wants satisfied for a long time to come by a five guinea instrument, and
he is not unlikely to damage even that. Suppose that, instead of such an
instrument, you gave him at once a two hundred pound microscope by Smith
and Beck, or Ross, what would happen? He would be utterly bewildered by
the complexity of it, utterly unable to use it as it should be used, and
he would most certainly before long so damage it as to render it useless
to all who could make a proper use of it. Between a first-rate
microscope by Ross and a three or five guinea instrument the difference
is much less than is the difference between the Bodleian and a library
fit for undergraduates, or generally for the unlearned. By introducing
undergraduates, schoolboys, and girls into such a library as the
Bodleian, you in fact degrade the library to base uses, and render it
_pro tanto_ inconvenient, to use a very mild term, to all who are fit to
benefit by it, and who were intended by the founder to have the
advantage of it.
'What my experience has taught me,' says a most learned bibliographer
(1. R. 121)[15], 'is, that it ought never to be attempted to use, as a
popular library, the large libraries intended in the first instance for
a superior class of readers;' and he adds further, that 'on every
occasion, when it has been tried, the greatest part of the riches
accumulated in the old library have been rendered useless.'
[15] Report from the Select Committee on Public Libraries, ordered by
the House of Commons to be printed 23 July, 1849, quoted by pages as 1.
R. A second volume ordered to be printed 1 August, 1850, is quoted also
by pages as 2. R. These Blue books contain an immense amount of
information on all the libraries of Europe, and although the information
is some forty years old, it is still indispensable to all who wish to
acquaint themselves with the subject. The evidence also given is of the
most varied kind, and very instructive.
If it is in any sense useful to lend books out of the library, it is far
more useful, all things considered, not to lend them.
Every man of the least intelligence can see the difference between a
library of reference and one from which books are lent. A library of
reference, or a library of deposit, is one where books are to be
perpetually preserved as carefully as may be for the convenience of
scholars and students, and for the promotion of sound and solid
learning; and lending any book from such a library is obviously
inconsistent with the very purpose for which it is founded. 'I think,'
says the Solicitor-General for Scotland, speaking of the Advocates'
Library, 'that (lending books out) is quite inconsistent with the proper
preservation of a great library' (1. R. 95).[16] And another very able
witness, Mr. Colles, one of the library committee of the Royal Dublin
Society, gives it as the result of his experience that no lending should
be allowed in such a library. 'I speak,' he says, 'against the interest
of my own family when I say this: but I think that the public use of the
library would be increased by not lending.' And again, 'The two (i. e.
libraries of reference and of circulation) ought to be separated, just
as banks of issue should be separated from banks of deposit. I wish to
be understood on this point: an individual painter or sculptor might be
greatly benefited by borrowing out a capital picture from the National
Gallery, or the Torso, Venus, or Portland Vase from the British Museum;
but such a loan would by no means benefit artists in general, or advance
the ultimate interests of painting or sculpture. This holds good equally
with regard to valuable books.' (1. R. 185.)
[16] See note [15].
This question as to the expediency of lending books out of such
libraries as the British Museum or the Bodleian has been hotly debated
both at home and abroad for the last eighty years or more, and I wish I
had space to detail the arguments that have been used, not by men
ignorant of books and eager only to consult their own convenience, or to
obtain credit for a spurious liberality; but by those who really and
truly knew all the ins and outs of the matter they were talking about,
and who were quite as anxious to promote learning as we are ourselves.
