THE RESTORATION AND RECLAMATION OF BOOKS.
We are now to consider carefully the restoration and the reclamation of
the books of a library, whether public or private.
Nothing can be more important than the means of restoring or reclaiming
library books that are lost or injured, since every such restoration will
save the funds of the library or collector from replacing them with fresh
or newly bought copies, and will enable it to furnish its stores with as
many new books as the money thus saved represents. The cardinal thing to
be kept always in view is a wise economy of means. An every-day prudence
is the price of successful administration. A management which permits any
of the enemies of books to destroy or damage them, thereby wasting the
substance of the library without repair, is a fatally defective
management, which should be changed as soon as possible.
This consideration assumes added importance when it is remembered that
the means of nearly all our libraries are very limited and inadequate to
the drafts upon them, year by year. A great many libraries are compelled
to let their books needing rebinding accumulate, from the mere want of
money to pay for reclothing the nearly worn-out volumes, thus depriving
the readers for a considerable time, of the use of many coveted books.
And even with those which have large means, I have never yet heard of a
library that had enough, either to satisfy the eager desire of the
librarian to fill up deficiencies, or to meet fully the manifold wants of
readers. So much the more important, then, is it to husband every dollar
that can be saved, to keep the books in such good condition that they
will not need frequent rebinding, and to reduce to a minimum all the
evils which beset them, menacing their safety, or injuring their
condition.
To attain these great ends, the librarian who is qualified for his
responsible position, must be both a preserver and a restorer of books.
If not personally able to go through the mechanical processes which
belong to the art of restoration, (and this is the case in all libraries
except the smallest) he should at least learn all about them, so as to be
able to teach them thoroughly and intelligently to an assistant. It is
frequently made an excuse for the soiled and slovenly and even torn
condition of books and bindings in a much used public library, that
neither the librarian nor his aids have any time to look into the
condition of the books, much less to repair any of the numerous damages
they sustain. But it should be remembered that in most libraries, even
the busiest, there are seasons of the day, or periods of very stormy
weather, when the frequentation of readers is quite small. Those times
should always be seized upon to take hold of volumes which have had to be
laid aside as damaged, in the hurry of business. To arrest such damages
at the threshold is the duty and the interest of the library. A torn leaf
can be quickly mended, a slightly broken binding can be pasted or glued,
turned-down leaves can be restored where they belong, a plate or map that
is started can be fastened in, by devoting a few minutes at the proper
time, and with the proper appliances ready at hand. Multitudes of volumes
can be so treated in the course of the year, thus saving the heavy cost
of rebinding. It is the proverbial stitch in time that saves nine. Never
wait, in such matters, for the leisure day that never comes, but seize
the golden moment as it flies, when no reader is interrupting you, and
clear off at least one of the little jobs that are awaiting your
attention. No one who does not know how to use the odd moments is
qualified for the duties of a librarian. I have seen, in country
libraries, the librarian and his lady assistant absorbed in reading
newspapers, with no other readers in the room. This is a use of valuable
time never to be indulged in during library hours. If they had given
those moments to proper care of the books under their charge, their
shelves would not have been found filled with neglected volumes, many of
which had been plainly badly treated and injured, but not beyond
reclamation by timely and provident care.
It is amazing how any one can expect long employment as a librarian, who
takes no interest in the condition of the books under his charge. The way
to build up a library, and to establish the reputation of a librarian at
the same time, is to devote every energy and intelligence to the great
work in hand. Convince the library directors, by incessant care of the
condition of the books, that you are not only a fit, but an indispensable
custodian of them. Let them see your methods of preserving and restoring,
and they will be induced to give you every facility of which you stand in
need. Show them how the cost of binding or re-buying many books can be
saved by timely repair within the library, and then ask for another
assistant to be always employed on such work at very moderate cost.
Library directors and trustees are commonly intensely practical men, and
quick to see into the heart of good management. They do not want a
librarian who has a great reputation as a linguist, or an educator, or a
book-worm, but one who knows and cares about making their funds go as far
as possible, and can show them how he has saved by restoring old books,
enough money to pay for a great many new ones.
Nothing is more common in public lending libraries than to find torn
leaves in some of the books. If the leaf is simply broken, without being
absolutely detached, or if part is torn off, and remains on hand, the
volume may be restored by a very simple process. Keep always at hand in
some drawer, a few sheets of thin "onion-skin" paper, or the transparent
adhesive paper supplied by the Library Bureau. Paste this on either side
of the torn leaf, seeing that it laps over all the points of juncture
where the tear occurred, and that the fitting of the text or reading
matter is complete and perfect. The paper being transparent, there will
be no difficulty in reading the torn page through it.
