suite of buildings, and under one general committee, sections of which
are detailed to supervise the several departments, there is an example
of intimate correlation on the largest scale. Here, in the Picton
Theatre under the central library and in the lecture halls attached to
the branches, free courses of lectures have been carried on ever since
1865, averaging now some two hundred yearly, with an aggregate annual
attendance of nearly 200,000. At Bootle, Salford, Warrington, Wigan,
Cardiff, Wallasey, Bristol, Derby, Norwich, Maidstone, Leek, and other
places, mostly in the midlands, and at Islington, Croydon, Woolwich,
Walthamstow, Camberwell, Kingston, Chelsea, Hampstead, Fulham, Hornsey,
Bromley, and other public libraries in the London area, winter series
of public lectures were in full swing in the years before the war, and
in many cases have not been discontinued or have since been revived.
A good proportion of these libraries are of the old composite type,
complete with museum and art gallery; others are tending to become
such. At Nottingham, where the public library is in partnership, as it
were, with the University College next door, among various extension
efforts the half-hour talks on books and reading have for several
decades been a popular mode of stimulating taste and self-education,
both in adults and in children, and have been widely imitated. The
Manchester Public Library was the pioneer in this provision of lectures
bearing directly on the uses of libraries and the best methods of
reading and private study.
A large proportion of the library buildings put up during the last
two or three decades are possessed of lecture halls. “It is also
most desirable,” say the Adult Education Committee, “that all public
libraries should possess a room large enough to be used for classes,
lectures, and discussions.” And yet, only in a few spots, such as
Liverpool, enjoying the privileges of special Acts of Parliament,
is it legal to pay a lecturer’s fee, or indeed to spend a penny on
this invaluable and, one would think, indispensable work. Among
the principal reasons put forward by the Committee of 1849 for the
establishment of people’s libraries was the growing demand for public
lectures. Unfortunately, the point was overlooked or dropped out for
motives of policy when the Act was drafted, and repeated appeals to
have such expenditure legalized have fallen on deaf ears. Thus the work
is carried on under the most discouraging and repressive conditions. If
a public library is so reckless as to embark on illustrated lectures,
it must get hold of a lantern, in forma pauperis from some benevolent
donor, or borrow it from a neighbourly institution that is not hampered
by legislative taboos. Even to print a programme or post up a placard
means surcharge by the Government auditor. In some places, accordingly,
the cost is defrayed out of gifts by public-spirited citizens or by
sending round the hat for subscriptions. One excellent device, which
has obvious advantages over and above the financial expedience, is to
enrol the regular attendants at the lectures into a literary society
with a small subscription. Another and a very objectionable method is
to make advertisements on the programmes pay the printer’s bill. A
public institution ought not to be driven to such shifts. And, even
in the happiest circumstances, very rarely are funds forthcoming for
the engagement of professional lecturers: library committees have had,
almost without exception, to fall back upon the volunteer.
Nevertheless, efficient volunteers have been forthcoming: it is indeed
surprising how many lecturers of a high order can be enlisted by a
librarian who keeps his eyes open for ability and scholarship and
no caprice for hiding the light under a bushel. It was the present
writer’s duty to organize regular weekly lectures at the central
and the two chief district libraries of a large London borough for
several successive winters. By the exercise of some vigilance and
diplomacy, first-class lecturers on a variety of subjects were
secured, without a penny of expense to the borough. The quality of the
lectures was witnessed by the attendance, which averaged well over two
hundred--hundreds turned away on nights when there were bumper houses
not being counted. There is another side to this question of voluntary
lecturers, which may perhaps be urged by the Lecture Agency and the
University Extension boards, that it is robbing the paid lecturer of
his occupation. In the present condition of things the point hardly
arises. There is no money for the professional lecturer, so that the
amateur cannot be charged with blacklegging; but it will assuredly
arise when lecture and other tutorial schemes are properly recognized
and financed. When that time arrives, however, there will be such a
demand for lecturers that the whole question will be seen to have
different bearings. There will be courses of lectures running, or
demanding to be run, at every library, including most of the branch
establishments; there will be tutorial classes, reading circles, and
other groups requiring teachers or at least competent leaders, going
on concurrently. The library proper, that is the working collection
of books, will have become, or be tending to become, the heart, the
functional centre, of a complex organism; it will fall into its place
as the analogue of the library in a big college. Thus there will be
a wide and importunate demand for lecturers, and demand will create
supply only if every possible source is utilized. There will not be a
glut of trained lecturers, or even a sufficient supply. Rather, when
all the lecturers empanelled by official and commercial agencies are in
full employ, there will be keen competition for their spare moments.
