A Wooden Book

I recently inherited this wooden book shaped object, which belonged to my 5th Great- Uncle, Samuel Brillhart.  It has become my most treasured possession, representing a link between my current interests (the 18th Century, books and wood) with those of my ancestors.  This book is not a true xylotheque, which would also possibly contain seeds, leaves and other samples of the tree itself, instead it is a model or representation of a book. I think the wood is mahogany, which was being exported from Central America as early as the 17th. C.  The date, 1746, is also the date that Samuel built a church in York Co., PA.  I have a photograph of a drawing of the church, which looks to be a dovetailed log cabin style structure with two chimneys. Possibly the wood came from an alter in the Church?

I’m unclear how the writing was made, it appears to be burned onto the surface of the wood, instead of an ink that would sit more on the surface.   It measures 133 x 97 x 35 mm, giving it a more horizontal presence than many 18th C. books, and weighs 254 g. Under his name on the upper cover, there are three lines of writing, “The first/  xxxxxx   church/ York Co Pa”.

The wood is very smooth from handling, and the tear out on the head and tail suggest it was carved by a somewhat dull chisel.  The spine and foreedge are basically flat. The boards are fairly thick, around 5mm and the squares vary from 3-5mm. The top edge of the boards has parallel handsaw marks, and the tail edge is worn smooth.  I especially like the grain on the foreedge, which give a visual effect of edges of a page.

Why would my Uncle make this?  Why put the date on the spine and name on the cover? Most books sit quietly closed 99.99% of their lives: was this made to be a reminder to open and read “the book”? Is it a reminder of the power and appeal of the physical presence of the book, even a non functioning one?  What questions does it ask about the presumed function of “real” books?

 

    

Whatsit #2

I picked up this odd tool for $1.00.  I have no clue at all what it is for.  It feels very sturdy, and the metal that the shaft is made from is six sided like an allen key, and looks a bit like that metal as well, with a black coating.  The shaft runs through the handle and is attached to a washer at the end.  The regularity in manufacture suggests it was modified or pieced together from a manufactured tool and not owner made.  The dealer I bought it from thought the end was hammered flat from the tool, like a fishtail chisel, but to me it looks like there is almost too much metal on the flattened area for this to have happened. There are a few faint file marks on the sides of the flattened area, and the shape is a smooth curve.  I might use it as a back scratcher or fireplace poker, but would be very interested to find out what it really was for.

After looking at this some more, and playing around with it, I wonder if it is for stuffing a sofa or bed or something.

On 2 September 2008 Thomas Conroy added:

Looks like a stuffer to me too. My first thought was “golf ball,” then “horse collar.” It took a bushel of feathers to make one golf ball in the days before gutta-percha replaced “featheries.” Stuffing kits are sometimes shown in books on golf antiques, I think. For horse collar stuffers, I would start by trying Salaman’s “Encyclopedia of Leatherworking Tools.”

I looked, and there is a page of stuffers, mostly for horse collars.  There are some similar shapes, but all of the ones pictured have serrated tips, not smooth like this one.  I imagine the serrated tips would be important if you were trying to manipulate stuffing material.

French Leather: 1755 vs. 1810

Godfrey Smith’s The Laboratory or School of Arts is an important, and popular 18th  C.  description of bookbinding.  It was published in at least 7 editions over some 70 years.  Reproduced below are two paragraphs, dealing with “French leather”, which is a method of sprinkling leather. It is extremely prevalent during that time period, and Dudin mentions that “…our eyes are so used to seeing it there that the work would seem unfinished if it was absent.  Moreover, it is, to a certain extent, necessary to hide the minor defects…in calfskin.” (Dudin, 52)  He later notes that it is too expensive to use Natural Calf, since one would have to use leather without holes in it.  Patching holes in a leather binding– almost unthinkable today, given the reversal in the price of labor vs. materials– was considered standard practice. In this time period a pencil means a brush.  Note that hog bristles have yet to be replaced by a synthetic for bookbinding brushes.  This was an English book, commenting on a French tradition, and it appears the author colors the leather (“strain it on a frame;”) before covering, although the French generally applied color after covering.

But what I find most interesting, about the two passages reproduced below, one from the fourth edition, 1755, and one from the seventh, 1810, is how much closer to our own times the 1810 edition is.  Even apart from the long ‘s’, the whole look of it is different in ways that relate to the change in binding structure at this time–from a bound book to a cased one, which I have discussed in another post.  Still, there are some interesting similarities, such as the eccentric italicization in the title.

Although the text is virtually unchanged, the change in typography and the standardization of the printing is dramatic. The letter spacing is more open, even and controlled in the seventh edition contrasted to the fourth.  Visually, all the lines are much more even in the seventh, making the fourth look crude or charming, depending on your viewpoint. Just looking at the differences in these examples highlights the tremendous influence of the beginning of the industrial revolution, and the radical changes that occurred in book structure, machinery, tools, typography and in the world.

Fig. 1The Laboratory or School of Arts. Fourth edition, 1755.

Fig. 2.  The Laboratory or School of Arts. Seventh edition, 1810.

Dudin, M. 1977. The Art of the Bookbinder and Gilder. Trans. R. Atkinson.  Leeds, England:The Elmente Press.