets, 4

  Aniline dyes for leather, 180

  Anne Boleyn’s New Testament, 144

  Anne de Felbrigge, embroidress, 151

  Annis, W., mezzotint engraver, 128

  Aquatints, 128

  Arabic knot, the, 208

    ”    panel stamps, the, 59

  Arabic style of binding, the, 55

  Armagh, satchel of the book of, 50

  Armytage, J. C., line engraver, 121

  _Ars Moriendi_, 90

  Art canvas bindings, 156

  Ashburnham, Lord, 189

  Assyrian bricks and cylinders, 85

  Astle, T., keeper of the records in the Tower of London, 189

  Avril, P., artist, 138

  Ayres, J., calligraphist, 118

  Ayrton’s _Voyage Round Great Britain_, 131

  Aze, line engraver, 122.


  “B” capital in Mainz Psalter, 103

  Babylonian cylinders and bricks, 85

  Backing, the, of books, 43

  Backs, flat and rounded, 42

  Bacon, F., line engraver, 121

  Badier, F., bookbinder, 239

  Bagford, J., author, 190, 222

  Baily, J., aquatint engraver, 131

  Baker, R. J., line engraver, 121

  Baldwin II., King of Jerusalem, 53

  Bamler, J., publisher, 115

  Bands of bindings, 36, 44

  Bank note of Chinese paper, 1368 ... 64

  Barber’s poles, 16

  Bark books, 29

  Bartholomaeus’ _De proprietatibus rerum_, 66

  Bartolozzi, F., etcher, 125

  Baskerville, J., printer, 99

  Bateman, John and Abraham, binders, 217

  Battas of Sumatra and symbolic messages, 10

  Battledores, 166

  Bauzonnet, bookbinder, 242

  Bedford, F., bookbinder, 231

  Beneworth, wood engraver, 116

  Bennett, W. F., aquatint engraver, 130

  Bernes, Dame Juliana’s, _Book of St. Albans_, 110

  Berthelet, T., printer and binder, 110, 213

  Bertonnier, line engraver, 123

  Best, A., wood engraver, 114

  Bettini’s _Monte Santo di Deo_, 119

  Bewick, T., wood engraver, 108, 110

  _Biblia Pauperum_, 90

  Blaew, W. J., mechanician, 94

  Blake, W., artist, 109, 124

  Blanchard, P., lithographer, 135

  Blazes on trees, 9

  Blind tooling on bindings, 182

  Bloc, bookbinder, 192

  Block books, 89

  Boards of books, 41

  Bollcaert, bookbinder, 192

  Bone, markings on, 1, 9

  Book edges, 143

  Bosse, A., etcher, 125

  Bosse, L., line engraver, 122

  Bosses on mediæval books, 45

  Boule, A., bookbinder, 192

  Boydell, publisher, 129

  Boydell’s _Picturesque Scenery in Norway_, 130

  Boyet, L. A., bookbinder, 240

  Brandard, R., line engraver, 121

  Brant’s _Narrenschiff_, 115

  Brevière, H. L., wood engraver, 114

  Brim stocks, 7

  “Britannia” watermark, 71

  Buck, Thomas and John, printers and binders, 154, 220

  Buckingham, Marquis of, 189

  Buckram bindings, 156

  “Bull’s Head” watermark, 69

  Burgkmeier, H., artist, 116

  Burne-Jones, Sir E., artist, 113

  Bylaert, J., artist, 125

  _Byrthe of Mankind_, 119

  Byzantine bindings, 46

      ”     diptychs, 22


  Calf leather, 171

  Callot, etcher, 125

  Cambridge bindings, 191

  Cameo stamps, 208

  “Canevari” stamps, 208

  Canvas bindings, 151

  Capé, bookbinder, 242

  “Caractères de civilité,” 97

  Cardinal’s hat, 12

  Carolingian Minuscules, 20

  Cartwright, T., aquatint engraver, 131

  Caslon, W., printer, 99

  Casting of type, the, 92

  Cathach, of the O’Donnells, the, 50

  Cattermole, artist, 132, 134

