as a writer of the time expresses it, and this style naturally lent itself to the needleworked decoration. This decoration was especially favoured in England, and the ladies of the period executed some very fine pieces of embroidery as “pleasant covertures” for their books, using coloured silks and gold and silver thread on velvet or other material. One of the earliest embroidered bindings covers a description of the Holy Land, written by Martin Brion, and dedicated to Henry VIII. It is of crimson velvet, with the English arms enclosed in the Garter, between two H's, and the Tudor rose in each corner, and it is worked in silks, gold thread, and seed pearls. Queen Elizabeth is said to have preferred embroidered bindings to those of leather, and to have been very skilful in working them. The copy of De Antiquitate Britannicæ Ecclesiæ, which the author, Archbishop Parker, presented to the Queen, has a cover which is very elaborately embroidered indeed. It is of contemporary English work, and is thus described in the British Museum Guide to the Printed Books exhibited in the King's Library:—
“Green velvet, having as a border a representation of the paling of a deer park, embroidered in gold and silver thread; the border on the upper cover enclosing a rose bush bearing red and white roses, surrounded by various other flowers, and by deer; the lower cover has a similar border, but contains deer, snakes, plants and flowers; the whole being executed in gold and silver thread and coloured silks. On the back are embroidered red and white roses.” Embroidered bindings remained in fashion during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and plain velvet, too, was often used, sometimes with gold or silver mounts.
The old Royal Library, which was given to the nation by George II., contains a large number of sumptuous bookbindings; and that our Sovereigns were not unmindful of the welfare of their literary treasures may also be gathered from various entries in the Wardrobe Books and from other documents. Thus, we read that Edward IV. paid Alice Clavers, “for the makyng of xvj. laces and xvj. tassels for the garnysshing of divers of the kinge's bookes ijs. viijd.”; and “Piers Bauduyn, stacioner, for bynding gilding and dressing of a booke called Titus Livius xxs., for binding gilding and dressing of a booke of the The Holy Trinity xvjs.,” and so on. Again, in the bill delivered to Henry VIII. by Thomas Berthelet, his majesty's printer and binder, are found such entries as these:—
“Item delyvered to the kinge's highnes the vj. day of January a Psalter in englische and latine covered with crimoysyn satyne, 2s.”
“Item delyvered to the kinge's hyghnes for a little Psalter, takyng out of one booke and settyng in an other in the same place, and for gorgeous binding of the same booke xijd.; and to the Goldesmythe for taking off the claspes and corners and for setting on the same ageyne xvjd.”
Among the various styles which may be classed as fancy bindings may be instanced the seventeenth century tortoise-shell covers with silver mounts and ornaments, which have a very handsome effect, and the mosaic decoration of the same period. This mosaic decoration was made by inlaying minute pieces of differently coloured leathers, and finishing them with gold tooling. It was work which called for great dexterity in manipulation, and in skilful hands the result was very pretty and graceful.
Even from this slight sketch it will be seen that bookbindings have always presented unlimited opportunities for originality on the part of the worker, as regards both design and material. Wood and leather, gold and silver, ivory and precious stones, coloured enamels, impressed papier-mâché, gold-tooled leather and embroidered fabric, pasteboard and parchment, have all been pressed into the service, and the subject of bookbindings is a fascinating branch of book history. But from their nature bindings are difficult to describe in an interesting manner, and words can hardly do justice to them without the aid of facsimile illustrations.
The ordinary bindings of to-day are practically confined to two styles, the cloth and the leather, and those combinations of leather and cloth or leather and paper which make the covers of half-bound and quarter-bound volumes. Cloth binding, the binding of the nineteenth century, is an English invention, and came into use in 1823. On the Continent books are still issued in paper covers and badly stitched, on the assumption that if worth binding at all, they will be bound by the purchaser as he pleases. But although the English commercial cloth binding is often charged for far too highly, no one can deny its convenience, and its superiority over the paper undress of foreign works. Moreover, it is the homely, everyday garb of the great majority of our favourite volumes, and though, no doubt, it is delightful to possess books sumptuously bound, book-lovers of less ambition, or of lighter purses than those who can command such luxuries, are not very much to be pitied. There is something characteristic about a book in a cloth cover which it loses when it dons the livery of its owner's library. Cloth is not only more varied in texture, but admits of greater freedom and variety of design than does leather, so there is something to be said in its favour in spite of the contention that direct handicraft is preferable to handicraft which works through a machine, and that one of a batch of bindings printed by the thousand is not to be compared with a single specimen of tooled leather which has cost a pair of human hands hours of careful toil. The little libraries with which so many of us have to be contented owe their bright and cheerful appearance to the cloth covers of the books, in which each book stands out with modest directness, wearing its individuality instead of losing it in a crowd of neighbours dressed exactly like itself. In a series uniformly bound, however, a family likeness is not only admissible, but pleasing. It gives an idea of unison among, perhaps, widely differing individuals. But the unison which is becoming to a family makes a community monotonous.
On the other hand, something stronger than cloth is necessary when books are to be subjected to special wear and tear, and desirable when a volume is to be particularly honoured or when the library it is to enter is large and important. Protection is the first purpose of a binding, and endurance its first quality, and the experience of centuries has shown that the walls in the fairy-tale were right when they said,
“Gilding will fade in damp weather,
To endure, there is nothing like leather.”