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diff --git a/13430-h/13430-h.htm b/13430-h/13430-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d05312b --- /dev/null +++ b/13430-h/13430-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11222 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta name="generator" content= +"HTML Tidy for Mac OS X (vers 1st August 2004), see www.w3.org" /> +<meta http-equiv="content-type" content= +"text/html; charset=UTF-8" /> +<title>A Librarian's Open Shelf</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[*/ + +<!-- + +* {font-family: Georgia,serif;} +body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 15%;} +p {text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .75em; font-size: 100%; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} +h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} +h1,h2,h3 {font-variant: small-caps;} +h1, h4 {margin: 2em;} +h2 {margin-top: 3em;} +hr {width: 33%;} +pre {font-family: Courier, monospaced; font-size: 9pt;} +.returnTOC {text-align: right; font-size: 70%;} +.TOC{margin-left:15%;} +.tocEntry{font-variant:small-caps;padding-top:.8em;} +.tocSub{padding-left:2em;font-size:90%;} +blockquote {font-size:90%;text-align:justify;} +.bquote > p {margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 0em;text-indent:0em;font-size:.9em;} +ul {list-style-type:none;} +.noindent{text-indent:0em;} +.note {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} +span.pagenum {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt;} +.poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} +.poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} +sup{font-size:.7em;} +a:link {color: blue; text-decoration: none;} +a:visited {color: green; text-decoration: none;} +a:hover {color: red;} + --> +/*]]>*/ +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13430 ***</div> + +<h1>A Librarian’s Open Shelf</h1> +<h2>Essays On Various Subjects</h2> +<h1>Arthur E. Bostwick, Ph.D.</h1> +<h6><br /> +1920</h6> +<hr /> +<h2>Preface</h2> +<p>The papers here gathered together represent the activities of a +librarian in directions outside the boundaries of his professional +career, although the influences of it may be detected in them here +and there. Except for those influences they have little connection +and the transition of thought and treatment from one to another may +occasionally seem violent. It may, however, serve to protect the +reader from the assaults of monotony.</p> +<p>A.E.B.</p> +<hr /> +<h2><a id="Contents" name="Contents">Contents</a></h2> +<table class="TOC" summary="Contents"> +<tr> +<td class="tocEntry"><a href="#Essay1">Do Readers Read?</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocSub">(<em>The Critic</em>, July, 1901, p. 67-70)</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocEntry"><a href="#Essay2">What Makes People +Read?</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocSub">(<em>The Book Lover</em>, January, 1904, p. +12-16)</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocEntry"><a href="#Essay3">The Passing of The +Possessive; A Study of Book Titles</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocSub">(<em>The Book Buyer</em>, June, 1897, p. +500-1)</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocEntry"><a href="#Essay4">Selective Education</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocSub">(<em>Educational Review</em>, November, 1907, p. +365-73)</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocEntry"><a href="#Essay5">The Uses of Fiction</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocSub">Read before the American Library Association, +Asheville Conference, May 28, 1907. (<em>A.L.A. Bulletin</em>, +July, 1907, p. 183-7)</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocEntry"><a href="#Essay6">The Value of +Association</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocSub">Delivered before the Library Associations of +Iowa, Nebraska, Kansas, Missouri, Indiana and Ohio, October 9-18, +1907. (<em>Library Journal</em>, January, 1908, p. 3-9)</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocEntry"><a href="#Essay7">Modern Educational +Methods</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocSub">(<em>Notes and News</em>, Montclair, N.J., July, +1908)</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocEntry"><a href="#Essay8">Some Economic Features of +Libraries</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocSub">Read at the opening of the Chestnut Hill Branch, +Philadelphia Free Library, January 22, 1909. (<em>Library +Journal</em>, February, 1909, p. 48-52)</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocEntry"><a href="#Essay9">Simon Newcomb: +America’s Foremost Astronomer</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocSub">(<em>Review of Reviews</em>, August, 1909, p. +171-4)</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocEntry"><a href="#Essay10">The Companionship of +Books</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocSub">Read before the Pacific Northwest Library +Association, June, 1910. (<em>P.N.W.L.A. Proceedings</em>, 1910, p. +8-23)</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocEntry"><a href="#Essay11">Atomic Theories of +Energy</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocSub">Read before the St. Louis Academy of Science. +(<em>The Monist</em>, October, 1912, p. 580-5)</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocEntry"><a href="#Essay12">The Advertisement of +Ideas</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocSub">(<em>Minnesota Library Notes and News</em>, +December, 1912, p. 190-7)</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocEntry"><a href="#Essay13">The Public Library, The +Public School, and The Social Center Movement</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocSub">Read before the National Education Association. +(<em>N.E.A. Proceedings</em>, 1912, p. 240-5)</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocEntry"><a href="#Essay14">The Systematization of +Violence</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocSub">(<em>St. Louis Mirror</em>, July 18, 1913)</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocEntry"><a href="#Essay15">The Art of +Re-reading</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocEntry"><a href="#Essay16">History and +Heredity</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocSub">Read before the New England Society of St. +Louis. (<em>New England Society of St. Louis</em>. <em>Proceedings</em>, +29th year, p. 13-20)</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocEntry"><a href="#Essay17">What The Flag Stands +For</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocSub">A Flag Day address in St. Peter’s church, +St. Louis. (<em>St. Louis Republic</em>, June 15, 1914)</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocEntry"><a href="#Essay18">The People’s Share in +The Public Library</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocSub">Read before the Chicago Women’s Club, +January 6, 1915. (<em>Library Journal</em>, April, 1915, p. +227-32)</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocEntry"><a href="#Essay19">Some Tendencies of American +Thought</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocSub">Read before the New York Library Association at +Squirrel Inn, Haines Falls, September 28, 1915. (<em>Library +Journal</em>, November, 1915, p. 771-7)</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocEntry"><a href="#Essay20">Drugs and The Man</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocSub">A Commencement address to the graduating class +of the School of Pharmacy, St. Louis, May 19, 1915. (<em>Journal of +the American Pharmaceutical Association</em>, August, 1915, p. +915-22)</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocEntry"><a href="#Essay21">How The Community Educates +Itself</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocSub">Read before the American Library Association, +Asbury Park, N.J., June 27, 1916. (<em>Library Journal</em>, +August, 1916, p. 541-7)</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocEntry"><a href="#Essay22">Clubwomen’s +Reading</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocSub">(<em>The Bookman</em>, January-March, 1915, p. +515-21, 642-7, 64-70)</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocEntry"><a href="#Essay23">Books For Tired +Eyes</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocSub">(<em>Yale Review</em>, January, 1917, p. +358-68)</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocEntry"><a href="#Essay24">The Magic Casement</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocSub">Read before the Town and Gown Club, St. +Louis.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocEntry"><a href="#Essay25">A Word to +Believers</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocSub">Address at the closing section of the Church +School of Religious Instruction.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocEntry"><a href="#Index">Index</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr /> +<h1>A LIBRARIAN’S OPEN SHELF</h1> +<h2>ESSAYS ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS</h2> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page3" name="page3"></a>[pg 3]</span> +<h2><a id="Essay1" name="Essay1">Do Readers Read?</a></h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>Those who are interested in the proper use of our libraries are +asking continually, “What do readers read?” and the +tables of class-percentages in the annual reports of those +institutions show that librarians are at least making an attempt to +satisfy these queries. But a question that is still more +fundamental and quite as vital is: Do readers read at all? This is +not a paradox, but a common-sense question, as the following +suggestive little incident will show. The librarian-in-charge of a +crowded branch circulating-library in New York City had occasion to +talk, not long ago, to one of her “star” borrowers, a +youth who had taken out his two good books a week regularly for +nearly a year and whom she had looked upon as a model—so much +so that she had never thought it necessary to advise with him +regarding his reading. In response to a question this lad made +answer somewhat as follows: “Yes, ma’am, I’m +doing pretty well with my reading. I think I should get on nicely +if I could only once manage to read a book through; but somehow I +can’t seem to do it.” This boy had actually taken to +his home nearly a hundred books, returning each regularly and +borrowing another, without reading to the end of a single one of +them.</p> +<p>That this case is not isolated and abnormal, but is typical of +the way in which a large class of readers treat books, there is, as +we shall see, only too much reason to believe.</p> +<p>The facts are peculiarly hard to get at. At first sight there +would seem to be no way to find out <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page4" name="page4"></a>[pg 4]</span>whether the books that our +libraries circulate have been read through from cover to cover, or +only half through, or not at all. To be sure, each borrower might +be questioned on the subject as he returned his book, but this +method, would be resented as inquisitorial, and after all there +would be no certainty that the data so gathered were true. By +counting the stamps on the library book-card or dating-slip we can +tell how many times a book has been borrowed, but this gives us no +information about whether it has or has not been read. Fortunately +for our present purpose, however, many works are published in a +series of volumes, each of which is charged separately, and an +examination of the different slips will tell us whether or not the +whole work has been read through by all those who borrowed it. If, +for instance in a two-volume work each volume has gone out twenty +times, twenty borrowers either have read it through or have stopped +somewhere in the second volume, while if the first volume is +charged twenty times and the second only fourteen, it is certain +that six of those who took out the first volume did not get as far +as the second. In works of more than two volumes we can tell with +still greater accuracy at what point the reader’s interest +was insufficient to carry him further.</p> +<p>Such an investigation has been made of all works in more than +one volume contained in seven branches of the Brooklyn Public +Library, and with very few exceptions it has been found that each +successive volume in a series has been read by fewer persons than +the one immediately preceding. What is true of books in more than +one volume is presumably also true, although perhaps in a less +degree, of one-volume works, although we have no means of showing +it directly. Among the readers of every book, then, <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page5" name="page5"></a>[pg 5]</span>there are +generally some who, for one reason or other, do not read it to the +end. Our question, “Do readers read?” is thus answered +in the negative for a large number of cases. The supplementary +question, “Why do not readers read?” occurs at once, +but an attempt to answer it would take us rather too deeply into +psychology. Whether this tendency to leave the latter part of books +unread is increasing or not we can tell only by repeating the +present investigation at intervals of a year or more. The +probability is that it is due to pure lack of interest. For some +reason or other, many persons begin to read books that fail to hold +their attention. In a large number of cases this is doubtless due +to a feeling that one “ought to read” certain books and +certain classes of books. A sense of duty carries the reader part +way through his task, but he weakens before he has finished it.</p> +<p>This shows how necessary it is to stimulate one’s general +interest in a subject before advising him to read a book that is +not itself calculated to arouse and sustain that interest. Possibly +the modern newspaper habit, with its encouragement of slipshod +reading, may play its part in producing the general result, and +doubtless a careful detailed investigation would reveal still other +partial causes, but the chief and determining cause must be lack of +interest. And it is to be feared that instead of taking measures to +arouse a permanent interest in good literature, which would in +itself lead to the reading of standard works and would sustain the +reader until he had finished his task, we have often tried to +replace such an interest by a fictitious and temporary stimulus, +due to appeals to duty, or to that vague and confused idea that one +should “improve one’s mind,” unaccompanied by any +definite plan of ways <span class="pagenum"><a id="page6" name= +"page6"></a>[pg 6]</span>and means. There is no more powerful moral +motor than duty, but it loses its force when we try to apply it to +cases that lie without the province of ethics. The man who has no +permanent interest in historical literature, and who is impelled to +begin a six-volume history because he conceives it to be his +“duty” to read it, is apt to conclude, before he has +finished the second volume, that his is a case where inclination +(or in this instance disinclination) is the proper guide.</p> +<p>As a matter of fact, the formation of a cultivated and permanent +taste for good reading is generally a matter of lifelong education. +It must be begun when the child reads his first book. An +encouraging sign for the future is the care that is now taken in +all good libraries to supervise the reading of children and to +provide for them special quarters and facilities. A somewhat +disheartening circumstance, on the other hand, is the +multiplication of annotated and abbreviated children’s +editions of all sorts of works that were read by the last +generation of children without any such treatment. This kind of +boned chicken may be very well for the mental invalid, but the +ordinary child prefers to separate his meat from the +“drumstick” by his own unaided effort, and there is no +doubt that it is better for him to do so.</p> +<p>In the following table, the average circulation of first +volumes, second volumes, etc., is given for each of seven classes +of works. The falling off from volume to volume is noticeable in +each class. It is most marked in science, and least so, as might be +expected, in fiction. Yet it is remarkable that there should be any +falling off at all in fiction. The record shows that the proportion +of readers who cannot even read to the end of a novel is relatively +large. These are <span class="pagenum"><a id="page7" name= +"page7"></a>[pg 7]</span>doubtless the good people who speak of +Dickens as “solid reading” and who regard Thackeray +with as remote an eye as they do Gibbon. For such “The +Duchess” furnishes good mental pabulum, and Miss Corelli +provides flights into the loftier regions of philosophy.