  Caxton’s bindings, 189

     ”     _Fifteen Oes_, 106

     ”     _Myrrour of the Worlde_, 108, 109

  Cecil, Lord Burleigh’s, book stamp, 216

  Cecil, line engraver, 120

  Cellarius’ _Album Amicorum_, 158

  Cellulose used in paper, 79

  “Chain” lines on paper, 73

  Chained books, 163

  Chambolle, bookbinder, 242

  Chamois leather, 176

  Charlemagne’s gospels, 54

        ”       interest in writing, 19

  Charles II., portrait on book edges, 147

  Charlet, lithographer, 133

  Chauveau, F., line engraver, 122

  Cheap paper, 77

  Chemical wood pulp, 79

  Chéret, lithographer, 133

  Chevalier, W., line engraver, 121

  Chifflart, line engraver, 123

  China clay in paper, 80

  Chinese books of Jade, 5

     ”    colour blocks, 104

     ”    paper, 63

     ”    types of porcelain, 86

     ”    woodcuts, 103

  Choffard, P., line engraver, 122, 125

  Christ, arms of, 196

  Clasps on mediæval books, 44

  Clay-laden papers, 80

  Clennell, L., wood engraver, 111

  Clint, G., mezzotint engraver, 128

  Clog almanacks, 7

  Cloth bindings, 155

  Cobden-Sanderson, T. J., bookbinder, 231

  Cochineal dye for leather, 222

  Cockerell, D., bookbinder, 231

  _Codex Alexandrinus_, 102

  Cole, T., wood engraver, 111

  Collet, M., bookbinder, 153

  Collodion as a preservative for Persian bindings, 59

  Colonna’s _Hypnerotomachia Poliphili_, 105

  Colour on block books, 90

  Coloured printing papers, 73

  Combe’s _History of the River Thames_, 130

    ”     _Tour of Dr. Syntax_, 130

  Commonwealth book stamp, 221

  Constable, J., artist, 128

  Consular diptychs, 23

  Cook, H., stipple engraver, 125

  Cooper, J., wood engraver, 112

  Coptic binding of the eighth century, 182

  Corbould, G., line engraver, 121

  Corean paper, 65

  _Coronation of George IV._, 131

  Coster, L. J., printer, 90

  Costeriana, 90

  “Cottage,” style of binding, 222

  Cousins, J., line engraver, 121

  Cow-hide for bindings, 172

  “Crown” watermark, 70

  Cruickshank, G., artist, 124

  “Crushed” morocco, 177

  Cuirbouilli, 50

  Cumdachs, 48-50

  Cuneiform inscriptions, 3

  Cup markings on rocks, 2, 3

  Curiously-shaped books, 76

  Cut leather work, 197

  Cylinders engraved for making designs in book covers, 203

      ”     for printing presses, 95


  Dalziels, the, wood engravers, 112

  Dambrun, J., line engraver, 122

  Daniel, W., aquatint engraver, 131

  Dated binding, 1475 ... 199

  Daughters of Louis XV., bindings made for, 237

  Daumier, H., lithographer, 133

  Davenport, S., line engraver, 121

  Dawe, H., mezzotint engraver, 128

  Day, J., printer, 213

  Dean, stipple engraver, 125

  De Coverly, R., bookbinder, 237

  Deer-skin bindings, 189

  Delacroix, E., artist, 133

  De Launay, R., line engraver, 120, 123

  “De l’Etoile,” French order, 236

  Delignon, J. L., line engraver, 122

  De Longueil, line engraver, 122

  Delvaux, line engraver, 122

  “Dentelle” bindings, 240

  “Dentelles à l’oiseau,” 242

  Derome le Jeune, bookbinder, 241

  De Sauty, A., bookbinder, 231

  De Thou, J. A., book collector, 236

  Deveria, A., lithographer, 133

  De Villiers, line engraver, 122

