Early Binding Stamps of Religious Significance in
Certain
American Libraries: A Supplementary Report
by
Eunice Wead
A STYLE OF BOOK DECORATION WHICH HAS attracted very
little
attention in this country and yet offers ample opportunity for
study, is the infinitely varied blind-stamped binding of the 15th
and first half of the 16th century. Some years ago an article by
the present writer entitled "Binding Stamps of Religious
Significance in Certain American Libraries" appeared in The
Colophon (Part 20, 1935), describing examples found in a
comparatively small number of libraries. Since then the search has
been extended from the Library of Congress and other eastern
libraries to the Huntington Library in California, and an
interesting new group of stamps seem worth reporting upon and
illustrating. The scope is limited as in the previous paper, and
the intention is not to reproduce designs which may easily be found
in books familiar to students of binding, but to offer a few which
to the writer at least are new. It is a pleasure to acknowledge the
permission kindly given by the various
libraries and individual owners to illustrate the bindings under
discussion.
Since bindings decorated in blind, that is without the use of
gold or color, are less familiar to book collectors than the more
ornate specimens with gold ornament, it may be well to explain
briefly the technique of producing them. The earliest and simplest
method was to make relief impressions, one at a
time, upon dampened leather with a small deeply engraved die or
stamp, which was heated before using, and there are scattered
examples of this technique as early as the 10th and 11th centuries,
though its great flowering of artistic development did not come
until the 12th. After a gap of two centuries which have left almost
no examples, the 15th offers an enormous number of bindings adorned
in this manner. In the late 1400's a second method was devised, the
use of the roll, by which a repetition of one or of several designs
engraved on a small wheel could quickly be obtained. Sometimes the
roll is used in combination with single stamps, sometimes alone, or
again combined with the third form of decoration, the panel. By
using this comparatively large die, the cover of a book could be
more rapidly filled than by repeated impressions of a single tool,
or even by repeated rows of a design applied by a roll. This panel
stamp was also of metal engraved in relief, intended to be tied
onto the dampened leather of a book cover and inserted into a heavy
press. Its period of greatest use was the first half of the 16th
century, but there are earlier examples, one of them, according to
a Dutch authority, as early as the 13th century. For artistic
interest, the panel is greatly superior to the two simpler methods,
for its ampler surface gives opportunity for delineation of scenes
as well as of single persons, and some of the panels are comparable
in fineness of execution to contemporary woodcuts and engravings,
from which indeed some of them are copied.
The reader concerned with the background of this subject must
certainly consult the work of three English authorities—Weale,
who pioneered in the 1890's in publishing an account of the
blind-stamped bindings of the South Kensington Museum[1] and whose unfinished research on
similar bindings in the British Museum was continued by another
hand;[2] Goldschmidt,
whose two volumes discuss and illustrate his own remarkable
collection, since dispersed;
[3] and
Hobson,
[4] whose great knowledge
ranged over the whole field of binding, and included meticulous
study of blind-stamped specimens from the 12th through the 16th
centuries. The copious notes and explanations of these last two
writers are delightful reading. From them and others to whom they
refer one may learn many things, for instance that these bindings
were produced in both monastic and commercial establishments, some
of which may be recognized by certain small stamps peculiar to
them; that it is sometimes possible to determine ownership of the
volumes by recognizing characteristic stamps such as the arms of a
monastery, or its patron saint, or more obviously its name on a
scroll or label in gothic lettering. The reader will also see how
a careful student goes about trying to localize a binding which may
lack its own identifying
stamps, attaching great importance to the pattern by which the
stamps are arranged, and to the waste material which may have been
used to line the covers and back, and to inscriptions of ownership
or anything else showing provenance. Furthermore, he will observe
that it was the custom to send books out from the printing centers
all over Europe, in unbound sheets, and that comparatively few
instances are recorded of a printer or publisher, in the period
under discussion, selling his books already bound. Therefore—and
this should be emphasized—place of printing and of binding are by
no means necessarily the same, in fact they are often widely
separated. So in this paper inclusion of the place of printing is
for the interest of incunabula study rather than that of binding.
