Leather for Libraries

In Short

Published in 1905 by the Library Association, this manual acts as both a technical report and a call to action against the poor manufacturing practices that plagued the late 19th-century bookbinding trade. It diagnoses the causes of leather disintegration—specifically the use of mineral acids and improper tanning agents—and provides concrete specifications for selecting durable materials. By advocating for standardized, high-quality leathers and suggesting internal library repair protocols, the text offers a blueprint for preserving books for longevity rather than mere aesthetic appeal.

The Story

The narrative arc begins with a sobering observation: a significant percentage of books bound after 1870 show signs of premature decay, many falling apart within a few years of binding. The contributors, led by experts like E. Wyndham Hulme and Dr. J. Gordon Parker, frame this decline as a modern failure of industry. They argue that the rise of bright, aniline-dyed leathers, which are cheaper and faster to produce than traditional vegetable-tanned hides, has come at the expense of structural integrity.

The story of the book is effectively the story of a reform movement. The authors trace the history of sumach tanning—the gold standard of the past—and contrast it with modern methods that rely on sulphuric acid and harsh bleaching agents. These modern chemicals, once introduced, become trapped within the fibers of the skin, causing the leather to lose its natural oils, crack, and eventually crumble. The authors provide a detailed taxonomy of this destruction, explaining how skins are stripped, scoured, and re-tanned, often without the librarian’s knowledge, to create a superficial appearance of quality that masks a decaying core.

The middle portion of the text shifts from diagnosis to remedy. It presents the work of the Society of Arts’ Committee, which sought to establish a common standard for binding leathers. The goal is to move the industry away from "persians" and acid-laden imports toward authentic, sumach-tanned skins. The authors guide the reader through the hierarchy of various hides—pigskin for heavy tomes, seal for durability, goat for its firm grain, and sheep for lighter, more budget-conscious work. Each is assessed not by its color or texture, but by its resistance to environmental decay.

The resolution of the argument lies in the administrative shift toward self-sufficiency. By advocating for the establishment of small, in-house binderies, the text shows how libraries can bypass the unreliable commercial market. Through the example of the Hull Public Library, the reader sees how a staff binder can perform small, preventative repairs, such as "stabbing" pamphlets or cleaning older volumes, which saves money and prevents the accumulation of damage. The volume concludes by emphasizing that while quality leather is more expensive initially, it is an investment in permanence. The final pages function as a practical toolkit, complete with a scale of fees for leather analysis and professional advertisements that underscore the industry’s eventual move toward the standards proposed by the Committee.

How It Unfolds

The diagnosis of decline The text opens by identifying the widespread failure of modern leather bindings, contrasting them with the almost imperishable, sumach-tanned books of the 16th century. It posits that the shift toward rapid, industrial production since 1870 has directly led to the catastrophic decay of library collections.

The chemical investigation The narrative moves into a detailed scientific account of why modern leather dies, specifically highlighting the destructive role of vitriol and mineral acids used in bleaching and dyeing. It explains that these substances cannot be removed by washing, permanently compromising the structural fiber of the hide.

The classification of materials The authors provide a thorough examination of various animal skins, weighing the strengths and weaknesses of pigskin, seal, goat, and sheep. This section serves to educate the librarian on how to identify genuine quality versus the "faked" surfaces of split leathers or inferior imports.

The administrative solution The argument culminates in a practical plan for library management, advocating for the appointment of official analysts to test leathers and the creation of small-scale, internal library binderies. It provides empirical evidence of cost-savings and durability, encouraging librarians to take direct control over the physical health of their collections.

The People

The book is driven by a collective of experts, each representing a facet of the movement to restore craft to library science. Cyril Davenport, of the British Museum, serves as a primary voice for the practical application of restoration, focusing on the day-to-day work of the binder. He champions the idea that a librarian who understands the mechanics of bookbinding is a better steward of a collection. E. Wyndham Hulme, acting as the Hon. Secretary, provides the historical and administrative backbone, detailing the bureaucratic struggle to get libraries to adopt a unified standard. He is the strategist, ensuring the "reform movement" gains traction through circulars and committee reports. Dr. J. Gordon Parker acts as the scientific authority, the man in the laboratory. His role is to demystify the chemistry of decay; he is the one who insists that without chemical analysis, the librarian is effectively helpless against the deceptive practices of leather merchants. Together, these men form a united front against industrial shortcuts. They do not view themselves as mere academics, but as practical defenders of the written word, working to ensure that the books of the future are not doomed by the chemical errors of the present.

In Its Own Voice

"The reputation in the past of the sumach-tanned Spanish leather was founded upon this peculiar property of sumach of leaving the skin white, and on this point the wisdom of the ancients has been justified by the results of an exhaustive series of experiments."

In discussing the history of tanning, the author highlights why the traditional methods of the past were chemically superior.

"It is impossible to remove these acids from leather by any subsequent amount of washing, or without the addition of some other chemical to expel them."

The text explains the scientific irreversibility of using mineral acids in the tanning process.

"It is no use to try to clean old books with water; it will do more harm than good."

This piece of practical advice warns librarians against common, damaging maintenance mistakes.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an argument for transparency and professional accountability in the supply chain of knowledge. It posits that the physical degradation of a book is an ethical failing of the manufacturer and a failure of oversight by the institution. It asks a profound question: what is the value of a library if its holdings are physically disintegrating? The book challenges the modern desire for "brilliant" and "uniform" aesthetics, arguing that beauty should be the result of natural, sound materials rather than chemical manipulation. It is an exploration of the tension between industrial efficiency and long-term preservation, ultimately championing the idea that true craftsmanship—the slow, honest tanning of skin—is the only way to ensure the continuity of history.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in book history, material science, or the preservation of antiquarian collections will find this work deeply satisfying. It provides a rare, transparent view into the late-Victorian and Edwardian obsession with standardizing quality. While the technical specifics regarding 19th-century tanning practices are historical, the underlying philosophy—that we are responsible for the physical longevity of the objects we steward—remains entirely relevant.

The book is not a light read; it is a technical handbook, dense with industry terminology and the specific concerns of a bygone era of library management. A reader might find the focus on specific, defunct tanning processes or the dry, committee-report style a bit challenging. However, there is a tangible warmth in the way the authors treat their subject. They speak of books not as items to be processed, but as living things that require "feeding" and "nourishment" to survive. The lists of materials, the advice on how to prevent books from "flopping" on a shelf, and the earnest, almost crusading tone of the authors make it feel like a dispatch from a group of people who truly loved the physical integrity of the printed word. You will finish it with a sharpened eye for the bindings on your own shelves and perhaps a newfound appreciation for the quiet, invisible labor that keeps a library from crumbling into dust.