  Diamond engraved, 5

  Diane de Poictiers, bindings made for, 234

          ”           edges of her books, 145

          ”           faience, 86

  Dimma’s book, 50

  Diptychs, 20

  Donatus’ grammars, 91

  Double board bindings, 55, 214

  Doublures by R. Payne, 228

  Doyle, etcher, 124

  Druet, line engraver, 119

  Du Bosc, line engraver, 120

  Duclos, H. J., line engraver, 122

  Dudley, R., Earl of Leicester, book stamp, 216

  Duff, G., author, 187

  Du Maurier, G., artist, 113

  Dunchad, Irish binder, 49

  Dunkarton, R., mezzotint engraver, 127, 128

  Duodecimos, 75

  Dupont, H., line engraver, 123

  Dupréel, line engraver, 122

  Dürer, A., artist, 115

  Durham bindings, 185

  Duru, bookbinder, 242

  Dutch printing, 92


  Easter Island inscriptions, 9

  Eastling, J. C., mezzotint engraver, 128

  Ecclesiastical diptychs, 24

  Edwards, J., bookbinder, 147, 171, 201, 202

      ”    J. C., line engraver, 121

  Edy, J. W., aquatint engraver, 130

  Egerton of Tatton, Earl, his silver horn book, 166

  Egyptian mummy cloth paper, 63

      ”    papyrus rolls, 26

  Eisen, C., artist, 122

  Eliot and Chapman, bookbinders, 225

  Elizabeth, Queen, embroidered books, 152

      ”             golden book, 160

  Elizabeth, Queen, velvet books, 151

  Ellis, aquatint engraver, 130

  Elstrack, R., line engraver, 119

  Elyot’s _Image of Governance_, 170

  Embroidered books, 150

  Enamelled bindings, 47, 162

  End papers, 157, 229

  Engleheart, F. C. and T. S., line engravers, 120

  English blind tooled bindings, 184

     ”    coronation book, 188

     ”    panel stamped bindings, 193

     ”    paper, 66

     ”    psalter of the twelfth century, 187

  Engraved metal blocks, 107

  Engraving on wood, 106

  Etching, 123

     ”     soft ground, 124

  “Etruscan” bindings, 201

  European early paper, 65

  Evangelistic emblems on the cover of the Molaise gospels, 50

  Eve, C., bookbinder, 236

   ”   N.,     ”       236

  Evelyn’s _Sculptura_, 127

  Exchequer tallies, 8


  Faber, mezzotint engraver, 127

  “Fanfare” bindings, 236

  Fantin-Latour, lithographer, 133

  Fashion plates in aquatint, 131

  Fazakerly, bookbinder, 231

  Ferrar, N., of Little Gidding, 153

  Ficquet, line engraver, 122

  Fielding, T. H., aquatint engraver, 131

  Filigree bindings, 161

  Finden, W., line and stipple engraver, 120, 125

  Finiguerra, M., artist, 117

  Fischer, C., lithographer, 135

  Fish-skin bindings, 179

  Fishing-rod sign, 16

  Flagellation of Christ, engraving, 116

  Fletcher, painter of book edges, 146

  “Flong,” paper pulp, 96

  Folios, 74

  Folkard, wood engraver, 112

  “Foolscap” watermark, 71

  Forage decoration, 143, 146

  Forels for books, 50

  Foster, B., artist, 113

  Foulquier, V., line engraver, 123

  Fournier, P. E., type founder, 98

  Fragonard, J. H., artist, 122

  Fraudulent bindings, 211

  Frederick of Austria, binding made for, 198

  French blind tooled bindings, 191

  Fry, W., line engraver, 121

  Fust, J., printer, 91


  Galvanic battery used in stereotyping, 96

  Gandara, lithographer, 133

  Garuda stones, 4

  Gaucher, C. S., line engraver, 122