When public libraries were first mooted, it was prophesied that the
bookseller would be deprived of a large part of his market, and every
new public library is supposed to be a blow to the trade. The results
are in direct contradiction. A better supply has created a keener
demand. Access to books has stimulated a desire to possess books. The
day of popular libraries was speedily followed by the day of the cheap
edition. There are many more bookshops than ever there were before;
and since there are more booksellers it may be safely concluded that,
in spite of complaints of bad trade, the sale of books has largely
increased. Even the commercial circulating library continues to
flourish. Similarly, it may be anticipated, the public organization of
lectures and teaching for adults, even though every source of supply is
tapped, including the amateur and the volunteer, will lead to a greater
demand for the trained professional, who will find his occupation not
gone but all the more thriving and profitable.
The modern museum and the art gallery in a large town have daily
lectures, or perhaps half-a-dozen lectures a day, provided to teach the
public how to understand and appreciate the value of their contents.
This is one of the main objects of lectures in public libraries, the
contents of which are far more various and extensive. But there are
other reasons for selecting the library building as the most suitable
place for all kinds of lectures for which appropriate illustrations in
the form of works of art, museum exhibits, and other material objects
are not available. Any lecture that aims at permanent results should
provide every member of the audience who wants to pursue the subject
with a reading list; better still, the actual books, arranged by the
librarian and the lecturer in a graduated course of reading, should be
on exhibition, and every facility should be given to the interested
person to take home books and commence his studies there and then.
Such are the considerations kept always in view by the modern librarian
who runs his courses of lectures, not as a side-show, or as a method
of advertizing the library and bringing in new readers, but as an
integral part of the library machine. In the Croydon Public Libraries,
to take one of several good examples, about a hundred lectures are
given annually, some to ordinary mixed audiences, some to bodies of
school children or to the young people in the junior library. The
halls are nearly always crowded with eager listeners. Most of the
lectures are accompanied by lantern illustrations, and the methods of
bringing them directly to bear on the stores of books in the library
are as thorough as in any place I know. The lecturers, who give their
services free, are furnished with lists of the books the library
contains on their particular subjects, and are requested to point out
any serious gaps. The titles of the books are shown on the screen, and
the lecturer makes his personal comments on each. After the lecture,
the actual books are exhibited, and any one in the audience, who
verifies his or her identity from the local directory or otherwise,
is allowed to borrow from these on the spot. Another useful method is
to distribute descriptive lists of the relevant books, arranged if
possible on a continuous plan of reading, such lists being drawn up in
collaboration with the lecturer. It was at Croydon, I believe, that
the library reading was introduced as a form of lecture. The librarian
or some other person well acquainted with a subject and also with the
literature of the subject to be found in the library, reads pieces of
description, notable prose, or fine verse, on such a topic as “The
Englishman in the Alps;” or “Byron, the poet and the man.” It is a
sort of spoken anthology, in short, stimulating interest in the works
illustrated.
UNIVERSITY EXTENSION COURSES, TUTORIAL CLASSES, READING CIRCLES.
Many years’ experience of library lectures from the internal point of
view, that is from the point of view of the librarian and organizer,
and also from that of an occasional lecturer in most of the public
libraries in and near London, as well as careful study of the effects
upon all kinds of hearers, has, however, convinced me that the opinion
of most educators and other critics is right: the only lectures which
are likely to have sound and lasting results are those that have
been carefully arranged to form part of a course. Sporadic lectures
are all very well in their way, but very much inferior in promoting
serious study and developing real knowledge. Reading an occasional
magazine article is not to be compared with reading a book. At the
same time, even if continuous courses can be provided, it would be a
mistake to drop the other sort altogether. The results, if usually
ephemeral, are not to be despised; such lectures are as a rule more
popular than the thorough-going University Extension course, and may
be a stepping-stone to that. And the organizer of such miscellaneous
series may, if he gives thought to the matter, arrange the lectures by
different specialists into groups on allied topics or aspects of the
same subject. He may do still better. The person, whether professional
or volunteer, who is qualified to deliver a first-class lecture would
usually prefer to deliver several, dealing with the same subject more
thoroughly and methodically--it is usually easier, and always far more
satisfactory. In nine cases out of ten, the results would be enormously
more valuable. To dispatch a serious theme in an hour’s discourse is an
effort that usually means a rapid and perhaps brilliant but superficial
handling, and does not always mean that surplusage is avoided. It is
too much like putting the day’s rations into a single meal.