This little piece of restoration should always be effected immediately on
discovery, both that the torn piece or fragment may be saved, and that
the volume may be restored to use.
In case of absolute loss of a leaf or a part of a page, there are only
three remedies known to me.
1. The book may be condemned as imperfect, and a new copy purchased.
2. The missing part may be restored from a perfect copy of the same work,
by copying the portions of the text wanting, and inserting them where
they belong. This can be done with a pen, and the written deficiency
neatly inserted, in fac-simile of the type, or in ordinary script hand;
or else the part wanting may be photographed or heliotyped by the best
modern process from a duplicate copy of the book.
3. If the book is of very recent issue, the publishers may furnish a
signature or sheet which would make good the deficiency, from the
"imperfections" left in the bindery, after making up the edition of the
work.
In most cases, the last named means of replacement will not be found
available. The first, or buying a fresh copy, may entail a greater
expense than the library authorities would deem proper at the time, and
it might be preferred to continue the book in use, with a slight
imperfection.
The second method, more or less troublesome according to circumstances,
or the extent of the matter to be copied is sometimes the most
economical. Of course, it is subject to the drawback of not being, when
done, a _bona fide_ or genuine copy of the book as published. This
diminishes the commercial value of even the rarest book, although so
fully restored as to text that the reader has it all before him, so that
it supplies every requisite of a perfect copy for the purposes of a
public library, or a private owner who is not a connoisseur in books.
When the corners of a book are found to be broken (as often happens by
falling to the floor or severe handling) the book may be restored by a
treatment which will give it new leather corners. With paste or glue well
rubbed in, apply thick brown paper on the corners, which, when dry, will
be as hard as desired, and ready to receive the leather. Then the sides
may be covered with marbled paper or cloth, and the volume is restored.
When the back of a book becomes loose, the remedy is to take it out of
the cover, re-sew it, and glue it firmly into the former back. This will
of course render the back of the volume more rigid, but, in compensation,
it will be more durable.
In these cases of loose or broken backs, the study should be to save the
leather cover and the boards or sides of the book intact, so as to
diminish by more than one-half the cost of repair. As the volume cannot
be restored to a solid and safe condition without being re-sewed, it may
be carefully separated from the cover by cutting the cords or bands at
their junction with the boards, then slowly stripping the book out of its
cover, little by little, and treating the sheets when separated as
already indicated in the chapter on rebinding.
One of the most common defacements which library books undergo is marking
up the margins with comments or references in pencil. Of course no
thoughtful reader would be guilty of this practice, but thoughtless
readers are often in the majority, and the books they read or fancy that
they read, get such silly commentaries on the margins as these:
"beautiful," "very sad," "perfectly splendid," "I think Becky is horrid,"
or, "this book ends badly." Such vile practices or defacements are not
always traceable to the true offender, especially in a circulating
library, where the hours are so busy as to prevent the librarian from
looking through the volumes as they come in from the readers. But if
detected, as they may be after a few trials of suspected parties, by
giving them out books known to be clean and free from pencil marks when
issued to them, the reader should be required always to rub out his own
marks, as a wholesome object-lesson for the future. The same course
should be pursued with any reader detected in scribbling on the margin of
any book which is being read within the library. Incorrigible cases,
amounting to malicious marking up of books, should be visited by severe
penalties--even to the denial of further library privileges to the
offender.
Not long ago, I bought at an auction sale a copy of the first edition of
Tennyson's "In Memoriam," which was found on receipt to be defaced by
marking dozens of verses in the margin with black lines drawn along them,
absolutely with pen and ink! The owner of that book, who did the
ruthless deed, never reflected that it might fall into hands where his
indelible folly would be sharply denounced.
The librarian or assistant librarian who will instinctively rub out all
pencil marks observed in a library book deserves well of his countrymen.
It is time well spent.
The writing on book-margins is so common a practice, and so destructive
of the comfort and satisfaction which readers of taste should find in
their perusal of books, that no legitimate means of arresting it or
repairing it should be neglected. In a public library in Massachusetts, a
young woman of eighteen who was detected as having marked a library copy
of "Middlemarch" with gushing effusions, was required to read the statute
prescribing fine and imprisonment for such offenses, with very tearful
effect, and undoubtedly with a wholesome and permanent improvement in her
relations to books and libraries.
