forth by the trustees in their report to the legislature for 1881 that
we append an extract. "The library," they observe, "differs from most
public libraries. It is not a great general library intended in its
endowment and present equipment for the use of readers in all or most of
the departments of human knowledge.... Beyond its special collections it
should be regarded as supplementary to others more general and numerous
and directly adapted to popular use. It is not like the British Museum,
but rather like the Grenville collection in the British Museum, or
perhaps still more like the house and museum of Sir John Soane in
Lincoln's Inn's Fields, in London, both lasting monuments of the
learning and liberality of their honored founders. Thus, while the
library does not profess to be a general or universal collection of all
the knowledge stored up in the world of books, it is absolutely without
a peer or a rival here in the special collections to which the generous
taste and liberal scholarship of its founder devoted his best gifts of
intellectual ability and ample resources of fortune. It represents the
favorite studies of a lifetime consecrated after due offices of religion
and charity to the choicest pursuits of literature and art. It would be
difficult to estimate the value or importance of these marvellous
treasures, whose exhibition hitherto only in part has challenged the
admiration of all scholars and given a new impulse to those studies for
which they furnish an apparatus before unseen in America.... The
countless myriads of volumes produced in the past four centuries of
printing with movable types have left in all the libraries of all the
nations comparatively few monuments, or even memorials, of so many
eager, patient, or weary generations of men whose works have followed
them when they have rested from their labors. The Lenox Library was
established for the public exhibition and scholarly use of some of the
most rare and precious of such monuments and memorials of the
typographic art and the historic past as have escaped the wreck and been
preserved to this day. That exhibition and use must be governed by
regulations which will insure to the fullest extent the security and
preservation of the treasures intrusted to our care, in the enforcement
of which the trustees anticipate the sympathy and co-operation of all
scholars and men of letters, through whose use and labors alone the
public at large must chiefly derive real and permanent benefit from this
and all similar institutions." The "regulations" adopted by the trustees
for the preservation of their treasures do not seem unreasonable.
Admission is by ticket, which may be procured of the librarian by
addressing him by mail. We have space for but the briefest possible
glimpses at these treasures. The chief rarities in typography are found
in the north and south libraries on the first floor. In "first editions"
it would be difficult to say whether the library prides itself most on
its Bibles, its Miltoniana, or its Shakesperiana. In Bibles the whole
art of printing with movable types is fully portrayed, the series
beginning with the "Mazarin," or Gutenberg, Bible, the first book ever
printed with movable types. There are Bibles in all languages. There is
the first complete edition of the New Testament in Greek ever published,
its title-page dated Basle, 1516. In a glass case in the north library
are the four huge "Polyglot" Bibles, marvels of typography, known as the
Complutensian, Antwerp, Paris, and English Polyglots. In the same case
repose the Codex Sinaiticus, Codex Alexandrinus, and Codex
Vaticanus,--three great folios, in the original Greek and Hebrew, sacred
to scholars as the works on which all authority for the Scriptures
rests. Tyndale's New Testament, the first ever printed on English
ground, dated London, 1536, is here, and that rare copy of the King
James version known as the "Wicked Bible." In this copy the printer, as
a satire on the age, omitted the word "not" from the seventh
commandment, and for this piece of waggery was heavily fined, the money
going, it is said, to establish the first Greek press ever erected at
Oxford. Among its "first editions" the library has that of Homer, 1488,
and that of Dante, 1472. The Milton collection deserves special notice:
in addition to the first editions of the poet's various works, it
contains a folio volume of letters and documents pertaining to Milton
and his family, with autograph manuscripts giving exceedingly
interesting details of the poet's private life and fortunes. One of
these is a long original letter from Milton himself to his friend Carlo
Dati, the Florentine, with the latter's reply; there are also three
receipts or releases signed by Milton's three daughters, Anne Milton,
Mary Milton, and Deborah Clarke, a bond from Elizabeth Milton, his
widow, to one Randle Timmis, and several other agreements and
assignments, with the autographs of attesting witnesses. In folio
editions of Shakespeare, and in commentaries, glossaries, and
dissertations, the library is also exceedingly rich. Its collection of
Americana is the wonder and delight of scholars. We must mention the
first publication of the printed letter of Columbus, one in each of its
four editions, giving the first account of his discoveries in the West,
with three autograph letters of Diego Columbus, his son; the
"Cosmographia Introductio," printed at St. Dié, 1507,--the first book in
which a suggestion of the name "America" occurs; and also the first map,
printed in 1520, in which the name appears. Here is the first American
book printed,--a Mexican work, dated 1543-44; the Bay Psalm-Book, 1640,
the first work printed in New England; and the first book printed in New
York,--the Laws of the Province, by Bradford, issued in 1691: the
Puritan evidently placing the gospel first, and the Knickerbocker the
law.