Take, for instance, the late Mr. Thomas Watts, keeper of printed books
in the British Museum, one of the very rarest of men, a librarian who
thoroughly knew his business, at all events so far as printed books were
concerned, and quite unequalled as regards all questions of organisation
and administration. He carries impartiality almost to excess, for he
says, speaking of lending, 'It would, perhaps, be expedient to examine
the subject more closely before a final determination was come to on
either side; for while the Bodleian Library is strictly non-circulating,
the books are freely lent out to the members of the University from the
University Library of Cambridge, and yet any material difference in the
condition of the two libraries to the disadvantage of that of Cambridge,
is certainly not a matter of public notoriety.' This statement appeared
in 1867, and Mr. Watts evidently did not know that lending had been
practised by the Bodleian Curators ever since 1862 (see above, p. 14);
nor was he seemingly aware of the facts detailed by Mr. Bradshaw, or of
such gross abuses as that which Mr. Bradshaw told a friend of my own. He
said that on a certain occasion a graduate had a dinner party, and that
he borrowed from the University Library certain expensive illustrated
works to be laid on the table to amuse his guests; Bradshaw was
powerless, though indignant at an act so disgraceful. Carefully however
as Mr. Watts holds the balance, it seems unquestionable that he himself
condemned the practice of lending from such libraries as the British
Museum or the Bodleian; for after writing a column or more, in which he
shows every disposition to lend books where it is possible to do so
without causing more harm than good, he considers Mr. Spedding's
proposal to lend a book wanted by a reader in London to the British
Museum library--the very thing in fact which we now are in the habit of
doing, he then says; "By this ingenious arrangement some of the
advantages proposed by the lending system would certainly be afforded,
under safeguards not now obtainable; but there would still remain the
strong objection that a reader wishing to examine a particular book
known to be in a particular library might be subjected to a
disappointment which he is now in no hazard of. This objection is
tersely stated in a passage from a letter by Niebuhr, which was quoted
by the Commissioners for examining into the University of Oxford. 'It is
lamentable,' writes Niebuhr from the University of Bonn, 'that I am here
much worse off for books than I was at Rome, where I was sure to find
whatever was in the library, because no books were lent out; here I find
that just the book which I most want is always lent out.' There are few
libraries from which books are lent of which stories are not current
respecting the abuse of the privilege, of volumes kept for years by
persons too high or too venerable to be questioned. The rules of such
institutions are often laxly observed by those from whom we should least
expect such disregard. In Walter Scott's correspondence with Southey
there is a passage in which he recommends him not to show publicly a
book which he had sent him, because it belongs to the Advocate's
Library, and it is forbidden for those books to be sent out of
Scotland."
The opinion then of one of the most accomplished librarians that ever
lived is, on the whole, adverse to the system of lending. I believe it
to be quite impossible for a man of his enormous knowledge of the
subject to come to any other conclusion than that at which he arrived:
the less a man knows about books and libraries, the more inclined he is
to the pernicious system of lending; the more he knows about them, the
less inclined he is to countenance anything of the kind; such at least
has been my experience.
The late Mr. Henry Bradshaw of Cambridge was a most learned librarian
and an accomplished bibliographer. He has not, so far as I am aware,
expressed in print his plain opinion of the lending system; but no one
can read his paper on the Cambridge University Library, (The University
Library, ... by Henry Bradshaw, Librarian of the University, Camb. 1881.
8vo.,) without seeing that he bitterly regretted the practice which
prevails and has long prevailed in that place. The Bodleian has a
history, a noble and honourable history: the Cambridge University
Library has none, at all events none that is not disgraceful. 'One
reason,' he says (p. 6), 'for the dearth of materials in the Library for
its own history is to be found in the circumstance that the Library is
really scattered over the whole country.' And again, 'We have often
heard of the principal benefactors to the Bodleian Library having been
induced to bequeath their own libraries to the University of Oxford from
seeing the careful way in which the bequests of their predecessors have
been housed and kept together. The coincidence at Cambridge is too
striking to be accidental, where we find that only two such bequests are
on record': this statement he subsequently corrects into 'three' instead
of two: and again, 'It is probable that by drawing attention to the fact
that none of the great collectors of the last two hundred years have
thought fit to leave their books to our University Library, we may be
pointing to a lesson which our successors may profit by, even though we
are too indifferent to pay any attention to it ourselves.'