  Gauffring of book edges, 144

  Gaultier, L., line engraver, 122

  Gavarni, artist, 115, 133

  _Gemälde Galerie des K. Museums in Berlin_, 135

  Gericault, lithographer, 133

  German blind tooled bindings, 198

  German book edges, 145

    ”    cut leather work, 197

    ”    panel stamps, 200

  Gibson, J., bookbinder, 216

  Gigoux, J., lithographer, 133

  Gillède, J., bookbinder, 239

  Girardet, line engraver, 123

  Girolamo della Robbia, artist, 88

  Goat leather, 176

  “Goddess of Mercy,” woodcut, 103

  Godfrey, G., bookbinder, 191, 192

  Gold beaters’ sign, 16

  Gold tooling in leather, 206

       ”       on velvet, 154

  Golden bindings, 159

  Goldsmith’s _Vicar of Wakefield_, 130

  Goodall, E., line engraver, 120

  Goodyear, F. and J., line engravers, 120

  Gould, J., naturalist, 134

  Goya, F., artist, 135

  Grace, J., traveller, 49

  Gray, wood engraver, 112

  Greatbach, W., line engraver, 121

  Greek engraved gems, 5

  Green, wood engraver, 112

  Gregory the Great, Pope, 51

  Greville, Charles, patron of art, 129

  Griggs, W., chromo-lithographer, 134

  Grignion, line engraver, 120

  Grolier, W., bindings made for, 209

  Grover, line engraver, 120

  Guerin, P., lithographer, 133

  Guerrero, A., lithographer, 135

  Guild of Bookbinders in France, 232

  Gutenberg, J., printer, 91

  Gypsies’ hieroglyphics, 17


  Haghe, L., lithographer, 134

  Hahn, U., printer, 105

  Halbon, L., line engraver, 122

  Half bindings, 44

  Half-tone blocks, 136

      ”     process, 79

  Ham sign, 16

  “Hand” watermark, 70

  Hard wood for engraving, 114

  Harding, J. D., lithographer, 134

  Harland, J., author, 8

  “Harleian” bindings, 227

  Harley, R., Earl of Oxford, 227

  Harvey, W., wood engraver, 106, 111

  Hassell, aquatint engraver, 130

  Hauber, J., lithographer, 134

  Havell, D., aquatint engraver, 131

  Haydon, B. R., artist, 111

  Headbands, 40, 56

  Heath, C. and J., line engravers, 121

    ”    Ch., publisher, 120

  Heliogravure, 136

  Henri II., bindings made for, 86, 145, 233

    ”        faience, 86

  Henry III., bindings made for, 235

  Henry VII., bindings made for, 148

  Henry VIII., bindings made for, 150, 159, 194

  Henry, Prince of Wales, bindings made for, 216

  Heraldry on bindings, 215

  Hereford Cathedral, chained library at, 164

  Hering, C., bookbinder, 230

  Heriot, G., goldsmith, 160

  Herodius, ivory carver, 54

  Hewitt, Samuel, etcher, 124

  Hiberno-Saxon writing, 19

  Hieratic writing, 18

  Hiroshige, artist, 105

  Hodges’ _Select Views in India_, 130

  Hodgetts, T., mezzotint engraver, 128

  Hodgkin’s _Rariora_, 92

  Hokusai, artist, 105

  Holbein, artist, 110

  Hole, line engraver, 120

  Holl, W., stipple engraver, 125

  Hollar, W., etcher, 124

  Hollis, G., line engraver, 121

  Hollow backs, 38

  Hop tallies, 8

  Horæ of the fifteenth century, 107

  Horn books, 165

  Houston, mezzotint engraver, 127

  Hullmandel, lithographer, 132, 134

  Human leather, 180

  Humphreys, W., line engraver, 120

  Hunt, T., bookbinder, 191

  _Hypnerotomachia Poliphili_, 105


  Ideographs, 16, 17

  Illustrations in books, 102, etc.

