A few first principles by the president of the Board of what
was at that time the St. Louis Public School Library, since
1893 the St. Louis Public Library. The Rev. Mr. Learned read
this paper at the Fabyan's Conference of the American
Library Association, in 1890.
John Calvin Learned was born in Dublin, N.H., Aug. 7, 1834.
He engaged in teaching, went to Missouri in 1856 and in 1859
entered Harvard Divinity School. After graduation he was
pastor of a Unitarian church in Exeter, N.H., and in 1870
took charge of the newly-organized Church of the Unity in
St. Louis where he remained until his death, Dec. 8, 1893.
He was a member of the Board of Managers of the Public
School Library from 1884 to 1892 and its president for half
that period.
An old play has it that "trustees are not to be trifled with" and, as
they are not only allowed but invited to come among the librarians to
assert their rights and their authority, why should they not do it
vigorously? Did they not originate the librarian? "Shall the thing
formed say to him that formed it, 'Why hast thou made me thus?'"
Yet to assume such creative power must load us down with
responsibilities--greater, I fear, than some of us have joyfully
accepted. In fact, do not trustees incline, as a rule, to throw too much
of the burden of library administration upon the librarian? If the
incumbent of this office is fairly willing and capable, is he not
suffered to do pretty much as he pleases, except it may be with regard
to such large measures as the construction of buildings and the
management of investments?
Proportioned to the authority of trustees, however, is their
responsibility. To whom much is given, of them much is required. And the
position of the better sort of trustee valuable to the best work of the
librarian, is not that sinecure seat sometimes depicted. He must
constantly stand as the able and ready advisor of the librarian, and for
the honor and defence of the library. He will be made the court of
ultimate appeal in many matters, both practical and curious. He will
receive letters from all sorts of people, some with gifts in their
hands, and some with complaints on their lips; some seeking favors,
possible and impossible. Col. Higginson's humorous way, recently, of
introducing Phillips Brooks as the man whom nobody in the Cambridge
library could find out the height of, until at last the inquiry was
brought to him as trustee to answer, may illustrate the point.
Lately an article in one of the English reviews treats of the "Perils of
Trustees." And while no statute makes us responsible,--as innocent
parties were held to be under British law, in the failure of the Glasgow
Bank,--yet the library trustee carries risks, both moral and financial,
and the place should be offered to none who will not give it a
_bonafide_ service. There is no room for a mere figure-head or
ornamental name on a working library board. Every member of a directory,
rightly organized, should take his share in the administration, and have
some knowledge of what goes on in the library world.
It is true there have been instances where some ambitious and
irrepressible spirit has exceeded his official duties and privileges;
has been disposed to dictate the whole policy of the library, reducing
the librarian's office to that of a mere secretary. I knew a director in
a large library who resigned because he could not buy the books and
write all the reports. He hungered for more to do. But I have known more
than one to keep himself as far away from the board as possible, after
one or two sessions of three or four hours each, in the necessary
deliberations of the book committee.
Edward Everett Hale says that the great essential for the directors or
trustees of any institution is, that they "keep their end in sight," as
Dr. Watt's hymn reads. If it is an institution to help old women, or
save poor children, or find situations for the idle, does it really do
it? Or is it so taken up with the mechanism of the concern, so absorbed
and happy over methods and details, that it loses sight of the object?
This is especially to be considered in the management of a public
library. What is the library for? Is it accomplishing its work? Is it
doing its utmost to promote the virtue, refinement, and intelligence of
the community?
A library may be likened to a bank where literary reserves are kept. It
is organized to promote the circulation of a sound literary currency.
The directors must see to it that, though there may be counterfeit and
worthless money in the vaults, the cashier or librarian must pay over
the counter for general circulation such only as will maintain the
institution's standard of credit and confidence in the community. The
gold basis must be maintained, and no "wild-cat" bills pass out through
the window.
It grows increasingly evident that very few libraries in the world can
indulge in the luxury or licence of buying all books written. The
ambition to supply any man with any work he calls for must therefore be
held in check. Thus it becomes increasingly important that much care and
deliberation be exercised in the choice of books to be bought, whether
to complete deficient departments or for the daily circulation. The
purchase of poor books makes a market for poor authorship. Hereafter,
less than ever should libraries be the dumping place for indiscreet
publishers, for questionable or incompetent authors. The public library
exists for civilization, that is, for moral ends. It is the record and
history of civilization, as well as the ally of progress. It is the
"friend and helper of all those who seek to live in the spirit." For
this reason, therefore, the character of the books in a library is of
more importance than mere numbers; and the value of a library to the
community may be imperfectly shown by the statistics of circulation. No
aim can be higher, however, than having a good library, to make its
resources known, and to multiply readers in the remotest and obscurest
parts of our towns and cities.