In some libraries, a warning notice is posted up like this: "Readers
finding a book injured or defaced, are required to report it at once to
the librarian, otherwise they will be held responsible for the damage
done." This rule, while its object is highly commendable, may lead in
practice to injustice to some readers. So long as the reader uses the
book inside of the library walls, he should of course report such defects
as meet his eye in reading, whether missing pages, plates, or maps, or
serious internal soiling, torn leaves, etc. But in the case of drawing
out books for home reading, the rule might embarrass any reader, however
well disposed, if too strictly construed. A reader finding any serious
defect in a library volume used at home, should simply place a mark or
slip in the proper place with the word "damaged," or "defective" written
on it. Then, on returning the book to the library, his simple statement
of finding it damaged or defective when he came to read it should be
accepted by the librarian as exonerating him from blame for any damage.
And this gives point to the importance of examining every book, at least
by cursory inspection, before it is handed out for use. A volume can be
run through quickly by a practiced hand, so as to show in a moment or two
any leaves started or torn, or, usually, any other important injury. If
any such is found, the volume should under no circumstances be given out,
but at once subjected to repair or restoration. This degree of care will
not only save the books of the library from rapid deterioration, but will
also save the feelings of readers, who might be anxious lest they be
unjustly charged with damaging while in their hands.
The treatment of their imperfect books (which tend perpetually to
accumulate) is very different in different libraries. Some libraries,
where funds are ample enough to enable them to do it, condemn any book
that has so much as a sentence torn out, and replace it on the shelves
with a new copy. The imperfect volumes are sold for waste paper, or put
into some sale of duplicate books, marked as imperfect, with note of the
damage upon a slip inserted at the proper place in the book, and also in
the catalogue, if sold at auction or in a printed list of duplicates
offered by the library. This notice of what imperfection exists is
necessary, so that no incautious purchaser may think that he is securing
a perfect copy of the work.
Other libraries not blessed with means to pursue this course, do as best
they can afford, supplying what is deficient when possible without much
cost of time or money, or else continuing the damaged book in use "with
all its imperfections on its head."
The loss of a single plate does not destroy the value of the book for
readers, however to be regretted as diminishing the satisfaction to be
derived from the volume. And one can sometimes pardon the loss of a part
of a page in a mutilated book, especially when he is made aware of the
fact that the library which welcomes him to the free enjoyment of its
treasures cannot well afford to buy another.
It is disheartening to read, in an annual report of a public library of
circulation in Massachusetts, that many of its popular books are so
soiled and defaced, after a few readings, as to be unfit for further
service; that books of poetry are despoiled by the scissors to save
trouble of copying verses wanted; that plates are often abstracted, and
that many magazines "seem to be taken from the library for no other
reason than that private scrap-books may be enriched or restless children
amused." The only remedy suggested is to examine each book before again
giving it out, and, if returned defaced, to hold the borrower
responsible.
The art of cleaning books that are stained or dirty, is a matter not
widely known, and in this country there are few experts at it. Some of
these keep closely guarded the methods they use to cleanse a book.
Comparatively few libraries avail themselves of the practice of washing
their soiled volumes, as the process is too expensive for most of them,
and so they are accustomed to let the library books remain in use and
re-issue them again and again, until they become so filthy as to be quite
unfit to be seen--much less handled by any reader.
But there are often valuable or rare works which have sustained interior
injury, and which it is desired to restore to a clean condition. The best
method is to take the book apart as the first step. When separated into
sheets, those leaves which are merely dirty should be placed in a bath
composed of about four ounces of chloride of lime, dissolved in a quart
of water. They should soak until all stains are removed, and the paper is
restored to its proper color. Then the pages should be washed in cold
water--running water is preferable--and allowed to soak about six hours.
This removes all traces of the lime, which would otherwise tend to rot or
injure the book. After this, the sheets are to be "sized," _i. e._,
dipped in a bath of size and water, and laid out to dry. This process
gives firmness and consistency to the paper, which would otherwise remain
too soft to handle. The sheets should be pressed a few hours between
glazed paste-boards, as used in printing offices. A cheap and simple size
for this purpose may be made by mixing white gelatine with water, and
this may be kept in a bottle, so as to be always conveniently at hand.
The art of restoring and rendering fit for handling books and rare early
pamphlets by sizing all the leaves is in constant use in Europe. By this
means, and by piecing out margins, the most rotten paper, ready to drop
apart in turning the leaves, may be restored to use, if not quite to its
pristine condition.
Ink-spots or mildew stains may be wholly removed, when freshly made, by
applying a solution of oxalic or citric acid, and then washing the leaf
with a wet sponge. It is more effectual to follow the bath of oxalic acid
by applying a solution of one part hydrochloric acid to six parts of
water, after which bathe in cold water, and dry slowly. Or an infusion of
hypochlorite of potash in twice its volume of water may be used instead
of the preceding.