Leaving the typographical treasures of the library, we ascend the broad
marble stairway to the floor above, for a brief glance at the paintings
and statuary. In the hall devoted to sculpture are many noble and
beautiful works of art in marble, the most noticeable perhaps being
Powers's "Il Penseroso," the bust of Washington and the "Babes in the
Wood" by Crawford, and the statue of Lincoln by Ball. In the
picture-gallery on the east are a hundred and fifty subjects. On the
south wall hangs a canvas which is at once recognized as the
masterpiece. It is Munkácsy's "Blind Milton dictating 'Paradise Lost' to
his Daughters." This painting is fitly supported on one side by a
portrait of Milton owned for many years by Charles Lamb, and on the
other by a copy of Lely's fine portrait of Cromwell.
The Mercantile is the popular library of the city; in no sense a public
library, however, for the student or stranger must advance a pretty
liberal entrance-fee before he can avail himself of its benefits. This
institution is a pleasing example of what can be done by many hands,
even though there be little in them: it has reached its present
proportions without endowment or State aid, chiefly through the steady,
continuous efforts of the merchants' clerks of the city. They have
always managed it, one generation succeeding another, and they have in
it to-day the largest circulating library in America. Mr. William Wood,
a benevolent gentleman who devoted many of his later years to improving
the condition of clerks, apprentices, and sailors, is regarded as the
founder. Mr. Wood was a native of Boston, and in business there during
early life, but later removed to London. After distributing much dole to
the poor of that city, he founded a library for clerks in Liverpool, and
subsequently one in Boston, the latter being the first of its kind in
this country. The various mercantile libraries at Albany, Philadelphia,
New Orleans, and other places are said to have been founded on the plan
of this. In 1820 Mr. Wood began interesting the merchants' clerks of New
York in the project of a library for themselves. The first meeting to
consider it was held at the Tontine Coffee-House, in Wall Street, on
November 9 of that year; and at an adjourned meeting on the 27th of the
same month a constitution was formed and officers elected. The young men
contributed a little money for the purchase of books, the merchants
more, many books were begged or purchased by Mr. Wood, and on the 12th
of February, 1821, the library was formally opened, with seven hundred
volumes, in an upper room at No. 49 Fulton Street. The first librarian
was Mr. John Thompson, who received, it is remembered, one hundred and
fifty dollars a year as salary. It was not long before the library, like
its fellows, began its migrations up town, Harpers' Building, on Cliff
Street, being its second abode. This removal occurred in 1826, and the
association had then become so strong that it was able to open a
reading-room in connection with its library. Old readers remember that
there were four weekly newspapers and seven magazines in this first
reading-room. Its membership at that time numbered twelve hundred, there
were four thousand four hundred volumes on its shelves, and its annual
income amounted to seventeen hundred and fifty dollars.
In 1828 the library was desirous of building: many of the merchants and
substantial men of the city were willing to aid it, but doubted the
wisdom of trusting such large property interests to the management of
young men. They formed, therefore, the Clinton Hall Association, to hold
and control real estate for the benefit of the library, with fund shares
of one hundred dollars each. The first year thirty-three thousand five
hundred dollars had been subscribed, and the corporation began erecting
the first Clinton Hall, at the corner of Nassau and Beekman Streets.
Here the library remained for nearly a score of years, or until 1853,
when a brisk agitation was begun for its removal up-town. A small but
determined party favored its removal. The more conservative objected. At
length, in January, 1853, the question was put to the vote, and lost by
a large majority. But while the excitement was still at its height it
was learned that the association had sold Clinton Hall and had purchased
the old Italian Opera-House in Astor Place. Here, in May, 1855, the
library opened, and here it has since remained, although for several
years past the question of a farther removal up-town has been agitated.
The constitution of this excellent institution provides that it shall be
composed of three classes of members,--active, subscribing, and
honorary. Any person engaged on a salary as clerk may become an active
member, if approved by the board of directors, on subscribing to the
constitution and paying an initiation-fee of one dollar, and two dollars
for the first six months, his regular dues thereafter being two dollars
semi-annually, in advance. Active members only may vote or hold office.
