- About Bookbinding -

Book Binders Outlook part 4

M. Uzanne also advocated that the monopoly of leather should be infringed, and that books be bound in stuffs, in velvet now and again, and in old brocades. And what could be more delightfully congenial to Mr. Dobson's "Vignettes in Rhyme," wherein the poet sings of the days when
. . . France's bluest blood Danced to the tune of "After us, the flood!"

- what could be more harmonious to his "Proverbs in Porcelain," than to robe those dainty volumes of verse in a remnant of damask or golden brocade saved from the dress of the Pompadour? What could be a fitter apparel for the "Madame Crysantheme" of Pierre Loti than a Japanese silk strangely embroidered, with a label of Japanese leather on the back, and with Japanese water colors as end papers?

In M. U zanne's later volume on "La Reliure Moderne" there are photogravures of books bound in accordance with hints of his – the cartonnage a la Pompadour for one. But of all those who were reaching out in new directions with hope of renewing the art of the bookbinder, Philippe Burty seemed to me to have been the most fertile. One of his tentatives was a bold and frequent use of his own monogram in the decoration of his books; especially noteworthy was the skilful employment of this monogram in the dentelle, or border of the inside, oftener than not disfigured in America and in England by a hackneyed "wheel," blurring brutally at the corners.

In the bindings of Henry II and Diana of Poitiers we can see the most admirable utilization of a monogram and a device; and here is a model modern book decorators may follow from afar as best they can. So, too, Longepierre made use of the emblem of the Golden Fleece, for which today bibliopegic argonauts voyage in vain. In the cutting of special tools, monograms, devices, significant emblems, masks, lyres, torches, or tears, each owned by the individual book owner, there is perhaps hope of some relief from the stereotyped insipidity of the ordinary binder's stock in trade.

It is very difficult to indicate the probable line of bibliopegic development. Only after many a vain effort and many a doubtful struggle do we ever attain the goal of our desires. Setting our faces to the future, we must let the dead past bury its dead, and we must give up the lifeless imitation of defunct styles. Greater variety is needed, greater freedom also, such as some of the other decorative arts have achieved of late years. The duty of the booklover is equal to that of the bookbinder; they must need work together for the advance of the art. For their collaboration to be pregnant the book lover must educate himself in the possibilities and in the technical limitations of the art. Every architect will confess that he has had many a practical suggestion from his clients, and more often from the wives of his clients; and the influence of the book-lover on the bookbinder can be even more beneficial.

In dealing with the ordinary uninspired workman, perhaps the less said the better, and the simpler the work entrusted to him the more satisfactory it is,likely to be. Here, perhaps, the most that can be done is to follow the fashion and prescribe the style. With an intelligent binder, fond of his art, and not afraid of a step aside from the beaten path, the book lover can do much, encouraging his ally, lending him boldness, keeping him up to the mark, sustaining him to do his best, showing him the most interesting work that has been done elsewhere. The relation of the patron offensive vocable to the decorative artist is not unlike that of the stage-manager to the actor, Samson to Rachel" for instance, M. Sardou to Mme. Sarah Bernhardt; he can show what he wants done, even though he cannot do it himself. This is what Grolier did, and De Thou, and M. Burty. Thus the bookbinder and the book lover fare forward together, making interesting experiments, whereby the art progresses, even though the most of the experiments fail.

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