</p> +<table summary="Average circulation of multi-volume works" style= +"text-align:right;margin-left:5%;font-size:80%;"> +<tr> +<td>CLASS</td> +<td>Vol. I.</td> +<td>Vol. II.</td> +<td>Vol. III.</td> +<td>Vol. IV.</td> +<td>Vol. V.</td> +<td>Vol. VI.</td> +<td>Vol. VII.</td> +<td>Vol. VIII.</td> +<td>Vol. IX.</td> +<td>Vol. X.</td> +<td>Vol. XI.</td> +<td>Vol. XII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">History</td> +<td>10.1</td> +<td>6.9</td> +<td>4.9</td> +<td>4.4</td> +<td>4.6</td> +<td>4.3</td> +<td>2.5</td> +<td>2.8</td> +<td>1.0</td> +<td>0.5</td> +<td>1.0</td> +<td>3.0</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Biography</td> +<td>7.2</td> +<td>5.1</td> +<td>3.0</td> +<td>2.3</td> +<td>1.6</td> +<td>1.0</td> +<td>1.6</td> +<td>1.2</td> +<td>1.0</td> +<td>2.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Travel</td> +<td>9.2</td> +<td>7.9</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Literature</td> +<td>7.3</td> +<td>5.9</td> +<td>3.5</td> +<td>3.8</td> +<td>5.3</td> +<td>6.6</td> +<td>19.0</td> +<td>15.0</td> +<td>21.0</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Arts</td> +<td>4.7</td> +<td>3.7</td> +<td>3.0</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Sciences</td> +<td>5.2</td> +<td>2.7</td> +<td>1.5</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Fiction</td> +<td>22.0</td> +<td>18.9</td> +<td>15.8</td> +<td>16.</td> +<td>26.</td> +<td>16.</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p>The figures in the table, as has been stated, are averages, and +the number of cases averaged decreases rapidly as we reach the +later volumes, because, of course, the number of works that run +beyond four or five volumes is relatively small. Hence the figures +for the higher volumes are irregular. Any volume may have been +withdrawn separately for reference without any intention of reading +its companions. Among the earlier volumes such use counts for +little, owing to the large number of volumes averaged, while it may +and does make the figures for the later volumes irregular. Thus, +under History the high number in the twelfth column represents +one-twelfth volume of Froude, which was taken out three times, +evidently for separate reference, as the eleventh was withdrawn but +once. Furthermore, apart from this irregularity, the figures for +the later volumes are relatively large, for a work in many volumes +is apt to be a standard, and although its use falls rapidly from +start to finish enough readers persevere to the <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page8" name="page8"></a>[pg 8]</span>end to make +the final averages compare unduly well with the initial ones where +the high use of the same work is averaged in with smaller use of +dozens of other first and second volumes. That the falling off from +beginning to end in such long works is much more striking than +would appear from the averages alone may be seen from the following +records of separate works in numerous volumes:</p> +<table summary="Circulation of some multi-volume works" style= +"text-align:right;margin-left:5%;font-size:80%;"> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td>Vol. I.</td> +<td>Vol. II.</td> +<td>Vol. III.</td> +<td>Vol. IV.</td> +<td>Vol. V.</td> +<td>Vol. VI.</td> +<td>Vol. VII.</td> +<td>Vol. VIII.</td> +<td>Vol. IX.</td> +<td>Vol. X.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:center;">HISTORY</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Grote, “Greece”</td> +<td>11</td> +<td>6</td> +<td>5</td> +<td>2</td> +<td>1</td> +<td>0</td> +<td>1</td> +<td>1</td> +<td>1</td> +<td>0</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Bancroft, “United +States”</td> +<td>22</td> +<td>10</td> +<td>6</td> +<td>8</td> +<td>10</td> +<td>8</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Hume, “England”</td> +<td>24</td> +<td>7</td> +<td>5</td> +<td>2</td> +<td>1</td> +<td>1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Gibbon, “Rome”</td> +<td>38</td> +<td>12</td> +<td>7</td> +<td>3</td> +<td>4</td> +<td>6</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Motley, “United +Netherlands”</td> +<td>7</td> +<td>1</td> +<td>1</td> +<td>1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Prescott, “Ferdinand and +Isabella”</td> +<td>20</td> +<td>4</td> +<td>2</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Carlyle, “French +Revolution”</td> +<td>18</td> +<td>10</td> +<td>8</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">McCarthy, “Our Own +Times”</td> +<td>27</td> +<td>8</td> +<td>11</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:center;">BIOGRAPHY</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Bourienne, “Memoirs of +Napoleon”</td> +<td>19</td> +<td>18</td> +<td>9</td> +<td>7</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Longfellow’s +“Life”</td> +<td>6</td> +<td>4</td> +<td>2</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Nicolay and Hay, +“Lincoln”</td> +<td>6</td> +<td>3</td> +<td>3</td> +<td>2</td> +<td>2</td> +<td>2</td> +<td>2</td> +<td>1</td> +<td>1</td> +<td>2</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Carlyle, “Frederick the +Great”</td> +<td>7</td> +<td>3</td> +<td>2</td> +<td>2</td> +<td>2</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:center;">FICTION</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Dumas, “Vicomte de +Bragelonne”</td> +<td>31</td> +<td>30</td> +<td>24</td> +<td>22</td> +<td>21</td> +<td>16</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Dumas, “Monte Cristo”</td> +<td>27</td> +<td>17</td> +<td>18</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Dickens, “Our Mutual +Friend”</td> +<td>5</td> +<td>4</td> +<td>1</td> +<td>0</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Stowe, “Uncle Tom’s +Cabin”</td> +<td>37</td> +<td>24</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p>Of course, these could be multiplied indefinitely. They are +sufficiently interesting apart from all comment. One would hardly +believe without direct evidence that of thirty-one persons who +began one of Dumas’s romances scarcely half would read it to +the end, or that not one of five persons who essayed +Dickens’s “Mutual Friend” would succeed in +getting through it.</p> +<p>Those who think that there can be no pathos in statistics are +invited to ponder this table deeply. <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page9" name="page9"></a>[pg 9]</span>Can anyone think unmoved of +those two dozen readers who, feeling impelled by desire for an +intellectual stimulant to take up Hume, found therein a soporific +instead and fell by the wayside?</p> +<p>A curious fact is that the tendency to attempt to “begin +at the beginning” is so strong that it sometimes extends to +collected works in which there is no sequence from volume to +volume. Thus we have the following:</p> +<table summary= +"Circulation of multi-volume works without a specific sequence" +style="text-align:right;margin-left:5%;font-size:80%;"> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td>Vol. I.</td> +<td>Vol. II.</td> +<td>Vol. III.</td> +<td>Vol. IV.</td> +<td>Vol. V.</td> +<td>Vol. VI.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Chaucer, “Poetical +Works”</td> +<td>38</td> +<td>9</td> +<td>5</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Milton, “Poetical +Works”</td> +<td>19</td> +<td>8</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Longfellow, “Poetical +Works”</td> +<td>14</td> +<td>15</td> +<td>2</td> +<td>10</td> +<td>3</td> +<td>3</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Emerson, “Essays”</td> +<td>48</td> +<td>13</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Ward, “English Poets”</td> +<td>13</td> +<td>2</td> +<td>6</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p>There are of course exceptions to the rule that circulation +decreases steadily from volume to volume. Here are a few:</p> +<table summary= +"Circulation of multi-volume works without a specific sequence that doesn't decline with volume" +style="text-align:right;margin-left:5%;font-size:80%;"> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td>Vol. I.</td> +<td>Vol. II.</td> +<td>Vol. III.</td> +<td>Vol. IV.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Fiske, “Old Virginia”</td> +<td>26</td> +<td>24</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Spears, “History of the +Navy”</td> +<td>44</td> +<td>39</td> +<td>36</td> +<td>36</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Andrews, “Last Quarter +Century”</td> +<td>8</td> +<td>8</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Kennan, “Siberia”</td> +<td>15</td> +<td>13</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p>In the case of the two-volume works the interest-sustaining +power may not always be as great as would appear, because when the +reader desires it, two volumes are given out as one; but the stamps +on the dating-slips show that this fact counted for little in the +present instances.</p> +<p>I would not assume that the inferences in the present article +are of any special value. The statistical facts are the thing. So +far as I know, no one has called attention to them before, and they +are certainly worthy of all interest and attention.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page11" name="page11"></a>[pg +11]</span> +<h2><a id="Essay2" name="Essay2">What Makes People Read?</a></h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>Does the reading public read because it has a literary taste or +for some other reason? In the case of the public library, for +instance, does a man start with an overwhelming desire to read or +study books and is he impelled thereby to seek out the place where +he may most easily and best obtain them? Or is he primarily +attracted to the library by some other consideration, his love for +books and reading acting only in a secondary manner? The New York +Public Library, for instance, carries on the registry books of its +circulating department nearly 400,000 names, and in the course of a +year nearly 35,000 new applications are made for the use of its +branch libraries, scattered over different parts of the city. What +brings these people to the library? This is no idle question. The +number of library users, large as it is, represents too small a +fraction of our population. If it is a good thing to provide free +reading matter for our people—and every large city in the +country has committed itself to the truth of this +proposition—we should certainly try to see that what we +furnish is used by all who need it. Hence an examination into the +motives that induce people to make their first use of a free public +library may bring out information that is not only interesting but +useful. To this end several hundred regular users of the branches +of the New York Public Library were recently asked this question +directly, and the answers are tabulated and discussed below. In +each of sixteen branch libraries the persons interrogated numbered +forty—ten each of men, women, boys and <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page12" name="page12"></a>[pg 12]</span>girls. +Thirty answers have been thrown out for irrelevancy or +defectiveness. The others are classified in the following +table:</p> +<table summary="Why People Came to the Library" style= +"text-align:right;margin-left:2.5%;font-size:80%;"> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td>Sent or Told by Teacher</td> +<td>Sent or Told by Friend</td> +<td>Sent or Told by Relative</td> +<td>Sent or Told by Clergyman</td> +<td>Sent or Told by Library Assistant</td> +<td>Through Reading Room</td> +<td>Saw Building</td> +<td>Saw Sign</td> +<td>Saw Library Books</td> +<td>Saw Bulletin</td> +<td>Saw Article in Paper</td> +<td>Sought Library</td> +<td>Totals</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Men</td> +<td>6</td> +<td>64</td> +<td>10</td> +<td>..</td> +<td>..</td> +<td>..</td> +<td>37</td> +<td>20</td> +<td>3</td> +<td>1</td> +<td>9</td> +<td>4</td> +<td>154</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Boys</td> +<td>38</td> +<td>63</td> +<td>28</td> +<td>..</td> +<td>4</td> +<td>3</td> +<td>9</td> +<td>6</td> +<td>5</td> +<td>..</td> +<td>..</td> +<td>3</td> +<td>159</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Women</td> +<td>12</td> +<td>67</td> +<td>14</td> +<td>4</td> +<td>..</td> +<td>..</td> +<td>20</td> +<td>21</td> +<td>2</td> +<td>1</td> +<td>2</td> +<td>5</td> +<td>148</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Girls</td> +<td>33</td> +<td>69</td> +<td>34</td> +<td>..</td> +<td>..</td> +<td>..</td> +<td>5</td> +<td>3</td> +<td>3</td> +<td>..</td> +<td>..</td> +<td>2</td> +<td>149</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:left;">Total</td> +<td>89</td> +<td>263</td> +<td>86</td> +<td>4</td> +<td>4</td> +<td>3</td> +<td>71</td> +<td>50</td> +<td>13</td> +<td>2</td> +<td>11</td> +<td>14</td> +<td>610</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p>It will be seen that the vast majority of those questioned were +led to the library by some circumstance other than the simple +desire to find a place where books could be obtained. Of more than +six hundred persons whose answers are here recorded only fourteen +found the library as the result of a direct search for it prompted +by a desire to read. In a majority of the other cases, of course, +perhaps in all of them, the desire to read had its part, but this +desire was awakened by hearing a mention of the library or by +seeing it or something connected with it. These determining +circumstances fall into two classes, those that worked through the +ear and those that operated through the eye.</p> +<p>Those who <em>heard</em> of the library in some way numbered +449, while those who <em>saw</em> it or something connected with it +were only 147—an interesting fact, especially as we are told +by psychologists that apprehension and memory through sight are of +a higher type than the same functions where exercised through +hearing. Probably, however, this difference was dependent on the +fact that the thing heard <span class="pagenum"><a id="page13" +name="page13"></a>[pg 13]</span>was in most cases a direct +injunction or a piece of advice, while the thing seen did not act +with similar urgency. There are some surprises in the table. For +instance, only four persons were sent directly to libraries by +persons employed therein. Doubtless the average library assistant +wishes to get as far from “shop” as possible in her +leisure hours, but it is still disappointing to find that those who +are employed in our libraries exercise so little influence in +bringing persons to use them. The same thing is true of the +influence of reading rooms. In many of the branch libraries in New +York there are separate reading rooms to which others than +card-holders in the library are admitted, and one of the chief +arguments for this has been that the user of such a room, having +become accustomed to resort to the library building, would be apt +to use the books. Apparently, however, such persons are in the +minority. No less disappointing is the slight influence of the +clergy. Only four persons report this as a determining influence +and these were all women connected with a branch which was formerly +the parish library of a New York church.</p> +<p>The influence of the press, too, seems to amount to little, in +spite of the fact that the newspapers in New York have freely +commented on the valuable work of the branch libraries and have +called attention to it both in the news and editorial columns +whenever occasion offered. Do the readers of library books in New +York shun the public-press, or do they pay scant heed to what they +read therein?</p> +<p>Another somewhat noteworthy fact is that of the 449 persons who +sought the library by advice of some one, only 89 were sent by +teachers. But perhaps this is unfair. Of 265 boys and girls who +thus came to <span class="pagenum"><a id="page14" name= +"page14"></a>[pg 14]</span>the library, only 71 were sent by +teachers. This is a larger percentage, but it is still not so large +as we might expect.