  Imitations of bindings by S. Mearne, 226

  Indentures, 9

  Indian amulets, 4

  Irish bindings, 48

    ”   book satchels, 50

  Iroquois League wampum, 14

  Isabey, J. B., artist, 133

  Italian book stamps used on faience, 87

     ”    wood engravings, 105

  Ivory bindings, 47, 53


  Jackson, J. B., wood engraver, 112

  Jacquemart, J., etcher, 125

  Jade books, 5

  James I., heraldry of, 218

    ”       Βασιλικον Δωρον, 160

  Japanese colour blocks, 105

      ”    paper, 65

      ”    wood blocks, 104

  Jenkinson, stipple engraver, 125

  Jentzen, F., lithographer, 135

  Jewish taleth, 12

  Joch, wood engraver, 116

  Johannot, line engraver, 122

  Jollivet, J., lithographer, 135

  Jones’ _Plans of the Alhambra_, 134

  Jordan, B., artist, 116

  Junius, A., author, 90


  Kalthœber, C., bookbinder, 230

  Kangaroo leather, 179

  Karabacek, J., Professor, 63

  Katherine of Arragon, Queen, bindings made for, 195

  _Keepsake, the_, 120

  Kernot, J. H., line engraver, 121

  Knife for engraving soft wood, 113

  Knight, C., stipple engraver, 125

  Koenig, printing press maker, 95

  Korean wood cuts, 104

  Korin, artist, 105

  Kretschmar, E., wood engraver, 116

  Kristeller, P., author, 106


  La Costes, wood engravers, 114

  “Laid” lines on paper, 73

  Landells, the, wood engravers, 112

  Lant, R., bookbinder, 192

  Lasteyrie, lithographer, 133

  Latroo’s _English Rogue_, 124

  Latten, panel stamps cut in, 196

  Laurentian library, 164

  Lawson, C., artist, 113

  Leathers used for binding, 169

  Le Blon’s _Coloritto_, 126

  Leclerc, S., line engraver, 122

  Lefebre, line engraver, 122

  Le Gascon, bookbinder, 145, 239

  Leighton, A., bookbinder, 155

      ”     Lord, artist, 113

  Lelio, Lucretio, of Treviso, 105

  Le Mire, N., line engraver, 122

  Le Monnier, J., bookbinder, 241

  Le Prince, J. B., aquatint engraver, 128

  Leroux, line engraver, 122

  Levant morocco, 176

  Lewis the Pious, Emperor, 52

    ”   C., bookbinder, 230

    ”   F. C., mezzotint engraver, 128

    ”   T. C., line engraver, 120

  Libri, Count G., collector, 211

  Lindau gospels, binding of the, 51

  Line engraving, 116

  Lingée, C. L., line engraver, 122

  Linotype, the, machine, 93

  Linton, W. J., wood engraver, 112

  Lipton, T., mezzotint engraver, 128

  Lithography, 132

  Lithotint, 132

  Little Gidding, 153

         ”        bindings made at, 202, 219

  Loggers’ marks, 9

  Lombards signs, 16

  Longepierre, Baron de, bindings made for, 240

  Lortic, bookbinder, 242

  Lucas, D., mezzotint engraver, 128

  Lucretia, 110

  Lupton, T. G., mezzotint engraver, 128

  Lyons bindings, 214


  MacColl, Miss E., bookbinder, 231

  Macé, R., bookbinder, 192

  Madan, F., author, 18

  Madox, T., historiographer, 189

  Madrazo’s _Collection Lithographica, etc._, 135

  Mainz Psalter, 91, 103

  Maioli, T., collector, 177

  Marbled calf, 201

     ”    morocco, 237

     ”    papers, 158

  Marillier, J. P., line engraver, 123

  Marius-Michel, bookbinder, 242

  Marr, C., stipple engraver, 125

  Marshall, line engraver, 120

  _Maximilian, Triumph of_, 116

  Mazarine Bible, 91

  Mazot, F., line engraver, 119

  Mearne, S., bookbinder, 146, 221

  Mechanical wood pulp papers, 78

  Medici coat of arms, 16

  Medland, T., aquatint engraver, 130

  Meissonnier, artist, 115

  Melissenda, psalter of, 53

  Menzel, A., artist, 135

  Messe dag staves, 7

  Metal bindings, 52, 159

    ”   blocks engraved, 107

    ”   inscriptions, 5

  Mezzotints, 126

  Miles, E., bookbinder, 191

  Millais, Sir J., artist, 113

  Miller, W., line engraver, 121

  Mitan, J., line engraver, 121

  Mittenleiter, J. M., lithographer, 134

  Mitterer, H. J., professor of drawing, 133, 134

  Modern ideographs, 16, 17

  Molaise gospels, 50

  Monnier, H., lithographer, 133

  Monoline machine, the, 98

  Monotype machine, the, 93

  Monza, binding at, 51

