to be awarded by the Treasury would bear any proportion to the saving
effected on behalf of the nation. To make this clear I will adduce some
particulars stated in my report to the trustees. Eight hundred
sliding-presses can be added to the New Library at the Museum without
any modification of the building as it stands, and 300 more by certain
structural alterations. The cost of a press being about £13, this gives
£14,300 for the 1100 presses, or, with a liberal allowance for the cost
of the alterations, say £15,000 altogether. Each press will contain on
the average about 400 volumes, showing a total of 440,000 volumes, or
about seven times the number of books in the great King's Library added
to the capacity of the New Library, without taking in another square
inch of ground. Excluding newspapers, periodicals, Oriental
books—otherwise provided for—and tracts bound in bundles, and assuming
an annual addition of 20,000 volumes of other descriptions, this
provides for twenty-two years. But much more may be said, for, whether
in the form of swinging door or sliding-press, the principle of
expansion _in situ_ can undoubtedly be carried out through the greater
part of the Old Library, as well as in the basement of the New.[269:1]
What additional space this would afford, I have not endeavoured to
estimate. Another immense advantage connected with the system is the
facility it offers of gradual expansion. Any other enlargement requires
new building; new building requires a large sum to be raised by a great
effort of rating, borrowing, or subscribing; and too frequently the
adjoining ground is preoccupied, and must be acquired at a great
additional expense. Fifty thousand pounds would, I believe, be a very
moderate estimate for such accommodation, if obtained by building, as
the Museum gets from the sliding-press for £15,000, supposing even that
the ground were free to build upon. In our case, however, this ground
must have been purchased. We may well imagine the Trojan siege we should
have had to lay to the Treasury, to obtain the money; the delays of
building when this was eventually forthcoming; and the fearful
inconvenience which would have existed meanwhile. Now we simply put down
a sum in the annual estimates for as many sliding-presses as are likely
to be required during the ensuing financial year, introduce them
wherever they seem to be necessary, and hope to go on thus for an
indefinite number of years. Any new apartment, complete in itself, must
involve waste, for some parts of it must necessarily fill up faster than
others; but in the sliding-press is a beautiful elasticity; it can be
introduced wherever it is seen to be wanted, and nowhere else. Finally,
and for the Museum this is most important, the additional space gained
is in the close vicinity of the Reading Room. A new building must have
been at a distance, involving either great inconvenience in the supply
of books to readers, or an additional Reading Room, catalogue, reference
library, and staff.
I think enough has been said to convince librarians of the expediency of
taking the sliding-press, or some analogous contrivance, into account,
in plans for the enlargement of old libraries, or the construction of
new ones. Some libraries will not require it, either because they are on
too small a scale; or because, like branch libraries in great towns,
they admit of being kept within limits; or because, like Archbishop
Marsh's Library at Dublin, they are restricted to special collections.
But all experience shows that it is impossible to provide for the wants
of a great and growing library on too generous a scale, or to exhibit
too much forethought in preparing for distant, it may be, but ultimately
inevitable contingencies. York Cathedral Library might have seemed safe,
but see the burden which Mr. Hailstone's recent benefaction has laid
upon it. To the librarian it may be said of Space what the poet said of
Love:—
"Whoe'er thou art, thy master see,
He was, or is, or is to be."
I should add that the cost of a sliding-press, or of a door-press,
might probably be much less to a provincial library than to the Museum,
where the shelves are constructed in the most elaborate manner for
special security against fire.
In fact, I believe that the sliding-press is only one corner of a great
question, and that in planning large libraries it will be necessary to
take mechanical contrivances into account to a much greater extent than
hitherto. I am especially led to this conclusion by some particulars
which have reached me respecting the new Congressional Library at
Washington. I am unable to state these with the requisite accuracy, but
I hope that some American friend may be present who can supply the
deficiency.