All these points and infinitely more in the way of information and
elucidation may be found in the books referred to.
Examples of blind-stamped bindings are not hard to find in
American libraries, and are nowhere near so scarce as are the
persons who have been interested enough to pay attention to them.
It takes a little trouble sometimes to make out the intaglio
designs of single stamps which are often as small as a dime and
seldom larger than a quarter dollar, and are often clearer in
rubbings than in the original impressions. Numerically the designs
run into the thousands, some of them purely conventional, some of
flowers and vines, birds and animals both actual and mythical like
the wyvern, griffin, and others from medieval bestiaries, some
representing hunting scenes and other secular affairs. The leathers
which take particularly well the impressions of the metal dies are
calf and pigskin, stretched over wooden boards as a rule, and for
the most part on folios, or, less frequently, quartos. The panels
are mostly on smaller books. Our examples are nearly all on brown
calf folios over wooden boards, and this may be assumed unless
otherwise specified.
The calf varies in quality from a very fine and highly polished to
a decidedly rough surface, and in color from light to reddish
brown. Details of bevelling of the wooden boards, of clasps and
catches, headbands, and other technical matters are omitted as not
of general interest, though of importance to students of binding
technique. Our imprints are for the most part German incunabula and
many famous printers are here represented. Likewise the stamps may
be assumed to be of German workmanship unless otherwise stated.
Our illustrations are produced from photostat negatives of
pencil rubbings made directly from the books. Negatives are used
rather than positives, as they are clearer. The exceptions are Fig.
4, made from a photostat of the book itself, not from a rubbing,
and Fig. 21, which is a positive. All illustrations are of the
actual size of the originals.
The panel stamp being the latest is also the highest development
artistically of decoration in blind, so we begin with a specimen
found quite unexpectedly during the recent war, when the treasures
of the Army Medical Library of Washington
were stored for safe keeping in Cleveland. It represents Our Lady
of Pity (Fig. 1), appearing on both covers of a small folio
(Averroes'
Colliget: liber medicina, printed at Venice in
1482), surrounded by a leafy border formed by a roll. Details were
submitted to Mr. Hobson, then at work on his monograph
Blind-stamped Panels in the English Book Trade,
c1485-1555.
[5] He added
this
to his list of panels, calling it almost certainly Flemish in
origin, of the 16th century. The gothic inscription surrounding the
central figure reads: 'Salve mater | dolorosa iuxta crucem |
lacrimosa | in ualle tristitie' |, which suggests of course the
familiar Stabat Mater. Mr. Hobson's comment is "no doubt the
opening of a hymn. The first line is quoted in Julian's
Hymnology from a manuscript Horae of about 1440 in the
library of Trinity College, Cambridge (MS.258;B.11.19).
Unfortunately, this is inaccessible at present, so it is neither
possible to say whether the second and third lines correspond with
those on the panels, nor whether the hymn is a variant of the
Stabat Mater, as Julian says, or a completely different composition
as the different third lines indicate—the third line of the
Stabat Mater being 'Dum pendebat filius'." Mr. Hobson was writing
during the war, and no doubt the manuscript to which he refers is
now available for some student of hymnology to settle this
point.
Cyril Davenport's Cameo Book Stamps (1911)
illustrates
by
a line drawing a similar but not identical panel with the same
inscription, while Dr. Ilse Schunke[6] describes under the heading
"Pietà
Meister," but does not illustrate, a panel which seems to be
identical in both design and size. It should be noted that her
description is in an article on Cologne rolls and panels,
but
she was writing several years before Mr. Hobson, whose work
represents later research.
Another panel of possible Flemish origin and much artistic charm
is on a small binding in the library of Union Theological Seminary
in New York (Fig. 2). It covers an octavo imprint from Antwerp
(Rosemond, Confessionale, 1518) together with one from
Paris
of 1503 and another from Leipzig of 1518. An inscription on a
flyleaf reads: "liber B Mariae in Huisborg", i.e. the
Benedictine monastery Huyseburg in the diocese of Halberstadt. The
upper cover shows a graceful halo-ed figure with flowing hair and
draperies, who seems to be pouring something from her bowl into a
bowl or plate held by a small figure whose head comes only as high
as her knee. The tiled pavement and the wall against which she
stands are decorated with a conventional flower which may be a
rose, and this together with her gesture of bounty suggests that
the lady may be St. Elizabeth of Hungary. Thanks are due to Dr.