</p> +<p>The difference between adults and children comes out quite +strikingly in a few instances. We should have foreseen this of +course in the case of advice by teachers, which was reported by 71 +children and only 18 adults as a reason for visiting the library. +Here we should not have expected this reason to be given by adults +at all. Doubtless these were chiefly young men and women who had +used the library since their school-days. In like manner the advice +or injunction of relatives was more patent with children than with +adults, the proportion here being 62 to 24. This probably +illustrates the power of parental injunction. In another case the +difference comes out in a wholly unexpected way. Of the 71 persons +who reported that they were attracted to the library by seeing the +buildings, 57 were adults and only 14 children. The same is true of +those who were led in by seeing a sign, who numbered 41 adults to +only 9 children. This seems to show either that adults are more +observant or that children are more diffident in following out an +impulse of this kind. It completely negatives the ordinary +impression among librarians, at least in New York, where it has +been believed that the sight of a library building, especially +where the work going on inside is visible from the street, is a +potent attraction to the young. Some of the new branch buildings in +New York have even been planned with a special view to the exercise +of this kind of attraction.</p> +<p>The small number of persons who were attracted by printed +matter, in library or general publications, were entirely adults. +The one instance where age seems to exercise no particular +influence is that <span class="pagenum"><a id="page15" name= +"page15"></a>[pg 15]</span>of the advice of friends, by which old +and young alike seem to have profited.</p> +<p>The influence of sex does not appear clearly, although among +those who followed the injunction of relatives the women and girls +are slightly in the majority, and the four who were sent by +clergymen were all women. Of those who were attracted by the +buildings 46 were male and 25 female, which may mean that men are +somewhat more observant or less diffident than women.</p> +<p>A few of those questioned relate their experiences at some +length. Says one boy: “A boy friend of mine said he belonged +to this library and he found some very good books here. He asked me +if I wanted to join; I said yes. He told me I would have to get a +reference. I got one, and joined this library.” Another one +reports: “I saw a boy in the street and asked him where he +was going. He said he was going to the library. I asked him what +the library was and he told me; so I came up here and have been +coming ever since.”</p> +<p>Critical judgment is shown by some of the young people. One boy +says: “I heard all the other boys saying it was a good +library and that the books were better kept than in a majority of +libraries.” A girl says that friends “told her what +nice books were in this library.” In one case a boy’s +brother “told him he could get the best books here for his +needs.”</p> +<p>The combination of man and book seems to be very attractive. One +child “saw a boy in school with a book, telling what a boy +should know about electricity; I wanted to read that book and +joined the library.” Others “followed a crowd of little +boys with books”; “saw children taking books out of the +building and asked them about joining”; “saw a boy +carrying books and asked if there was a library in <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page16" name="page16"></a>[pg 16]</span>the +neighborhood.” A woman “saw a child with a library book +in the park and asked her for the address of the library.” +Sometimes the book alone does the work, as shown by the following +laconic report: “Found a book in the park; took it to the +library; joined it.” A cause of sorrow to many librarians who +have decided ideas regarding literature for children will be the +report of a boy who exclaimed: “Horatio Alger did it!” +On being asked to explain, he said that a friend had brought one of +Alger’s books to his house and that he was thereby attracted +to the library.</p> +<p>Among those who were brought in by relatives are children who +were first carried by their mothers to the library as infants and +so grew naturally into its use. Sometimes the influence works +upward instead of downward, for several adults report that their +children brought them to the library or induced them to visit it. +One man reports that he “got married and his wife induced him +to come.”</p> +<p>Some of the reasons given are curious. A few are unconnected +with the use of books. One girl came to the library because +“it was a very handy library”; another, because she +“saw it was a nice place to come to on a rainy day.” +Still another frankly avows that “it was the fad among the +boys and girls of our neighborhood; we used to meet at the +library.” A postman reported that he entered the library +first in the line of his duty, but was attracted by it and began to +take out books. A clergyman had his attention called to the library +by requests from choir-boys that he should sign their application +blanks; afterwards thinking that he might find books there for his +own reading, he became a regular user. One user came first to the +library to see an exhibition of pictures of old New York. A recent +importation <span class="pagenum"><a id="page17" name= +"page17"></a>[pg 17]</span>says: “When I came from Paris I +found all my cousins speaking English; ‘well,’ they +said, ‘go to the library and take books’”—a +process that doubtless did its share toward making an American of +the new arrival. In another case, the Americanizing process has not +yet reached the stage where the user’s English is altogether +intelligible. He says: “Because I like to read the book. I +ask the bakery lady to my reference and I sing my neam” [sign +my name?].</p> +<p>Here are some examples of recently acquired elegance in diction +that are almost baboo-like in their hopelessness: “Because it +interest about the countries that are far away. It gives knowledge +to many of the people in this country.” “So as to +obtain knowledge from them and by reading books find out how the +great men were in their former days and all about them and the +world and its people.” It will be seen that the last two +writers were among those who misunderstood our questions and told +why they read books rather than how they were first led to the use +of a library.</p> +<p>These reports are far from possessing merely a passing interest +for the curious. For the public librarian, whose wish it is to +reach as large a proportion of the public as possible, they are +full of valuable hints. They emphasize, for instance, the urgent +necessity of winning the good will of the public, and they forcibly +remind us that this is of more value in gaining a foothold for the +library than columns of notices in the papers or thousands of +circulars or cards distributed in the neighborhood. It is even more +potent than a beautiful building. Attractive as this is, its value +as an influence to secure new readers is vastly less than a +reputation for hospitality and helpfulness.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page18" name="page18"></a>[pg +18]</span>In looking over the figures one rather disquieting +thought cannot be kept down. If the good will of the public is so +potent in increasing the use of the library, the ill will of the +same public must be equally potent in the opposite direction. Some +of those who are satisfied with us and our work are here put on +record. How about the dissatisfied? A record of these might be even +more interesting, for it would point out weaknesses to be +strengthened and errors to be avoided—but that, as Kipling +says, “is another story.”</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page19" name="page19"></a>[pg +19]</span> +<h2><a id="Essay3" name="Essay3">The Passing of The Possessive: A +Study of Book-Titles</a></h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>If there is one particular advantage possessed by the Teutonic +over the Romance languages in idiomatic clearness and precision it +is that conferred by their ownership of a possessive case, almost +the sole remaining monument to the fact that our ancestors spoke an +inflected tongue. That we should still be able to speak of +“the baker’s wife’s dog” instead of +“the dog of the wife of the baker” certainly should be +regarded by English-speaking people as a precious birthright. Yet, +there are increasing evidences of a tendency to discard this only +remaining case-ending and to replace its powerful backbone with the +comparatively limp and cartilaginous preposition. This tendency has +not yet appeared so much in our spoken as in our written language, +and even here only in the most formal parts of it. It is especially +noticeable in the diction of the purely formal title and +heading.</p> +<p>That the reader may have something beyond an unsupported +assertion that this is the case, I purpose to offer in evidence the +titles of some recent works of fiction, and to make a brief +statistical study of them.</p> +<p>The titles were taken from the adult fiction lists in the +Monthly Bulletins of the New York Free Circulating Library from +November, 1895, to March, 1897, inclusive, and are all such titles +as contain a possessive, whether expressed by the possessive case +or by the preposition “of” with the objective. Some +titles are included in which the grammatical relation is slightly +different, but all admit the alternative of <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page20" name="page20"></a>[pg 20]</span>the +case-ending “‘s” or “of” followed by +the objective case.</p> +<p>Of the 101 titles thus selected, 41 use the possessive case and +60 the objective with the preposition. This proportion is in itself +sufficiently suggestive, but it becomes still more so by comparing +it with the corresponding proportion among a different set of +titles. For this purpose 101 fiction titles were selected, just as +they appeared in alphabetical order, from a library catalogue +bearing the date 1889; only those being taken, as before, that +contain a possessive. Of these 101, 71 use the possessive case and +30 the objective with “of.” In other words, where eight +years ago nearly three-quarters of such titles used the possessive +case, now only two-fifths use it, a proportionate reduction of +nearly one-half.</p> +<p>The change appears still more striking when we study the titles +a little more closely. Of those in the earlier series there is not +one that is not good, idiomatic English as it stands, whichever +form is used; we may even say that there is not one that would not +be made less idiomatic by a change to the alternative form. Among +the recent titles, however, while the forms using the possessive +case are all better as they are, of the 60 titles that use the +objective with “of” only 22 would be injured by a +change, and the reason why 8 of these are better as they are is +simply that change would destroy euphony. Among these eight are</p> +<ul> +<li>“The Indiscretion of the Duchess,”</li> +<li>“The Flight of a Shadow,”</li> +<li>“The Secret of Narcisse,”</li> +</ul> +<p class="noindent">where the more idiomatic forms,</p> +<ul> +<li>“The Duchess’s Indiscretion,”</li> +<li>“Narcisse’s Secret,”</li> +<li>“A Shadow’s Flight,” etc.,</li> +</ul> +<p class="noindent">are certainly not euphonic.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page21" name="page21"></a>[pg +21]</span>Of the others, 8 would not be injured by a change, and no +less than 30 would be improved from the standpoint of idiomatic +English. It may be well to quote these thirty titles. They are:</p> +<ul> +<li>“The Shadow of Hilton Fernbrook,”</li> +<li>“The Statement of Stella Maberly,”</li> +<li>“The Shadow of John Wallace,”</li> +<li>“The Banishment of Jessop Blythe,”</li> +<li>“The Desire of the Moth,”</li> +<li>“The Island of Dr. Moreau,”</li> +<li>“The Damnation of Theron Ware,”</li> +<li>“The Courtship of Morrice Buckler,”</li> +<li>“The Daughter of a Stoic,”</li> +<li>“The Lament of Dives,”</li> +<li>“The Heart of Princess Osra,”</li> +<li>“The Death of the Lion,”</li> +<li>“The Vengeance of James Vansittart,”</li> +<li>“The Wife of a Vain Man,”</li> +<li>“The Crime of Henry Vane,”</li> +<li>“The Son of Old Harry,”</li> +<li>“The Honour of Savelli,”</li> +<li>“The Life of Nancy,”</li> +<li>“The Story of Lawrence Garthe,”</li> +<li>“The Marriage of Esther,”</li> +<li>“The House of Martha,”</li> +<li>“Tales of an Engineer,”</li> +<li>“Love-letters of a Worldly Woman,”</li> +<li>“The Way of a Maid,”</li> +<li>“The Soul of Pierre,”</li> +<li>“The Day of Their Wedding,”</li> +<li>“The Exploits of Brigadier Gerard,”</li> +<li>“The Hand of Ethelberta,”</li> +<li>“The Failure of Sibyl Fletcher,”</li> +<li>“The Love-affairs of an Old Maid.”</li> +</ul> +<p>Of course, in such a division as this, much must depend on +individual judgment and bias. Probably no two persons would divide +the list in just the same way, but it is my belief that the general +result in each case would be much the same. To me the possessive +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page22" name="page22"></a>[pg +22]</span>in every one of the above-quoted titles would have been +more idiomatic, thus:</p> +<ul> +<li>“Hilton Fernbrook’s Shadow,”</li> +<li>“Stella Maberly’s Statement,”</li> +<li>“John Wallace’s Shadow,”</li> +<li>“Morrice Buckler’s Courtship,”</li> +<li>“A Stoic’s Daughter,”</li> +<li>“Henry Vane’s Crime,” etc., etc.</li> +</ul> +<p>In one case, at least, this fact has been recognized by a +publisher, for “The Vengeance of James Vansittart,” +whose title is included in the list given above, has appeared in a +later edition as “James Vansittart’s +Vengeance”—a palpable improvement.</p> +<p>I shall not discuss the cause of this change in the use of the +possessive, though it seems to me an evident Gallicism, nor shall I +open the question of whether it is a mere passing fad or the +beginning of an actual alteration in the language. However this may +be, it seems undeniable that there is an actual and considerable +difference in the use of the possessive to-day and its use ten +years ago, at least in formal titles and headings. I have confined +myself to book-titles, because that is the department where the +tendency presents itself to me most clearly; but it may be seen on +street signs, in advertisements, and in newspaper headings. It is +not to be found yet in the spoken language, at least it is not +noticeable there, but it would be decidedly unsafe to prophesy that +it will never appear there. Ten years from now we may hear about +“the breaking of the arm of John Smith” and “the +hat of Tom,” without a thought that these phrases have not +been part of our idiomatic speech since Shakespeare’s +time.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page23" name="page23"></a>[pg +23]</span> +<h2><a name="Essay4" id="Essay4">Selective Education</a><a id= +"footnotetag1" name="footnotetag1" href="#footnote1" title= +"Read before the Schoolmen of New York."><sup>1</sup></a></h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>Since Darwin called attention to the role of what he named +“natural selection” in the genesis and preservation of +species, and since his successors, both followers and opponents, +have added to this many other kinds of selection that are +continually operative, it has become increasingly evident that from +one standpoint we may look on the sum of natural processes, organic +and inorganic, as a vast selective system, as the result of which +things are as they are, whether the results are the positions of +celestial bodies or the relative places of human beings in the +intellectual or social scale. The exact constitution of the present +population of New York is the result of a great number of selective +acts, some regular, others more or less haphazard. Selection is no +less selection because it occurs by what we call chance—for +chance is only our name for the totality of trivial and +unconsidered causes. When, however, we count man and man’s +efforts in the sum of natural objects and forces, we have to reckon +with his intelligence in these selective processes. I desire to +call attention to the place that they play in educative systems and +in particular to the way in which they may be furthered or made +more effective by books, especially by public collections of +books.