If a leather-bound book has grease on its cover, it can be removed by
scraping French chalk or magnesia over the place, and ironing with a warm
(not hot) iron. A simpler method is to apply benzine to the grease spots,
(which dissolves the fatty material) and then dry the spot quickly with a
fine cloth. This operation may be repeated, if not effectual at the first
trial. The same method of applying benzine to oily spots upon plates or
engravings, will remove the stains.
Ink-stains may also be taken off from the leather covers of books bound
in calf or morocco by the use of oxalic acid. Care should be taken first
to try the acid on a piece of similar leather or on a discarded book of
the same color. If the leather is discolored after removing the black
spot, one may apply, after taking out the traces of oxalic acid by some
alkali, a coloring matter similar to the tint of the leather.
Spots or stains of grease or oil are often found in books. They may be
wholly removed by applying carbonate of magnesia on both sides of the
leaf stained, backed by paper, and pressing with a hot iron, after which
the sheets should be washed and left under pressure over night. Another
method is to dilute spirits of salts with five times its bulk of water,
then let the stained leaves lie in the liquid four minutes, after which
they are to be washed. Still another method is to make a mixture of one
pound of soap, half a pound of clay and two ounces of lime, dissolved in
water to a proper consistency; apply it to the spots; fifteen minutes
after, dip the leaf in a bath of warm water for half an hour, after which
dry and press until smooth.
Stains left by mud on the leaves of a book (a not uncommon fate of
volumes falling in a wet street) can be removed thus: spread over the
spots a jelly composed of white soap and water, letting it remain about
half an hour. Then dip the leaf in clear water, and remove the soap with
a fine sponge dipped in warm water; all the mud stains will disappear at
the same time. To remove the last traces of the soap, dip a second time
in clear water, place the leaf between two sheets of blotting paper, and
dry slowly in a cool and shady place.
The same process, of washing in soap and water, will remove what are
doubtless the most common of all the soilings that library books
undergo, namely, the soil that comes from the dirty hands and fingers of
readers.
It is sometimes necessary to color the sheets that have been washed
white, so as to correspond in tint with the rest of the volume, which has
not needed that treatment. An infusion of cheap tobacco leaves, or a bath
of brown stout will effect this.
In all these methods of removing soil from the pages of books, it is
absolutely necessary to give attention to thorough washing after the
chemicals are used. Otherwise there will remain an element of destruction
which will sooner or later spoil the book, to restore which so much pains
may have been expended.
And one can readily learn how to restore a valuable book by these
methods. He should, however, first practice on the restoration of a
volume of little worth--and venture upon the treatment of a precious
volume only after practice has made him an expert.
To restore a fresher look to volumes whose bindings are much rubbed or
"scuffed" as it is sometimes called, one may spread over their surface a
little wet starch pretty thick, with a little alum added, applied with an
old leather glove. With this the back of the book, and the sides and
edges of the boards should be smartly rubbed, after which, with a fine
rag rub off the thicker part of the starch, and the book will present a
much brighter appearance, besides being rid of dust and soil.
There will remain on the volume a very slight deposit of gelatine or
gluten; before it dries completely, the palm of the hand may be passed
over it at all points, and the leather, which may have assumed a dull
color from the starch, will resume a bright brown or other tint. If this
fails to appear, a bit of flannel, impregnated with a few drops of
varnish, should be rubbed over the leather, and when nearly dry, rub
with a white rag slightly touched with olive oil, and a brilliant
appearance will be given to the binding.
When leaves are started, or a signature becomes loose in any volume, it
should be at once withdrawn from circulation, or the loss of an important
part of the book may result. The remedy commonly resorted to, of patching
up the book by pasting in the loose leaves, is a mere makeshift which
will not last. The cause of a loose signature is generally to be found in
a broken thread in the sewing, and the only permanent cure is to take the
book out of its cover, and re-sew it, when it may usually be re-inserted
in the same binding. This is for cloth-bound books. When bound in
leather, it is best to take out the loose sheet, "overcast" it, that is,
secure all the leaves by sewing, then carefully lay some paste along the
outer edge or back of the sheet, insert the sheet in its place, pressing
it firmly with a paper knife along the middle of the sheet, and the
volume will be restored ready for use after a few days drying under
weight.
On occasion of a fire next to the Mercantile Library rooms in
Philadelphia, in 1877, great damage was done, from water thrown by the
fire-engines, to many thousands of books. The library authorities tried
various methods of restoring the volumes, and among others, drying them
in ovens was resorted to. This was found, however, to dry the books so
rapidly, that the bindings cracked, and in many cases came off, while
many volumes were much warped. The most advantageous method that was
adopted was to prepare a large number of frames on which many wires were
strung horizontally across a large room. The wet books (many of which
were soaked through) were suspended on these wires in such a way as to
dry them by degrees, the temperature of the room being raised
considerably by furnace heat.