Subscribing members may become such by a payment of five dollars
annually or three dollars semi-annually. Persons of distinction may be
elected honorary members by a vote of three-fourths of the members of
the board of direction. The board of direction is composed of a
president, vice-president, treasurer, secretary, and eight directors,
the former elected annually, the directors four for one year and four
for two years. There is also a book committee, which reports one month
previous to each annual meeting. From the last annual report of the
board it appears that in April, 1883, there were 198,858 books in the
library. The total number of members at the same time was 3136, and the
honorary members (71), the editors using the library (54), and the
Clinton Hall stockholders (1701) swelled the total number of those
availing themselves of its privileges to 4962. The total circulation for
the year was 112,375 volumes, of which 27,549 were distributed from the
branch office, No. 2 Liberty Place, and 1695 books were delivered by
messengers at members' residences. In 1870 the circulation was 234,120,
the large falling off--over one-half--being due to the era of cheap
books. The department of fiction, of course, suffers most. This in 1870
formed about seventy per cent. of the circulation. In 1883 the number of
works of fiction circulated was 53,937,--not quite fifty per cent.
To gain a fair idea of the popularity of the library one should spend a
mid-winter Saturday afternoon and evening with the librarian and his
busy assistants. Early in the afternoon numbers of young ladies leave
the shopping and fashionable thoroughfares up-town and throng the
library-room. The attendants, all young men, work with increased
animation under the stimulus. Books fly from counter to alcoves and
return, messenger-boys dart hither and thither, the fair patrons thumb
the catalogues and chatter in sad defiance of the rules. They are long
in making their selections, and appeal for aid to the librarians. But
the last of this class of visitors departs before the six-o'clock
dinner or tea, and the attendants have a respite for an hour. At seven
the real rush begins, with the advent of the clerks and other patrons
employed in store or office during the day, each intent on supplying
himself with reading-matter for the next day. From this hour until the
closing at nine the librarians are as busy as bees: there is a continual
running from counter to alcove and from gallery to gallery. In some of
the reports of the librarian interesting data are given of the tastes of
readers and the popularity of books. Fiction, as we have seen, leads;
but there is a growing taste for scientific and historical works.
Buckle, Mill, and Macaulay are favorites, and Tyndall, Huxley, and
Lubbock have many readers. The theft of its books is a serious drain on
the library each year, but the destruction of its rare and valuable
works of reference is still more provoking. Common gratitude, it might
seem, would deter persons admitted to the privileges of its alcoves from
injuring its property. What shall we think, then, of the vandals who
during the past year twice cut out the article on political economy in
"Appletons' Cyclopædia," so mutilated Thomson's "Cyclopædia of the
Useful Arts" as to render it valueless, and bore off bodily Storer's
"Dictionary of the Solubilities," the second volume of the new edition
of the "Encyclopædia Britannica," Andrews's "Latin Dictionary," and
several other valuable works?
There is a library in the city, the Apprentices', on Sixteenth Street,
whose existence is hardly known even to New-Yorkers, which is
exceedingly interesting to the student as an instance of the good a
trades' union may accomplish when its energies are rightly directed.
Here is a library of about sixty thousand volumes, with a supplementary
reference library of forty thousand seven hundred and fifty works, and a
well-equipped reading-room, free of debt, and free to its patrons, and
all the result of the well-directed efforts of the "Society of Mechanics
and Tradesmen." This society first organized for charitable purposes in
1792, receiving its first charter on the 14th of March of that year. In
January, 1821, its charter was amended, the society being empowered to
support a school for the education of the children of its deceased and
indigent members and for the establishment of an "Apprentices' Library
for the use of the apprentices of mechanics in the City of New York." A
small library had been opened the year before at 12 Chambers Street, and
there the library remained, constantly growing in number of volumes and
patrons, till 1835, when it was removed to the old High-School Building,
at 472 Broadway, which the society about that time purchased. It
remained there until 1878, when it followed the march of population
up-town, removing to its present spacious and convenient rooms in
Mechanics' Hall, in Sixteenth Street. Strange as it may seem, the
Apprentices' is the nearest approach to a public library on a large
scale that the city can boast. It is absolutely free to males up to the
age of eighteen; after that age it is required of the beneficiaries that
they be engaged in some mechanical employment. Ladies who are engaged in
any legitimate occupation may partake of its benefits. Books are loaned,
the applicants, besides meeting the above conditions, being only
required to furnish a guarantor. The total circulation of this excellent
institution for 1881-82 was 164,100 volumes, and its beneficial
influence on the class reached may be imagined. It is nevertheless a
class library; and the fact still remains that New York, with her vast
wealth and her splendid public and private charities, has yet to endow
the great public library which will place within reach of her citizens
the literary wealth of the ages. There is scarcely a disease, it is
said, but has its richly-endowed hospital in the city, the number of
eleemosynary institutions is legion, but the establishment of a public
library, which is usually the first care of a free, rich, intelligent
community, has been unaccountably neglected. The subject is now
receiving the earnest thought of the best people of the city.
