QUALIFICATIONS OF A LIBRARIAN.
In directing attention to some of the more important elements which
should enter into the character and acquirements of a librarian, I shall
perhaps not treat them in the order of their relative importance. Thus,
some persons might consider the foremost qualification for one aspiring
to the position of a librarian to be wide knowledge in literature and
science: others would say that the possession of sound common sense is
above all things essential; others an excellent and retentive memory;
still others might insist that business habits and administrative faculty
are all-important; and others again, a zeal for learning and for
communicating it to others.
I shall not venture to pronounce what, among the multitude of talents
that are requisite to constitute a good librarian is the most requisite.
Suffice it to say, that all of them which I shall notice are important,
and that the order of their treatment determines nothing as to which are
more and which are less important. So much is expected of librarians that
it actually appears as if a large portion of the public were of the
opinion that it is the duty of him who has a library in charge to possess
himself, in some occult or mysterious way, unknown to the common mind, of
all the knowledge which all the books combine.
The Librarian of the British Museum, speaking to a conference of
librarians in London, quoted a remark of Pattison, in his "Life of
Casaubon," that "the librarian who reads is lost." This was certainly
true of that great scholar Casaubon, who in his love for the contents of
the books under his charge, forgot his duties as a librarian. And it is
to a large degree true of librarians in general, that those who pursue
their own personal reading or study during library hours do it at the
expense of their usefulness as librarians. They must be content with such
snatches of reading as come in the definite pursuit of some object of
research incident to their library work, supplemented by such reading
time as unoccupied evenings, Sundays, and annual vacations may give them.
Yet nothing is more common than for applicants for the position of
librarians or assistant librarians to base their aspiration upon the
foolish plea that they are "so fond of reading", or that they "have
always been in love with books." So far from this being a qualification,
it may become a disqualification. Unless combined with habits of
practical, serious, unremitting application to labor, the taste for
reading may seduce its possessor into spending the minutes and the hours
which belong to the public, in his own private gratification. The
conscientious, the useful librarian, living amid the rich intellectual
treasures of centuries, the vast majority of which he has never read,
must be content daily to enact the part of Tantalus, in the presence of a
tempting and appetizing banquet which is virtually beyond his reach.
But he may console himself by the reflection that comparatively few of
the books upon his shelves are so far worth reading as to be essential.
"If I had read as many books as other men," said Hobbes of Malmesbury, "I
should have been as ignorant as they."
If the librarian, in the precious time which is indisputably his, reads a
wise selection of the best books, the masterpieces of the literature of
all lands, which have been consecrated by time and the suffrages of
successive generations of readers, he can well afford to apply to the
rest, the short-hand method recommended in a former chapter, and skim
them in the intervals of his daily work, instead of reading them. Thus he
will become sufficiently familiar with the new books of the day (together
with the information about their contents and merits furnished by the
literary reviews, which he must read, however sparingly, in order to keep
up with his profession) to be able to furnish readers with some word of
comment as to most books coming into the Library. This course, or as
close an approximation to it as his multifarious duties will permit, will
go far to solve the problem that confronts every librarian who is
expected to be an exponent of universal knowledge. Always refraining from
unqualified praise of books (especially of new ones) always maintaining
that impartial attitude toward men and opinions which becomes the
librarian, he should act the part of a liberal, eclectic, catholic guide
to inquirers of every kind.
And here let me emphasize the great importance to every librarian or
assistant of early learning to make the most of his working faculties. He
cannot afford to plod along through a book, sentence by sentence, like an
ordinary reader. He must learn to read a sentence at a glance. The moment
his eye lights upon a title-page he should be able to take it all in by a
comprehensive and intuitive mental process. Too much stress cannot be
laid upon the every-day habit or method of reading. It makes all the
difference between time saved, and time wasted; between efficiency and
inefficiency; between rapid progress and standing still, in one's daily
work. No pains should be spared, before entering upon the all-engrossing
work of a library, to acquire the habit of rapid reading. An eminent
librarian of one of the largest libraries was asked whether he did not
find a great deal of time to read? His reply was--"I wish that I could
ever get as much as one hour a day for reading--but I have never been
able to do it." Of course every librarian must spend much time in special
researches; and in this way a good deal of some of his days will be spent
in acquainting himself with the resources of his library; but this is
incidental and not systematic reading.
In viewing the essential qualifications of a librarian, it is necessary
to say at the outset that a library is no place for uneducated people.
The requirements of the position are such as to demand not only native
talent above the average, but also intellectual acquirements above the
average. The more a librarian knows, the more he is worth, and the
converse of the proposition is equally true, that the less he knows the
less he is worth. Before undertaking the arduous task of guiding others
in their intellectual pursuits, one should make sure that he is himself
so well-grounded in learning that he can find the way in which to guide
them. To do this, he must indispensably have something more than a
smattering of the knowledge that lies at the foundation of his
profession. He must be, if not widely read, at least carefully grounded
in history, science, literature, and art. While he may not, like Lord
Bacon, take all knowledge to be his province, because he is not a Lord
Bacon, nor if he were, could he begin to grasp the illimitable domain of
books of science and literature which have been added to human knowledge
in the two centuries and a half since Bacon wrote, he can at least, by
wise selection, master enough of the leading works in each field, to make
him a well-informed scholar. That great treasury of information on the
whole circle of the sciences, and the entire range of literature, the
Encyclopaedia Britannica, judiciously studied, will alone give what would
appear to the average mind, a very liberal education.
One of the most common and most inconsiderate questions propounded to a
librarian is this: "Do you ever expect to read all these books through?"
and it is well answered by propounding another question, namely--"Did
_you_ ever read your dictionary through?" A great library is the
scholar's dictionary--not to be read through, but to enable him to put
his finger on the fact he wants, just when it is wanted.