Edgar Wind of the Art Department of Smith College for this
attribution. Mr. Hobson
(in a letter to the writer) commented that no other panel of her is
known, and that her usual crown is not discernible in this not very
clear impression. As to this latter objection, a checking of
numerous references in the Princeton and other iconographic indexes
reveals several representations with halo but no crown, and it is
hoped that raising the question here may invite further discussion.
Incidentally, Holbein's painting of St. Elizabeth in the Munich
Gallery shows a similar attitude, but here the crown is visible. In
our reproduction of the binding, the dark tongue at the right is
the leather clasp extending from the lower cover.
A panel of a quite different sort, though less decorative and in
our example badly worn, has nevertheless proved to be of great
interest. This represents one of the angels of the Apocalypse (Fig.
3) on a binding belonging to Holy Name College, Washington, D. C.
(Alexander de Hales, In Psalmos, Venice, 1496). The central
figure stands out against a starry background,
and with the help of the description in Revelation X, one can
imagine this "mighty angel come down from Heaven," "his right foot
upon the sea and his left foot on the earth," one hand lifted up to
Heaven and in the other a little book open. "And I went unto the
angel and said to him, 'Give me the little book.' And he said unto
me, 'Take it, and eat it up; and it shall make thy belly bitter,
but it shall be in thy mouth sweet as honey.'" It is the Latin
words of the angel's dismal command which form the surrounding
gothic inscription, well-nigh illegible, but by a triumph of
erudition and patience it has been interpreted by the librarian of
Holy Name College, Fr. Barnabas Abele, O.F.M., and supplies the
clue for identifying this particular Apocalyptic angel. He sends
this version of Revelation X, 9, reading from the upper left
corner: "Accipe librum, et devora illum: et faciet amaricari
ventrum tuum, sed in ore tuo erit dulce tamquam mel." The book once
belonged to the Minorites of
Brussels, according to two inscriptions within, and there are other
details to suggest that it was bound in the Netherlands. Here is
another instance of a long journey from a printing press on the
shore of the Adriatic to a bindery all the way across Europe.
In the Walters Gallery in Baltimore is a panel which presumably
has not been reproduced, though it is described by Weale (R490) as
of Burgundy origin, and shows the Annunciation beneath a crocketed
canopy. The binding of lightish brown calf encases an early 15th
century vellum manuscript Book of Hours of Paris use. The identical
panel with some of the same and some different border stamps is on
a binding belonging to Mr. J. Christian Bay, Librarian Emeritus of
the John Crerar Library, Chicago. Here the design appears on both
covers of a charming illuminated manuscript of the Hours of the
Blessed Virgin, and shows, like the Walters binding, evidence of
French origin and ownership. The manuscript belonged as recently as
1906 to the famous library of George Dunn of Woolley Hall, near
Maidenhead. Our illustration (Fig. 4) is
from the lower cover of Mr. Bay's book, and reproduces the whole
cover, to show the borders of small square stamps and of oblong
stamps with a hunting scene, the whole surrounded by a fleur-de-lis
design made by a roll.
There must be many examples of panels, rolls and single stamps
of interest in the possession of other American book collectors.
One of them, Mr. Howard Goodhart of New York, has been kind enough
to permit illustration of a pair of panels on the binding of a late
15th century Dutch manuscript on paper of Thomas à Kempis. One
of them represents St. John holding a chalice (Fig. 5), the other
St. Barbara standing beside her tower (Fig. 6). Goldschmidt (no.
210) describes a St. John panel from Antwerp which is similar,
though slightly larger in each direction. This difference may
perhaps be explained by the differing amount of shrinkage in the
leathers. Mr. Good-hart's manuscript is from the fine old
collection of Sir Thomas Phillipps of Middlehill, near
Cheltenham.