The condition in which the books were found after the wetting varied
greatly. Nearly all that were printed on soft paper were wet through,
while those next to them printed on thick paper, and with solid leather
bindings, were scarcely damaged at all. The water stains constituted the
most serious injury to the volumes, and multitudes of fine books that
were wet will always bear the marks of the stain. Some of the more costly
books were restored by taking them apart, washing them thoroughly, then
placing them in a heated press, and drying them, so that the water-stains
were removed. All the books, however different the degree of damage from
the water, retained their legibility, and were put to the same uses in
the library as before the fire occurred. None were burned, the actual
fire being confined to the neighboring buildings of the block in the
midst of which the library was unfortunately located.
The whole number of volumes damaged was about 55,000, and the insurance,
which was assessed by referees at the amount of $42,000, would nearly
have replaced the books by new ones. Many of the volumes had to be
rebound as the damage by wetting the glue and paste which are such
important elements in binding securely, led to the falling apart of the
covers.
There are multitudes of books restored by some one of the processes which
have been ingeniously contrived to make an old book as good as new, or an
imperfect volume perfect. The art of reproducing in facsimile, by mere
manual dexterity with the pen, letters, words, and whole pages, has been
carried to a high degree of perfection, notably in London. A celebrated
book restorer named Harris, gained a great reputation among book lovers
and librarians by his consummate skill in the reproduction of the text
of black-letter rarities and early-printed books of every kind. To such
perfection did he carry the art of imitating an original that in many
cases one could not distinguish the original from the imitation, and even
experts have announced a Harris facsimile in a Shakespeare folio to be
the printed original. The art has even been extended to engravings, with
such success that the famous Droeshout portrait of Shakespeare, which
illustrates the title-page of the first folio of 1623, has been
multiplied in pen-made facsimile, so as to deceive the most careful
scrutiny.
This nice and difficult art is not widely pursued in this country, though
there are some experts among New York and Philadelphia book-binders, who
practice it. The British Museum Library has a corps of workers engaged in
the restoration both of books and of manuscripts (as well as engravings)
who are men of the highest training and skill.
The process is necessarily quite expensive, because of the time required
and of the small number of competing artists in this field. It is chiefly
confined to the restoration of imperfect copies of early printed and rare
books, which are so frequently found in imperfect condition, often
wanting title-pages or the final leaves, or parts of pages in any part of
the volume.
So costly, indeed, is this skilful hand-restoration of imperfect books,
that it has been a great boon to the collectors of libraries and rare
works, to see the arts of photography so developed in recent years, as to
reproduce with almost exact fidelity printed matter of any kind from the
pages of books. The cost of such facsimiles of course varies with the
locality, the work, the skill, or the competition involved. But it may be
said in general that the average cost of book-page facsimiles by
photographic process need not exceed one dollar a page.
An entire edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica has been printed from
plates made in replica from photographs of the original text of the
Edinburgh edition. The reproduction in this case can hardly be commended,
as it is trying to the eyes to read, when compared with the original,
presenting a somewhat blurred and irregular aspect to the eyes.
It is very difficult to lay down rules which shall be effective in
checking the abuse of books which compels exercise of the means of
restoration. Writing upon margins (already referred to) may sometimes be
checked by putting a printed slip in every library book bearing the
warning--"Never write in a library book." To this may be added--"Never
turn down leaves," an equally important injunction. Indeed, a whole list
of "Dont's" might be inserted, but for the chance that too many warnings
might operate to warn off a reader from absorbing any of them. Thus--
"Don't soil any book
Don't write on margins
Don't turn down leaves
Don't lay a book on its face open
Don't wet fingers to turn leaves
Don't fail to use the book-mark
Don't read with unclean hands."
As a loose slip is liable to fall out, some such reminder should be
pasted into the fly-leaf of every book, next the book-plate.
A self-respecting reader will generally heed such hints, which a moment's
reflection will teach him are meant to preserve the library book clean
and presentable for his own use, as well as for that of others. But there
will always be some rude, boorish people who will persist in their brutal
and destructive treatment of books, in the face of whatever warnings. How
to deal with such unwelcome persons is an ever-present problem with the
librarian. If sustained by the other library authorities, a really
effectual remedy is to deny the further use of the library to any
offender clearly proven to have subjected library books to damage while
in his hands. Some librarians go so far as to post the names of such
offenders in the library hall, stating that they are denied the
privileges of the library by the authorities, for mutilating books.