A knowledge of some at least of the foreign languages is indispensable to
the skilled librarian. In fact, any one aspiring to become an assistant
in any large library, or the head of any small one, should first acquire
at least an elementary knowledge of French and Latin. Aside from books in
other languages than English which necessarily form part of every
considerable library, there are innumerable quotations or words in
foreign tongues scattered through books and periodicals in English, which
a librarian, appealed to by readers who are not scholars, would be
mortified if found unable to interpret them. The librarian who does not
understand several languages will be continually at a loss in his daily
work. A great many important catalogues, and bibliographies, essential
parts of the equipment of a library, will be lost to him as aids, and he
can neither select foreign books intelligently nor catalogue them
properly. If he depends upon the aid of others more expert, his position
will be far from agreeable or satisfactory. How many and what foreign
languages should be learned may be matter for wide difference of opinion.
But so far-reaching is the prevalence of the Latin, as one of the
principal sources of our own language, and of other modern tongues, that
a knowledge of it is most important. And so rich is the literature of
France, to say nothing of the vast number of French words constantly
found in current English and American books and periodicals, that at
least a fairly thorough mastery of that language should be acquired. The
same may be said of the German, which is even more important in some
parts of the United States, and which has a literature most copious and
valuable in every varied department of knowledge. With these three
tongues once familiar, the Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, Dutch, and
Scandinavian languages may be, through the aid of dictionaries, so far
utilized as to enable one to read titles and catalogue books in any of
them, although a knowledge of all, so as to be able to read books in
them, is highly desirable.
In the Boston Public Library, the assistants are required to possess an
adequate knowledge of Latin, French, and German. And all candidates for
positions in the reading-room of the British Museum Library must undergo
a thorough test examination as to their knowledge of the Latin language.
Opportunities for acquiring foreign languages are now so abundant that
there is small excuse for any one who wants to know French, Latin or
German, and yet goes through life without learning them. There are even
ways of learning these languages with sufficient thoroughness for reading
purposes without a teacher, and sometimes without a text-book. Two
assistant librarians taught themselves French and German in their
evenings, by setting out to read familiar works of English fiction in
translations into those languages, and soon acquired a good working
knowledge of both, so as to be able to read any work in either, with only
occasional aid from the dictionary for the less common words. It is
surprising how soon one can acquire a sufficient vocabulary in any
language, by reading any of its great writers. A good way for a beginner
to learn French without a master is to take a French New Testament, and
read the four Gospels through. After doing this three or four times,
almost any one who is at all familiar with the Scriptures, will be able
to read most books in the French language with facility. In the great art
of learning, all doors are easily unlocked--by those who have the key.
It should go without saying that the librarian should possess a wide
knowledge of books. This knowledge should include (1) an acquaintance
with ancient and modern literature, so as to be able to characterize the
notable writers in each of the leading languages of the world; (2) a
knowledge of history extensive enough to enable him to locate all the
great characters, including authors, in their proper century and country;
(3) a knowledge of editions, so as to discriminate between the old and
the new, the full and the abridged, the best edited, best printed, etc.;
(4) an acquaintance with the intrinsic value or the subject and scope of
most of the great books of the world; (5) a knowledge of commercial
values, so as to be able to bid or to buy understandingly, and with
proper economy; (6) a familiarity with what constitutes condition in
library books, and with binding and repairing processes, for the
restoration of imperfect volumes for use.
The librarian should be one who has had the benefit of thorough
preliminary training, for no novice is qualified to undertake the role of
an expert, and any attempt to do so can result only in disappointment and
failure. No one who has read little or nothing but novels since leaving
school need ever hope to succeed.
No librarian can know too much, since his work brings him into relation
with the boundless domain of human knowledge. He should not be a
specialist in science (except in the one science of bibliography) but
must be content with knowing a little about a great many things, rather
than knowing everything about one thing. Much converse with books must
fill him with a sense of his own ignorance. The more he comes to know,
the wider will open before him the illimitable realm of what is yet to
be known. In the lowest deep which research the most profound can reach,
there is a lower deep still unattained--perhaps, even, unattainable. But
the fact that he cannot by any possibility master all human knowledge
should not deter the student from making ever advancing inroads upon that
domain. The vast extent of the world of books only emphasizes the need of
making a wise selection from the mass. We are brought inevitably back to
that precept by every excursion that we make into whatever field of
literature.
The librarian should possess, besides a wide acquaintance with books, a
faculty of administration, and this rests upon careful business habits.
He should have a system in all the library work. Every assistant should
have a prescribed task, and be required to learn and to practice all the
methods peculiar to library economy, including the economy of time. Each
day's business should be so organized as to show an advance at the end.
The library must of course have rules, and every rule should be so simple
and so reasonable that it will commend itself to every considerate reader
or library assistant. All questions of doubt or dispute as to the
observance of any regulation, should be decided at once, courteously but
firmly, and in a few words. Nothing can be more unseemly than a wrangle
in a public library over some rule or its application, disturbing readers
who are entitled to silence, and consuming time that should be given to
the service of the public.
When Thomas Carlyle, one of the great scholars of modern times, testified
in 1848 before a Parliamentary Commission upon the British Museum
Library, he thus spoke of the qualifications of a librarian:
"All must depend upon the kind of management you get within the library
itself. You must get a good pilot to steer the ship, or you will never
get into the harbor. You must have a man to direct who knows well what
the duty is that he has to do, and who is determined to go through that,
in spite of all clamor raised against him; and who is not anxious to
obtain approbation, but is satisfied that he will obtain it by and by,
provided he acts ingenuously and faithfully."
Another quality most important in a librarian is an even temper. He
should be always and unfailingly courteous, not only to scholars and
visitors of high consideration, but to every reader, however humble or
ignorant, and to every employee, however subordinate in position. There
is nothing which more detracts from one's usefulness than a querulous
temper. Its possessor is seldom happy himself, and is the frequent cause
of unhappiness in others. Visitors and questions should never be met with
a clouded brow. A cheerful "good-morning" goes a great way oftentimes.
