The 20th century is undoubtedly something of a fad already with public
speakers. I should hesitate to speak of 20th century problems in library
work were there not a special justification for noting chronologic
epochs in connection with the modern library movement. It was almost
precisely at the middle of the century that this movement took its rise
in the passage of the first public library laws in England and in New
England. And again it was at the very middle of the last half century,
in the year 1876, that this Association was formed and the _Library
Journal_ started. (I may be excused for merely alluding to the fact,
parenthetically, that Melvil Dewey graduated from Amherst College in
1874.) And now at the very beginning of the new century the library
movement receives an enormous impetus from the benefactions of Andrew
Carnegie, not only in themselves multiplying and increasing libraries,
but serving as a great stimulus to towns and cities and states as well
as to individuals, so that his indirect contribution to the cause of
libraries will probably far outweigh his direct gifts, princely as they
are.
The library problems of the 20th century sum themselves up in one, the
problem of expansion, and we may perhaps best regard them from the point
of view of the obstacles to expansion, these obstacles constituting the
problems.
First, we must notice our library buildings, and admit that many of
them, and most of the ideas heretofore cherished about the building of
libraries, present such an obstacle. When we note that since the plans
were drawn on which nearly all of our most recent large library
buildings have been erected, three new ideas in library administration
have come into general acceptance which must powerfully affect library
construction, we can but feel that great foresight and wisdom are needed
to erect libraries that shall not very soon be obstacles to proper and
necessary expansion. These three new ideas are, first, access of readers
to the bookshelves; second, children's rooms, and third, the
distribution of books through schools, branches, delivery stations, home
libraries, and inter-library loans, this third new idea involving
provision for business offices, packing rooms, etc., unthought of
formerly. To meet not simply these new ideas, but others with which the
new century is pregnant, care must be taken that great sums of money,
leaving the securing of more for a long time hopeless, are not expended
on structures in which instead of provision for expansion we seem to
have provision against it.
Another obstacle to expansion is found in elaborate systems of
shelf-marks connected with systematic schemes of classification,
representing carefully arranged subordination and co-ordination of the
parts. For two things are certain: first, accepted classifications of
books rapidly become obsolete, and second, no library will long be
content with an out-of-date arrangement. Especially will my successor,
or yours, be sure to feel the necessity of signalizing his accession to
office by introducing what is in his day the latest classification. And
in this he will be right. Now, if we have a fair sense of our duty to
our successor, which is merely an extension forward of our duty to the
library itself, we shall be unwilling to tie the library by an intricate
notation to a present system of classification. I think we must take
more pains than is done by either the Decimal or Expansive schemes to
provide a somewhat elastic notation. I regard the classification of the
University of California Library as the best (available in print) for
libraries of our class, because it employs designations which indicate
mere sequence of classes. A little thought will, I am sure, show you how
this is true. At any rate, a little experience in attempting more or
less reclassification with, for example, the Decimal classification,
will prepare you to believe that a less highly involved and articulated
method of designation would be in the interest of reasonable expansion,
and save such expansion from the odium of upsetting the classification.
Through the logic of events forcing those considerations to the front
more and more, I anticipate that the larger and rapidly growing
libraries will increasingly shun all such systems as the "D. C." and the
"E. C.," of which the paradox is certainly true, that the better they
are made the worse they become. The scheme of numbering classes recently
adopted by Princeton University Library points in this direction, while
the reclassification of Harvard University Library, which has been
slowly carried forward during the last 20 years or more, represents a
complete departure from the idea of any correlation between classes, as
indicated in the notation, the order of minor divisions being a
numerical sequence easily changed or modified, while each main class
bears a mark suggesting no relation to another. For example, the
military and naval sciences have lately been reclassified and brought
under the designation War, which may be called (to represent a certain
harmony with other designations) W-a-r. The location of any main class
in the library is subject to change at any time, and is known to the
attendants by a chart, which may be somewhat altered to-day, and
replaced by a new one with large differences to-morrow or next year. Not
that such changes would be made except for real occasion, but under this
system, when they are necessary they are not deferred or regarded as
hopeless as they must be under any highly organized system.
Another obstacle to expansion closely related to elaborate methods of
notation is found in the common practice of inserting the call-numbers
in catalogs of all kinds, written or printed. When the Boston Public
Library was moved into the new building it was naturally supposed that
it would be completely rearranged to suit its ampler and entirely
different shelf-room, particularly as much fault had already been found
with its existing classification, which seemed quite outgrown. But when
it is observed how the library was tied to its old numbering by an
endless variety of catalogs, printed as well as written, it ceases to
seem strange that it was thought best to transfer the old arrangement to
the new building, with all its infelicities heightened by its new
location and surroundings. And in this respect that library should serve
as a warning to others to avoid, by any available means, such an
entanglement. If it be asked what means of avoiding it are available, I
would say that I am inclined to think that if I were starting with a new
library I would try the experiment of putting no shelf-numbers or
call-marks in any catalog, but rather have a key by which they could be
found by means of the accession numbers which alone would be given in
the author-catalog.
I can only refer hastily to one feature of library expansion which is
coming in with the new century, and which has to do with the catalog. I
mean the introduction of printed cards, and would say that I look to see
these work a revolution in library methods. If we can procure at low
cost an indefinite number of these cards for each book we shall come to
use them in many ways, as, for example, the accession record, the shelf
list, bulletins and special lists, and charging cards. For the latter
purpose they would have the advantage of absolutely identifying the
book.
I am sure I have said enough to set you thinking, and I hope when time
is given for discussion you will freely express your thoughts.