One invaluable concomitant of the best and most remunerative form
of lectures is usually absent at those of the ordinary type, and
that is free discussion. This is not always invited, and, when it
is, discussion often resolves itself into complimentary speechifying
or else passages of arms in which the same orators week after week
display their gifts. To have any real success, lectures must arouse
debate. If there are no questions, no give and take between the mind
of the lecturer and of his hearers, the entertainment is likely to
remain barren. A University Extension lecturer will always invite
questions and the discussion of points that need elucidating; but he
will not always break down the shyness of those who would fain have
more light, even though a course going on from week to week tends to
make his listeners better prepared, and enables them to save up their
difficulties for an opportune moment. Here it is that the tutorial
class, which is run on the lines of a seminar, shows its superiority.
The tutorial class is a small and intimate circle, so small and
friendly that the most diffident are hardly likely to feel that asking
a question is like making a speech; its head is a leader and moderator
rather than a lecturer, and its methods are devised to call out
individual thought and initiative, and ensure that the subject shall be
viewed from every side and all difficulties of comprehension cleared
away. The members of the class do as much work as the teacher: the
better he is the more he gets them to do. Reading circles are usually
conducted on a very similar plan, the preparatory work of course being
done by the members at home. When instead of formal lectures papers
are read or discussions opened by members of a literary society,
fairly satisfactory results are usually obtained; but whatever scheme
be adopted, it is far better to split up into small groups than to be
ambitious of large attendances.
Many public libraries have wisely supplemented their own lecture
schemes by co-operating with University Extension. Even where the
library has not been able to offer a lecture room on the premises,
such co-operation may be very valuable, and a reciprocal advantage
to all concerned. The library can provide books for the students,
issuing reading lists which have been drawn up in consultation with
the lecturers; useful exhibitions, also, can be organized, from the
library’s own stores or from other sources. The tutorial classes
organized by the Workers’ Educational Association have been aided
effectively by such co-operation, which always reacts beneficially, in
more ways than meet the eye, on the libraries themselves. When there
is intimate association between libraries and technical colleges,
polytechnics, and the like, half at least of the real work will be done
in the library or through the books supplied by the library. Nor is it
only the urban libraries that are able to assert their true place in
adult education thus; several of the new rural repositories are working
hand in hand with the Workers’ Educational Association and its tutorial
classes, which have not failed on their part to utilize machinery
so apt to its purposes. Besides the ordinary stock of miscellaneous
books for the general reader, the wise rural librarian lays in a
good selection of the works required by reading circles and tutorial
classes, if necessary duplicating until there are enough copies for all
demands. But for this special call upon his resources, he would rely
upon the Central Library for Students to meet the requirements in works
of this class.
But public libraries as yet do not appear to have instituted tutorial
classes themselves, or indeed to have taken on their own shoulders
the financial responsibility of University Extension courses. Though
they have their own lecture halls and smaller rooms suitable for
the various purposes here enumerated, even the best and most active
library authorities have not done much more than hold such series of
miscellaneous and disconnected lectures as are, admittedly, not the
best.[16] That so much should have been accomplished, even whilst the
public libraries were toiling under the yoke of the penny rate limit,
is to their enduring credit; but it is little to what ought to be done,
under less hampering conditions, and to what the progressive among
them will assuredly do ere long. But the Act of 1919 merely restored
the right of every community to spend as much as it liked on certain
library purposes; it did not restore its natural right to spend money
on what objects it liked, as for example, library lectures or library
classes; still less did it infuse an eagerness to do so where no such
desire had previously existed. The removal of an unreasonable and
effete restriction can hardly be delayed much longer; but even when
there is no legal ban upon expenditure the cost of a paid university
teacher will often be prohibitive. Why then should not the alternative
be taken of appointing a volunteer? This is continually being done by
reading circles all over the country, organized in connection with or
in imitation of the National Home-Reading Union, and the results are
highly encouraging.
The fact is, our resources in private ability and willingness to
serve in such functions as these have never yet been fully explored:
they will have to be explored. Men of high academic attainments are
expensive items in a tutorial scheme providing for the intellectual
avocations of perhaps not more than a dozen zealous students; and, as
was hinted before, there will not be enough of them to go round--there
would not be enough now if a serious attempt were made to ascertain
actual wants and provide for them adequately. Vast numbers of
continuous courses, of multifarious kinds, are required everywhere in
these days of intellectual keenness. Let us try then to run some of
them at least on the lines of mutual help that have served so well in
the past. There has never been in this country any dearth of one kind
of personal ability, that of clear and racy exposition, in the sphere,
for instance, of local politics and lay preaching. It does not exist,
though appearances may be deceptive, in the sphere of intellectual
activity. It should not be more difficult to find leaders for reading
circles and study groups, or lecturers competent to deliver a short
course, than it is to find chairmen for parish councils, political
meetings, or local committees. Nor, if we proceed with common sense
and lay no stress on artificial difficulties, will there be any dearth
of discussion. The part of the leader will rather be to direct the
spontaneous flow, and prevent the study circle from degenerating into a
mere talking-shop. But even loquacity can be controlled and kept to the
point if there is a definite subject, and a course of reading clearly
marked out. A well-informed, tactful, and judicious leader will work
wonders if he observes the golden rule not to overwork himself. The
librarian himself and chosen members of any large staff should be able
to run at least a reading circle, if not to deliver public lectures.