Many library visitors come in a complaining mood--it may be from long
waiting to be served, or from mistake in supplying them with the wrong
books, or from errors in charging their accounts, or from some fancied
neglect or slight, or from any other cause. The way to meet such
ill-humored or offended readers is to gently explain the matter, with
that "soft answer which turneth away wrath." Many a foolish and useless
altercation may thus be avoided, and the complainant restored to
cheerfulness, if not to courtesy; whereas, if the librarian were to meet
the case with a sharp or haughty answer, it would probably end without
satisfaction on either side. Whatever you do, never permit yourself to be
irritable, and resolve never to be irritated. It will make you unhappy,
and will breed irritation in others. Cheerfulness under all
circumstances, however difficult, is the duty and the interest of the
librarian. Thus he will cultivate successfully an obliging disposition,
which is a prime requisite to his success with the public and his
usefulness as a librarian.
It ought not to be requisite to insist upon good health as a condition
precedent for any one aspiring to be a librarian. So very much depends
upon this, that it should form a part of the conscientious duty of every
one to acquire and maintain a sound condition of physical health, as a
most important adjunct of a thoroughly sound and healthy condition of the
mind. This is easier than most persons are aware. If we except inherited
constitutional weaknesses, or maladies of a serious character, there is
almost no one who is not able by proper diet, regimen, and daily
exercise, to maintain a degree of health which will enable him to use his
brain to its full working capacity. It demands an intelligent and
watchful care of the daily regimen, so that only simple and wholesome
food and drink may be taken into the system, and what is equally
important, adequate sleep, and habitual moderate exercise. No one can
maintain perfect health without breathing good unadulterated air, and
exercising in it with great frequency. One's walks to and from the
library may be sufficient to give this, and it is well to have the motive
of such a walk, since exercise taken for the mere purpose of it is of far
less value. The habit of taking drugs, or going to a doctor for every
little malady, is most pernicious. Every one, and especially a librarian,
who is supposed (however erroneously) to know everything, should know
more of his own constitution than any physician. With a few judicious
experiments in daily regimen, and a little abstinence now and then, he
can subdue head-aches, catarrhs and digestive troubles, and by exercising
an intelligent will, can generally prevent their recurrence. If one finds
himself in the morning in a state of languor and lassitude, be sure he
has abused some physical function, and apply a remedy. An invalid will
make a poorly equipped librarian. How can a dyspeptic who dwells in the
darkness of a disease, be a guiding light to the multitudes who beset him
every hour? There are few callings demanding as much mental and physical
soundness and alertness as the care of a public library.
Sound common sense is as essential to the librarian as sound health. He
should always take the practical straightforward view of every item of
library business and management, remembering that the straight road is
always the shortest way between two points. While he may be full of
ideas, he should be neither an idealist nor a dreamer. In library
methods, the cardinal requisites to be aimed at, are utility and
convenience. A person of the most perfect education, and the highest
literary attainments, but destitute of common sense, will not succeed in
the conduct of a library. That intuitive judgment, which sees the reason
of everything at a glance, and applies the proper agencies to the case in
hand, is wanting in his composition. Multitudes of emergencies arise in
library service, where the prompt and practical sense of the librarian is
required to settle a dispute, adjust a difficulty, or to direct what is
to be done in some arrangement or re-arrangement of books, or some
library appliance or repair. In such cases, the unpractical or
impracticable man will be very likely to decide wrongly, choosing the
inconvenient method instead of the convenient, the more costly instead of
the more economical, the laborious in place of the obvious and easy; in
short, some way of doing the work or settling the difficulty which will
not permit it to stay settled, or will require the work to be done over
again. The man of common-sense methods, on the other hand, will at once
see the end from the beginning, anticipate every difficulty, and decide
upon the proper course without trouble or hesitation, finding his
judgment fully vindicated by the result.
The librarian in whom the quality of common sense is well developed will
be ever ready to devise or to accept improvements in library methods.
Never a slave to "red tape," he will promptly cut it wherever and
whenever it stands in the way of the readiest service of books and
information to all comers.
Another quality which every librarian or assistant in a library should
possess is a thorough love of his work. He should cherish a noble
enthusiasm for the success and usefulness of the institution with which
he has chosen to be associated. Nor should this spirit be by any means
limited to the literary and scientific aid which he is enabled to extend
to others, nor to the acquisition of the knowledge requisite to meet the
endless inquiries that are made of him. He should take as much interest
in restoring a broken binding, or in seeing that a torn leaf is repaired,
as in informing a great scholar what the library contains upon any
subject.
No one who is listless or indifferent in the discharge of daily duties is
fit for a place in a public library. There should be an _esprit de
corps_, a zeal for his profession, which will lead him to make almost any
sacrifice of outside interests to become proficient in it. Thus only will
he render himself indispensable in his place, and do the greatest amount
of service to the greatest number of readers. I have seen employees in
libraries so utterly careless of what belongs to their vocation, as to
let books, totally unfit for use, ragged or broken, or with plates
loosened, ready to drop out and disappear, go back to the shelves
unrepaired, to pursue the downward road toward destruction. And I have
been in many libraries in which the books upon the shelves exhibited such
utter want of care, such disarrangement, such tumbling about and
upside-down chaos, and such want of cleanliness, as fairly to make one's
heart ache. In some cases this may have been due in great part to unwise
free admission of the public to the shelves, and consequent inevitable
disorder; in others, it may be partially excused by the librarian's
absolute want of the needful help or time, to keep the library in order;
but in others, it was too apparent that the librarian in charge took no
interest in the condition of the books. Too many librarians (at least of
the past, however it may now be) have been of the class described by Dr.
Poole, the Chicago librarian. He said that library trustees too often
appeared to think that anybody almost would do for a librarian; men who
have failed in everything else, broken-down clergymen, or unsuccessful
teachers, and the like.