</p> +<p>When we think of any kind of training as it affects the +individual, we most naturally regard it as changing that +individual, as making him more fit, either for life in general or +for some special form of life’s activities. But when we think +of it as affecting <span class="pagenum"><a id="page24" name= +"page24"></a>[pg 24]</span>a whole community or a whole nation, we +may regard it as essentially a selective process. In a given +community it is not only desirable that a certain number of men +should be trained to do a specified kind of work, but it is even +more desirable that these should be the men that are best fitted to +do this work. When Mr. Luther Burbank brings into play the +selection by means of which he achieves his remarkable results in +plant breeding he gets rid of the unfit by destruction, and as all +are unfit for the moment that do not advance the special end that +he has in view, he burns up plants—new and interesting +varieties perhaps—by the hundred thousand. We cannot destroy +the unfit, nor do we desire to do so, for from the educational +point of view unfitness is merely bad adjustment. There is a place +for every man in the world and it is the educator's business to see +that he reaches it, if not by formative, then by selective +processes. This selection is badly made in our present state of +civilization. It depends to a large extent upon circumstances +remote from the training itself—upon caprice, either that of +the person to be trained or of his parents, upon accidents of birth +or situation, upon a thousand irrelevant things; but in every case +there are elements present in the training itself that aid in +determining it. A young man begins to study medicine, and he finds +that his physical repulsion for work in the dissecting-room can not +be overcome. He abandons the study and by doing so eliminates an +unfit person. A boy who has no head for figures enters a business +college. He can not get his diploma, and the community is spared +one bad bookkeeper. Certainly in some instances, possibly in all, +technical and professional schools that are noted for the +excellence of their product are superior not so much because they +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page25" name="page25"></a>[pg +25]</span>have better methods of training, but because their +material is of better quality, owing to selection exercised either +purposely, or automatically, or perhaps by some chance. The same is +true of colleges. Of two institutions with the same curriculum and +equally able instructors, the one with the widest reputation will +turn out the best graduates because it attracts abler men from a +wider field. This is true even in such a department as athletics. +To him that hath shall be given. This is purely an automatic +selective effect.</p> +<p>It would appear desirable to dwell more upon selective features +in educational training, to ascertain what they are in each case +and how they work, and to control and dispose them with more +systematic care. Different minds will always attach different +degrees of importance to natural and acquired fitness, but probably +all will agree that training bestowed upon the absolutely unfit is +worse than useless, and that there are persons whose natural +aptitudes are so great that upon them a minimum of training will +produce a maximum effect. Such selective features as our present +educational processes possess, the examination, for instance, are +mostly exclusive; they aim to bar out the unfit rather than to +attract the fit. Here is a feature on which some attention may well +be fixt.</p> +<p>How do these considerations affect the subject of general +education? Are we to affirm that arithmetic is only for the born +mathematician and Latin for the born linguist, and endeavor to +ascertain who these may be? Not so; for here we are training not +experts but citizens. Discrimination here must be not in the +quality but in the quantity of training. We may divide the members +of any community into classes according as their formal +education—their <span class="pagenum"><a id="page26" name= +"page26"></a>[pg 26]</span>school and college training—has +lasted one, two, three, four, or more years. There has been a +selection here, but it has operated, in general, even more +imperfectly than in the case of special training. Persons who are +mentally qualified to continue their schooling to the end of a +college course, and who by so doing would become more useful +members of the community, are obliged to be content with two or +three years in the lower grades, while others, who are unfitted for +the university, are kept at it until they take, or fail to take, +the bachelor’s degree. An ideal state of things, of course, +would be to give each person the amount of general education for +which he is fitted and then stop. This would be difficult of +realization even if financial considerations did not so often +interfere. But at least we may keep in view the desirability of +preventing too many misfits and of insisting, so far as possible, +on any selective features that we may discover in present +systems.</p> +<p>For instance, a powerful selective feature is the attractiveness +of a given course of study to those who are desired to pursue it. +If we can find a way, for example, to make our high school courses +attractive to those who are qualified to take them, while at the +same time rendering them very distasteful to those who are not so +qualified, we shall evidently have taken a step in the right +direction. It is clear that both parts of this prescription must be +taken together or there is no true selection. Much has been done of +late years toward making educational courses of all kinds +interesting and attractive, but it is to be feared that their +attractiveness has been such as to appeal to the unfit as well as +to the fit. If we sugar-coat our pills indiscriminately and mix +them with candy, many will partake who need another kind of +medicine altogether. We must so arrange <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page27" name="page27"></a>[pg 27]</span>things +that the fit will like while the unfit dislike, and for this +purpose the less sugar-coating the better. This is no easy problem +and it is intended merely to indicate it here, not to propose a +general solution.</p> +<p>The one thing to which attention should be directed is the role +that may be and is played by the printed book in selective +education. There is more or less effort to discredit books as +educative tools and to lay emphasis on oral instruction and manual +training. We need not decry these, but, it must be remembered that +after all the book contains the record of man’s progress; we +may tell how to do a thing, and show how to do it, but we shall +never do it in a better way or explain the why and wherefore, and +surely transmit that ability and that explanation to posterity, +without the aid of a stable record of some kind. If we are sure +that our students could and would pick out only what they needed, +as a wild animal picks his food in the woods, we might go far +toward solving our problem, by simply turning them loose in a +collection of books. Some people have minds that qualify them to +profit by such “browsing,” and some of these have +practically educated themselves in a library. Even in the more +common cases where formal training is absolutely necessary, access +to other books than text-books is an aid to selection both +qualitative and quantitative. Books may serve as samples. To take +an extreme case, a boy who had no knowledge whatever of the nature +of law or medicine would certainly not be competent to choose +between them in selecting a profession, and a month spent in a +library where there were books on both subjects would certainly +operate to lessen his incompetence. Probably it would not be rash +to assert that with free access to books, under proper <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page28" name="page28"></a>[pg 28]</span>guidance, +both before and during a course of training, the persons who begin +that course will include more of the fit and those who finish it +will include less of the unfit, than without such access.</p> +<p>Let us consider one or two concrete examples. A college boy has +the choice of several different courses. He knows little of them, +but thinks that one will meet his needs. He elects it and finds too +late that he is wasting his time. Another boy, whose general +reading has been sufficient to give him some superficial knowledge +of the subject-matter in all the courses, sees clearly which will +benefit him, and profits by that knowledge.</p> +<p>Again, a boy, full of the possibilities that would lead him to +appreciate the best in literature, has gained his knowledge of it +from a teacher who looks upon a literary masterpiece only as +something to be dissected. The student has been disgusted instead +of inspired, and his whole life has been deprived of one of the +purest and most uplifting of all influences. Had he been brought up +in a library where he could make literary friends and develop +literary enthusiasms, his course with the dry as dust teacher would +have been only an unpleasant incident, instead of the wrecking of a +part of his intellectual life.</p> +<p>Still again, a boy on a farm has vague aspirations. He knows +that he wants a broader horizon, to get away from his cramped +environment—that is about all. How many boys, impelled by +such feelings, have gone out into the world with no clear idea of +what they are fitted to do, or even what they really desire! To how +many others has the companionship of a few books meant the opening +of a peep-hole, thru which, dimly perhaps, but none the less +really, have been descried definite possibilities, needs, and +opportunities!</p> +<p>To all of these youths books have been selective <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page29" name="page29"></a>[pg 29]</span>aids +merely—they have added little or nothing to the actual +training whose extent and character they have served to point out. +Such cases, which it would be easy to multiply, illustrate the +value of books in the selective functions of training. To assert +that they exercise such a function is only another way of saying +that a mind orients itself by the widest contact with other minds. +There are other ways of assuring this contact, and these should not +be neglected; but only thru books can it approach universality both +in space and in time. How else could we know exactly what Homer and +St. Augustine and Descartes thought and what Tolstoi and Lord +Kelvin and William James, we will say, are even now thinking?</p> +<p>It has scarcely been necessary to say all this to convince you +of the value of books as aids to education; but it is certainly +interesting to find that in an examination of the selective +processes in education, we meet with our old friends in such an +important role.</p> +<p>A general collection of books, then, constitutes an important +factor in the selective part of an education. Where shall we place +this collection? I venture to say that altho every school must have +a library to aid in the formative part of its training, the library +as a selective aid should be large and central and should +preferably be at the disposal of the student not only during the +period of his formal training, but before and after it. This points +to the public library, and to close cooperation between it and the +school, rather than to the expansion of the classroom library. This +is, perhaps, not the place to dispute the wisdom of our Board of +Education in developing classroom libraries, but it may be proper +to put in a plea for confining them to books that bear more +particularly on the subjects of instruction. The general collection +of books should be outside of <span class="pagenum"><a id="page30" +name="page30"></a>[pg 30]</span>the school, because the boy is +destined to spend most of his life outside of the school. His +education by no means ends with his graduation. The agents that +operate to develop and change him will be at work so long as he +lives, and it is desirable that the book should be one of these. If +he says good-by to the book when he leaves school, that part of his +training is likely to be at an end. If he uses, in connection with, +and parallel to, his formal education a general collection of books +outside of the school, he will continue to use it after he leaves +school. And even so far as the special classroom library is +concerned, it must be evident that a large general collection of +books that may be drawn upon freely is a useful supplement. For the +teacher’s professional use, the larger the collection at his +disposal the better. A sum of money spent by the city in improving +and making adequate the pedagogical section of its public library, +particularly in the department of circulation, will be expended to +greater advantage than many times the amount devoted to a large +number of small collections on the same subjects in schools.</p> +<p>These are the considerations that have governed the New York +Public Library in its effort to be of assistance to the teachers +and pupils in the public schools of the city. Stated formally, +these efforts manifest themselves in the following directions:</p> +<ul> +<li> +<p>(1) The making of library use continuous from the earliest +possible age, thru school life and afterwards;</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>(2) Cooperation with the teacher in guiding and limiting the +child’s reading during the school period;</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>(3) Aid within the library in the preparation of school +work;</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>(4) The supplementing of classroom libraries by the loan of +books in quantity;</p> +</li> +<li><span class="pagenum"><a id="page31" name="page31"></a>[pg +31]</span> +<p>(5) The cultivation of personal relations between library +assistants and teachers in their immediate neighborhood;</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>(6) The furnishing of accurate and up-to-date information to +schools regarding the library’s resources and its willingness +to place them at the school’s disposal;</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>(7) The increase of the library’s circulation collection +along lines suggested and desired by teachers;</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>(8) The granting of special privileges to teachers and special +students who use the library for purposes of study.</p> +</li> +</ul> +<p>Toward the realization of these aims three departments are now +cooperating, each of them in charge of an expert in his or her +special line of work.</p> +<ul> +<li> +<p>(1) The children’s rooms in the various libraries, now +under the direction of an expert supervisor.</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>(2) The traveling library office.</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>(3) The division of school work, with an assistant in each +branch, under skilled headquarters superintendence.</p> +</li> +</ul> +<p>When our plans, which are already in good working order, are +completely carried out, we shall be able to guarantee to every +child guidance in his reading up to and thru his school course, +with direction in a line of influence that will make him a user of +books thruout his life and create in him a feeling of attachment to +the public library as the home and dispenser of books and as a +permanent intellectual refuge from care, trouble, and material +things in general, as well as a mine of information on all subjects +that may benefit or interest him.</p> +<p>Some of the obstacles to the immediate realization of our plans +in full may be briefly stated as follows:</p> +<ul> +<li> +<p>(1) Lack of sufficient funds. With more money <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page32" name="page32"></a>[pg 32]</span>we could +buy more books, pay higher salaries, and employ more persons. The +assistants in charge of children’s rooms should be women of +the highest culture and ability, and it is difficult to secure +proper persons at our present salaries. Assistants in charge of +school work must be persons of tact and quickness of perception, +and they should have no other work to do; whereas at present we are +obliged to give this work to library assistants in addition to +their ordinary routine duties, to avoid increasing our staff by +about forty assistants, which our appropriation does not +permit.</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>(2) Misunderstanding on the part of the public, and also to some +extent on the part of teachers, of our aims, ability, and attitude. +This I am glad to say is continually lessening. We can scarcely +expect that each of our five hundred assistants should be thoroly +imbued with the spirit of helpfulness toward the schools or even +that they should perfectly understand what we desire and aim to do. +Nor can we expect that our wish to aid should be appreciated by +every one of fifty thousand teachers or a million parents. This +will come in time.