Thomas Berthelet, Royal Printer and Bookbinder to Henry VIII., King of England — A Reader’s Guide

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In Category - Memoirs
Davenport, Cyril, 1848-1941, Griggs, William, 1832-1911 [Photographer] Project Gutenberg 2020 Not confirmed
Great Britain -- History -- Henry VIII, 1509-1547 -- Biography; Berthelet, Thomas, -approximately 1556; Bookbinding -- England -- History -- 16th century Readers of public-domain and historical texts
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Words 27,908
Reading time 122 min
Text sections 5

The source record for Thomas Berthelet, Royal Printer and Bookbinder to Henry VIII., King of England — A Reader’s Guide measures this digital text at 27,908 words, 2 hr 2 min estimated reading time, and 5 detected text sections.

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Cyril Davenport's monograph examines Thomas Berthelet, Henry VIII's printer and bookbinder, through documentary evidence and detailed descriptions of surviving bindings. The text focuses on material craftsmanship, including leather, velvet, and embroidered bindings, and the transition from medieval precious-metal covers to decorated leather.
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Such English bookbindings of an early date as still exist are, as a rule, bound in dark brown goatskin or brown sheepskin. The earliest notices about bookbindings are to be found in some of the wardrobe accounts of Edward IV., but of the many bindings which were made for that king, the only remaining sign now left is a loose cover in the library of Westminster Abbey; it is ornamented with a panel stamp bearing the king’s arms, with supporters.

In Mediæval times, books, mostly religious, were generally written, copied, illuminated, and bound in the monasteries themselves, and were frequently of large size. After the date at which printing was introduced into Europe, about the middle of the fifteenth century, books became commoner, and very soon, as a general rule, smaller, the printer, binder, and publisher usually combining in his own person the functions hitherto performed by separate artists and artificers,--the illuminators, scribes, silversmiths, goldsmiths, jewellers, enamellers, and workers in leather, wood, or ivory. In short, the art of producing books became in every way a less ornamental and a commoner one.

It is disappointing that no single specimen of the rich Mediæval style of bookbinding exists of English workmanship. Such bindings were undoubtedly made here, and numerous drawings of them are to be seen in contemporary manuscript. It is certain that the intrinsic value of these covers attracted the attention of some of our sovereigns, especially the early Tudors, and whenever they were of any value at all, the crucible accounts for their disappearance. Luckily the manuscripts themselves, now infinitely more valuable than the gold and silver which formerly covered them, have in innumerable instances been carefully preserved unhurt. But it is some comfort to know that much beautiful work of the kind we have so unfortunately lost here can be seen and studied in Dublin, at the Royal Irish Academy and other institutions. In that city are to be seen noble specimens of the old book shrines, or covers, which protected the valuable manuscripts, illuminated sometimes by the ancient Irish scribes in such richness that they have never been excelled in beauty. These covers are in all probability nearly the same as the English ones were; they bear ornamentation of a similar Gothic character, nearly analogous to the Anglo-Saxon styles, and the jewels are cut and set in the same way as is found in old English jewellers’ work. The “cumdach,” or cover, of Molaise’s Gospels, that of the Stowe missal and “Dimma’s book,” are all beautiful examples. The Irish jewellers were justly celebrated workmen; they migrated largely to the Continent, and traces of their skill often show on Byzantine bindings made from about the ninth to the eleventh centuries. The older part of the magnificent cover of the Gospels of Lindau is Irish work. This was shown in 1891 at the Burlington Fine Art Club, and until lately was the property of the Earl of Ashburnham. It is one of the most gorgeous bookbindings in existence.

In some Eastern countries bordering on Europe, especially the north of Africa and parts of Asia, books were bound in leather and ornamented with gold at a very early date. Signs of such work are found on bindings of the twelfth century onwards, but it is always rare, and only sparingly used. The manner of working the gold differs considerably from the way it is treated now. Persian, Arabian, and Egyptian work of this sort is of great interest, and well deserves more attention and examination than it has yet received. It even seems that some kind of gilding on books was practised in England as early as 1480, as appears from one of the accounts of Piers Courteys, keeper of the King’s Great Wardrobe in the City of London; but there is not enough information given to enable us to say what sort of gilding this was, neither do the existing specimens throw any definite light on this particular point.

