That the choice of books is the most important of the
librarian's duties and that "his best effort" should be
given to it, is the thought of an institutional librarian,
R.B. Poole of the New York Y.M.C.A. This view should
interest those who think that administrative problems and
socialization are elbowing the books into the background.
Reuben Brooks Poole was born in Rockport, Mass., in 1834,
and graduated at Brown University in 1857. After serving as
a teacher he became librarian of the Y.M.C.A. library in New
York City, where he remained until his death on April 6,
1895. He was president of his state library association in
1894.
By constituents is not meant political constituents. It is unfortunate
for any librarian when he holds his office in a public library as a
political favor, and library appointments should be as far removed as
possible from all party influences. A public library, like any other
public property, is susceptible of being used as a tool, and may easily
degenerate into a political job, unless specially protected by its
charter. New York city has one such library. The library exists for the
librarians; its constituents--not readers--are of the school of
politics. The example, it is to be hoped, is a unique one in our
country.
A brief retrospect of the libraries and librarians of the past may help
us to more fully comprehend the situation of the librarian and his
constituents of to-day.
The monk represented the librarian of the Middle Ages. He was not by
profession a librarian, and yet the valuable service he rendered to
literature entitles him to the name. He was at once chorister, master of
ceremonies, transcriber, illuminator, and collector. Professedly the
monk was a religious ascetic. He retired from the world to devote
himself to religion, to a life of self-denial. His language was the
Latin; the books or manuscripts that surrounded him were works of the
Fathers, books of devotion, service-books, and the classics. These were
just in keeping with his life and thoughts. A congenial occupation was
thus opened to him. The hours of the cloister were made shorter as the
monk duplicated and reduplicated some dainty missal, or some commentary
of Augustine, or painted a miniature of the Virgin or of the apostles.
However much we may differ in opinion as to the service rendered to
religion by the monasteries of the Middle Ages, as librarians we have a
fellow-feeling with these toiling monks, and are grateful to them for
the service they have rendered the libraries of to-day by their
preservation of works that otherwise would have been destroyed. There is
nothing in the book-making arts of to-day to compare with the artistic
skill displayed in the illuminations and miniature-painting which enrich
and beautify the manuscripts of those times.
The monastic libraries were small, and the readers few. Books were
loaned from monastery to monastery. They were distributed once a year,
at the Lenten season. As each borrower returned his book he was
catechised as to its contents, if the examination was satisfactory he
was allowed another book for the coming year; if not, he must take his
old book again.
One not a member of the order of St. Benedict, or an _attaché_ of Cluny
or Canterbury, could procure the coveted treasure, sometimes, by
pledging to return with the manuscript borrowed a full transcription.
Library economy in these ages was very simple. Catalogues were little
more than inventories, and no discordant notes were chanted, in duets or
solos, over systems of classification. The absolute or fixed system of
shelving was in vogue, the books being held in their places by chains.
The survival of this feature exists in the attachments of the modern
city directory.
But, not to linger longer in cloisters or abbeys, we come to the age of
printing and to the foundation of the modern libraries of Europe; the
treasures in the monastic libraries contributing to form their vast
collections.
The monk's occupation as a librarian was gone, and he was succeeded by
the collector, the keeper, the scholar. In the centuries immediately
succeeding the invention of printing there was a growing diffusion of
knowledge by means of libraries. We smile at the restrictions imposed,
and look upon them as so many fetters on the intellect. It is, however,
to be borne in mind that at this time books were costly and rare, and on
this account were guarded with great jealousy.
When the Bodleian library was founded it was stipulated by law that
under no pretence should any book be lent to any one, no matter what his
station. A Fellow of Corpus Christi College could not enter the sacred
alcoves alone, and he was under oath not to remove a book. The books
were there for use, there can be no question; and in the Bodleian, to
which we have just referred, a person could have six books at a time to
consult, and the library was open for six hours during the day.