</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>(3) A low standard of honesty on the part of certain users of +the library. It is somewhat disheartening to those who are laboring +to do a public service to find that some of those whom they are +striving to benefit, look upon them merely as easy game. To prevent +this and at the same time to withstand those who urge that such +misuse of the library should be met by the withdrawal of present +privileges and facilities uses up energy that might otherwise be +directed toward the improvement of our service. Now, like the +intoxicated man, we sometimes refuse invitations to advance because +it is “all we can do to stay where we are.” Here is an +opportunity for all the selective influences that we may bring to +bear, and <span class="pagenum"><a id="page33" name= +"page33"></a>[pg 33]</span>unfortunately the library can have but +little part in these.</p> +</li> +</ul> +<p>Have I wandered too far from my theme? The good that a public +library may do, the influence that it may exert, and the position +that it may assume in a community, depend very largely on the +ability and tact with which it is administered and the resources at +its disposal. Its public services may be various, but probably +there is no place in which it may be of more value than side by +side with the public school; and I venture to think that this is +the case largely because education to be complete must select as +well as train, must compel the fit to step forward and the unfit to +retire, and must do this, not only at the outset of a course of +training but continuously thruout its duration. We speak of a +student being “put thru the mill,” and we must not +forget that a mill not only grinds and stamps into shape but also +sifts and selects. A finished product of a given grade is always +such not only by virtue of formation and adaptation but also by +virtue of selection. In human training one of the most potent of +these selective agencies is the individual will, and to train that +will and make it effective in the right direction there is nothing +better than constant association with the records of past aims and +past achievements. This must be my excuse for saying so much of +libraries in general, and of one library in particular, in an +address on what I have ventured to give the name of Selective +Education.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page35" name="page35"></a>[pg +35]</span> +<h2><a name="Essay5" id="Essay5">The Uses Of Fiction</a><a id= +"footnotetag2" name="footnotetag2" href="#footnote2" title= +"Read before the American Library Association, Asheville Conference, May 28, 1907."> +<sup>2</sup></a></h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>Literature is becoming daily more of a dynamic and less of a +static phenomenon. In other days the great body of written records +remained more or less stable and with its attendant body of +tradition did its work by a sort of quiet pressure on that portion +of the community just beneath it—on a special class +peculiarly subject to its influence. To-day we have added to this +effect that of a moving multitude of more or less ephemeral books, +which appear, do their work, and pass on out of sight. They are +light, but they make up for their lack of weight by the speed and +ease with which they move. Owing to them the use of books is +becoming less and less limited to a class, and more and more +familiar to the masses. The book nowadays is in motion. Even the +classics, the favorites of other days, have left their musty +shelves and are moving out among the people. Where one man knew and +loved Shakespeare a century ago, a thousand know and love him +to-day. The literary blood is circulating and in so doing is giving +life to the body politic. In thus wearing itself out the book is +creating a public appreciation that makes itself felt in a demand +for reprinting, hence worthy books are surer of perpetuation in +this swirling current than they were in the old time reservoir. But +besides these books whose literary life is continuous, though their +paper and binding may wear out, there are other books that vanish +utterly. By the time that the material part of them needs renewing, +the book <span class="pagenum"><a id="page36" name="page36"></a>[pg +36]</span>itself has done its work. Its value at that moment is not +enough, or is not sufficiently appreciated, to warrant reprinting. +It drops out of sight and its place is taken by another, fresh from +the press. This part of our moving literature is what is called +ephemeral, and properly so; but no stigma necessarily attaches to +the name. In the first place, it is impossible to draw a line +between the ephemeral and the durable. “One storm in the +world’s history has never cleared off,” said the +wit—“the one we are having now.” Yet the +conditions of to-day, literary as well as meteorological, are not +necessarily lasting.</p> +<p>We are accustomed to regard what we call standard literature as +necessarily the standard of innumerable centuries to come, +forgetful of the fact that other so-called standards have +“had their day and ceased to be.” Some literature lasts +a century, some a year, some a week; where shall we draw the line +below which all must be condemned as ephemeral? Is it not possible +that all literary work that quickly achieves a useful purpose and +having achieved it passes at once out of sight, may really count +for as much as one that takes the course of years to produce its +slow results? The most ephemeral of all our literary +productions—the daily paper—is incalculably the most +influential, and its influence largely depends on this dynamic +quality that has been noted—the penetrative power of a thing +of light weight moving at a high speed. And this penetrative power +effective literature must have to-day on account of the vastly +increased mass of modern readers.</p> +<p>Reading is no longer confined to a class, it is well-nigh +universal, in our own country, at least. And the habit of mind of +the thoughtful and intent reader is not an affair of one generation +but of many. <span class="pagenum"><a id="page37" name= +"page37"></a>[pg 37]</span>New readers are young readers, and they +have the characteristics of intellectual youth.</p> +<p>Narrative—the recapitulation of one’s own or someone +else’s experience, the telling of a story—is the +earliest form in which artistic effort of any kind is appreciated. +The pictorial art that appeals to the young or the ignorant is the +kind that tells a story—perhaps historical painting on +enormous canvasses, perhaps the small genre picture, possibly +something symbolic or mythological; but at any rate it must embody +a narrative, whether it is that of the signing of a treaty, a +charge of dragoons, a declaration of love or the feeding of +chickens. The same is true of music. The popular song tells +something, almost without exception. Even in instrumental music, +outside of dance rhythms, whose suggestion of the delights of +bodily motion is a reason of their popularity, the beginner likes +program music of some kind, or at least its suggestion. So it is in +literature. With those who are intellectually young, whether young +in years or not, the narrative form of expression is all in all. It +is, of course, in all the arts, a most important mode, even in +advanced stages of development. We shall never be able to do +without narrative in painting, sculpture, music and poetry; but +wherever, in a given community, the preference for this form of +expression in any art is excessive, we may be sure that +appreciation of that form of art is newly aroused. This is an +interesting symptom and a good sign. To be sure, apparent +intellectual youth may be the result of intellectual decadence; +there is a second as well as a first childhood, but it is not +difficult to distinguish between them. In general, if a large +proportion of those in a community who like to look at pictures, +prefer such as “tell a story,” this fact, if the number +of the appreciative <span class="pagenum"><a id="page38" name= +"page38"></a>[pg 38]</span>is at the same time increasing, means a +newly stimulated interest in art. And similarly, if a large +proportion of those persons who enjoy reading prefer the narrative +forms of literature, while at the same time their total numbers are +on the increase, this surely indicates a newly aroused interest in +books. And this is precisely the situation in which we find +ourselves to-day. A very large proportion of the literature that we +circulate is in narrative form—how large a proportion I +daresay few of us realize. Not only all the fiction, adult and +juvenile, but all the history, biography and travel, a large +proportion of literature and periodicals, some of the sciences, +including all reports of original research, and a lesser proportion +of the arts, philosophy and religion, are in this form. It may be +interesting to estimate the percentage of narrative circulated by a +large public library, and I have attempted this in the case of the +New York public library for the year ending July 1, 1906.</p> +<table summary= +"Narrative circulated by the New York Public Library for the year ending July 1, 1906" +style="text-align:right;margin-left:15%;font-size:80%;"> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" style="text-align:left;">Class</td> +<td>Per cent.</td> +<td width="30%">Estimated per cent. of narrative</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" style="text-align:left;">Fiction</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:center;">Juvenile</td> +<td>26</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:center;">Adult</td> +<td>32</td> +<td>58</td> +<td>58</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" style="text-align:left;">History</td> +<td>6</td> +<td>6</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" style="text-align:left;">Biography</td> +<td>3</td> +<td>3</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" style="text-align:left;">Travel</td> +<td>3</td> +<td>3</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" style="text-align:left;">Literature</td> +<td>7</td> +<td>3</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" style="text-align:left;">Periodicals</td> +<td>4</td> +<td>2</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" style="text-align:left;">Sciences</td> +<td>9</td> +<td>3</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" style="text-align:left;">Arts</td> +<td>3</td> +<td>1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" style="text-align:left;">Philos. & Relig.</td> +<td>2</td> +<td>1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" style="text-align:left;">Foreign</td> +<td>5</td> +<td>4</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="3" style= +"border-width: 1pt 0pt 0pt 0pt; border-style: solid;">100</td> +<td style="border-width: 1pt 0pt 0pt 0pt; border-style: solid;"> +84</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p>In other words, if my estimates are not too much out of the +way—and I have tried to be conservative—only 16 per +cent. of our whole circulation, and 38 per cent. of our +non-fiction, is non-narrative, despite the fact that our total +fiction percentage is low.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page39" name="page39"></a>[pg +39]</span>I attach little importance in this regard to any +distinction between true and fictitious narrative, people who read +novels do not enjoy them simply because the subject matter is +untrue. They enjoy the books because they are interesting. In fact, +in most good fiction, little beside the actual sequence of the +events in the plot and the names of the characters is untrue. The +delineation of character, the descriptions of places and events and +the statements of fact are intended to be true, and the further +they depart from truth the less enjoyable they are. Indeed, when +one looks closely into the matter, the dividing line between what +we call truth and fiction in narrative grows more and more +hazy.</p> +<p>In pictorial art we do not attempt to make it at all. Our +museums do not classify their pictures into true and imaginary. Our +novels contain so much truth and our other narrative works so much +fiction, that it is almost as difficult to draw the line in the +literary as it is in the pictorial arts. And in any case objections +to a work of fiction, as well as commendations, must be based on +considerations apart from this classification.</p> +<p>To represent a fictitious story as real or an imaginary portrait +as a true one is, of course, a fault, but the story and the +portrait may both be of the highest excellence when the subjects +are wholly imaginary. It should be noted that the crime of false +representation, when committed with success, removes a work from +library classification as fiction and places it in one of the other +classes. Indeed, it is probable that much more lasting harm is done +by false non-fiction than by fiction. The reader, provided he uses +literature temperately, has much less need to beware of the novel, +which he reads frankly for entertainment, than of the history full +of “things <span class="pagenum"><a id="page40" name= +"page40"></a>[pg 40]</span>that are not so,” of the biased +biography, of science “popularized” out of all likeness +to nature, of absurd theories in sociology or cosmology, of silly +and crude ideas masquerading as philosophy, of the out-and-out +falsehood of fake travellers and pseudo-naturalists.</p> +<p>In what has gone before it has been assumed that the reader is +temperate. One may read to excess either in fiction or non-fiction, +and the result is the same; mental over-stimulation, with the +resulting reaction. One may thus intoxicate himself with history, +psychology or mathematics—the mathematics-drunkard is the +worst of all literary debauchees when he does exist—and the +only reason why fiction-drunkenness is more prevalent is that +fiction is more attractive to the average man. We do not have to +warn the reader against over-indulgence in biography or +art-criticism, any more than we have to put away the vichy bottle +when a bibulous friend appears, or forbid the children to eat too +many shredded-wheat biscuits. Fiction has the fatal gift of being +too entertaining. The novel-writer must be interesting or he fails; +the historian or the psychologist does not often regard it as +necessary—unless he happens to be a Frenchman.</p> +<p>But with this danger of literary surfeit or over-stimulation, I +submit that the librarian has nothing to do; it is beyond his +sphere, at least in so far as he deals with the adult reader. We +furnish parks and playgrounds for our people; we police them and +see that they contain nothing harmful, but we cannot guarantee that +they will not be used to excess—that a man may not, for +example, be so enraptured with the trees and the squirrels that he +will give up to their contemplation time that should be spent in +supporting his family. So in the library we may <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page41" name="page41"></a>[pg 41]</span>and do see +that harmful literature is excluded, but we cannot be expected to +see that books which are not in themselves injurious are not +sometimes used to excess.</p> +<p>I venture to suggest that very much of our feeling of +disquietude about the large use of fiction in the public library +and elsewhere arises from our misapprehension of something that +must always force itself upon the attention in a state of society +where public education and public taste are on the increase. In +this case the growth will necessarily be uneven in different +departments of knowledge and taste, and in different localities; so +that discrepancies frequently present themselves. We may observe, +for instance, a quietly and tastefully dressed woman reading, we +will say, Laura Jean Libbey. We are disconcerted, and the effect is +depressing. But the discrepancy may arise in either of two ways. If +we have here a person formerly possessing good taste both in dress +and reading, whose taste in the latter regard has deteriorated, we +certainly have cause for sadness; but if, as is much more likely, +we have one who had formerly bad taste of both kinds and whose +taste in dress has improved, we should rather rejoice. The argument +is the same whether the change has taken place in the same +generation or in more than one. Our masses are moving upward and +the progress along the more material lines is often more rapid than +in matters of the intellect. Or, on the contrary, intellectual +progress may be in advance of manners. Such discrepancies are +frequently commented upon by foreign travelers in the United +States, who almost invariably misinterpret them in the same way. +Can we blame them, when we make the same mistake ourselves? M. +Jules Huret, in his recent interesting book “En +Amerique,” <span class="pagenum"><a id="page42" name= +"page42"></a>[pg 42]</span>notes frequently the lapses in manners +and taste of educated persons among us. He describes, for instance, +the bad table-manners of a certain clergyman. His thought is +evidently, “How shocking that a clergyman should act in this +way!” But we might also put it: “How admirable that +professional education in this country is so easily obtained that +one of a class in which such manners prevail can secure it! How +encouraging that he should desire to enter the ministry and succeed +in doing so!” These are extreme standpoints; we need of +course endorse neither of them. But when I find that on the upper +west side of New York, where the patrons of our branch libraries +are largely the wives and daughters of business men with good +salaries, whose general scale of living is high, the percentage of +fiction circulated is unduly great, I do not say, as I am tempted +to do “How surprising and how discouraging that persons of +such apparent cultivation should read nothing but fiction, and that +not of the highest grade!” I say rather: “What an +evidence it is of our great material prosperity that persons in an +early stage of mental development, as evidenced by undue preference +for narrative in literature, are living in such comfort or even +luxury!”