The account in which this reference to gilding on books occurs is one of the entries referring to the Privy Purse Expenses of Elizabeth of York, daughter of Edward IV., and afterwards wife to Henry VII.; the words are as follows:--

“Piers Bauduyn stacioner for bynding gilding and dressing of a booke called _Titus Livius_ XXˢ; for binding gilding and dressing of a booke of _The Holy Trinite_ XVjˢ; for binding gilding and dressing of a booke called _The Bible_ XVjˢ; for binding gilding and dressing of a booke called _Le Gouvernment_ of Kings and Princes XVj; ... and for binding and gilding and dressing of a booke called The Bible Historial XXˢ.”

Cyril Davenport opens his monograph on Thomas Berthelet by situating him within the history of English bookbinding up to the time of Henry VIII. The first chapter surveys earlier practices, establishing a context for Berthelet's work. Davenport's method is evident from the start: he relies on documentary evidence—such as Berthelet's bill quoted in chapter two—and on surviving bindings themselves. The author, a British Museum curator, writes with the authority of a specialist, frequently citing his own previous publications on royal bookbindings and embroidered bindings.

Documentary Evidence and the Bill

The second chapter of the book is built around a key document: Berthelet's bill, which Davenport quotes and analyzes. This bill includes entries for books bound in velvet and satin, materials that Davenport notes form a connecting link between medieval metalwork bindings and later leather bindings. The author uses the bill to argue that some embroidered bindings, though fragile, were made for Henry VIII and likely by Berthelet. He points to specific evidence: two such bindings have Berthelet's usual legend painted in gold on their edges. Davenport is careful to distinguish bindings he can confidently attribute from those where the evidence is weaker, such as embroidered books worked by Princess Elizabeth, which he thinks were probably assembled by Berthelet but designed by the princess herself.

Materials and Techniques

Davenport devotes considerable attention to the physical materials of bindings. He notes that the majority of bindings after the introduction of printing were leather, but he also discusses velvet and satin bindings, which he calls "very ornamental indeed." He observes that these fragile materials have survived better than expected, though many have perished. The author describes the decoration of velvet bindings with enamels, a technique that, like embroidery, had no intrinsic value but was preserved for its beauty. Davenport's descriptions are precise: he mentions specific volumes, such as a calf binding of Bembo's Historicae Venetae made for Edward VI, and a white leather binding of a manuscript titled La Science de Geometrie. The plates, produced by chromo-lithographer William Griggs, are praised as the finest work of their kind.

Attribution and Chronology

A central challenge Davenport addresses is attribution. He acknowledges that few good plates of Berthelet bindings existed before his own, and that color plates had been a source of tribulation. He relies on inherent evidence, such as the painted gold legend on edges, to connect bindings to Berthelet. The book is organized chronologically, with descriptions of typical examples in chapter three. Davenport discusses bindings made for Henry VIII, for Prince Edward (later Edward VI), and for other patrons. He notes that some bindings, like those of the Bible printed at Antwerp in 1534 made for Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn, carry historical significance beyond their craftsmanship. The author's tone is scholarly but not dry; he conveys enthusiasm for the bindings' survival and beauty.

The Role of the Caxton Club Edition

This edition was published by the Caxton Club in Chicago in 1901, limited to 252 copies on handmade paper, with three copies on Japanese vellum. The colophon states that the type was distributed after printing, emphasizing the book's status as a limited edition. Davenport's work is part of a series of monographs on bookbinding, and he frequently cross-references his own earlier books, such as Royal English Bookbindings (1896) and English Embroidered Bookbindings (1899). The reader should note that the text assumes familiarity with the history of printing and binding; Davenport does not explain basic terms. The illustrations, listed in detail, are integral to the argument, as they allow the reader to see the bindings described.

Davenport's monograph is best read with the plates at hand, as his descriptions are closely tied to visual details. The book does not attempt a biography of Berthelet in the modern sense; instead, it builds a picture of his work through material evidence. Readers interested in the physical history of the book will find a meticulous study of craftsmanship and attribution. The limited edition format itself reflects the value placed on fine printing and binding, a tradition Berthelet himself served.

There’s something tender in how Davenport lingers over Berthelet’s leather and velvet, the way a craftsman’s care outlives kings. It reminds me of reading the Memoirs of Lady Fanshawe Wife of Sir Richard Fanshawe, Bt., Ambassador from Charles II to the Courts of Portugal and Madrid. — Text and Context — those quiet domestic details pressing against grand history, the same patient stitching of a life into record.

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