In any case, great care must be taken to have the clearest proof, before
proceeding to fasten the offense upon a particular individual. This
involves, where the injury is not committed in the presence of any
library officer, so as to be observed, but has been done while the book
was drawn out, an examination of each volume before giving it out. If
this rule were to be observed as to all, it would entail an expense that
few libraries could afford. In a large circulating library in a city, it
might require the entire time of two assistants to collate the books
before re-issuing them. The circumstances of each library must determine
how to deal with this matter. Probably the majority will limit the close
examination of books before giving them out, to cases where there is
reason to suspect wilful continued soiling, scribbling, or dog's-earing.
A few such cases once detected and dealt with will have a most salutary
restraining influence upon others, especially if re-enforced by frequent
and judicious paragraphs in the local press, setting forth the offense
and the remedy.
But all in vain will be the endeavor to abate these defacements and
consequent waste of the library books, unless it is enforced by a
positive law, with penal provisions, to punish offenders who mutilate or
deface books that are public property. A good model of such a statute is
the following, slightly abridged as to verbiage, from an act of Congress,
of which we procured the enactment in the year 1878:
"Any person who steals, defaces, injures, mutilates, tears, or destroys
any book, pamphlet, work of art, or manuscript, belonging to any public
library, or to the United States, in the District of Columbia, shall be
fined ten dollars to one hundred dollars, and punished by imprisonment
from one to twelve months, for every such offense."
This act will be found in the United States Statutes at Large, Vol. 20,
p. 171. It would be well if the term "periodical" were added to the list
of objects to be protected, to avoid all risk of a failure to punish the
mutilation of newspapers and magazines, by pleading technical points, of
which lawyers are prone to avail themselves in aiding offenders to escape
conviction.
It will be observed, that the word "deface," employed in this statute,
actually covers the marking of margins by any reader, all such marking
constituting a defacement within the meaning of the law.
While the great multitude of readers who frequent our public libraries
are honest and trustworthy, there are always some who are conspicuously
the reverse. It is rarely safe in a large public library to admit readers
to the shelves, without the company or the surveillance of an attendant.
And it is not alone the uncultivated reader who cannot be trusted; the
experience of librarians is almost uniform to the effect that literary
men, and special scholars, as well as the collectors of rare books, are
among those who watch the opportunity to purloin what they wish to save
themselves the cost of buying. Sometimes, you may find your most valuable
work on coins mutilated by the abstraction of a plate, carried off by
some student of numismatics. Sometimes, you may discover a fine picture
or portrait abstracted from a book by some lover of art or collector of
portraits. Again, you may be horrified by finding a whole sermon torn out
of a volume of theology by a theological student or even a clergyman.
All these things have happened, and are liable to happen again. No
library is safe that is not closely watched and guarded. In the Astor
library a literary man actually tore out sixty pages of the _Revue de
Paris_, and added to the theft the fraud of plagiarism, by translating
from the stolen leaves an article which he sold to Appleton's Journal as
an original production!
In this case, the culprit, though detected, could not be punished, the
law of New York requiring the posting in the library of the statute
prohibiting mutilation or other injury to the books, and this posting had
not been done. The law has since been amended, to make the penalties
absolute and unconditional.
In the Astor Library, over six hundred volumes were discovered to have
been mutilated, including art works, Patent office reports, magazines,
newspapers, and even encyclopaedias. The books stolen from that library
had been many, until several exposures and punishment of thieves inspired
a wholesome dread of a similar fate.
At a meeting of the American Library Association, one member inquired
whether there was any effectual way to prevent the abstraction of books.
He was answered by another librarian (from Cincinnati) who replied that
he knew of only one effectual method, and that was to keep a man standing
over each book with a club. Of course this was a humorous paradox, not to
be taken literally, but it points a moral.
Seriously, however, the evil may be greatly curtailed, (though we may be
hopeless of absolute prevention) by adopting the precautions already
referred to. In the Library of the British Museum, a great library of
reference, from which no book is permitted to be taken under any
circumstances, the evil of mutilation was much reduced by prosecuting
and posting the offenders publicly. After a few years, the obnoxious
practice had so far ceased, that the placards, having an unpleasant
aspect, were taken down. But on renewal of such depredations and
defacements of books by readers, the placards were renewed, and some of
the mutilated books, suitably labelled, were posted in the great reading
room before the eyes of all. The authorities of the British Museum are
convinced of the salutary effects of such warnings, though books are
sometimes stolen or mutilated under the liberal management which leaves
several thousand volumes open for reference, without tickets.
The late Dr. Wm. F. Poole, the Chicago librarian, recorded his experience
in dealing with some clergymen, who, said he, seem to have as regards
books, an imperfect appreciation of the laws of _meum_ and _tuum_. He had
found ministers more remiss in returning books than any other class of
men. He would by no means reflect on a noble and sacred profession by
charging the derelictions of a few upon the many. But he had had
unpleasant experiences with men of that profession, who had absolutely
purloined books from the Public Library, removed the book-plates and
library stamp, and covered the volumes with paper carefully pasted down
inside of the covers.