The inference plainly to be drawn from these and other passages is that
the writer strongly disapproved of the practice which he was obliged
officially to countenance. From 1600 down to the last ten or fifteen
years the history of the Bodleian Library has been on the whole a
history of which every true scholar, and every genuine lover of books
may be proud; the history of the Cambridge Library for the
corresponding period has been an almost unbroken record of disgraceful
carelessness, and the root of all the evil has been the practice of
lending, as will be clear to any one who will take the trouble to read
Mr. Bradshaw's paper. There has been, as there always must be, where
such a practice is allowed, wholesale robbery. In 1772 the library was
inspected and 'a large number of rare books were reported to be
missing.' (p. 28.) The latest previous inspection had been in 1748, when
902 volumes were reported as missing from the old library alone ... the
loss was the result of that wholesale pillage spoken of before. It is
very singular that the very same year that the inspection shewed such
serious losses to have happened from unrestricted access, the University
should have made fresh orders (the basis of those now in use),
permitting more fully this same freedom of access. The _Cicero de
Officiis_ printed in 1465 on vellum, a Salisbury Breviary printed in
1483 on vellum (the only known copy of the first edition), the Salisbury
_Directorium Sacerdotum_ printed by Caxton (the only known copy), are
three instances out of many scores of such books which might be
mentioned as purloined during the latter half of the eighteenth century,
simply from this total disregard of all care for the preservation of the
books. Even manuscripts were lent out on ordinary tickets; and it was
seemingly only owing to the strong remonstrances of Mr. Kerrich, the
principal Librarian of the day, that a grace was passed in 1809,
requiring that no manuscript whatever should be borrowed, except with
the permission of the Senate, and on a bond given for the same to the
Librarian. "We have the ticket, but we cannot get the book back," Mr.
Kerrich says: "and to this day the book in question has never been
returned." (p. 28.) Such are the disgraceful acts of men bred at an
English University, compared with whom the common pickpocket appears
positively respectable.
Mr. Panizzi, principal Librarian of the British Museum, a man whose
knowledge of libraries and of books has rarely been equalled, was
asked, 'Are you of opinion that there should be in all countries
libraries of two sorts, namely, libraries of deposit, and libraries
devoted to general reading and the circulation of books?' answered,
'That is another question. I think the question of lending books is a
very difficult question to answer. I have enquired in all countries,
and, as far as experience goes, I find that, in spite of all the
precautions taken, of the regulations, and of everything which is done,
books disappear; they are stolen or spoiled.' (2. R. 62.) And again: 'I
do not think that lending can well be adopted without great risk of
losing books; the question is whether there might not be remedies; I
think from all experience I never found that librarians had succeeded in
preventing stealing.' He also tells a very instructive story of some
rare books stolen from the library at Wolfenbuettel, and be it noted that
Panizzi and Watts knew more of their profession than a whole army of
ordinary librarians. Let no one fancy for one moment that a congress of
librarians is necessarily a congress of men really acquainted with
either bibliography or with books; it may, perhaps, on some occasions
include one or more who answer to that description, but in general it
does not do so. 'La bibliographie,' says Richou, 'est une science exacte
qui demande une preparation assez longue et que la pratique developpe.
Les bibliothecaires improvises en ignorent jusqu'a l'existence et se
preoccupent peu de l'acquerir. Il ne faut pas chercher ailleurs la cause
de la mauvaise administration d'un grand nombre de bibliotheques
publiques, car le mal est commun.' (_Traite de l'Administration des
Bibliotheques publiques_, p. 82.)
The opinion expressed by Mr. Watts and Mr. Panizzi, and implied by Mr.
Bradshaw, is, I am convinced, the opinion of all men who are acquainted
with this question in its length, breadth, and depth.
How comes it then, some one may ask, that foreign librarians do not
speak out against the practice? Because it is not in general the habit
of foreign officials to have opinions of their own, and still less to
express them, if they have them, when such opinions are not fashionable,
or not likely to advance those who utter them: and this goes a long way
towards explaining the answers given to questions put by the English
Government nearly forty years ago to the custodians of libraries where
(though under many restrictions) lending was, and is practised. The
general tenor of the answers is that books do not suffer more than might
be expected, that losses are comparatively rare, that when loss is
suffered the books can generally be replaced, and that when they cannot
their value can almost always be recovered from the borrower. Such, I
say, is the general tenor of the answers, but few who know anything
about circulating libraries will accept such answers as satisfactory.