Turning now to the earliest form of decoration in blind in
general use, the single stamp, the two examples which follow have
come from the Henry E. Huntington Library in San Marino,
California. A small quarto printed in Cologne by Ulrich Zell[7] shows in a lozenge Adam and Eve,
the
tree and the serpent between them, Eve holding the fatal apple in
her left hand (Fig. 7). Adam and Eve stamps of other shapes have
been illustrated, but not this lozenge, so far as discovered. The
book once belonged to the Praemonstratensians in Ratisbon. A
curious lozenge which may possibly be meant for Eve is on a
Strassburg folio of about 1481.[8] It
is impressed upon a reddish brown binding whose wide center panel
is crossed by diagonal fillets, the resulting spaces filled by this
tool. Comparison with some of Cranach's work has suggested to at
least three iconographers that this is intended for Eve (Fig.
8).
New Testament subjects are much more numerous than those
from the Old, and the Annunciation is a favorite theme of the small
stamps as well as the panels. It appears on the binding of a
Huntington Library quarto printed in Strassburg in 1487
[9] and inscribed "Ad Bibliothecam
ffrm
Min. convent. ad S:Salvatorem Ratisbonae." On each cover is a
narrow strip made up of five impressions of two different
rectangular stamps, one an Annunciation (Fig. 9), the other two
mythical birds.
The Adoration of the Magi is found not infrequently upon panels,
but it is a complicated design, and is much less common as a small
single stamp. Weale-Taylor describes but does not illustrate an
octagonal stamp (Fig. 10), evidently the same as the one which
appears upon another Huntington Library binding, covering a folio
imprint of Ulrich Zell[10] and once
the property of the monastery of St. Ludgarde in Werden on the
Ruhr. A delicate square stamp of the same theme (Fig. 11) is on a
Latin Bible, printed by Rusch of Strassburg in 1480. It now belongs
to the Library of Congress, and was formerly in the library of the
Canons Regular of the Holy Cross in Cologne. The subject was
particularly popular in that city, for the bones of the Three Kings
are believed to rest there. This tool has been described, but not
illustrated, by Ilse Schunke in her work on Cologne bindings
referred to above (p. 360).
As for representations of the saints, Catherine of Alexandria
with her wheel is often found. The John Boyd Thacher Collection of
the Library of Congress has a quarto printed by Froben in Basel in
1496,[11] bound in lightish brown calf
over deeply bevelled boards, the center filled with a floral
diaper. Of several small stamps, the significant ones are in the
upper and lower borders of the upper cover. One is a large
rectangle containing a full-length figure of St. Catherine (Fig.
12), the other a small circle with the initial A, or possibly
monogram TA, with small letters tentatively read as w and p on
either side. There
are no inscriptions to help in assigning provenance, but the small
letters suggest the bindings from the Dominican monastery in Vienna
identified by the initials W P W (Wienenses Praedicatores), illustrated by Goldschmidt (no. 9).
Many other stamps representing saints are in the rich
collections of the Huntington Library, among them the three
following examples. A delicate little octagon contains St. George
and the Dragon (Fig. 13) upon a folio in rough calf printed by
Koelhoff in Cologne in 1474.[12]
Unfortunately the book is not in good condition and there are no
inscriptions or other marks of provenance. There are panels
representing St. George, but rarely does he appear on single tools.
A folio printed in Venice in 1472 by the famous Jenson[13] has found its way into a German
pigskin
binding which belonged in the 18th century, at least, to the
library of the bishopric of Eichstadt in Bavaria. Its interest lies
in the rectangular stamp of St. Sebastian (Fig. 14), accompanied by
circular stamps of the Annunciation, the Virgin and Child within a
glory, a lion rampant, and a lozenge of the Paschal lamb.