  Moreau, P., line engraver, 119

  Morrell & Co., bookbinders, 231

  Morocco leather, 176

  Morris, W., printer, 99

  Mottet, line engraver, 122

  Moulin, J., bookbinder, 192

  Mulready, artist, 112

  Musgrave, Sir G., collector, 167

  Musulman amulets, 4


  Nash’s _Mansions of England_, 134

  Nayler’s, Sir G., _Coronation of George IV._, 131

  Nesbit, wood engraver, 112

  Nicene Creed cut in silver, 6

  Nicholls and Bosse, wood engravers, 116

  Nicholson, W., inventor, 95

  Niedrée, bookbinder, 242

  Niello work on bindings, 161

  Nivet, wood engraver, 114

  Norms, J., bookbinder, 192

  Northcote’s _Fables_, 112

  Notches cut in wood, 6, 7, 8

  Nuremberg, arms of, 145

      ”      Chronicle, 106, 115

  Nuzelmann, wood engraver, 116


  Octavos, 75

  O’Donnell’s cathach, 50

  Ogham inscriptions, 6

  Oiron ware, 86

  Open backs, 38

  Openworked vellum, 202

  Opus Anglicanum, 151

  Oriental bindings with flaps, 59

     ”     palm leaf books, 15

     ”     panel stamps, 59

  Orihons, 29

  Orme’s _Twelve Views of Places in the Kingdom of Mysore_, 130

  Osterwald, G., artist, 116

  Oxford bindings, 191


  Padeloup le Jeune, bookbinder, 240

  Painted bindings, 58

  Panel stamps, 192

  Paper, 62, 66, 73

    ”    pulp, 96

  Papillon, J. M., wood engraver, 112

  Papyrus, 62

     ”     Prisse, 18

  Parchment, 29, 30

  Parker, J., stipple engraver, 125

  Parr, Queen Katharine, embroidress, 152

  Paste boards, 56

  Patas, J. B., line engraver, 122

  Pauquet, line engraver, 122

  Payne, R., bookbinder, 177, 227

  Pegs on panel stamps, 196

  Penn, W., and the wampum belt, 14

  Pennant’s _Account of London_, 124

  Persian bindings, 58, 59

  Peruvian records, 11

  Petit, L., line engraver, 123

  Peupin, wood engraver, 116

  Pfeiffer, stipple engraver, 126

  Pflanzmann, J., publisher, 115

  Photographic facsimiles, 98

  Photogravure, 136

  Pierced vellum, 171

  Pig-skin, 173

  Pigouchet, printer, 107

  “Pin-head” grained morocco, 178

  Pinart, D., bookbinder, 191

  Pine, J., line engraver, 118

  Pisa’s, R. de, _Pantheologia_, 197

  Pleydenwurff, W., wood engraver, 115

  Pointillé engraving, 107

  Polia, of Treviso, 105

  Pompeian diptychs, 20

  Porcelain types, 86

  Porrett, wood engraver, 114

  Portbury, E. and R. J., line engravers, 121

  Portraits in watermarks, 72

  “Post” watermark, 72

  “Pot” watermark, 72

  Prayer wheels, 27

  Prehistoric caves, 2

  Prevost, line engraver, 122

  Prideaux, Miss S., bookbinder, 231

  Prime staves, 7

  Printing in Europe, 90

     ”     on Babylonian cylinders and bricks, 85

     ”     press, 93, 95

  Printing paper in colour, 73

  Proctor, R., author, 98

  Prout, S., artist, 120

  Pudsey, Bishop, library of, 185

  Pugillaria, 20

  Pye, J., line engraver, 120

  Pyne’s _History of the Royal Residences_, 130

  Pynson, R., bookbinder, 110, 193, 197


  Quartos, 74

  Quaternions, 32, 33

  Quinternions, 31

  Quipus of Peru, 11

  Quires, 32


  Raffet, artist, 115, 133

  Rag paper of Samarkand, 63

  Rainer, Archduke, 64

  Ratdolt, E., printer, 105

  Ratisbon, Irish monastery at, 49

  Raynald’s _Byrthe of Mankind_, 119

  “Rectangular” style of binding, 223

  Redon, O., lithographer, 133

  Reeve, R., aquatint engraver, 130

  Repton’s _Sketches of Landscape Gardening_, 130

  Retroussage, 124

  “Rex in Æternum vive” on book edges, 143, 144

  Reynes, J., bookbinder, 192

  Reynolds, S. W., mezzotint engraver, 128

  Rhodes, R., line engraver, 121

  Ribault, J. F., line engraver, 123

  Richenbach, J., bookbinder, 199

  Richter, A., artist, 116

  Rinaldo and Armida, 112

  Ring markings, 2, 3

  Rivett-Carnac, Col. H. J., 3

  Rivière & Son, bookbinders, 231

  Roan leather, 175

  Robins, H., line engraver, 121

  Robinson, H., stipple engraver, 125

      ”     J. H., line engraver, 120

  Roberts’ _Holy Land_, 134

  Roce, D., bookbinder, 192

  Rock markings, 2

