Calf bindings have always been great favorites with book-lovers, and there are few things more beautiful—prima facie, than a volume daintily bound in light French calf, as smooth as glass, as fine as silk, with elegant gold tooling without and within, gilt edges, and fly-leaves of finest satin. I said beautiful, prima facie—and this calls to mind the definition of that law term by a learned Vermont jurist, who said: "Gentlemen of the jury, I must explain to you that a prima facie case is a case that is very good in front, but may be very bad in the rear." So of our so much lauded and really lovely calf bindings: they develop qualities in use which give us pause. Calf is the most brittle of the leathers—hence it is always breaking at the hinges; it is a very smooth leather—hence it shows every scratch instantly; it is a light and delicate leather—hence it shows soils and stains more quickly than any other. Out of every hundred calf-bound volumes in any well-used library, there will not remain ten which have not had to be re-bound or repaired at the end of twenty or thirty years. Heavy volumes bound in calf or half-calf leather will break by their own weight on the shelves, without any use at all; and smaller volumes are sure to have their brittle joints snapped asunder by handling sooner or later—it is only a question of time.
Next comes Russia leather, which is very thick and strong, being made of the hides of cattle, colored, and perfumed by the oil of birch, and made chiefly in Russia. The objections to this leather are its great cost, its stiffness and want of elasticity, and its tendency to desiccate and lose all its tenacity in the dry or heated atmosphere of our libraries. It will break at the hinges—though not so readily as calf.
Lastly, we have the morocco leather, so called because it was brought from Morocco, in Africa, and still we get the best from thence, and from the Mediterranean ports of the Levant—whence comes another name for the best of this favorite leather, "Levant morocco," which is the skin of the mountain goat, and reckoned superior to all other leathers. The characteristics of the genuine morocco, sometimes called Turkey morocco, having a pebbled grain, distinguishing it from the smooth morocco, are its toughness and durability, combined with softness and flexibility. It has a very tenacious fibre, and I have never found a real morocco binding broken at the hinges. The old proverb—"there is nothing like leather"—is pregnant with meaning, and especially applies to the best morocco. As no material yet discovered in so many ages can take the place of leather for foot-wear and for harness, such is its tenacity and elasticity—so for book coverings, to withstand wear and tear, good leather is indispensable. There are thoroughly-bound books existing which are five centuries old—representing about the time when leather began to replace wood and metals for binding. The three great enemies of books are too great heat, too much moisture, and coal gas, which produces a sulphurous acid very destructive to bindings, and should never be used in libraries. From the dangers which destroy calf and Russia leather, morocco is measurably free.
As to color, I usually choose red for books which come to binding or rebinding, for these reasons. The bulk of every library is of dark and sombre color, being composed of the old-fashioned calf bindings, which grow darker with age, mingled with the cloth bindings of our own day, in which dark colors predominate. Now the intermixture of red morocco, in all or most of the newly bound books, relieves the monotony of so much blackness, lights up the shelves, and gives a more cheerful aspect to the whole library. Some there are who insist upon varying the colors of bindings with the subjects of the books—and the British Museum Library actually once bound all works on botany in green, poetry in yellow, history in red, and theology in blue; but this is more fanciful than important. A second reason for preferring red in moroccos is that, being dyed with cochineal, it holds its color more permanently than any other—the moroccos not colored red turning to a dingy, disagreeable brown after forty or fifty years, while the red are found to be fast colors. This was first discovered in the National Library of France, and ever since most books in that great collection have been bound in red. A celebrated binder having recommended this color to a connoisseur who was having fine morocco binding done, instanced the example of the Paris Library, whose books, said he, are "mostly red," to which the amateur replied that he hoped they were.
Add to the merits of morocco leather the fact that it is not easily scratched nor stained, that it is very tough in wear, and resists better than any other the moisture and soiling of the hands—and we have a material worthy of all acceptance.
In half-binding chosen for the great majority of books because it is much cheaper than full leather, the sides are covered with muslin or with some kind of colored paper—usually marble. The four corners of every book, however, should always be protected by leather or, better still, by vellum, which is a firmer material—otherwise they will rapidly wear off, and the boards will break easily at their corners. As to the relative merits of cloth and paper for the sides of books, cloth is far more durable, though it costs more. Paper becomes quickly frayed at the edges, or is liable to peel where pasted on, though it may be renewed at small expense, and may properly be used except upon the much-read portion of the library. The cloth or paper should always harmonize in color with the leather to which it is attached. They need not be the same, but they should be of similar shade.
One more reason for preferring morocco to other leathers is that you can always dispense with lettering-pieces or patches in gilding the titles on the back. All light-colored bindings (including law calf) are open to the objection that gold lettering is hardly legible upon them. Hence the necessity of stamping the titles upon darker pieces of leather, which are fastened to the backs. These lettering-pieces become loose in over-heated libraries, and tend continually to peel off, entailing the expense of repairing or re-lettering. Every morocco bound book can be lettered directly upon the leather. Bock is made of the skin of the Persian sheep, and is called Persian in London. It is a partially unsuccessful imitation of morocco, becoming easily abraded, like all the sheep-skin leathers, and although it is to be had in all colors, and looks fairly handsome for a time, and is tougher than skiver (or split sheep-skin), the books that are bound in it will sooner or later become an eyesore upon the shelves. A skin of Persian leather costs about one-third the price of genuine morocco, or goat. But the actual saving in binding is in a far less ratio—the difference being only six to eight cents per volume. It is really much cheaper to use morocco in the first place, than to undergo all the risks of deterioration and re-binding.
Of the various imitations of leather, or substitutes for it, we have leatherette, leather-cloth, duck, fibrette, feltine, and buckram. Buckram and duck are strong cotton or linen fabricks, made of different colors, and sometimes figured or embossed to give them somewhat the look of leather. Hitherto, they are made mostly in England, and I have learned of no American experience in their favor except the use of stout duck for covering blank books and binding newspapers. The use of buckram has been mostly abandoned by the libraries. Morocco cloth is American, but has no advantage over plain muslin or book cloth, that I am aware of. Leatherette, made principally of paper, colored and embossed to simulate morocco leather, appears to have dropped out of use almost as fast as it came in, having no quality of permanence, elegance, or even of great cheapness to commend it. Leatherette tears easily, and lacks both tenacity and smoothness.
Both feltine and fibrette are made of paper—tear quickly, and are unfit for use on any book that is ever likely to be read. All these imitations of leather are made of paper as their basis, and hence can never be proper substitutes for leather.
All torn leaves or plates in books should be at once mended by pasting a very thin onion-skin paper on both sides of the torn leaf, and pressing gently between leaves of sized paper until dry.