Whether saint or Virgin, a stamp which has led to considerable
research is on an incunable in the Houghton Library at Harvard
(Albertus Magnus, Opus in Evangelium, Strassburg,
Mentelin,
ca1474). This pigskin folio once belonged to the aforementioned
Dominican monastery in Vienna, as attested by an inscription
(Conventus Viennensis ordinis FF Praedicatorum) and the
characteristic stamps of this bindery, an open crown between the
initials P and W. It came eventually into the possession of James
Russell Lowell who gave it to the Harvard Library. There is a
variety of familiar stamps including the Virgin and Child and the
Holy Face, but the one which is a puzzle contains in a circle a
halo-ed female figure, leading by her left hand a very recognizable
devil (Fig. 15). His horns show plainly and he walks on his two
feet as his right arm is
held by the saint. At her right is a figure interpreted as a church
by several medievalists who have been consulted. Now this identical
stamp of which there is a poor impression on a brown sheepskin
folio in the British Museum (I.C.5887:
Biblia Germanica,
Augsburg, 1480) has been called by the abovementioned distinguished
writer on bindings, Cyril Davenport,
[14] "the Temptation," and it would be
easy
to leave it at that. But the form of the garment and the suggestion
of flowing hair over the shoulders force the conclusion that the
central figure is feminine, and not intended to represent
Christ.
Where does this lead us? One looks for legends of the Virgin and
the devil, and finds that the Theophilus story might with a stretch
of the imagination apply. Briefly cited, this 6th-century Cilician
churchman, an early prototype of Dr. Faustus, sold his soul to the
devil, but his contract was retrieved by the Virgin and publicly
burned. The small figure balancing the devil might then be intended
for the church of which Theophilus refused to become the bishop.
There are several representations of this legend in stained glass
and sculpture, for instance a bas-relief at Notre Dame in Paris,
but they show little resemblance to this stamp. Unconvinced by this
interpretation, we seek among the legends of women saints and the
devil, and one expert in iconography suggests St. Dymphna,
represented in art with a fettered devil at her feet or leading a
devil bound. She is an obscure 7th-century saint venerated at
Gheel, near Antwerp, whither she fled from Ireland. Her father
pursued
her, however, with his immoral advances, and murdered her, and on
this spot a church was erected in her memory. At this shrine
lunatics and those possessed of devils were miraculously cured.
Another woman saint who disciplined the devil was Juliana, who held
him by a rope around his neck and scourged him, but this
attribution seems less adequate, so let us call her St. Dymphna,
until a better suggestion is made. The impression on the binding in
the British Museum is very indistinct, as the
writer can testify, and fails to show the two-piece garment. This
is a pity, for one would otherwise gladly accept any identification
made by Davenport.
Tools of religious symbols were very common—the pelican in
her
piety, the lion, unicorn and numerous others. One which is new to
the writer is a hand raised in benediction (Fig. 16). It is one of
several small circular and oval stamps on the white pigskin binding
of a folio Bible printed by Richel in Basel no later than 1474, and
belonging like so many of our other examples to the Huntington
Library. The covers are divided by triple fillets into small
compartments, each of which contains a single stamp. Other designs
are an acorn, and the gothic letters 'eps' (with a tie above),
i.e. episcopus. Inscriptions indicate continuous German
ownership—Liber Campidonensis, i.e. from the
Benedictine
establishment at Kempten in Bavaria, and several private owners
including the German collector Vollbehr whose incunabula, among
them the Gutenberg Bible, were bought by the Library of Congress in
1930.
Another example from the Huntington Library is a single
impression of a strange rectangular tool showing a figure with arms
upraised, probably an orant (Fig. 17). It is on the binding of a
Basel imprint of about 1477.[15]
Fifteenth-century inscriptions show that it belonged to the
monastery of Mount Calvary near Emmerich, and a later stamp reads:
Bibl. Publ. Basiliensi. The design of the binding is simple, with
only two stamps besides the Sacred Monogram and the orant.
There is a great variety of designs with religious initials or
legends or scrolls. A charming 14th-century Book of Hours at the
Walters Gallery (W293) has within a small square the gothic
initials 'IM', standing presumably for Ihesu Maria, and beside them
is a graceful flower which may be the lily, symbol of the Virgin
(Fig. 18). The stamps are arranged in columns as is usual in French
bindings, and among them are two forms of fleur-de-lis and a
paschal lamb.