I have to add that the photographs of the sliding-press here exhibited
by me were taken by Mr. Charles Praetorius, and that copies can be
obtained from him. He may be addressed at the Museum. I hope that they
fulfil their purpose; they cannot, however, of course, represent the
press so well as the model of it constructed by Mr. Sparrow for the
exhibition of library appliances at Antwerp, where it was shown last
year. This is now exhibited to the public in the King's Library, and Mr.
Sparrow could probably produce copies of it if desired. An account of
the press was contributed by Mr. Jenner to the _Library Chronicle_, and
by me to Mr. Melville Dewey's _Library Notes_, both in 1887.
FOOTNOTES:
[262:1] Read at the Annual Meeting of the Library Association, held at
Nottingham, September 1891.
[269:1] Since this was written, the engineers of the Board of Works
have reported that the sliding-press system can be safely extended to
the galleries, which more than doubles the estimate of increased space
given on the preceding page.
ON THE PROVISION OF ADDITIONAL SPACE IN LIBRARIES[272:1]
The interesting paper[272:2] to which you have just listened may well
serve as introductory to a somewhat fuller treatment on my part of the
question of providing adequate space for future accessions of books, so
immensely important for all libraries, but especially so for public
libraries, and for these in the ratio of their probable extent and
consequent usefulness. When I had an opportunity of describing the
British Museum sliding-press to the Nottingham conference, I dwelt upon
the utility of the invention in this point of view as much as upon the
mechanism of the press itself; and as the point is one which cannot be
too much insisted upon, I shall take this opportunity of returning to
it. Before doing so, however, or mentioning any further contrivances for
economising space that may have suggested themselves, I may be allowed
to tender my personal acknowledgments to Mr. Mayhew for the ingenuity
which he has evinced, and to say that I am very desirous that his
invention should be brought into practical operation at the Museum as
soon as possible. We ought, I think, to exemplify every useful device
both in press construction and other departments of library work that we
may have the good fortune to introduce, both for our own credit and for
the advantage of other libraries which may be disposed to inquire into
our methods. I hardly expect that the pivot-press will replace the
sliding-press to any great extent at the Museum, because, as I have
previously stated, although the designers of the larger portion of our
library had not the most remote conception of the sliding-press, they
could not have provided for it more effectively if they had foreseen and
contemplated its introduction. But, when the need for procuring
additional space by mechanical contrivance makes itself felt, as must
inevitably be the case one day in all really important libraries,
difficulties will be found in the introduction of the sliding-press
which will not exist in the case of the pivot-press. Unless expressly so
designed, libraries will seldom be provided, as the Museum was, with a
grated ceiling from which the sliding-press can be suspended without
more ado, and the construction of such a ceiling is a formidable and
expensive piece of work. This difficulty may indeed be overcome by
making the sliding-press run upon the ground, as at Bethnal Green and
the basement of the Museum, but this throws the entire weight upon the
floor, which, though unobjectionable on a basement, may be dangerous in
upper storeys. I am inclined to believe, therefore, that the pivot-press
may be used with excellent effect in many instances, especially from
its simplicity and ease of construction, when a sudden need arises for
the accommodation of a new accession of books. I may further draw
attention to a special merit—its singular lightness even when full of
volumes. A child can work it with ease, unlike the sliding-press, which,
when quite full, may tax the strength of a powerful man.
Respecting the history of this press I have only to say that, so far as
I am aware, it originated with Mr. Mayhew at the British Museum; I
should, nevertheless, be in no way surprised to learn that it, or
something resembling it, had already been in use in other libraries. If
so, this is not known at the Museum. It did not, like the sliding-press,
come to us as an importation to be developed, but originated, so far as
I know, entirely with Mr. Mayhew. If he took a hint from any quarter, it
may have been from those revolving book-stands which some of us, no
doubt, use in our own studies, so admirable for their compactness and
the readiness with which the desired book is brought to hand, but
unfortunately so dear. I do not know why they should always be
constructed in wood, and have often thought that if Birmingham
manufacturers would turn them out on a large scale in metal, they would
meet with a remunerative demand.