Before the outbreak of the Thirty Years' War the Germans printed
splendid books, and not unfrequently bound them grandly; but for the
last two hundred years few German librarians, unless trained in France
or England, have known what a really fine book is, or whether it is in
what a Frenchman would call good condition. In other words, when they
say that books lent are not much damaged, it must be always remembered
that notions of damage are relative, and most German librarians are in
all probability like an old friend of my own, who holds that no book is
in really ill condition, provided the readable part of it is still
legible: the title may be torn or gone; 'I don't want to read the
title,' says he: the covers may be broken or destroyed; 'Cannot you read
an unbound book?' he asks; and so on. There is this difference, however;
my friend does know when a book really is in good condition. Moreover,
there are, or at least there were, some foreign librarians who have
dared to tell the truth. Thus (see 2. R. 161-171), from the returns made
by eighteen libraries in Belgium, we learn that the library of Antwerp
(19,148 vols.) never lent; that no manuscripts were ever lent from that
of Bruges; that manuscripts and rare books were never lent from the
library of Malines; that valuable books were never lent from the
library of Louvain; that no manuscripts or valuable books were ever lent
from the library of Mons; and that such books and manuscripts were never
lent from any of the University libraries. Nevertheless, some lending
there was from some libraries; and it was asserted that little damage
was done the books. Very different is the answer of the Librarian of
Tournay (2. R. 163): 'Cette coutume a des inconvenients assez graves:
impossibilite pour certains lecteurs de consulter les ouvrages dont ils
ont besoin: rentre tardive des livres pretes; perte ou deterioration des
volumes.' The Librarian of Nassau (2. R. 299), very unlike most of his
brethren, says, 'das Verleihen der Buecher asserhalb der Anstalt hat
allerdings die nachtheilige Folge dass dieselben in kurzer Zeit, im
Aussern wie im Innern stark mitgenommen werden. Die Einbaende werden
verstossen und schaebig und der Druck durch Schnupfer und Raucher oft
aufs Unangenehmste beschmutzt,' with more to the same effect. Even at
the Royal Library of Berlin it is admitted that 'die Buecher und Einbaende
werden dadurch mehr beschaedight und verdorben' (2. R. 304); and at the
University Library, 'die Abnutzung durch die Studirenden ist sehr stark'
(2. R. 305). The answer from the University Library at Bonn is,
'Nachtheilige Folge beim Verleihen der Buecher waren troz der
sorgfaeltigsten Ueberwachung nicht immer zu vermeiden. Manche Baende kamen
beschmutzt auch verstuemmelt zurueck.' There are very similar answers from
a few other libraries both of Germany and Italy. Common sense and a
little experience will tell any one to which class of testimony credence
should be given.
As to replacing a lost or damaged book, the thing is by no means so easy
as it looks. What is common to-day may be rare a year hence, and quite
unprocurable on any terms in two years time. 'Then,' says Ignoramus, 'it
will be reprinted, and you may buy that'; but the man who talks so
wildly cannot be argued with, because he does not know the elements of
the subject of which he is speaking. Suppose you lose the 19th edition
of the _Christian Year_, you do not replace the book by purchasing the
100th edition, as all experts know. 'Buy another copy of the 19th then',
says Ignoramus; but it may be that you have to pay a very high price for
it, and it sometimes happens that you cannot get it at all. 'If you do
not get the book, you can recover its value.' Even supposing that you
can--and here in Oxford we have no machinery by which we can recover a
farthing--how is a man who wants to see a particular book benefited by
being told that he cannot see the book because it has been lent and
lost, but that the Library has received compensation? Well might Panizzi
say that the question of lending is a very difficult question; it is so
difficult that a volume would hardly contain an enumeration of all its
complexities.
Consider the case of books, printed and manuscript, lent out to those on
the borrowers' list, a list, be it observed, which, according to the
lawyers, has not the least statutable warrant. In the first place, you
have not the least assurance or guarantee that any one of them knows how
to use a book without damaging it, and, as I have already said, it is an
almost uniform and invariable experience, that borrowers of books do
damage them. All book-lovers know this so well, that they make very sure
of their man before they intrust a valuable or well-bound book to him,
but we at the Bodleian do not. Pixerecourt, a great collector, was so
convinced of this fact that he inscribed over his library door these
sadly true lines--
Tel est le triste sort de tout livre prete
Souvent il est perdu, toujours il est gate.