  Roffet, E., bookbinder, 232

  Rogers’, S., _Italy_ and _Poems_, 120

     ”         _Pleasures of Memory_, 112

  Rolls, C., line engraver, 120

  Rolt’s _Lives of the Reformers_, 127

  Roman diptychs, 20

    ”   engraved gems, 5

    ”   name brands, 5

  Romney, Lord, 160

  Rood, T., bookbinder, 191

  Rosaries, 12

  Rosetta stone, 3

  Rossetti, D. G., artist, 113

  Rouget, wood engraver, 114

  Rough side of calf leather, 202

  Rounded backs of books, 43

  Roux, wood engraver, 114

  Rowlandson, artist, 130

  Royal Irish Academy, 49

  Ruette, M., bookbinder, 240

  Rune staves, 7

  Runic inscriptions, 6

  Rupert, Prince, mezzotint engraver, 127

  Russia leather, 172


  _Saddharmapundarika Sutra_, 103

  St. Christopher, woodcut, 89

  St. Cuthbert’s gospels, 185

  St. Esprit, French order of the, 236

  St. John Latran, bookbinders’ guild, 232

  St. Maurice D’Agaune, church of, 55

  St. Michel, French order of, 236

  St. Porchaire, Faience de, 87

  St. Wallberg, church of, 164

  Samarkand, paper made at, 63

  Sandby, P., aquatint engraver, 129

  Sandys, F., artist, 113

  Sangorsky, F., bookbinder, 231

  Sangster, S., line engraver, 121

  Satchels for books, 50

  Satin bindings, 152

    ”   printing on, 73

  Sauné, J., line engraver, 122

  Savart, P., line engraver, 123

  “Sawn in” backs, 39

  Say, W., mezzotint engraver, 128

  Schöffer, P., printer, 91

  Schrödter, A., artist, 116

  Scotin, line engraver, 120

  Scott, J. L., of the British Museum, 144

  Scrive knife, 113

  Sea lion leather, 179

  Seal leather, 179

  Sears, wood engraver, 114

  Semis, 215, 218

  Sen, tablet of, 4

  Send hieroglyphic, 18

  Senefelder, A., lithographer, 132

  Sewing frames for binders, 34

  Sewing of books, the, 35

  Sharpe, J., line engraver, 121

  Sheep leather, 174

  Shot silk effect in half-tone prints, 137

  Siberch, J., bookbinder, 191

  Siegen, L. von, mezzotint engraver, 126

  “Signatures” in printed books, 73

  Silk bindings, 152, 156

    ”  paper, 62

    ”  printing on, 73

  Silver bindings, 161

  Simounet, J. B., line engraver, 122

  Simpson, Sir J., antiquary, 3

  Sion, in the Rhone valley, 55

  “Six Nations” wampum, 13

  Sizes of printed books, 76

  “Skiver” leather, 175

  Small metal bindings, 161

  Smith, D. and W. R., line engravers, 120

    ”    O., wood engraver, 114

  Smooth morocco, 177

  Société des Amis des Livres, 137

  Society of Arts Committee on Paper, 1898 ... 77

  Soft wood engravings, 113

  Soyer, S., wood engraver, 114

  _Speculum, Humanæ Salvationis_, 90

  Spierinck, N., bookbinder, 191

  Split sheep-skin, 175

  Sprinkled calf, 201

  Stabbed bindings, 31

  Stadler, J. C., aquatint engraver, 130

  Staffordshire clog almanacks, 7

  Staggemeier, bookbinder, 234

  Stanfield, artist, 134

  Stanhope, C., Earl, 94

  “Star” watermark, 65

  Steam printing press, 1814 ... 95

  Steel engraving, 122

  Stencil plates for colouring prints, 108

  Stephanoff, F. and J., artists, 131

  Stereotyping, 96

  Stipple engraving, 125

  Stothard, artist, 120

  Stowe House, library at, 189

    ”   missal, 48

  “Straight grained” morocco, 178

  Sturt, J., line engraver, 118

  Styles for writing on wax, 20, 21

  Sullivan, Sir E., bookbinder, 231

  Sulphuric acid in leather, 180

  Sumatran bark books, 29

     ”     calendars, 7

     ”     symbolic messages, 10

  Sutcliffe, G., bookbinder, 231

  Sutherland, T., aquatint engraver, 130, 131

  Swain, wood engraver, 112

  Symbolic messages, 10

     ”     signs on rocks, 3


  Taleth fringes, 11

  Talismans, 5

  Tallies, 5

  Tasselled ecclesiastical hats, 13

  Tasso’s _Gerusalemme Liberata_, 112

  Tate, J., printer, 66

  Taylor’s, I., _History of the Alphabet_, 18

  Taylor, W. D., line engraver, 121

  Test for clay paper, 82

  Theodelinda, Queen of the Lombards, 51

  Thibetan prayer wheels, 27

  Thiebault, wood engraver, 114