I now come to the general question of providing space in libraries for
indefinite future accessions. This does not seem to me to have as yet
received attention in any degree proportionate to its importance.
Perhaps I am the more impressed with it from its having been my duty for
a long series of years to place the new acquisitions of books received
at the British Museum. The want of space for particular descriptions of
books was thus daily forced upon my attention, as well as the alarming
prospect of a total failure of space at no very distant day, unless this
could be averted by some mechanical contrivance, the possibility of
which dawned upon nobody until that accidental visit of mine to the
Bethnal Green Library, which I have related to you upon a former
occasion. The problem, you must remember, was not merely to find space
for books, but to find it near the Reading Room. The Trustees might
conceivably have acquired then, as they have most happily acquired last
summer, extensive space for building in the neighbourhood, and this
might be invaluable for the deposit of particular classes of literature,
such as newspapers and official publications. But this would not have
helped us with the mass of literature continually required for the
Reading Room, for it is absolutely necessary that this should be close
at hand. Supposing that room could have been provided in a new building
for the classes of publications I have mentioned, the difficulty would
have recurred as soon as the space thus gained had been filled up; and
ultimately we should have had to choose between allowing the library to
fall into a condition of chaos, and removing the Antiquities Department
elsewhere, thus devoting noble rooms to purposes for which they were not
constructed, and for which they are in no respect adapted. Things were,
indeed, fast approaching this point when the introduction of the
sliding-press, like a breeze springing up for the rescue of a drifting
vessel, carried us safely past the rock upon which we seemed destined to
strike.
The answer to the question whether libraries in general will not,
without special precautions, find themselves in the position which the
British Museum has so fortunately escaped, depends upon the reply to
another question, which we must all answer in the affirmative, or we
should not be here: "Is the system of free public libraries going to be
a success?" If so, it is evident that the present development of free
libraries very imperfectly represents that which they are destined to
attain within a century. They cannot be kept at the level of public
requirements without being continually supplied with the best and newest
literature. It will be useless to expect the community to interest
itself for a library full of obsolete treatises or statistics which have
ceased to be accurate, or histories not brought down to date, or fiction
reflecting the taste of the last generation. Periodicals and newspapers
will have continued to prolong themselves automatically; municipal and
other local records will have multiplied; and, if the library has really
done its work, and compelled recognition as an essential constituent of
civilisation, the funds provided for its augmentation will no longer be
upon their present restricted footing, and it will have been largely
enriched by donations. Evidently, therefore, the question of space will
have become very pressing, and the librarians of the future will have
good reason to reproach the short-sightedness of their predecessors if
the problem has been left entirely to them. One rough-and-ready method
of providing space might indeed be suggested—to sell the old books, and
buy new ones with the proceeds; but to say nothing of the invariably
unsuccessful financial results of such operations, and the
discouragement to students and to donors, I need not point out that a
library administered on such principles would be no better than a book
club. I am not aware how far any of our free libraries may already be
suffering embarrassment in the matter of space, but I can mention a
circumstance which may appear significant. We used to hear a great deal
about the stores of duplicate books accumulated at the British Museum,
and the advantage which would ensue from their distribution among
provincial libraries. Well, a few years ago we acted upon the
suggestion, and did distribute all that could be spared. When only a few
volumes could be given all went smoothly; but when long sets, especially
of parliamentary papers, were offered, with a promise of their being
kept up, if possible, we met with an unexpected coyness; some libraries
declined, others made difficulties; and one, which is entitled to
receive continuations regularly, has now postponed taking its due for
more than a year. I know not how to account for this, except on the
hypothesis of deficient space.