Passing now to other needful qualifications of librarians and library
assistants, let me say that one of the foremost is accuracy. Perhaps I
have before this remarked that exact accuracy is one of the rarest of
human qualities. Even an approximation to it is rare, and absolute
accuracy is still rarer. Beware of the person who is sure of every
thing--who retails to you a conversation he has heard, affecting to give
the exact words of a third person, or who quotes passages in verse or in
prose, with glib assurance, as the production of some well-known writer.
The chances are ten to one that the conversation is mainly manufactured
in the brain of the narrator, and that the quotation is either not
written by the author to whom it is attributed, or else is a travesty of
his real language. It is Lord Byron who tells of that numerous class of
sciolists whom one finds everywhere--
"With just enough of learning to misquote."
The books one reads abound in erroneous dates, mistaken names, garbled
extracts, and blundering quotations. So much the more important is it to
the librarian, who is so continually drawn upon for correct information
upon every subject, to make sure of his facts, before communicating them.
When (as frequently happens) he has no way of verifying them, he should
report them, not as his own conclusions, but on the authority of the book
or periodical where found. This will relieve him of all responsibility,
if they turn out to be erroneous. Whenever I find a wrong date or name in
a printed book, or an erroneous reference in the index, or a mis-spelled
word, I always pencil the correct date, or name, or page of reference in
the margin. This I do as a matter of instinct, as well as of duty, for
the benefit of future inquirers, so that they may not be misled. I speak
here of errors which are palpable, or of the inaccuracy of which I have
positive knowledge; if in doubt, I either let the matter go entirely, or
write a query in pencil at the place, with the presumed correct
substitute appended.
Never be too sure of what you find in books; but prove all things and
hold fast to those only which you find to be beyond dispute. Thus will
you save yourself from falling into many errors, and from recanting many
opinions. It is the method of ordinary education to take everything for
granted; it is the method of science to take nothing for granted.
I may refer here to another rule always to be observed, and pertaining to
the theme of strict accuracy in your daily work. That is, the necessity
of carefully examining every piece of work you may have done, before it
leaves your hands, for the purpose of correcting errors. All of us are
not only liable to make mistakes, but all of us do make them; and if any
one has a conceit of his own accuracy, the surest way to take it out of
him is to let him serve an apprenticeship in some library, where there
is competent revision of all the labor performed. There are multitudes of
assistants in libraries who cannot write a letter, even, without making
one or more errors. How often do you leave out a word in your writing
experience, which may change the meaning of a whole sentence? So, in
writing titles, whether for the catalogue, or for a library order, or for
the information of some inquirer, you are liable to make errors of date,
or edition, or place of publication, or size, or to misplace or omit or
substitute some word in the description of the book. There is nothing in
the world quite so easy as to be mistaken: and the only remedy (and it is
an all-essential one) is to go over every line and every word of what you
have written, before it leaves your hands. As second thoughts are
proverbially best, so a second careful glance over a piece of writing
will almost always reveal some error or omission to be corrected. Think
of the mortification you must feel at finding an unverified piece of work
returned upon your hands, with several glaring mistakes marked by the
reviser! Think, on the other hand, of the inward satisfaction experienced
when you have done your best, written and revised your own work, and
found it always passed as perfect. I have tried many persons by many
tests, and while I have found a great number who were industrious,
intelligent, zealous, conscientious, good-tempered, and expeditious, I
have found scarcely one who was always accurate. One of the rarest things
in a library is to find an assistant who has an unerring sense of the
French accents. This knowledge, to one expert in that language, even if
he does not speak it, should be as intuitive as the art of spelling
correctly, either in English or French. He should write the proper accent
over a letter just as infallibly as he writes the proper letters in a
word. But, strange to say, it is very common, even with good French
scholars (in the book-sense or literary sense of scholarship) to find
them putting the acute accent for the grave over a vowel, or the grave
instead of the acute, or omitting the circumflex accent entirely, and so
on.
Every one commits errors, but the wise man is he who learns by his
mistakes, and applies the remedy. The best remedy (as I said in the case
of memory in another chapter,) is to cultivate a habit of trained
attention in whatever we do. Yet many people (and I am afraid we must say
most people) go on through life, making the same blunders, and repeating
them. It appears as if the habit of inaccuracy were innate in the human
race, and only to be reformed by the utmost painstaking, and even with
the aid of that, only by a few. I have had to observe and correct such
numberless errors in the work of well-educated, adult, and otherwise
accomplished persons, as filled me with despair. Yet there is no more
doubt of the improvability of the average mind, however inaccurate at the
start, than of the power of the will to correct other bad habits into
which people unconsciously fall.
One of the requisites of a successful librarian is a faculty of order and
system, applied throughout all the details of library administration.
Without these, the work will be performed in a hap-hazard, slovenly
manner, and the library itself will tend to become a chaos. Bear in mind
the great extent and variety of the objects which come under the care of
the librarian, all of which are to be classified and reduced to order.
These include not only books upon every earthly subject (and very many
upon unearthly ones) but a possibly wide range of newspapers and
periodicals, a great mass of miscellaneous pamphlets, sometimes of maps
and charts, of manuscripts and broadsides, and frequently collections of
engravings, photographs, and other pictures, all of which come in to form
a part of most libraries. This great complexity of material, too,
exhibits only the physical aspect of the librarian's labors. There are,
besides, the preparation, arrangement and continuation of the catalogue,
in its three or more forms, the charging and crediting of the books in
circulation, the searching of many book lists for purchases, the library
bills and accounts, the supervision and revision of the work of
assistants, the library correspondence, often requiring wide researches
to answer inquiries, the continual aid to readers, and a multitude of
minor objects of attention quite too numerous to name. Is it any
over-statement of the case to say that the librarian who has to organize
and provide for all this physical and intellectual labor, should be
systematic and orderly in a high degree?
