University of Virginia Library

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