About 1650 Humphrey Chetham bequeathed £1,000 for a public library in
Manchester, England. He was a firm adherent of the fixed location. "My
mind and will is," he says, "that care be taken that none of said books
be taken out of the said library at any time, and that the said books be
fixed or chained." After specifying certain religious books, and
annotations on the Bible, he adds, "and other books proper for the
common people." It was two hundred years after this, in this last half
century, before the Public Libraries Act was introduced into the English
Parliament; and from this period we may date a new era, both in England
and in this country, in the dissemination of books and improved library
methods. The last decade, commencing with the formation of the A.L.A.
and the beginning of our second century as a nation, has witnessed
results hitherto unachieved in library economy. It is not necessary to
enlarge here upon the work that has been accomplished. The important
thing to note is that the librarian of to-day should be _en rapport_
with all that pertains to his profession. He should acquaint himself
with schemes of classification, and elect from them that which is best
adapted for the purposes of his own library. He should adopt the best
system for charging, acquaint himself with the most approved library
appliances. Whether he adopt the classed catalogue, the dictionary, the
alphabeto-classed, or any other form, let it be one that shall be
abreast of the progress that has been made in this department of library
science. The librarian can scarcely keep pace with his fellow-librarians
unless he receives the right hand of fellowship of the American Library
Association, and is a reader of the _Library journal_ or the _Library
notes_, just launched and designed to cruise along the coast into the
smaller ports. The advantages which the librarian receives from these
sources will qualify him better for his profession, but the greater
advantage will accrue to his readers: knowledge will be made more
available, and a bright, cheerful atmosphere will pervade the alcoves of
his store-house.
The librarian of to-day is developing to the full the utilitarian
principle. He is practical,--practical in his library management,
practical in his choice of books. His constituency is either a
particular class or the great public. To supply the masses with reading,
and to make books helpful in all the vocations of life, is the
librarian's aim. It is just here that we need to emulate our
predecessors, the monks and the collectors and bookworms of the
sixteenth and succeeding centuries.
He must have the spirit of the collector, the animus of the scholar. He
must not forget that he is an antiquarian in his zeal for utility. His
constituency is not confined to the present; he is building for
posterity as well. His library will live after him. He therefore needs
to be a wise master-builder.
If the choice of books is in the librarian's hands, or if he occupies an
important position in connection with the selection, his best effort
should be given to this department. The responsibility is not small. He
will find it more difficult often to reject than to select. He must
consult the wants of his readers; but there is a limit to that.
Everything that is in print may be called for, but that is no reason why
it should be honored with a place in a library. The librarian's personal
equation is not to be the standard, but the foundation principles of
morality, truth, and sound sense must guide him. No quarter should be
given to books of doubtful morality. Fiction now finds a place in most
libraries open to any extent to the public, and this class of books
forms so large a part of the circulation of many libraries that it is
becoming a question of no small importance as to how far public funds
should be expended for such books as afford little else than pastime. A
public library is a public educator. It is not a sluice into which every
publisher may dump his entire wares; as educators, librarians and
managing boards have the right to maintain the purity of their
collections, and to protect them from inundations of worthless books.
The librarian should be alert to supply his readers with all they
require that will be helpful, as we have said; but, more than this, he
should lead them. He may do so by procuring works of standard worth, new
and old, that represent the best thought in any department of literature
or science.
Unless he has something of the spirit of the collector very much will
elude his grasp, and be, perhaps, utterly lost to his library. There are
the limited editions, now so limited in number; the privately printed
book; the first numbers of periodicals; the first reports of societies;
local histories and genealogies; memorial volumes, and the like,--works
whose value is enhanced by time.
A librarian, to be successful, must be a lover of books. The novice, in
applying for a librarianship, often puts it down as one of his cardinal
qualifications that he is fond of reading. To the active, toiling worker
this is not suggestive of business. A love of books very naturally
suggests a taste for reading, except when bibliomania is in the blood. A
true friend of books is not such because his collection embraces
Elzevirs and Aldines, or because they are in Grolier or Bedford
bindings, or printed on Whatman or Holland paper,--these are matters of
just pride,--but because the army of silent authors, marshalled under
his leadership, will diffuse light and knowledge wherever they go. The
librarian imbued with this spirit, if he finds time to read, will
reflect what he has read. It is to be feared that the librarian who
reads in these times is the exception; and yet there can be no question
that, if he could have each day an hour or two for reading,--time enough
to acquaint himself with the thought of the times, and occasionally
commune with the authors of the past,--his efficiency would be greatly
enlarged, and his readers would have a supplemental catalogue in him,
corresponding, to some extent, to the good work contemplated by our
Cooperative Committee.