</p> +<p>Is not this the right way to look at it? I confess that I can +see no reason for despairing of the American people because it +reads more fiction than it used to read, so long as this is for the +same reason that a ten year old boy reads more stories than a baby. +Intellectual youth is at least an advance over mental infancy so +long as it is first childhood—not second. It is undoubtedly +our duty, as it is our pleasure, to help these people to grow, but +we cannot force them, and should not try. Complete growth may take +several generations. And even when full stature has <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page43" name="page43"></a>[pg 43]</span>been +obtained, literature in its narrative modes, though not so +exclusively as now, will still be loved and read. Romance will +always serve as the dessert in the feast of reason—and we +should recollect that sugar is now highly regarded as a food. It is +a producer of energy in easily available form, and, thinking on +some such novels as “Uncle Tom,” “Die Waffen +nieder” and shall we say “The jungle”? we realize +that this thing is a parable, which the despiser of fiction may +well read as he runs.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page45" name="page45"></a>[pg +45]</span> +<h2><a name="Essay6" id="Essay6">The Value Of Association</a><a id= +"footnotetag3" name="footnotetag3" href="#footnote3" title= +"An address delivered before the Library Associations of Iowa, Nebraska, Kansas, Missouri, Indiana and Ohio, October 9-18, 1907."> +<sup>3</sup></a></h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>Man is a gregarious animal; he cannot think, act, or even exist +except in certain relations to others of his kind. For a complete +description of those relations we must go to a treatise on +sociology; our present subject is a very brief consideration of +certain groups of individuals, natural or voluntary, and the +application of the laws that govern such groups to the voluntary +associations with which we are all familiar in library work. Men +have joined together to effect certain things that they could not +accomplish singly, ever since two savages found that they could +lift a heavy log or stone together, when neither one could manage +it alone. Until recently the psychology of human groups has +received little study. Le Bon, in his book on “The +Crowd,” gives the modern treatment of it. A group of persons +does not think and act precisely as each of its component +individuals would think or act. The very act of association, loose +as it may be, introduces a new factor. Even the two savages lifting +the log do not work together precisely as either would have worked +singly. Their co-operation affects their activity; and both thought +and action may likewise be affected in larger groupings even by the +mere proximity of the individuals of the group, where there is no +stronger bond.</p> +<p>But although the spirit that collectively animates a group of +men cannot be calculated by taking an arithmetical sum, it does +depend on that possessed <span class="pagenum"><a id="page46" name= +"page46"></a>[pg 46]</span>by each individual in the group, and +more particularly on what is common to them all and on the nature +of the bonds that connect them. Even a chance group of persons +previously unconnected and unrelated is bound together by feelings +common to all humanity and may be appealed to collectively on such +grounds. The haphazard street crowd thrills with horror at the +sight of a baby toddling in front of a trolley-car and shouts with +joy when the motorman stops just in time. But the same crowd, if +composed of newly-arrived Poles, Hungarians and Slovaks, would fail +utterly to respond to some patriotic appeal that might move an +American crowd profoundly. You may sway a Methodist congregation +with a tale of John Wesley that would leave Presbyterians or +Episcopalians cold. Try a Yale mob with “Boola” and +then play the same tune at Princeton, and watch the effect.</p> +<p>Thus, the more carefully our group is selected the more +particular and definite are the motives that we can bring to bear +in it, and the more powerful will its activities be along its own +special lines. The mob in the street may be roused by working on +elemental passions—so roused it will kill or burn, but you +cannot excite in it enthusiasm for Dante’s Inferno, or induce +it to contribute money or labor toward the preparation of a new +annotated edition. To get such enthusiasm and stimulate such action +you must work upon a body of men selected and brought together for +this very purpose.</p> +<p>Besides this, we must draw a distinction between natural and +artificial groups. The group brought together by natural causes and +not by man’s contriving is generally lower in the scale of +civilization when it acts collectively than any one of its +components. This is the case with a mob, a tribe, even a +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page47" name="page47"></a>[pg +47]</span>municipal group. But an artificial or selected group, +where the grouping is for a purpose and has been specially effected +with that end in view may act more intelligently, and be, so far as +its special activities are concerned, more advanced in the scale of +progress than its components as individuals. There is the same +difference as between a man’s hand and a delicate tool. The +former is the result of physical evolution only; the latter of +evolution into which the brain of man has entered as a factor. The +tool is not as good for “all round” use as the hand; +but to accomplish its particular object it is immeasurably +superior.</p> +<p>If, then, we are to accomplish anything by taking advantage of +the very peculiar crowd or group psychology—owing to which a +collected body of men may feel as a group and act as a group, +differently from the way in which any one of its components would +feel or act—we must see that our group is properly selected +and constituted. This does not mean that we are to go about and +choose individuals, one by one, by the exercise of personal +judgment. Such a method is generally inferior and unnecessary. If +we desire to separate the fine from the coarse grains in a +sand-pile we do not set to work with a microscope to measure them, +grain by grain; we use a sieve. The sieve will not do to separate +iron filings from copper filings of exactly the same size, but here +a magnet will do the business. And so separation or selection can +almost always be accomplished by choosing an agency adapted to the +conditions; and such agencies often act automatically without the +intervention of the human will. In a voluntary association formed +to accomplish a definite purpose we have a self-selected group. +Such a body may be freely open to the public, as all our library +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page48" name="page48"></a>[pg +48]</span>clubs and associations practically are; yet it is still +selective, for no one would care to join it who is not in some way +interested in its objects. On the other hand, the qualifications +for membership may be numerous and rigid, in which case the +selection is more limited. The ideal of efficiency in an +association is probably reached when the body is formed for a +single definite purpose and the terms of admission are so arranged +that each of its members is eager above all things to achieve its +end and is specially competent to work for it, the purpose of the +grouping being merely to attain the object more surely, thoroughly +and rapidly. A good example is a thoroughly trained military +organization, all of whose members are enthusiastic in the cause +for which the body is fighting—a band of patriots, we will +say—or perhaps a band of brigands, for what we have been +saying applies to evil as well as to good associations. The most +efficient of such bodies may be very temporary, as when three +persons, meeting by chance, unite to help each other over a wall +that none of them could scale by himself, and, having reached the +other side, separate again. The more clearly cut and definite the +purpose the less the necessity of retaining the association after +its accomplishment. The more efficient the association the sooner +its aims are accomplished and the sooner it is disbanded. Such +groups or bodies, by their very nature are affairs of small detail +and not of large and comprehensive purpose. As they broaden out +into catholicity they necessarily lose in efficiency. And even when +they are accomplishing their aims satisfactorily the very largeness +of those aims, the absence of sharp outline and clear definition, +frequently gives rise to complaint. I know of clubs and +associations that are doing an immense amount of <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page49" name="page49"></a>[pg 49]</span>good, in +some cases altering for the better the whole intellectual or moral +tone of a community, but that are the objects of criticism because +they do not act in matters of detail.</p> +<p>“Why don’t they do something?” is the constant +cry. And “doing something,” as you may presently +discover, is carrying on some small definite, relatively +unimportant activity that is capable of clear description and +easily fixes the attention, while the greater services, to the +public and to the individual, of the association’s quiet +influences pass unnoticed. The church that has driven out of +business one corner-saloon gets more praise than the one that has +made better men and women of a whole generation in one +neighborhood; the police force that catches one sensational +murderer is more applauded than the one that has made life and +property safe for years in its community by quiet, firm +pressure.</p> +<p>There is no reason of course, why the broader and the more +definite activities may not be united, to some degree, in one +organization. Either smaller groups with related aims may federate +for the larger purpose, or the larger may itself be the primary +group, and may subdivide into sections each with its specified +object. Both these plans or a combination of the two may be seen in +many of our large organizations, and it is this combination that +seems finally to have been selected as the proper form of union for +the libraries and the librarians of the United States. We have a +large organization which, as it has grown more and more unwieldy, +has been subdivided into smaller specialized sections without +losing its continuity for its broader and perhaps vaguer work. At +the same time, specialized bodies with related aims have been +partially or wholly absorbed, until, by processes partly of +subdivision and <span class="pagenum"><a id="page50" name= +"page50"></a>[pg 50]</span>partly of accretion, we have a body +capable of dealing alike with the general and the special problems +of library work. It should not be forgotten, however, that its +success in dealing with both kinds of problems is still conditioned +by the laws already laid down. The general association, as it grows +larger, will be marked less and less by the enthusiasm of the +specialist, will be less and less efficient, will move more slowly, +will deliver its opinions with reticence and will hesitate to act +upon them. The smaller constituent bodies will be affected by none +of these drawbacks, but their purposes appeal to the few and their +actions, though more energetic, will often seem to the majority of +the larger group devoid of meaning. This is, of course, the case +with the National Educational Association, the American Association +for the Advancement of Science, and hosts of similar bodies here +and abroad. To state the difficulty is merely to confess that all +attempts hitherto have failed to form a group that is at once +comprehensive, powerful and efficient, both in the larger matters +with which it deals and in details.</p> +<p>Probably the most successful attempt of this kind is formulated +in the Constitution of the United States itself and is being +carried on in our country from day to day, yet successful as it is, +our history is witness, and the daily press testifies, that the +combination of general and local governments has its weak points +and is dependent for its smooth working on the cordial consent and +forbearance of the governed. This is true also of smaller +combinations. In our own organization it is easy to find fault, it +is easy to discover points of friction; only by the cordial effort +of every member to minimize these points can such an organization +begin to accomplish its aims. Failure is much more apt to be due to +lack <span class="pagenum"><a id="page51" name="page51"></a>[pg +51]</span>of appreciation of this fact than to any defect in the +machinery of organization. This being the case we are thrown back +upon consideration of the membership of our institution. How should +it be selected and how constituted?</p> +<p>The constitution of the association says that “Any person +or institution engaged in library work may become a member by +paying the annual dues, and others after election by the executive +board.” We have thus two classes of members, those by their +own choice and those by election. The annual lists of members do +not record the distinction, but among those in the latest list we +find 24 booksellers, 17 publishers, 5 editors, 9 school and college +officials, 8 government employees not in libraries, and 24 wives +and relatives of other members, while in the case of 132 persons no +qualification is stated in the list. We have or have had as our +associates, settlement workers, lawyers, lecturers, indexers, +binders, and so on almost indefinitely. Our membership is thus +freely open to librarians, interpreting this word very broadly, and +to any others that we may desire to have with us, which means, +practically, any who have sufficient interest in library work to +come to the meetings. We must, therefore, be classed with what may +be called the “open” as opposed to the +“closed” professional or technical associations. The +difference may be emphasized by a reference to two well-known New +York clubs, the Players and the Authors. These organizations would +appear by their names to be composed respectively of actors and +writers. The former, however, admits also to membership persons +interested in the drama, which may mean little or much, while the +Authors Club, despite repeated efforts to broaden it out in the +same way, has insisted on admitting none but <em>bona fide</em> +authors. In advocacy <span class="pagenum"><a id="page52" name= +"page52"></a>[pg 52]</span>of the first plan it may be said that by +adopting it the Players has secured larger membership, embracing +many men of means. Its financial standing is better and it is +enabled to own a fine club house. On the other hand, the Authors +has a small membership, and owns practically no property, but makes +up in <em>esprit de corps</em> what it lacks in these other +respects. It is another phase of the question of specialization +that we have already considered. The larger and broader body has +certain advantages, the smaller and more compact, certain others. +We have, doubtless been right in deciding, or rather in accepting +what circumstances seem to have decided for us, that our own +association shall be of the larger and less closely knit type, +following the analogy of the National Educational Association and +the various associations for the advancement of science, American, +British and French, rather than that of the Society of Civil +Engineers, for instance, or the various learned academies. Our body +has thus greater general but less special influence, just as on a +question of general scientific policy a petition from the American +association might carry greater weight, whereas on a question of +engineering it would be incomparably inferior to an opinion of the +civil engineers. There is in this country, it is true, a general +scientific body of limited membership—the National Academy of +Sciences, which speaks both on general and special questions with +expert authority. In the formation of the American Library +Institute it was sought to create some such special body of +librarians, but it is too soon to say whether or not that +expectation is to be fulfilled. The fact remains that in the +American Library Association we are committed to very nearly the +broadest plan of organization and work that is possible. We are +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page53" name="page53"></a>[pg +53]</span>united only by our connection with library work or our +interest in its success, and are thus limited in our discussions +and actions as a body to the most general problems that may arise +in this connection, leaving the special work to our sections and +affiliated societies, which are themselves somewhat hampered by our +size in the treatment of the particular subjects that come before +them, inasmuch as they are not separate groups whose freedom of +action no one can call in question.