That portion of his responsible task which pertains to the arrangement
and classification of books has been elsewhere treated. But there is
required in addition, a faculty of arranging his time, so as to meet
seasonably the multifarious drafts upon it. He should early learn not
only the supreme value of moments, but how to make all the library hours
fruitful of results. To this end the time should be apportioned with
careful reference to each department of library service. One hour may be
set for revising one kind of work of assistants; another for a different
one; another for perusing sale catalogues, and marking _desiderata_ to be
looked up in the library catalogue; another for researches in aid of
readers or correspondents; still another for answering letters on the
many subjects about which librarians are constantly addressed; and still
another for a survey of all the varied interests of the library and its
frequenters, to see what features of the service need strengthening, what
improvements can be made, what errors corrected, and how its general
usefulness can be increased. So to apportion one's time as to get out of
the day (which is all too short for what is to be done in it) the utmost
of accomplishment is a problem requiring much skill, as well as the
ability to profit by experience. One has always to be subject to
interruptions--and these must be allowed for, and in some way made up
for. Remember, when you have lost valuable time with some visitor whose
claims to your attention are paramount, that when to-morrow comes one
should take up early the arrears of work postponed, and make progress
with them, even though unable to finish them.
Another suggestion; proper system in the management and control of one's
time demands that none of it be absorbed by trifles or triflers; and so
every librarian must indispensably know how to get rid of bores. One may
almost always manage to effect this without giving offense, and at the
same time without wasting any time upon them, which is the one thing
needful. The bore is commonly one who, having little or nothing to do,
inflicts himself upon the busy persons of his acquaintance, and
especially upon the ones whom he credits with knowing the most--to wit,
the librarians. Receive him courteously, but keep on steadily at the work
you are doing when he enters. If you are skilful, you can easily do two
things at once, for example, answer your idler friend or your bore, and
revise title-cards, or mark a catalogue, or collate a book, or look up a
quotation, or write a letter, at the same time. Never lose your good
humor, never say that your time is valuable, or that you are very busy;
never hint at his going away; but never quit your work, answer questions
cheerfully, and keep on, allowing nothing to take your eyes off your
business. By and by he will take the hint, if not wholly pachydermatous,
and go away of his own accord. By pursuing this course I have saved
infinite time, and got rid of infinite bores, by one and the same
process.
The faculty of organizing one's work is essential, in order to efficiency
and accomplishment. If you do not have a plan and adhere to it, if you
let this, that, and the other person interrupt you with trifling gossip,
or unnecessary requests, you will never get ahead of your work; on the
contrary, your work will always get ahead of you. The same result will
follow if you interrupt yourself, by yielding to the temptation of
reading just a page or a paragraph of something that attracts your eye
while at work. This dissipation of time, to say nothing of its unfair
appropriation of what belongs to the library, defeats the prompt
accomplishment of the work in hand, and fosters the evil habit of
scattering your forces, in idleness and procrastination.
It ought not to be needful to urge habits of neatness and the love of
order upon candidates for places in libraries. How much a neat and
carefully arranged shelf of books appeals to one's taste, I need not say,
nor urge the point how much an orderly and neatly kept room, or desk, or
table adds to one's comfort. The librarian who has the proper spirit of
his calling should take pains to make the whole library look neat and
attractive, to have a place for everything, and everything in its place.
This, with adequate space existing, will be found easier than to have the
books and other material scattered about in confusion, thus requiring
much more time to find them when wanted. A slovenly-kept library is
certain to provoke public criticism, and this always tells to the
disadvantage of the librarian; while a neatly kept, carefully arranged
collection of books is not only pleasing to the eye, but elicits
favorable judgment from all visitors.
Among the qualities that should enter into the composition of a
successful librarian must be reckoned an inexhaustible patience. He will
be sorely tried in his endeavors to satisfy his own ideals, and sometimes
still more sorely in his efforts to satisfy the public. Against the
mistakes and short-comings of assistants, the ignorance of many readers,
and the unreasonable expectations of others, the hamperings of library
authorities, and the frequently unfounded criticisms of the press, he
should arm himself with a patience and equanimity that are unfailing.
When he knows he is right, he should never be disturbed at complaint, nor
suffer a too sensitive mood to ruffle his feelings. When there is any
foundation for censure, however slight, he should learn by it and apply
the remedy. The many and varied characters who come within the
comprehensive sphere of the librarian necessarily include people of all
tempers and dispositions, as well as of every degree of culture. To be
gracious and courteous to all is his interest as well as his duty. With
the ignorant he will often have to exercise a vast amount of patience,
but he should never betray a supercilious air, as though looking down
upon them from the height of his own superior intelligence. To be always
amiable toward inferiors, superiors, and equals, is to conciliate the
regard of all. Courtesy costs so little, and makes so large a return in
proportion to the investment, that it is surprising not to find it
universal. Yet it is so far from being so that we hear people praising
one whose manners are always affable, as if he were deserving of special
credit for it, as an exception to the general rule. It is frequently
observed that a person of brusque address or crusty speech begets
crustiness in others. There are subtle currents of feeling in human
intercourse, not easy to define, but none the less potent in effect. A
person of marked suavity of speech and bearing radiates about him an
atmosphere of good humor, which insensibly influences the manners and the
speech of others.
There will often come into a public library a man whose whole manner is
aggressive and over-bearing, who acts and talks as if he had a right to
the whole place, including the librarian. No doubt, being a citizen, he
has every right, except the right to violate the rules--or to make
himself disagreeable. The way to meet him is to be neither aggressive,
nor submissive and deferential, but with a cool and pleasant courtesy,
ignoring any idea of unpleasant feeling on your part. You will thus at
least teach a lesson in good manners, which may or may not be learned,
according to circumstances and the hopeful or hopeless character of the
pupil.
Closely allied to the virtue of patience, is that of unfailing tact. This
will be found an important adjunct in the administration of a public
library. How to meet the innumerable inquiries made of him with just the
proper answer, saying neither too much, nor too little, to be civil to
all, without needless multiplication of words, this requires one to hold
his faculties well in hand, never to forget himself, and to show that no
demand whatever can vex or fluster him. The librarian should know how, or
learn how to adapt himself to all readers, and how to aid their
researches without devoting much time to each. This requires a fine
quality of tact, of adapting one's self quickly to the varied
circumstances of the case in hand. One who has it well developed will go
through the manifold labors and interviews and annoyances of the day
without friction, while one who is without tact will be worried and
fretted until life seems to him a burden.