The question whether I am right in laying so much stress on the timely
provision of space in libraries depends, as I have intimated, upon the
more serious question, whether the library movement is to prove a
success. If it is not, we need not trouble ourselves. If the present
free libraries—at least those in populous towns and centres of
intellect and industry—are not to be the nuclei of much more important
institutions than they are at present; if they are not to become the
pride of their respective districts, and to be supported by them upon a
much more liberal scale than is now the case; if they are not to expect
liberal accessions from the generosity of private donors; if they are
not to be affiliated with whatever agencies exist around them for the
promotion of culture; if, shedding from time to time what they may deem
their obsolete books, they are to renounce all claim to an historical
character, and only provide for those needs for which the circulating
library exists already; then, indeed, the question of space need not
concern us. But if the reverse of all this is to be the case; if they
are to become noble libraries, store-houses of local and municipal as
well as merely utilitarian literature; if all descriptions of English
literature are to be at least fairly represented; if private collectors
are to be made to see that the local library would afford a worthy
repository for their books; then the question of space cannot be too
attentively considered, or, in the height of success, the library may
break down. You know the value of land in large towns, and the
costliness of extending any premises that may be situated in a good
quarter, and surrounded by shops, or warehouses, or public buildings.
The possibilities of future extension should never be lost sight of when
a site for a library is selected. But, as the most desirable site cannot
always be had, it is still more important so to plan the library from
the first that it may be susceptible of inner development, without
trenching upon the adjoining land; and where, in the case of existing
libraries, this precaution has been neglected, to lose no time in
adapting the library for interior extension, if possible. At the Museum
we have at present two methods—the sliding-press, whether suspended or
resting on the ground, and the pivot-press. Both these have been
described to you. But they by no means exhaust the possibilities of
economising space, and I wish to draw your attention to other ingenious
methods, which, however, I am not about to describe, for I take this to
be the proper business of the inventor. That they must be worth
attention you will all agree, when I tell you they are devised by Mr.
Virgo. Mr. Virgo, as his name seems to imply, is a gentleman of singular
modesty. I do not think that, but for me, he would ever have received
the credit due to him for his share in the invention of the
sliding-press; nor do I think that he has done nearly enough to bring
his ingenious ideas forward for the general good. I hope he will do so,
either at this meeting, or ere long in the pages of THE LIBRARY, or some
other suitable medium. I shall not attempt to trespass upon his ground,
but will very briefly make a suggestion for book accommodation in a
restricted space, which his ingenious contrivances may have prompted,
although to find its exact prototype we must go back to the earliest
libraries that have ever existed.
These, as we all know, were the libraries of the kings of Babylon and
Assyria. Paper and parchment not having been then invented, literature
could only be inscribed on some hard substance. Wood or metal might have
been used, but the substances employed by the Assyrians seem to have
been almost exclusively stone, clay, or terra cotta. An incised stone
slab may be an excellent vehicle for a brief record intended to remain
fixed in the same place, but for a chronicle or a liturgy, or a set of
astronomical observations, or any other of the staple productions of
Babylonian or Assyrian literature it is objectionable in two
respects—it is profuse of space, and it is not easily portable. The
King of Assyria, like the King of Persia of a later date, had doubtless
frequent occasion to send for the chronicles of his kingdom to refresh
his memory respecting the treason of some Bigthan or Teresh, or the
services of some Mordecai. The Assyrian historians or librarians,
therefore, devised the inscription of their literature upon cylinders,
usually hexagonal prisms, giving six faces instead of one, and
possessing the double advantage of easy portability, and of bringing the
largest amount of writing possible into the smallest possible space. The
question of portability does not concern us now (though I may remark
incidentally that in very extensive libraries it offers a decisive
argument against the card catalogue), but it does appear to me worthy of
consideration whether, in endeavouring to make room for our books, we
might not occasionally employ the hexagonal form of press, fixed or
revolving, and thus revert with advantage to the method which our most
primitive predecessors adopted to make room for their writings. The
hexagonal prism has the advantage of affording more space practically
available within less area than any other geometrical figure. It seems
well adapted for use in the central area of large rooms as a supplement
to the wall space; for the extension of wall space when presses are run
out from the sides towards the centre of the room; and for the storage
of valuable books or other objects which it is desirable to keep apart.