How unfit some at least on the borrowers' list are to be intrusted with
books, how little notion they have of taking care of them, is clear from
many facts which might be mentioned. In the library itself you may see
almost any day abundant proof of the unfitness of those admitted to
enjoy the privileges which are allowed them. On May 19th, 1885, a
Curator came into my room and said, 'I was walking through the Bodleian
looking for ---- when I saw a sight which made me sick.' 'You may see
many such sights there,' said I; 'what was it?' 'I saw a bevy of women
with an illuminated MS., and they were turning over the leaves, all
looking at it.' On Friday, August 21st, 1885, I myself counted at one
desk at the Selden end _sixty-four_ volumes, all had out by one reader;
on the table was a MS. open, and on it two or three books; another was
open on the floor, and so on. On April 22nd, 1886, I saw on a desk also
at the Selden end three (I believe four) Sanscrit MSS. They were open
and kept so by books placed on them, sundry printed books also open one
on the other, and in my note written the same day I find the observation
that it was 'a miserable spectacle of untidiness and reckless disregard
for precious volumes.' It would be easy to add more, for from the first
I have kept notes of all that I see in the library, and of much that I
hear about it--this, however, is enough to show what may be expected
when people carry off books home. There no prying eye will see them, no
one is likely to come suddenly round a corner and observe their
proceedings. Things are really bad enough _in_ the library as it is; and
they are as bad or worse in the Camera, where books are most shamefully
ill-used. I have notes of some things which I have observed there, and
of a conversation which I had with a person of sharp eyes and wits. One
Curator alone can do very little; if all would, even it were only
occasionally, do what I do habitually (Tit. XX. iii. Sec. 12, 2), it would
be far easier than it now is to put a stop to some rather serious
abuses. Let it be distinctly understood that in saying all this I do not
blame any person or persons whatever, except the readers. In the British
Museum Reading-room a man placed where the officials sit could, with a
machine-gun, comfortably pick off every reader in less than a minute,
because he could rake every desk; the Bodleian is so picturesque and so
peculiar in its construction, that Argus himself would be completely
non-plussed, if ordered to keep his eyes on the readers, for even this
highly-endowed being had not the dragon-fly power of seeing round
corners; and from the Librarian's seat you might discharge a Gatling gun
straight up 'Duke Humphrey,' with no other result than the downfall of a
little dust, and the smashing of the west window; as to hitting a
reader, you might as well try to shoot the Invisible Girl. At the Camera
there is just the same difficulty, which will hardly be overcome till
the laws of nature are reformed, and light condescends to travel in
convenient curves. The regular officials have quite enough to do, if
they attend only to their necessary work, which pins them down to one
spot, and totally precludes them from exercising (even if they possessed
it) the saintly privilege of bilocation. To come back to the point:
books are badly used in the library itself. Now I ask any man of common
sense, whether it is possible that books treated so vilely in the
library itself will be better treated in a private house?
I am not going to tell any tales, but this I may say, that before I
became a Curator I have seen Bodleian books (once a very rare book) in
strange places, and under circumstances by no means conducive to their
preservation. The thing must be so: it is as much as the most vigilant
officer can do to prevent damage being done under his very eyes, and it
stands to reason that no mercy will be shown a book as soon as it is
fairly out of the building.
Again, when a man borrows a book from the Bodleian, you have not the
least assurance that he will not in his turn lend it. This I know has
happened with one book at least belonging to another library in Oxford.
Sir Walter Scott had, perhaps, as much conscience as it is possible for
a literary man to have, yet he lends Southey a book borrowed from the
Advocates' Library (see above, p. 49) contrary to rule; and what Scott
would do, Scott's inferior in character and morals would most certainly
not scruple to do.
When a book is lent out to any one on the borrowers' list no contract
is entered into, either verbally or in writing, that the book shall be
returned at any specified time, nor in fact that it shall ever be
returned at all. Are the Curators quite sure that they have any legal
power to compel a return under such circumstances?