A librarian in Massachusetts testified that it was common experience that
clergymen and professional men gave the most trouble. Second-hand
book-dealers in Boston had found a judge of the court purloining rare
pamphlets, and ministers making away with pamphlet sermons under their
coats. Without insisting here upon any such extenuations of such
practices as the prevalence of kleptomania, it has been made abundantly
manifest that theft and mutilation of books are sufficiently common to
demonstrate the weakness of human nature, and the necessity of every
safeguard which public libraries can provide against such abuses of
their treasures.
A Boston librarian stated that the thieves or mutilators of books
included school-boys, clerks, students, teachers, soldiers, physicians,
lawyers, clergymen, etc. In only one case was the crime committed through
want or suffering. Yet, though the offenders had been proven guilty in
every instance, only two cases were known in which the penalty of the law
had been enforced. Does not this bespeak laxity of public morals in
Boston in regard to such abuses of library property?
The Union Theological Seminary at New York recorded its experience with
ministers and theological students, to the effect that its library had
lost more than a thousand volumes, taken and not returned. This of course
included what were charged out, but could not be recovered.
A librarian in Auburn, N. Y., returning from vacation, found that the
American Architect, an important illustrated weekly, had been mutilated
in seven different volumes, and that 130 pages in all had been stolen.
Fortunately, she was able to trace the reader who had been using the
work, and succeeded in recovering the abstracted plates. The offender was
prosecuted to conviction, and had to pay a fine of fifty dollars.
It often happens that books which disappear mysteriously from a public
library re-appear quite as mysteriously. Those taking them, finding that
the rules do not allow certain books to leave the library, make a law
unto themselves, carry off the book wanted, keep it until read, and then
return it surreptitiously, by replacing it on some shelf or table, when
no one is looking. This is where no intention of stealing the book
exists, and the borrower wilfully makes his own convenience override the
library regulations, in the belief that he will not be found out. The
Buffalo Young Men's Library reported in one year eighteen illustrated
works on the fine arts, reserved from being taken out by its by-laws, as
disappearing for weeks, but brought back in this underhanded manner. In
other cases of such return, it is likely that the purpose was to keep the
book, but that conscience or better thoughts, or fear of detection
prevailed, and secured its return.
Some instances where leniency has been exercised to save book thieves
from penalties may be instructive. One man who had carried off and sold
two volumes from the Astor Library was traced and arrested, when he
pleaded that absolute want had driven him to the act. He had a wife ill
and starving at his home, and this on investigation proving true, he was
pardoned and saved further misery.
In another case, a poor German had stolen a volume of the classics which
he pawned for a small sum to get bread for himself, being long out of
work, and in a condition bordering closely upon starvation. He was
released, the book reclaimed, and the offender turned over to the
agencies of public charity.
A librarian of New York gave it as his experience that some ministers are
not to be trusted any more than other people. Some of them like to write
their opinions on the margins of the books. He found one of the library
books written on in thirty pages, recognized the hand-writing, and wrote
to the reverend gentleman asking an interview. He came, admitted the
fact, and said that his notes made the book more valuable. This ingenious
excuse did not satisfy the librarian, who said, "others do not think so,
sir; so if you will get us a new book, you may keep the more valuable
one." He soon brought in a new copy, and the matter ended.
At the New York Mercantile Library, a young lady, amply able to buy all
the books she could want, was discovered going out of the library with
one book in her hand which she was entitled to, it being charged, and
with five others hidden under her cloak, without permission.
Mr. Melvil Dewey has truly said that it is very hard to tell a library
thief at sight. Well-dressed, gentlemanly, even sanctimonious looking men
are among them, and the wife of a well-known college professor, detected
in purloining books, begged so hard not to be exposed, that she was
reluctantly pardoned, and even restored to library privileges.
A prominent lawyer of Brooklyn, of distinguished appearance and fine
manners, did not steal books, but his specialty was magazines and
newspapers, which he carried off frequently. Being caught at it one day,
and accused by the librarian, he put on an air of dignity, declared he
was insulted, and walked out. The librarian found the periodical he had
taken thrown down in the entry, and he never after frequented that
library.
It is curious and instructive to know the experience of some libraries
regarding the theft or mutilation of books. Thus, in the public library
of Woburn, Mass., a case of mutilation occurred by the cutting out of a
picture from "Drake's Historic Fields and Mansions of Middlesex County."
