Author: Jeff Peachey

Book conservator, tool maker, book historian.
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A Bookbinder’s Valentine

BookBinder.

Library Company of Philadelphia. ca. 1840-1880?

[New York] : H. De Marsan, Publisher of songs, 54 Chatham Street, N.Y

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“My life’s a waste, I’m sick of paste; And printers, books and presses

Might quickly go to Jericho [1], Should Fortune smile, and bless tis I..

-Yes, but who’s the fool that would be thy Valentine?” [2]

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1. Jericho is a place of banishment, retirement, or drunkenness according to Partridge’s Dictionary of Slang.

2. As she says this line, there is an interesting workplace reversal going on: the male binder (husband?) is at the sewing frame, typically the woman’s job, and she is tooling, typically done by men. Is he wearing a kings crown or a jesters hat?

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EEK!

Surface cleaning an entire book can evoke a range of emotions, from mind numbingly boring, to mind numbingly repetitive, to mind numbingly tedious. The problem is that you have to remain acutely aware of tiny changes in the paper surface, dirt composition, tears, soiling, stains, etc. to avoid damaging the pages. After hundreds of pages (hours of cleaning) of back and white text, I almost fell over when I suddenly saw colored fur.

mouse3

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Certaine Sermons or Homilies appointed to be read in Churches…. London: Printed by John Bill, 1623. Collection David Kastan. Top: Hair on mouse skin. Bottom: detail of the flesh side. Why did someone put it in this book?

In section 3, on page 123, I found the remains of a very cute mouse.  When I inspected it, it appeared tanned with the hair on, the tail and legs removed.  Even more oddly, it was not causing any staining or damage, so I left it in place. The homilie where the mouse was found is titled “Concerning Prayer”, and for the curious, there are no textual rodent references on the adjacent pages. It is difficult to believe that this was an accident, and there were half a dozen other more usual items put into this book: leaves, ferns, seeds, scraps paper with notes.  It is tempting to concoct a story why the mouse was put there: possibly as an alert from a teacher to see if the student was actually reading these dry sermons?  A wake up call? A reminder of the inevitability of death for living things, as compared to the longevity of the written word?

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Hymen Lipman and the Winterthur Museum and Library

During the month of February 2014 I will be continuing research into early nineteenth century bookbinding while on a Fellowship at the Winterthur Museum and Library.  Conservation and tool business will be on hold until March 3, 2014, but feel free to email me. Apologies for any inconvenience.

The Winterthur has one of the premiere collections of decorative arts in America, and one of the premiere book conservation programs, Winterthur/ University of Delaware Program in Art Conservation. The librarians seem to have a good sense of humor. Below is a excerpt from a blog post about their collection of trade cards, which mentions Hymen L. Lipman, who was a stationary bookbinder in Philadelphia:

“Hymen Lipman, born in Jamaica to English parents, immigrated to Philadelphia in 1829. Eleven years later he succeeded Samuel Stewart as the city’s leading stationer remaining at the 139 Chestnut Street address until 1849. His real claim to fame may be either as the first person to patent the revolutionary invention of a pencil with an attached eraser in 1858 or as having one of the five funniest names in history as posted in a YouTube video  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r8c9mRklqQM.”

In The Pencil: A History of Design and Circumstance, Henry Petroski notes Lipman did indeed patent a pencil with an attached eraser, though after some litigation with Eberhard Faber in the 1860’s, a judge declared both patents invalid. Petroski’s book is very readable, encyclopedic and highly recommended.

Don’t miss the image of Hymen Lipman’s trade card on the Winterthur blog.