Considerable difference of opinion exists as to the best method of
founding and supporting such an institution. Some argue that this should
be done by the city alone, holding that the self-respecting workingman
and workingwoman will never patronize a free library instituted solely
by private charity. Others urge that such an institution to be
successful should be free from city control and entirely the result of
private munificence. The latter gentlemen have added to the cogency of
their arguments by a practical demonstration. Early in 1880 they
organized on a small scale a free circulating library which should exist
solely by the benefactions of the public, with the object of furnishing
free reading at their homes to the people. The general plan adopted was
a central library, with branches in the various wards, by this means
bringing the centres of distribution within easy reach of the city's
homes. The success of the institution has been such that its development
should be carefully followed. It began operations by leasing two rooms
of the old mansion, No. 36 Bond Street, and in March, 1880, "moved in,"
opening with a few hundred volumes donated chiefly from the libraries of
its projectors. The first month--March--1044 volumes were circulated. By
October this had grown to 4212. The next year--1881-82--the circulation
reached 69,280, and it continued to increase until in 1883 it reached
81,233,--an increase of nearly 10,000 over the preceding year. In May,
1883, the library was removed to the comfortable and roomy building, No.
49 Bond Street, which had been purchased and fitted up for it by the
trustees. Early in December, 1884, the Ottendorfer Library, at 135
Second Avenue, the first of the projected branch libraries, was opened
with 8819 volumes, 4784 of which were in English and 4035 in German, the
whole, with the library building, being the gift of Mr. Oswald
Ottendorfer, of New York. The branch proved equally popular, having
circulated during the past year--1885--97,000 volumes, while the
circulation of the main library has increased to 104,000 volumes, the
combined circulation of both libraries exceeding that of any other in
the city. The percentage of loss has been only one book for 31,768
circulated. The report of the treasurer shows that the annual expenses
of the library--about twelve thousand dollars--have been met by
voluntary contributions, and that it has a permanent fund of about
thirty-two thousand dollars besides its books. These figures prove that
libraries of this character will be appreciated, and used by the people.
The library committee say, in their last report, that after four years'
experience they feel competent to begin the establishment of branch
libraries, and observe that at least six of these centres of light and
intelligence should be opened in various quarters of the city. It is
understood that lack of funds alone prevents the institution from
entering on this wider field. When one considers the liberal and too
often indiscriminate charities of the metropolis, and reflects that the
need and utility of this excellent enterprise have been demonstrated, it
seems impossible that pecuniary obstacles will long be allowed to stand
in the way of its legitimate development.
CHARLES BURR TODD.
THE DRAMA IN THE NURSERY.
A Darwinian might find evidence of the pedigree of our species in the
inherent taste for mimicry which we share, at all events, with the
anthropoid apes. This instinct of mimicry I take to be the humble
beginning from which dramatic art has sprung, and it appears in the
individual at a very early stage. Perhaps it is even expressed in the
first squalls of infancy, though this possibility has been overlooked
or obscured by philosophic pedantry. Now anent these squalls. Hegel
gravely declares that they indicate a revelation of the baby's exalted
nature (oh!), and are meant to inform the public that it feels itself
"permeated with the certitude" that it has a right to exact from the
external world the satisfaction of its needs. Michelet opines that the
squalls reveal the horror felt by the soul at being enslaved to nature.
Another writer regards them as an outburst of wrath on the part of the
baby at finding itself powerless against environing circumstances. Some
early theologians, on the other hand, pronounced squalling to be a proof
of innate wickedness; and this view strikes one as being much nearer the
mark. But none of these accounts are completely satisfactory. Innate
wickedness may supply the conception; it is the dramatic instinct that
suggests the means. Here is the real explanation of those yells which
embitter the life of a young father and drive the veteran into temporary
exile. It happens in this wise. The first aim of a baby--not yours,
madam; yours is well known to be an exception, but of other and common
babies--is to make itself as widely offensive as possible. The end,
indeed, is execrable, but the method is masterly. The baby has an _a
priori_ intuition that the note of the domestic cat is repulsive to the
ear of the human adult. Consequently, what does your baby do but betake
itself to a practical study of the caterwaul! After a few conscientious
rehearsals a creditable degree of perfection is usually reached, and a
series of excruciating performances are forthwith commenced, which last
with unbroken success until the stage arrives when correction becomes
possible. This process may check the child's taste for imitating the
lower animals in some of their less engaging peculiarities, but his
dramatic instincts will be diverted with a refreshing promptness to the
congenial subjects of parent or nurse.