The Huntington Library has two Basel-printed folios which once
belonged to the Priory of St. Maynulf, Boddiken, Westphalia, and
were probably bound there. Both have the familiar distinctive label
in gothic letters 'maynulf9' as well as 'ihesus' and 'maria'. One
of them[16] adds the label 'iohēs
bapt' (Fig. 19) while the other[17]
has in the center of its upper cover a large lozenge with a halo-ed
figure holding a church in his right hand. The impression is too
indistinct to reproduce, but a good imagination aided by
description of the attributes of St. Maynulf is able to detect the
antlers of a stag lying beside him. Weale-Taylor (131) describes
the labels but does not illustrate them.
Many other examples of monastic ownership marks have been found
in this study, stamps representing both patron saints and names of
monasteries, as for instance the gothic labels 'berchem', an
establishment in the province of Antwerp, and 'codex sancti
maximi', i.e. of Treves. Illustrations of numerous stamps of
this type are available in Goldschmidt and other authorities. There
is a special point about our example of this St. Maximin binding,
whose ownership is marked not only by the label but also by two
inscriptions. This is the use, only once, of a tool showing a
two-handled basket tipped so that its contents of fruit or possibly
eggs are clearly visible. The binding is on a quarto printed by
Koberger of Nuremberg in 1494[18]
and
belongs to the Library of Congress. On the upper cover are large
circular stamps of the Evangelists. The lower cover is centered by
a floral diaper from which the basket hangs, and there are also two
circular
stamps, one of a conventional rose, the other containing a small
shield within a vine-like border, very indistinct (Fig. 20).
A second example of the basket stamp appears on a photostat from
Mr. Hobson, with the information that it is on a
book printed in Strassburg in 1486.
[19] The photostat shows only one
impression
of the basket, but there are nineteen other stamps of various
shapes and sizes (Fig. 21), none of which except the basket are on
the St. Maximin binding discussed above. A third instance of this
mysterious little stamp is on the binding of a Strassburg imprint
dated
c. 1484-87
[20]
belonging
to the Huntington Library, without marks of provenance,
unfortunately. In addition to the basket used twice on each cover,
it has the same large circular stamps of the Evangelists found on
the St. Maximin binding, and the same stamps of the paschal lamb,
a star and a floweret as on our second example, which seems to
establish a relation between them.
Goldschmidt (no. 31) discusses a binding from the workshop of
St. Maximin with a stamp showing the arms of the abbey. Though
lacking the basket stamp, it has presumably at least three in
common with our second example, the photostat. But without
illustrations one cannot be sure, for the same sorts of
conventional tools were the property of many different binders. Nor
can we reconcile the small shield in our first example with the
arms of the abbey which he describes. So here is one more question
to await further evidence. But the little basket used so sparingly,
as if for identification rather than for decoration, is enough to
pique one's curiosity, even though it cannot claim to have
religious significance, and it would be a satisfaction if one could
prove it a distinctive mark of St. Maximin.
It is hoped that these notes may show that in the field of
blind-stamped bindings there is a great deal not only of
iconographic interest, but also a chance for real research. For
instance, the relation of designs in the single stamps to those
found in other minor arts is obvious to an alert observer in Gothic
churches who sees in the small sculptured details and
the wood carving similar themes and shapes. And as has been
suggested, a study of the origin of certain panels leads back to
contemporary woodcuts and engravings. An encouraging aspect of the
study of this kind of binding is that any library which possesses
books old enough to have been bound prior to about 1550 has great
possibilities—provided they have not been tampered
with—which
have hardly been tapped in this country, and the fact that so few
students have investigated this rather unspectacular type shows
that it is an uncrowded field here. The amateur must realize,
however, that though there are excellent basic discussions in the
books already mentioned, every binding is a problem in itself, and
except by a very slim chance no two are alike, so there is enough
for him to work out for himself. To paraphrase the close of our
Colophon article, one really should be an expert in
ecclesiastical history and hagiography, in the history of the
period in which the bindings
were made, in iconography, in paleography for the deciphering of
gothic lettering on binding stamps and of inscriptions of
ownership, both often abbreviated almost beyond recognition. But
even lacking these high qualifications, he can enjoy his new
discoveries, as the writer can testify, and be grateful to anyone
who sets him right, both as to their novelty or lack of it, and as
to his own interpretations.
Notes