On discovery of the loss, a reward of $10 was offered for information
leading to detection of the culprit. This was published in the town
paper, and an article was printed calling attention to these library
thefts and abuses, followed by citing the State law making such
depredations a penal offense. Within a week the missing plate came back
to the librarian through the mail--anonymously of course, the person who
had abstracted it finding that it was rather an unsafe picture to keep or
exhibit, and so choosing to make his best policy honesty, though rather
tardy in coming to that wise conclusion.
This experience, and others here cited, may serve as a hint what course
to pursue under similar circumstances, in the reclamation of library
books.
In the Library of the London Institution, continuous thefts of valuable
editions of the classics had occurred. Putting a detective in the
library, a young man of suspicious demeanor was soon identified as the
thief, and was followed and arrested in the very act of selling a library
book. He proved to be a young man of good family, education and previous
good character; but the library had suffered such losses from his
depredations, that no mercy was shown, and he received and underwent the
sentence to two months imprisonment.
It may be added as an instance of methods availed of in London to trace
missing books, that the librarian, knowing from the vacancies on the
shelves what books had been abstracted, printed a list of them, sent it
to every second-hand book-dealer in London, at the same time supplying it
to the police, who circulate daily a list of missing property among all
the pawn-brokers' shops in the city, and recovered all the books within
twenty-four hours.
The Mercantile Library of Philadelphia missed a number of valuable books
from its shelves, and on a watch being set, a physician in the most
respectable rank in society was detected as the purloiner, and more than
fifty volumes recovered from him.
A library at Lancaster, Pa., reported the almost incredible incident of a
thief having hidden under his coat, and carried off, a Webster's
Unabridged Dictionary!
In most cases of detected theft or mutilation of books, strong appeals
are made by the culprit or his friends to save exposure by public
prosecution. These are commonly, in the case of persons in very
respectable circumstances in life, not so much to avoid paying fines
imposed by law as to avoid the disgrace attached to publicity, and the
consequent damage done to the character of the individual. It is probably
true that in a majority of cases, such influences have been strong enough
to overcome the determination of the librarian or library authorities to
let the law take its course. Now, while it must be admitted that there is
no rule without some valid exception that may be made, it is nevertheless
to be insisted upon that due protection to public property in libraries
demands the enforcement of the laws enacted to that end. The consequence
of leniency to the majority of book thieves would be not only an indirect
encouragement to the culprits to continue their depredations, but it
would also lead to a lax and dangerous notion of the obligations of
readers, and the sacredness of such property, in the public mind.
Enforcement of the penalties of wrong-doing, on the other hand, tends
unquestionably to deter others, both by the fear of publicity which must
follow detection, and by terror of the penalty which is or may be
imprisonment for a considerable term, besides the imposing of a fine.
At the Worcester, Mass., Public Library, a young man of twenty-two was
detected in stealing a book, obliged to confess, and prosecuted. Much
pressure was brought to bear by his family and friends, very respectable
people, to save him from the penalty. The Court, however, imposed a fine
of thirty dollars, and it being represented that his relatives would have
to pay the amount, though innocent parties, the judge suspended the
sentence until the young man should pay it in instalments from his own
earnings, one of the family giving bail. The valuable lesson was in this
way not lost, either to the offender or to the community; the law was
enforced, and the young man perhaps saved from a life of wrong-doing,
while if he had been let off scot-free, in deference to the influence
exerted to that end, he might have gone from bad to worse.
At the Pratt Institute Free Library in Brooklyn, books had been
disappearing from the reference department at intervals of about a week,
and a watch was instituted. After some weeks' fruitless watching, a young
man who came frequently to consult books was singled out as the probable
offender, and the eyes of the library staff were centered upon him. The
janitor watched his movements for some days, from a concealed post of
observation, as the young man walked back and forth between the book
stacks, and one day caught him in the act of slipping a book into his
pocket, and arrested him as he was leaving the building. He had stolen a
dozen books from the library, all but three of which were recovered. He
claimed to be a theological student, and that he had taken the books
merely for the purposes of study. Much sympathy was expressed for him by
people who believed that this was his motive, and that it was some
partial atonement for his offense. The grief of his relatives at his
disgrace was intense. The Court sentenced him to eight years in the
penitentiary, but suspended the sentence in view of the fact that it was
a first offense, by a youth of twenty-one years. He was put under police
surveillance for his good behavior (equivalent to being paroled) but the
sentence becomes active upon any further transgression of the law on his
part.
It may be gathered from these many cases of library depredations, that
they are very common, that perpetual vigilance is the price of safety,
that punishment in nearly all cases is wiser than pardon, and that the
few exceptions made should be mostly confined to offenders who steal
books under desperate necessity or actual want.