Need I mention, after all that has been said of the exacting labors that
continually wait upon the librarian, that he should be possessed both of
energy and untiring industry? By the very nature of the calling to which
he is dedicated, he is pledged to earnest and thorough work in it. He
cannot afford to be a trifler or a loiterer on the way, but must push on
continually. He should find time for play, it is true, and for reading
for his own recreation and instruction, but that time should be out of
library hours. And a vigilant and determined economy of time in library
hours will be found a prime necessity. I have dwelt elsewhere upon the
importance of choosing the shortest methods in every piece of work to be
accomplished. Equally important is it to cultivate economy of speech, or
the habit of condensing instructions to assistants, and answers to
inquiries into the fewest words. A library should never be a
circumlocution office. The faculty of condensed expression, though
somewhat rare, can be cultivated.
In the relations existing between librarian and assistants there should
be mutual confidence and support. All are equally interested in the
credit and success of the institution which engages their services, and
all should labor harmoniously to that end. Loyalty to one's employers is
both the duty and the interest of the employed: and the reciprocal duty
of faithfulness to those employed, and interest in their improvement and
success should mark the intercourse of the librarian with his assistants.
He should never be too old nor too wise to learn, and should welcome
suggestions from every intelligent aid. I have suggested the importance
of an even temper in the relations between librarians and readers; and it
is equally important as between all those associated in the
administration of a library. Every one has faults and weaknesses; and
those encountered in others will be viewed with the most charity by those
who are duly conscious of their own. Every one makes mistakes, and these
are often provoking or irritating to one who knows better; but a mild and
pleasant explanation of the error is far more likely to lead to
amendment, than a sharp reproof, leaving hard feeling or bitterness
behind. Under no circumstances is peevishness or passion justifiable.
Library assistants in their bearing toward each other, should suppress
all feelings of censoriousness, fault-finding or jealousy, if they have
them, in favor of civility and good manners, if not of good fellowship.
They are all public servants engaged in a common cause, aiming at the
enlightenment and improvement of the community; they should cherish a
just pride in being selected for this great service, and to help one
another in every step of the work, should be their golden rule.
Everything should be done for the success and usefulness of the library,
and all personal considerations should be merged in public ones.
Turning now to what remains of suggestion regarding the qualities which
should enter into the character, or form a part of the equipment of a
librarian, let me urge the importance of his possessing a truly liberal
and impartial mind. It is due to all who frequent a public library to
find all those in charge ready and willing to aid their researches in
whatever direction they may lie. Their attitude should be one of constant
and sincere open-mindedness. They are to remember that it is the function
of the library to supply the writings of all kinds of authors, on all
sides of all questions. In doing this, it is no part of a librarian's
function to interpose any judgments of his own upon the authors asked
for. He has no right as a librarian to be an advocate of any theories, or
a propagandist of any opinions. His attitude should be one of strict and
absolute impartiality. A public library is the one common property of
all, the one neutral ground where all varieties of character, and all
schools of opinion meet and mingle. Within its hallowed precincts, sacred
to literature and science, the voice of controversy should be hushed.
While the librarian may and should hold his own private opinions with
firmness and entire independence, he should keep them private--as regards
the frequenters of the library. He may, for example, be profoundly
convinced of the truth of the Christian religion; and he is called on, we
will suppose, for books attacking Christianity, like Thomas Paine's "Age
of Reason," or Robert G. Ingersoll's lectures on "Myth and Miracle." It
is his simple duty to supply the writers asked for, without comment, for
in a public library, Christian and Jew, Mahometan and Agnostic, stand on
the same level of absolute equality. The library has the Koran, and the
Book of Mormon, as well as the Scriptures of the Old and New Testament,
and one is to be as freely supplied as the other. A library is an
institution of universal range--of encyclopaedic knowledge, which gathers
in and dispenses to all comers, the various and conflicting opinions of
all writers upon religion, science, politics, philosophy, and sociology.
The librarian may chance to be an ardent Republican or a zealous
Democrat; but in either case, he should show as much alacrity in
furnishing readers with W. J. Bryan's book "The First Battle," as with
McKinley's speeches, or the Republican Hand-Book. A library is no place
for dogmatism; the librarian is pledged, by the very nature of his
profession, which is that of a dispenser of all knowledge--not of a part
of it--to entire liberality, and absolute impartiality. Remembering the
axiom that all errors may be safely tolerated, while reason is left free
to combat them, he should be ever ready to furnish out of the
intellectual arsenal under his charge, the best and strongest weapons to
either side in any conflict of opinion.
It will have been gathered from what has gone before, in recapitulation
of the duties and responsibilities of the librarian's calling, that it is
one demanding a high order of talent. The business of successfully
conducting a public library is complex and difficult. It is full of
never-ending detail, and the work accomplished does not show for what it
is really worth, except in the eyes of the more thoughtful and discerning
observers.
I may here bring into view some of the drawbacks and discouragements
incident to the librarian's vocation, together with an outline of the
advantages which belong to it.
In the first place, there is little money in it. No one who looks upon
the acquisition of money as one of the chief aims of life, should think
for a moment of entering on a librarian's career. The prizes in the
profession are few--so few indeed, as to be quite out of the question for
most aspirants. The salaries paid in subordinate positions are very low
in most libraries, and even those of head-librarians are not such that
one can lay up money on them. A lady assistant librarian in one city said
she had found that one of a librarian's proper qualifications was to be
able to live on two meals a day. This doubtless was a humorous
exaggeration, but it is true that the average salaries hitherto paid in
our public libraries, with few exceptions, do not quite come up to those
of public school teachers, taking the various grades into account. Most
of the newly formed libraries are poor, and have to be economical. But
there is some reason to hope that as libraries multiply and their
unspeakable advantages become more fully appreciated, the standard of
compensation for all skilled librarians will rise. I say skilled, because
training and experience are the leading elements which command the better
salaries, in this, as in other professions.