</p> +<p>In illustration of the limitations of a general body of the size +and scope of our Association, I may perhaps be allowed to adduce +the recent disagreement among librarians regarding the copyright +question, or rather regarding the proper course to be followed in +connection with the conference on that question called by the +Librarian of Congress. It will be remembered that this conference +was semi-official and was due to the desire of members of Congress +to frame a bill that should be satisfactory to the large number of +conflicting interests involved. To this conference our Association +was invited to send, and did send, delegates. It is obvious that if +these and all the other delegates to the conference had simply held +out for the provisions most favorable to themselves no agreement +would have been possible and the objects of the conference would +have been defeated. Recognizing this, all the bodies and interests +represented worked from the beginning to secure an agreement, +striving only that it should be such as would represent a minimum +of concession on all sides. This view was shared by the delegates +of this Association. The law as it stood was, it is true, most +favorable to libraries in its provisions regarding importation, and +the retention of these provisions might have been facilitated +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page54" name="page54"></a>[pg +54]</span>by withdrawal from the conference and subsequent +opposition to whatever new bill might have been framed. But the +delegates assumed that they were appointed to confer, not to +withdraw, and that if the Association had desired to hold aloof +from the conference that result would have been best attained by +appointing no delegates at all. The Association’s delegates +accordingly joined with their fellows in the spirit of compromise +to agree on such a bill as might be least unacceptable to all, and +the result was a measure slightly, but only slightly, less +favorable to libraries than the existing law. With the presentation +of this bill to the proper committees of Congress, and a formal +statement that they approved it on behalf of the Association, the +duties of the delegates ended. And here begins to appear the +applicability of this chapter from library history to what has +preceded. The action of the delegates was officially that of the +Association. But it was disapproved by very many members of the +Association on the ground that it seemed likely to result in +lessening the importation privilege of libraries. Whether these +dissidents were in a majority or not it seemed impossible to say. +The Association’s legislative body, the Council, twice +refused to disapprove or instruct the delegates, thus tacitly +approving their action, but the dissidents asserted that the +Council, in this respect, did not rightly reflect the opinion of +the Association. The whole situation was an instructive +illustration of the difficulty of getting a large body of general +scope to act on a definite, circumscribed question, or even of +ascertaining its opinion or its wishes regarding such action. +Recognizing this, the dissidents properly and wisely formed a +separate association with a single end in view—the retention +of present library importation privileges, and especially the +defeat of the part of the <span class="pagenum"><a id="page55" +name="page55"></a>[pg 55]</span>bill affecting such privileges as +drafted in the conference. The efforts of this body have been +crowned with success in that the bill as reported by the committee +contains a modified provision acceptable to the dissidents. Thus a +relatively small body formed for a definite purpose has quickly +accomplished that purpose, while the objects of the larger body +have been expressed but vaguely, and so far as they have been +definitely formulated have failed of accomplishment. There is a +lesson in this both for our own association and for others.</p> +<p>It must not be assumed, however, that limitation of action along +the lines I have indicated means weakness of organization. On the +contrary, foreign observers have generally testified to the +exceptional strength and efficiency of societies and groups of all +kinds in this country. It may be interesting to quote here what a +recent French writer on the United States has to say of the part +played by associations of all kinds in our national life. And, in +passing, he who is proud of his country nowadays should read what +is said of her by French and German, and even English writers. The +muck-raking is all on this side of the water. The writer from whom +I quote, M. Paul de Rousiers, author of “La Vie +Américaine,” does not commend without discrimination, +which makes what he has to say of more value. He notes at the +outset that “the spirit of free association is widely +extended in the United States, and it produces results of +surprising efficiency.” There are two motives for +association, he thinks, the consciousness of weakness, which is +generally operative abroad, and the consciousness of strength, +which is our motive here. He says:</p> +<blockquote>The need of association comes generally from the +conscience of one's own feebleness or indolence.... When such +people join they add together their incapacities; hence the failure +of many <span class="pagenum"><a id="page56" name="page56"></a>[pg +56]</span> societies formed with great eclat. On the contrary, when +men accustomed to help themselves without depending on their +neighbors form an association, it is because they really find +themselves facing a common difficulty ... such persons add their +capacities; they form a powerful union of capables, the only one +that has force. Hence the general success of American +associations.</blockquote> +<p>The radical difference in the motives for association here and +in the old world was noted long ago by De Tocqueville, who +says:</p> +<blockquote>European societies are naturally led to introduce into +their midst military customs and formulas.... The members of such +associations respond to a word of command like soldiers in a +campaign; they profess the dogma of passive obedience, or rather, +by uniting, they sacrifice entirely, at a single stroke, their +judgment and free will.... In American associations, on the other +hand, individual independence finds its part; as in society every +man moves at the same time toward the same goal, but all are not +forced to go by the same road. No one sacrifices his will or his +reason, but applies them both toward the success of the common +enterprise.</blockquote> +<p>Commenting on this, De Rousiers goes on:</p> +<blockquote>This is not to say that the discipline necessary to the +pursuit of the common end is less exact than with us. As far as I +can judge, the members of an American association, on the contrary, +take their obligations more seriously than we, and precisely +because they have undertaken them very freely, without being forced +into them by environment or fashion, and also because the heads of +the association have not sought to make it serve their own +interests. In fine, their discipline is strong, but it is applied +only to one precise object; it may thus subsist intact and without +tyranny, despite the most serious divergences of view among the +members regarding objects foreign to its aim. These happy +conditions--this large and concrete mind, joined to the effective +activity of the Americans, have given rise to a multitude of groups +that are rendering the greatest service.</blockquote> +<p>De Rousiers enlarges on this point at great length and gives +many illustrations. He returns to it even when he appears to have +gone on to other subjects. In an account of a visit to a militia +encampment in Massachusetts, where he was inclined at the outset to +scoff at the lack of formal military training, but finally became +enthusiastic over the individual <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page57" name="page57"></a>[pg 57]</span>efficiency and interest of +the militiamen, he ends by saying:</p> +<blockquote>What I have seen here resembles what I have seen +everywhere throughout the United States; each organism, each +individual, preserves all its freedom, as far as it can; hence the +limited and special character of the public authorities, to whom +little is left to do. This doubtless detracts from the massed +effects that we are in the habit of producing; we are apt to think +that this kind of liberty is only disorder; but individual efforts +are more energetic and when they converge toward a single end, by +spontaneous choice of each will, their power is incalculable. This +it is that makes the strength of America.</blockquote> +<p>An interesting and satisfactory summary. There is, however, +another way of looking at it. A well-known scientific man recently +expressed to me his conviction that an “American” +association of any kind is destined to failure, whether it be of +scientific men, commercial travellers or plumbers. By +“American” here he meant continental in extent. There +may thus be, according to this view, a successful Maine +hotel-keeper’s association, a New York bar association, or a +Pennsylvania academy of fine arts, but no such body truly +representative of the whole United States. Many such organizations +are “American” or “National” in name only; +for instance, the “American” Academy of Sciences, which +is a Boston institution, or the “National” Academy of +Fine Arts, which belongs to New York City. Many bodies have +attempted to obviate this trouble by the creation of local sections +in different parts of the country, and the newly-formed Society of +Illuminating Engineers has, I understand, in mind the organization +of perfectly co-ordinate bodies in various parts of the country, +without any attempt to create a central body having headquarters at +a definite place. This is somewhat as if the American Library +Association should consist of the federated state associations, +perhaps with a council consisting of a single representative +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page58" name="page58"></a>[pg +58]</span>from each. It would seem to be a workable and rather +attractive plan. We may remind ourselves again that the United +States itself is the classic example of an American association, +and that it has been fairly successful by adopting this very +system. Our recognition of the necessity of local divisions in our +own association and of close affiliation with the various state +bodies is shown by the recent resolution of the council providing +for sectional meetings and by the presence at this and several +other state meetings in the present month of an official +representative of the American Library Association. That these, or +similar means of making our national body continental in something +more than name are necessary we may freely admit. Possibly it may +take some years of experimentation, ending perhaps in appropriate +constitutional revision, to hit upon the best arrangement. Too much +centralization is bad; but there must be some centralization. We +must have our capital and our legislative and administrative +machinery, as the United States has at Washington. For legislative +purposes our Washington is a shifting one. It is wherever the +Association may hold its annual meeting and wherever the Council +may convene in the interim. For such administrative and executive +purposes as require a fixed location, our Washington is for the +present in Boston. Next year it may be elsewhere; but whether it +shall remain there or move to some other place would seem to be a +matter of small importance. Wherever it may be, it will be +inaccessible to a large majority of American librarians. If +immediate accessibility is a requisite, therefore, some of its +functions may and should be divided. It may not be too much to look +forward to a sectional headquarters in every state in the Union, +related perhaps to the general <span class="pagenum"><a id="page59" +name="page59"></a>[pg 59]</span>headquarters somewhat as branch +libraries to a central library, or, perhaps, carried on under the +auspices of the state associations. At any rate, it is encouraging +to reflect that we are not insensible to the obstacles in the way +of making our own, or any other association truly American in +scope, and are experimenting toward obviating them.</p> +<p>All these considerations appear to me to lead to one +conclusion—the duty of every librarian to become and remain a +member of the American Library Association. I do not desire to +dwell on the direct advantages that membership offers—these +are not few, and they are sufficiently obvious. Possibly most of +those who are likely to be affected by them are already members of +the Association. I would recommend for consideration higher grounds +than these. Instead of asking the question, “What is there in +it for me?” I should inquire, “What is there in it for +other people?” How will it benefit the general status of +library work, the general standing of librarians in the community, +the influence of libraries on those who use or ought to use +them—these and a hundred other elements of progress that are +closely bound up with the success of library effort, but that may +not add to the welfare of any one individual.</p> +<p>There seems to be no doubt that the answers to these questions +all point toward increased membership. As we have chosen to work +along the broader lines and by the energy of mass rather than that +of velocity—with the sledge-hammer rather than the rifle +bullet—it is surely our duty to make that mass as efficient +and as impressive as possible, which means that it must be swelled +to the largest possible proportions. Large membership may be +efficient in two ways, by united weight and by pervasiveness. An +army is powerful in the first way. Ten thousand <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page60" name="page60"></a>[pg 60]</span>men +concentrated in one spot may strike a sledge-hammer blow and carry +all before them. Yet the same ten thousand men may police a great +city without even seeing one another. Scattered about on different +beats they are everywhere. Every block or two one meets a patrol +and the sense of security that they give is overwhelming. It is in +this way, it seems to me, that large membership in the American +Library Association may be effective. We meet together but once a +year, and even then we do not bring out our full force. We have no +intention of marching on Washington <em>en masse</em> to secure +legislation or even of forcing our trustees to raise salaries by a +general library strike. But if we can make it an unusual thing for +a librarian not to be a member of the American Library Association; +if wherever one goes he meets our members and recognizes what they +stand for, then, it seems to me, public opinion of librarians and +librarianship is sure to rise. Our two savages, who band together +for a few moments to lift a log, become by that act of association +marked men among their fellows; the mere fact that they have +intelligence enough to work together for any purpose raises them +above the general level. It is not alone that increasing numbers, +strength, and influence make for the glory of the Association +itself; the most successful bodies of this kind are those that +exalt, not themselves but the professions, localities or ideals +that they represent. It is because increasing our numbers and +scattering our membership throughout the land will increase the +influence of the library and strengthen the hands of those who work +in it that I believe such increase a worthy object of our effort. +Associations and societies come and go, form and disband; they are +no more immortal than the men and women that compose them. +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page61" name="page61"></a>[pg +61]</span>Yet an association, like a man, should seek to do the +work that lies before it with all its strength, and to keep that +strength at its maximum of efficiency. So doing, it may rest +content that, be its accomplishment large or small, its place in +the history of human endeavor is worthy and secure.