  Thompson, Sir E. M., _Manual of Greek and Roman Palæography_, 18

     ”      J., wood engraver, 112

  Thouvenin, bookbinder, 242

  Three-colour process, 137

  Tillard, J. B., line engraver, 122

  _The Times_ of 20th November, 1814 ... 95

  Title-page engraved on wood, 66

  Torres Straits, tallies used in the, 9

  Tortoiseshell bindings, 161, 163

  Tory, G., artist, 97, 233

  Tours, conference at, 19

  Transparent vellum, 171, 202

  Trautz, bookbinder, 242

  Tree marbled calf, 201

  Trench along the edges of book boards, 56

  Trière, P., line engraver, 122

  Tudor badges, 191, 195

  Tuerlinckoe, lithographer, 135

  Turner, C., mezzotint engraver, 128

     ”    J. M. W., artist, 120, 127, 128

  Turrecremata, _Meditations_, 105

  Type casting, 92

    ”  founding in England, 99

    ”  metal, 92

    ”  specimen sheets, 97


  Utamaro, K., artist, 105

  Uzanne, O., author, 137


  Vander Meulen, lithographer, 135

  Vangelisty, stipple engraver, 126

  Van Loo, lithographer, 135

  Vellum bindings, 36, 169, 202

    ”    pierced, 171, 202

    ”    preparation of, 30

    ”    printing on, 73

    ”    rolls, 27, 28

    ”    transparent, 171, 202

  Velvet bindings, 149

  Venetian bindings, 206

  Verard, A., printer, 108

  Vernet, H., artist, 115, 133

  Villa Dei, A. de, _Doctrinale_, 91

  Villerey, line engraver, 123

  Vogel, A., artist, 116


  Wagstaffe, C., stipple engraver, 125

  Walker, F., artist, 113

  Wallis, H., and R., line engravers, 120

  Walther, bookbinder, 230

  Wampum belts, 13

  Warren, C., line engraver, 121

  Watermarks, 64, 68

  Weale, W. H. J., author, 183

  Webber’s _Views in the South Seas_, 130

  Whimper, wood engraver, 112

  Whistler, J. M., artist, 132

  Whitaker, J., bookbinder, 201

  “White line” engraving, 110

  Whymper, J. W., wood engraver, 112

  Wick rotary type-casting machine, 92

  Wier, R., bookbinder, 229

  Wiesner, J., _Professor_, 63

  Willett, lithographer, 133

  Williams, M. A., S., and T., wood engravers, 114

     ”      T. J., line engraver, 121

  Willmore, T., line engraver, 121

  Wilson, J. L., bookbinder, 155

  Wimborne Minster, chained library at, 164

  Winchester Domesday Book, 185

  Wohlgemuth, M., wood engraver, 115

  Wood-cut illustrations, 103

  Wood pulp used for paper, 77

  Wooden types, 86, 88

  Woolrich, Miss N. E., bookbinder, 231

  Wordsworth, Mrs., amateur bookbinder, 153

  Woven book, 73

  Wright, wood engraver, 112


  Xylographs, 89


  Young, J., mezzotint engraver, 127


  Zaehnsdorf, bookbinder, 231

  Zainer, G., publisher, 115

  Zinc blocks, 136


       *       *       *       *       *

Transcriber’s Notes:

The single footnote has been moved to the end of its chapter.

Illustrations have been moved to paragraph breaks near where they are

Punctuation has been made consistent.

Variations in spelling, hyphenation, and accenting were retained
as they appear in the original publication, except that obvious
typographical errors have been corrected.

p. 62: βυβλοἱ transliterates into English as bubloi.

p. 144: Ναβουχοδονὀσωρ Εσαει ζῆθι transliterates into English as
Nabouchodonosôr Esaei zêthi.

p. 180: βασιλικον Δωρον transliterates into English as basilikon Dôron.

p. 251: Βασιλικον Δωρον transliterates into English as: Basilikon Dôron.

Several Index entries are spelled differently than their targets,

  p. 252: Marillier versus Marillien on p. 123 (Marillier, J. P., line)

  p. 252: Meissonnier versus Meissonier on p. 115 (Meissonnier, artist,

  p. 254: Porrett versus Porret on p. 114 (Porrett, wood engraver)

  p. 256: Humanæ versus Humanae on p. 90 (_Speculum, Humanæ

  p. 256: Simounet versus Simonnet on p. 122 (Simounet, J. B., line)

The following changes were made:

  p. 245: page number 122 added (line engraver, 122.)

  p. 248: Dupréal was changed to Dupréel (Dupréel, line engraver)

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