Another drawback to be recognized in the librarian's calling, is that
there are peculiar trials and vexations connected with it. There are
almost no limits to the demands made upon the knowledge and the time of
the librarian. In other professions, teaching for example, there are
prescribed and well-defined routines of the instruction to be given, and
the teacher who thoroughly masters this course, and brings the pupils
through it creditably, has nothing to do beyond. The librarian, on the
other hand, must be, as it were, a teacher of all sciences and
literatures at once. The field to be covered by the wants of readers, and
the inquiries that he is expected to answer, are literally illimitable.
He cannot rest satisfied with what he has already learned, however expert
or learned he may have become; but he must keep on learning forevermore.
The new books that are continually flooding him, the new sciences or new
developments of old ones that arise, must be so far assimilated that he
can give some account of the scope of all of them to inquiring readers.
In the third place, there are special annoyances in the service of a
public, which includes always some inconsiderate and many ignorant
persons, and these will frequently try one's patience, however angelic
and forbearing. So, too, the short-comings of library assistants or
associates may often annoy him, but as all these trials have been before
referred to, it may be added that they are not peculiar to library
service, but are liable to occur in the profession of teaching or in any
other.
In the next place, the peculiar variety and great number of the calls
incessantly made upon the librarian's knowledge, constitute a formidable
draft upon any but the strongest brain. There is no escape from these
continual drafts upon his nervous energy for one who has deliberately
chosen to serve in a public library. And he will sometimes find, wearied
as he often must be with many cares and a perfect flood of questions,
that the most welcome hour of the day is the hour of closing the
library.
Another of the librarian's vexations is frequently the interference with
his proper work by the library authorities. Committees or trustees to
oversee the management and supervise expenditures are necessary to any
public library. Sometimes they are quick-sighted and intelligent persons,
and recognize the importance of letting the librarian work out everything
in his own way, when once satisfied that they have got a competent head
in charge. But there are sometimes men on a board of library control who
are self-conceited and pragmatical, thinking that they know everything
about how a library should be managed, when in fact, they are profoundly
ignorant of the first rudiments of library science. Such men will
sometimes overbear their fellows, who may be more intelligent, but not so
self-asserting, and so manage as to overrule the best and wisest plans,
or the most expedient methods, and vex the very soul of the librarian. In
such cases the only remedy is patience and tact. Some day, what has been
decided wrongly may be reversed, or what has been denied the librarian
may be granted, through the conversion of a minority of the trustees into
a majority, by the gentle suasion and skilful reasoning of the librarian.
There are other drawbacks and discomforts in the course of a librarian's
duties which have been referred to in dealing with the daily work under
his charge. There remains the fact that the profession is no bed of
roses, but a laborious and exacting calling, the price of success in
which is an unremitting industry, and energy inexhaustible. But these
will not appear very formidable requisites to those who have a native
love of work, and it is a fact not to be doubted that work of some kind
is the only salvation of every human creature.
Upon the whole, if the calling of the librarian involves many trials and
vexations, it has also many notable compensations. Foremost among these
is to be reckoned the fact that it opens more and wider avenues to
intellectual culture than any other profession whatever. This comes in a
two-fold way: first, through the stimulus to research given by the
incessant inquiries of readers, and by the very necessity of his being,
as a librarian; and secondly, by the rare facilities for investigation
and improvement supplied by the ample and varied stores of the library
always immediately at hand. Other scholars can commonly command but few
books, unless able to possess a large private library: their researches
in the public one are hampered by the rule that no works of reference can
be withdrawn, and that constitutes a very large and essential class,
constantly needed by every scholar and writer. The librarian, on the
other hand, has them all at his elbow.
In the next place, there are few professions which are in themselves so
attractive as librarianship. Its tendency is both to absorb and to
satisfy the intellectual faculties. No where else is the sense of
continual growth so palpable; in no other field of labor is such an
enlargement of the bounds of one's horizon likely to be found. Compare it
with the profession of teaching. In that, the mind is chained down to a
rigorous course of imparting instruction in a narrow and limited field.
One must perforce go on rehearsing the same rudiments of learning,
grinding over the same Latin gerunds, hearing the same monotonous
recitations, month after month, and year after year. This continual
threshing over of old straw has its uses, but to an ardent and active
mind, it is liable to become very depressing. Such a mind would rather be
kept on the _qui vive_ of activity by a volley of questions fired at him
every hour in a library, than to grind forever in an intellectual
tread-mill, with no hope of change and very little of relief. The very
variety of the employments which fill up the library hours, the
versatility required in the service, contributes to it a certain zest
which other professions lack.
Again, the labors of the librarian bring him into an intimate knowledge
of a wide range of books, or at least an acquaintance with authors and
titles far more extensive than can be acquired by most persons. The
reading of book catalogues is a great and never-ending fascination to one
who has a love for books. The information thus acquired of the mighty
range of the world's literature and science is of inestimable value. Most
of it, if retained in a retentive memory, will enable its possessor to
answer multitudes of the questions continually put to the librarian.
Then, too, the service of a public library is a valuable school for the
study of human nature. One comes in contact with scholars, men of
business, authors, bright young people, journalists, professional men and
cultured women, to an extent unequaled by the opportunities of any other
calling. This variety of intercourse tends to broaden one's sympathies,
to strengthen his powers of observation, to cultivate habits of courtesy,
to develop the faculty of adapting himself to all persons--qualities
which contribute much to social interest and success. The discipline of
such an intercourse may sometimes make out of a silent and bashful
recluse, a ready and engaging adept in conversation, able to command the
attention and conciliate the regard of all. Farther than this, one
brought into so wide a circle of communication with others, cannot fail
to learn something from at least some among them, and so to receive
knowledge as well as to impart it. The curious and diverse elements of
character brought out in such intercourse will make their impress, and
may have their value. All these many facilities for intellectual
intercourse both with books and with men, contribute directly to keep
the librarian in contact with all the great objects of human interest.