The success of all such undertakings will depend of course on his
personal competence and insight; if he can take his own share in the
work with credit, he will be in the more intimate touch with the mental
attitude and potentialities of his public.
DRAMATIC AND OTHER CIRCLES.
Lectures and classes by no means exhaust the modes in which the
public library may carry on useful extension work; in truth, the ways
are almost unlimited, except that some forms of study, teaching, or
entertainment may cause inconvenience, unless the building is very
large and special accommodation arranged. Thus a small library is not a
suitable place for musical performances, although many public libraries
cater on a lavish scale for students of music. It is not an uncommon
thing, however, for dramatic readings and even full-length plays to
be introduced into the scheme of lectures, or for the library to be
the headquarters of a dramatic society. There is no better method of
imparting a real understanding and appreciation of our best literature
than to induce people to study a classical play dramatically. To begin
with, simple readings should be attempted, each member of the class
or study group taking a distinct part. As soon as the readers have
a grip of the action and plot, they should proceed to act, still
keeping the book before them. A few properties may be introduced, such
as a table and a chair or two and a flagon, in the revelling scene in
_Twelfth Night_, or a screen, in _The School for Scandal_--there is no
need for scenery or costumes. At some libraries, properties--and even
gestures--are entirely suppressed, and the reading is a reading pure
and simple.
Mention of these two plays brings to mind several incidents when this
rudimentary kind of acting brought out as fine and penetrating an
interpretation of the dramatist as any performance by professional
actors, with the usual lavish apparatus, that I have ever witnessed
in a West End theatre. Sir Toby Belch and Sir Andrew Aguecheek, Maria
and the Clown, were people I knew very well, attired in their ordinary
dress. The stage was a bare platform, and there was nothing on it but
a table and a few chairs. The performers had the book in their hands;
but, evidently, they were word-perfect in their parts. The scene
went with a verve and a naturalness that could hardly be bettered;
and--best of all--it was Shakespeare, interpreted by intelligent and
well-educated persons, who were the last people in the world to cut or
rewrite or recreate a part as they thought Shakespeare ought to have
written it. Another Sir Andrew Aguecheek is still more memorable. This
gentleman would probably have been a failure or a very indifferent
success in any other character: he was Sir Andrew Aguecheek in the
flesh--the wonder was how we had never noticed it all the years we
had known him. A still more delightful proof of the latent genius
that may be revealed by such modest performances was a certain Lady
Teazle. She was a plain and not a very youthful person; the stage was
as unfurnished and void of decoration as her get-up was plain and
ordinary. Yet, by dint of dramatic instinct that any much-beparagraphed
actress might envy, she easily conveyed the sense of youth and charm
and beauty--she was the finest Lady Teazle I have seen, on or off the
regular stage.
The London County Council and other educational bodies have thoroughly
recognized the untold possibilities of the dramatic study of drama.
It is undoubtedly the right method. Charles Lamb, in a famous essay,
propounded the doctrine that in the theatre we see the actors but
we may entirely fail to see the play. The plays of Shakespeare, he
paradoxically argued, “are less calculated for performance on a stage
than those of almost any other dramatist whatever.” The actor gets
between us and the dramatist; and if that was so in the days of Kemble
and Mrs. Siddons, how much more is it so in these days of sophisticated
stage-display and mannered acting. But put the student of Shakespeare
on the stage, however rudimentary the stage may be, and let him find
his way into the mind of the great playwright by himself, so far as he
may: that is how to study Shakespeare, and that is the mode of approach
sought in such dramatic readings or more elaborate interpretations as
are recommended here. Even the modest group of readers will probably
go on from strength to strength. One group which I first set on this
track were content at first with a series of readings, which were given
in public, after many rehearsals, at the various district libraries
of a London borough. Then they embarked on the complete presentation
of _The Merchant of Venice_, _As You Like It_, and _Twelfth Night_,
with scenery and costumes; and even ventured on a tragedy, all without
discredit. Ultimately, a troupe of experienced players, they gave
a series of Shakespearian plays at the Town Hall and other places,
not only clearing all expenses, but realizing a handsome sum for an
important charity. One of their number later on wrote a comedy, which
they produced with some success. Here, surely, is a piece of library
extension work having high cultural value; it is indicative of what may
easily be done by apt suggestion and cultivation of the group spirit;
and there are innumerable directions in which similar results may be
achieved.
RELATIONS WITH WORK OUTSIDE.