No sooner is your son and heir invested with the full dignity of
knickerbockers than he begins to celebrate this rise in the social
scale by "playing at being papa." The author of "Vice Versa" has drawn
an amusing picture of the discomforts to papa which an exchange of
environment with his school-boy son might involve. But there is another
side to the question; and at Christmas-time, for instance, most papas
would probably be glad enough to exchange the joys and responsibilities
of paternity for the simple taste which can tackle plum-pudding and the
youthful digestion for which this delicacy has no terrors. However,
while it is impossible, or at least inexpedient, for papa to play at
being his own urchin, the latter is restrained by no considerations,
moral or otherwise, from attempting to personate his papa.
It is often said sententiously that the child is the father of the man.
In this case most of us should blush for our parentage. It will be
conceded at once (subject, of course, to special reservations in favor
of individual brats) that the baby is the most detestable of created
beings. But its physical impotence to some extent neutralizes its moral
baseness. In the child the deviltries of the baby are partially curbed,
but this loss is compensated for by superior bodily powers. Now, the
virtuous child--if such a conception can be framed--when representing
papa would delight to dwell on the better side of the paternal
character, the finer feelings, the flashes of genius, the sallies of
wit, the little touches of tenderness and romance, and so forth. Very
likely; but the actual child does just the reverse of this. Is there a
trivial weakness, a venial shortcoming, a microscopic spot of
imperfection anywhere? The ruthless little imp has marked it for his
own, and will infallibly reproduce it, certainly before your servants,
and possibly before your friends.
"Now we'll play at being in church," quoth Master George in lordly wise
to his little sisters. "I'm papa." Whereupon he will twist himself into
an unseemly tangle of legs and arms which is simply a barbarous travesty
of the attitude of studied grace with which you drink in the sermon in
the corner of your family pew.
"Master George, you mustn't," interposes the housemaid, in a tone of
faint rebuke, adding, however, with a thrill of generous appreciation,
"Law, 'ow funny the child is, and as like as like!" Applause is
delicious to every actor, and under its stimulus your first-born essays
a fresh flight. Above the laughter of the nurses and the admiring
shrieks of his sisters there rises a weird sound, as of a sucking pig
_in extremis_. Your son, my unfortunate friend, is attempting, with his
childish treble pipes, to formulate a masculine snore. This is a gross
calumny. You never--stop!--well, on one occasion perhaps--but then there
were extenuating circumstances. Very likely; but the child has grasped
the fact without the circumstances, and has framed his conclusion as a
universal proposition. It is a most improper induction, I admit; but
logic, like some other things, is not to be looked for in children.
Next comes mamma's turn. Perhaps she has weakly yielded on some occasion
to young hopeful's entreaties that he might come down to the kitchen
with her to order dinner. By the perverse luck that waits on poor
mortals, there happened on that very day to be a passage of arms between
mistress and cook. Rapidly forgotten by the principals, it has been
carefully stored up in the memory of the witness, who will subsequently
bestow an immense amount of misguided energy in teaching a young sister
to reproduce, with appropriate gesture and intonation, "Cook, I desire
that you will not speak to me in that way. I am extremely displeased
with you, and I shall acquaint your master with your conduct."
Small sisters, by the way, may be made to serve a variety of useful
purposes of a dramatic or semi-dramatic nature. They may safely be cast
for the unpleasant or uninteresting characters of the nursery drama.
They form convenient targets for the development of their brothers'
marksmanship; and they make excellent horses for their brothers to
drive, and, it may be added, for their brothers to flog.
When the subjects afforded by its immediate surroundings are exhausted,
Theatre Royal Nursery turns to fiction or history for materials. And
here, too, the perversity of childhood is displayed. It is not the
virtuous, the benevolent, the amiable, that your child delights to
imitate, but rather the tyrant and the destroyer, the ogre who subsists
in rude plenty on the peasantry of the neighborhood, or the dragon who
is restricted by taste or convention to one young lady _per diem_, till
the national stock is exhausted, or the inevitable knight turns up to
supply the proper dramatic finale.