There are in every library very many books that are what we might term,
to use a mercantile phrase, dead stock. From the very necessities of the
case there must be many books that will be called for only at great
intervals, while others never have a friendly consultation. But, aside
from these, libraries will often have works of great practical value
that are standing idle, because it is not generally known that the
library possesses them. There may be a choice lot of works on
electricity, a rare collection on ceramics, a fine selection of
engravings, representative works in the various industrial arts; the
call for them not being popular and large, they might be brought to the
notice of a larger constituency by calling the attention of certain
readers to them, or by sending a polite invitation to some manufacturing
firms, to some professional electricians, or to art schools and
scientific schools.
Periodicals, before the days of Poole's Index, were sealed books.
Libraries have been wonderfully expanded where this index is used.
Further cooperation in this direction, as planned by the Cooperative
Committee, should receive hearty encouragement. The books of a library
may be further enlarged in their use by publishing, on the library
bulletin, the works in the library that illustrate important events,
after the admirable plan initiated by Mr. Foster, of Providence.
If the librarian has not the time at his command to read he has rare
opportunities for reading character; and to be on good terms with his
varied constituency he will have to be like St. Paul,--all things to all
men. He must be polite, accommodating, possess his soul in patience, and
be unselfish in his devotion to his readers. Generally, his contact with
his constituency will be pleasant and agreeable, but he will have to
deal with certain typical characters that will vex and fret him.
There is the rummager, who snarls at all catalogues, and wants the
freedom of the library, not for studious research, but to gratify his
bookish propensity. "Five minutes with authors" is his watchword.
The crank, who has been defined as a person with an idea, without brains
to carry it out, is a frequenter of libraries. His inquiries are for
what the library does not possess. This affords him a text for lecturing
the librarian and the managers. If the librarian's sentiments are not in
accord with that idea of his he threatens to expose him in the
newspapers.
The curiosity-hunter is another representative reader. He is brother to
the rummager, but he does not despise catalogues. They exhibit the
oddities of the library, at least the odd titles, such as Luther's
"Vagabonds and Beggars," "The Foundling Hospital for Wit," or "The
History of the Tread-mill." He passes quickly from one to the other,
gleaning here and there till curiosity is satiated.
Another reader helps the librarian materially in his statistics; if he
calls for one book he calls for an armful. The subject he is
investigating may require all the light the library can focus upon it;
but he disposes of his armful so quickly that the query is, by what
alchemy knowledge is appropriated so rapidly. It must be put to the
credit of this age.
The intelligent tramp is another _habitué_ of libraries. He is sometimes
a desultory reader, sometimes he is a specialist, and he investigates
with a profound air the most difficult problems; but that is as far as
he goes. He is constitutionally lazy. He has some love for literature
and science, but a far more appreciative love of leisure. He does
nothing, produces nothing.
Then there are walking encyclopædias. You cannot name any author or work
that they have not an acquaintance with. They can talk glibly on any
subject; they absorb like sponges, but they give out nothing. They have
a passion for reading; but they either do not, or will not, make their
knowledge available to others. The colored man who not long since
applied to me for something on the toothache, as he was to deliver a
lecture upon this interesting topic, was not of this non-productive
class. If his monograph has been published it will be a good book for
close classification.
The librarian who feels the obligations of his position realizes that
his influence as an educator is far-reaching, telling effectively upon
the community in which he lives, and destined to extend far down the
years to come. It becomes him, therefore, to fully equip himself for his
work, and to give to his constituents the results of his ripest
experience and his most unselfish attention.