A case of this description could be partially glazed to allow of the
exhibition of a portion of the contents level with the eye; and many
other applications might probably be found for the hexagonal book-press
or cabinet in libraries constructed with an especial view to its
introduction. It may be that such presses or cabinets, admitting as they
would of being made of any degree of strength, or of being lined or
protected in any manner, and of being wholly or partially glazed or
unglazed as desired, would be best of all adapted for the custody of
objects of art or archæology—"infinite riches in a little room." Yet,
even if so, libraries and museums are so frequently under the same
management that the subject cannot be deemed inappropriate for a
congress of librarians.
I will finally mention another method of obtaining increased space for
the display of books, MSS., and other exhibited objects. The lower part
of ordinary bookcases can be converted into show-cases by placing
against them, attached or unattached, light tables with glazed tops,
resting on wheels to allow of easy withdrawal when access to the case is
required. This would greatly increase the exhibition space in libraries
and museums, and might sometimes allow the centre of a fine room to be
free from obstruction, and available for lectures and meetings. Applied
to ordinary wall cases, it might admit of the display of many objects
supposed to be exhibited, but which in reality are not so, being placed
too high or too low to be seen.
FOOTNOTES:
[272:1] Read at the Annual Meeting of the Library Association, Belfast,
September 1894.
[272:2] A paper by Mr. H. M. Mayhew, of the British Museum, on "A
Revolving Extension Press."
PREFACE TO BLADES' "ENEMIES OF BOOKS"[283:1]
The precept "Love your Enemies" was never intended for the enemies of
books, because the enemy of books is not an individual foe, but _hostis
humani generis_. The value of books, as of other things, may be
superstitiously overrated. We are accustomed to speak of them as if they
were in themselves the wisdom, or the knowledge, or the genius, of which
they are, in fact, only the receptacles. They are not the honey of the
human hive, but only the treasure-cells in which it is stored, and the
analogue of the bee is the author. But even in this restricted point of
view, their function is so important that to destroy them is a crime of
_lèse-humanité_; and it is not known that any one ever enunciated their
destruction as a sound principle, unless it were the Caliph Omar. Even
he, if the famous _bon-mot_ attributed to him is genuine, was willing to
spare one book; and could his life have been prolonged for a century or
two, he would have discovered that in reprieving the Koran he had
authorised the creation of a very considerable literature. The number of
commentaries upon the Koran actually existing is not small; what would
it have been had it been necessary to prove that all history, and
geography, and astronomy, and everything else that man needed to know,
was implicitly taught therein?
No such gigantic figure as the destroyer of the Alexandrian Library,
brandishing, like the spectre of Fawdon, a blazing rafter, whose light
streams down the centuries, occupies a post of honour in Mr. Blades'
volume. In comparison, he may almost be likened to that poet who
adjured, "Now, Muse, let's sing of rats," having previously struck out
mice as below the dignity of the subject. The foes he enumerates are
Fire, Water, Gas and Heat, Dust and Neglect, Ignorance, Book-worms,
Other Vermin, Bookbinders, and Collectors. To these another might be
added—Sinister Interests, which cannot be classified under the head of
Ignorance, for they know well that the existence of books is
incompatible with their own. It would be a curious subject of inquiry
whether these interests, whose potency in mutilating valuable books and
hindering their dissemination, sometimes until it has become too late
for the world to profit by them, is unfortunately quite unquestionable,
have ever succeeded in actually destroying any work of real importance
to mankind. The number that have on this account never been written at
all is no doubt enormous, but from the nature of the case cannot be
ascertained, and the loss from this cause must be in every sense of the
word inestimable. It would, however, probably be found that the book
which once got written also managed to get printed, though sometimes
with such secrecy that it might almost as well have remained in
manuscript. Far more mischievous was the effect of pressure upon the
books which did appear under the authority of a licenser, either
emasculated by him or by the author. Whether the censors ever succeeded
in suppressing a worthy book or not, it is pretty certain that they
never succeeded in suppressing a pernicious one.