They supply an unfailing stimulus to his intellectual and moral nature.
They give any active-minded person rare facilities, not only for the
acquisition, but for the communication of ideas. And there is one avenue
for such communication that is peculiarly open to one whose mind is
stored with the ripe fruits of reading and observation. I mean the field
of authorship--not necessarily the authorship of books, but of writing in
the form of essays, reviews, lectures, stories or contributions to the
periodical press. There are in every community literary societies, clubs,
and evening gatherings, where such contributions are always in demand,
and always welcomed, in exact proportion to their inherent interest and
value. Such avenues for the communication of one's thought are of great
and sometimes permanent advantage. The knowledge which we acquire is
comparatively barren, until it is shared with others. And whether this be
in an appreciative circle of listeners, or in the press, it gives a
certain stimulus and reward to the thinker and writer, which nothing else
can impart. To convey one's best thought to the world is one of the
purest and highest of intellectual pleasures.
Let me add that there are two sides to the question of authorship, as
concerns librarians. On the one hand, their advantages for entering that
field are undoubtedly superior, both from the ready command of the most
abundant material, and from experience in its use. On the other hand,
while authorship may be said to be the most besetting temptation of the
librarian, it is one that should be steadily resisted whenever it
encroaches on the time and attention due to library duties. If he makes
it a rule to write nothing and to study nothing for his own objects
during library hours, he is safe. Some years since it was a common
subject of reproach regarding the librarians of several university
libraries in England that they were so engaged in writing books, that no
scholar could get at them for aid in his literary researches. The
librarians and assistants employed in the British Museum Library, where
the hours of service are short, have found time to produce numerous
contributions to literature. Witness the works, as authors and editors,
of Sir Henry Ellis, Antonio Panizzi, Dr. Richard Garnett, Edward Edwards,
J. Winter Jones, Thomas Watts, George Smith, and others. And in America,
the late Justin Winsor was one of the most prolific and versatile of
authors, while John Fiske, once assistant librarian at Harvard, Reuben A.
Guild, William F. Poole, George H. Moore, J. N. Larned, Frederick
Saunders and others have been copious contributors to the press.
* * * * *
In a retrospective view of what has been said in respect to the
qualifications of a librarian, it may appear that I have insisted upon
too high a standard, and have claimed that he should be possessed of
every virtue under heaven. I freely admit that I have aimed to paint the
portrait of the ideal librarian; and I have done it in order to show what
might be accomplished, rather than what has been accomplished. To set
one's mark high--higher even than we are likely to reach, is the surest
way to attain real excellence in any vocation. It is very true that it is
not given to mortals to achieve perfection: but it is none the less our
business to aim at it, and the higher the ideal, the nearer we are likely
to come to a notable success in the work we have chosen.
Librarianship furnishes one of the widest fields for the most eminent
attainments. The librarian, more than any other person whatever, is
brought into contact with those who are hungering and thirsting after
knowledge. He should be able to satisfy those longings, to lead
inquirers in the way they should go, and to be to all who seek his
assistance a guide, philosopher and friend. Of all the pleasures which a
generous mind is capable of enjoying, that of aiding and enlightening
others is one of the finest and most delightful. To learn continually for
one's self is a noble ambition, but to learn for the sake of
communicating to others, is a far nobler one. In fact, the librarian
becomes most widely useful by effacing himself, as it were, in seeking to
promote the intelligence of the community in which he lives. One of the
best librarians in the country said that such were the privileges and
opportunities of the profession, that one might well afford to live on
bread and water for the sake of being a librarian, provided one had no
family to support.
There is a new and signally marked advance in recent years, in the public
idea of what constitutes a librarian. The old idea of a librarian was
that of a guardian or keeper of books--not a diffuser of knowledge, but a
mere custodian of it. This idea had its origin in ages when books were
few, were printed chiefly in dead languages, and rendered still more dead
by being chained to the shelves or tables of the library. The librarian
might be a monk, or a professor, or a priest, or a doctor of law, or
theology, or medicine, but in any case his function was to guard the
books, and not to dispense them. Those who resorted to the library were
kept at arm's length, as it were, and the fewer there were who came, the
better the grim or studious custodian was pleased. Every inquiry which
broke the profound silence of the cloistered library was a kind of rude
interruption, and when it was answered, the perfunctory librarian resumed
his reading or his studies. The institution appeared to exist, not for
the benefit of the people, but for that of the librarian; or for the
benefit, besides, of a few sequestered scholars, like himself, and any
wide popular use of it would have been viewed as a kind of profanation.
We have changed all that in the modern world, and library service is now
one of the busiest occupations in the whole range of human enterprise.
One cannot succeed in the profession, if his main idea is that a public
library is a nice and easy place where one may do one's own reading and
writing to the best advantage. A library is an intellectual and material
work-shop, in which there is no room for fossils nor for drones. My only
conception of a useful library is a library that is used--and the same of
a librarian. He should be a lover of books--but not a book-worm. If his
tendencies toward idealism are strong, he should hold them in check by
addicting himself to steady, practical, every-day work. While careful of
all details, he should not be mastered by them. If I have sometimes
seemed to dwell upon trifling or obvious suggestions as to temper, or
conduct, or methods, let it be remembered that trifles make up
perfection, and that perfection is no trifle.
I once quoted the saying that "the librarian who reads is lost"; but it
would be far truer to say that the librarian who does not read is lost;
only he should read wisely and with a purpose. He should make his reading
helpful in giving him a wide knowledge of facts, of thoughts, and of
illustrations, which will come perpetually in play in his daily
intercourse with an inquiring public.