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page63" name="page63"></a>[pg +63]</span> +<h2><a name="Essay7" id="Essay7">Modern Educational +Methods</a></h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>Those who complain that the average of general education has +been lowered are both right and wrong—right literally and +wrong in the general impression that they give. It is undoubtedly +true that among young persons with whom an educated adult comes +intellectually in contact the average of culture is lower than it +was twenty years ago. This is not, however, because the class of +persons who were well educated then are to-day less well trained, +but rather because the class has been recruited from the ignorant +classes, by the addition of persons who were not educated at all +then, or educated very slightly, and who are now receiving a +higher, though still inadequate degree of training. In other words +the average of education among all persons in the community is +higher, but the average among educated persons is lower, because +the educated class has been enlarged by the addition of large +numbers of slightly educated persons.</p> +<p>This phenomenon is common to all stages of progress in all sorts +of things. It is true, for instance, in the general advance of the +world in civilization. The average degree of appreciation of art +among persons who know anything of art at all is less, for +instance, than in the days of ancient Greece, because the class of +art-lovers throughout the world is vastly larger and includes a +very large number of persons whose appreciation of art is slight +and crude. There is, nevertheless, a greater total amount of love +for art, and a higher average of art education, taking into account +the world’s entire population, <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page64" name="page64"></a>[pg 64]</span>than there was then. Let +us state the case mathematically: If, of one thousand persons, ten +have a hundred dollars each and the rest nothing, a gift of five +dollars each to five hundred others will raise the average amount +owned by each of the thousand, but will greatly lower the average +amount held by the property owners in the group, who will now +number 510, instead of ten.</p> +<p>“How do you demonstrate all this?” will probably be +asked. I do not know of any statistical data that will enable it to +be proved directly, but it is certain that education is becoming +more general, which must increase the number of partly educated +persons having an imperfect educational background—a lack of +ancestral training and home influence. Thus, among the persons with +whom the educated adult comes in contact, he necessarily meets a +larger number of individuals than formerly who betray lack of +education in speech, writing or taste; and he wrongly concludes +that the schools are not doing their work properly. If the schools +were not doing their work properly, we should have direct +statistical evidence of it, and all the direct evidence I have seen +goes to show that the schools are accomplishing more to-day and +accomplishing it by better methods, than ever before.</p> +<p>Similarly, I believe that the totality of teaching ability in +the profession has increased. The conspicuous failures are persons +who are unfit to be teachers and who have been drafted into service +because of our sudden increase in educational plant. The result in +some cases has been a curious aberration in disciplinary +methods—a freakishness that is inseparable from any sudden +advance such as we are making.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page65" name="page65"></a>[pg +65]</span>Our schools can and will advance much further in +personnel, methods and results; but they are by no means on the +downward path now. One way in which they may do better work is by +greater appreciation of their selective as well as their training +function.</p> +<p>Suppose we have twenty bushels of raspberries and the same +quantity of potatoes to be prepared for food. Our present +educational methods are a good deal like those of a cook who should +try to make the whole into either jam or Saratoga chips, or should +divide the lot in some arbitrary way unrelated to their fitness for +one or the other operation. We are giving in our educational +institutions many degrees and many kinds of training without proper +selection of the persons to whom the training is to be applied. +Selection must be and is made, of course, but it is made on +arbitrary lines, or for reasons unrelated to fitness. One +boy’s education lasts ten years, and another’s two, not +because the former is fitted to profit by a longer period of +training, but because his father happens to have money and +inclination to give it to him. One young man studies medicine and +another goes into business, not because these are the careers for +which they are specially fitted, but because one thinks that the +prefix “Doctor” would look well in front of his name +and the other has a maternal uncle in the dry-goods trade.</p> +<p>I am not so foolish as to think that selection of this kind +could ever be made with unerring accuracy, but I do assert that an +effort should be made to effect it in a greater degree through our +regular educational institutions and to leave it less to chance. +Our present methods are like those of wild nature, which scatters +seeds broadcast in the hope that some <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page66" name="page66"></a>[pg 66]</span>may settle on favoring +soil, rather than those of the skilled cultivator, who sees that +seed and soil are fitted for each other.</p> +<p>In this and other particulars I look for great improvement in +our educational methods; but I do not think that, except in local +and unessential particulars, here and there, they are now +retrograding.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page67" name="page67"></a>[pg +67]</span> +<h2><a name="Essay8" id="Essay8">Some Economic Features of +Libraries</a><a id="footnotetag4" name="footnotetag4" href= +"#footnote4" title= +"Read at the opening of the Chestnut Hill Branch, Philadelphia Free Library, January 22, 1909."> +<sup>4</sup></a></h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>Of the three great divisions of economics—production, +distribution and consumption—the library has to do chiefly +with the second, and it is as a distributor of literature that I +desire to speak of it, although it has its share both in the +production and consumption of books—more briefly, in the +writing and reading of them. Much writing of books is done wholly +in libraries and by their aid, and much reading is done therein. +These functions I pass by with this brief notice.</p> +<p>A library distributes books. So does a bookseller. The functions +of these two distributors, however, should differ somewhat as do +those of the two producers of books—the author and the +publisher. The author creates the soul of the book and the +publisher gives it a body. The former produces the immaterial, +possibly the eternal, part and the latter merely the material part. +Likewise, in our distribution we librarians should lay stress upon +what is in the book, upon the production of the author rather than +on that of the publisher, though we may not neglect the latter. We +are, however, eminently distributors of ideas rather than of mere +merchandise, and in so far as we lay stress on the material side of +the book—important as this is—and neglect what is in +it, we are but traders in books and not librarians.</p> +<p>Among many of the great distributors of ideas—the +magazine, the newspaper, the school—it is becoming +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page68" name="page68"></a>[pg +68]</span>increasingly difficult to find any that do not feel what +I may call an anti-civic tendency. They have come to be supported +largely by other agencies than the public, and they are naturally +controlled by those agencies. As for the public, it has become +accustomed to paying less than cost for what it gets along these +lines, and is thus becoming intellectually pauperized. It is no +more possible to distribute ideas at a profit, as a commercial +venture, nowadays, than it would have been to run a circus, with an +admission fee, in Imperial Rome. Thus a literary magazine is +possible only because it is owned by some publisher who uses it as +an advertising medium. He can afford to sell it to the public for +less than cost; the public would leave a publication sold at a fair +profit severely alone, hence such a venture is impossible. A +scientific magazine in like manner must have some one to back +it—a firm of patent-office brokers or a scientific society. +The daily papers depend almost wholly on their advertisements; the +public would not buy a simple compilation of the day’s news +at a fair profit. Even our great institutions of higher education +give their students more than the latter pay for; the student is +getting part of his tuition for nothing. A college that depends +wholly on tuition fees for its support is soon left without +students. Thus all these disseminators of ideas are not dependent +on the persons to whom they distribute those ideas, for whose +interest it is that the ideas shall be good and true and selected +with discrimination. They depend rather for support on outside +bodies of various kinds and so tend to be controlled by +them—bodies whose interests do not necessarily coincide with +those of the public. This is not true of material things. Their +distributors still strive to please the public, for it is by the +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page69" name="page69"></a>[pg +69]</span>public that they are supported. If the public wants +raspberry jam, raspberry jam it gets; and if, being aroused, it +demands that this shall be made out of raspberries instead of +apples, dock-seeds and aniline, it ultimately has its way. But if +the department store were controlled by some outside agency, +benevolent or otherwise, which partly supported it and enabled it +to sell its wares below cost, then if this controlling agency +willed that we should eat dock-seeds and aniline—dock-seeds +and aniline we should doubtless eat.</p> +<p>Not that the controlling powers in all these instances are +necessarily malevolent. The publisher who owns a literary magazine +may honestly desire that it shall be fearlessly impartial. The +learned body that runs a scientific periodical may be willing to +admit to its pages a defense of a thesis that it has condemned in +one of its meetings; the page-advertiser in a great daily may be +able to see his pet policy attacked in its editorial columns +without yielding to the temptation to bring pressure to bear; the +creator of an endowed university may view with equanimity an attack +by one of its professors on the methods by which he amassed his +wealth. All these things may be; we know in fact that they have +been and that they are. But unfortunately we all know of cases +where the effect of outside control has been quite the contrary. +The government of a benevolent despot, we are told, would be ideal; +but alas! rules for making a despot benevolent and for ensuring +that he and his successors shall remain so, are not yet formulated. +We have fallen back on the plan of fighting off the +despot—good though he may possibly be; would that we could +also abolish the non-civic control of the disseminators of +ideas!</p> +<p>Are there, then, no disseminators of ideas free <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page70" name="page70"></a>[pg 70]</span>from +interference? Yes, thank heaven, there are at least two—the +public school and the public library. Of these, the value of +academic freedom to the public school is slight, because the +training of the very young is of its nature subject little to the +influences of which we have spoken. There is little opportunity, +during a grammar school or high school course, to influence the +mind in favor of particular government policies and particular +theories in science or literature or art. This opportunity comes +later. And it is later that the public library does its best work. +Supported by the public it has no impulse and no desire to please +anyone else. No suspicion of outside control hangs over it. It +receives gifts; but they are gifts to the public, held by the +public, not by outsiders. It is tax-supported, and the public pays +cost price for what it gets—no more and no less. The +community has the power of abolishing the whole system in the +twinkling of an eye. The library’s power in an American +municipality lies in the affections of those who use and profit by +it. It holds its position by love. No publisher may say to it: +“Buy my books, not those of my rival”; no scientist may +forbid it to give his opponent a hearing; no religious body may +dictate to it; no commercial influence may throw a blight over it. +It is untrammeled.</p> +<p>How long is it to remain thus? That is for its owners, the +public, to say. I confess that I feel uneasy when I realize how +little the influence of the public library is understood by those +who might try to wield that influence, either for good or for evil. +Occasionally an individual tries to use it sporadically—the +poet who tries to secure undying fame by distributing free copies +of his verses to the libraries, the manufacturer who gives us an +advertisement of <span class="pagenum"><a id="page71" name= +"page71"></a>[pg 71]</span>his product in the guise of a book, the +enthusiast who runs over our shelf list to see whether the library +is well stocked with works on his fad—socialism or +Swedenborgianism, or the “new thought.” But, so far, +there has been no concerted, systematic effort on the part of +classes or bodies of men to capture the public library, to dictate +its policy, to utilize its great opportunities for influencing the +public mind. When this ever comes, as it may, we must look out!</p> +<p>So far as my observation goes, the situation—even the +faintest glimmering of it—is far from dawning on most of +these bodies. Most individuals, when the policy of the library +suits them not, exhaust their efforts in an angry kick or an +epistolary curse; they never even think of trying to change that +policy, even by argument. Most of them would rather write a letter +to a newspaper, complaining of a book’s absence, than to ask +the librarian to buy it. Organizations—civil, religious, +scientific, political, artistic—have usually let us severely +alone, where their influence, if they should come into touch with +the library, would surely be for good—would be exerted along +the line of morality, of more careful book selection, of judicial +mindedness instead of one-sidedness.</p> +<p>Let us trust that influences along this line—if we are to +have influences at all—may gain a foothold before the +opposite forces—those of sordid commercialism, of +absurdities, of falsities, of all kinds of self-seeking—find +out that we are worth their exploitation.</p> +<p>When it comes, as I expect it will some day—this general +realization of what only a few now understand—that the public +library is worth trying to influence and to exploit, our trouble +will be that we <span class="pagenum"><a id="page72" name= +"page72"></a>[pg 72]</span>shall be without any machinery at all to +receive it, to take care of it, to direct the good into proper +channels and to withstand the evil. We are occasionally annoyed and +disconcerted now by the infinitesimal amount of it that we see; we +wish people would mind their own business; we detest meddlers; we +should be able to do more work if it were not for the +bores—and so on. But what—what in heaven’s name +shall we do with the deluge when it comes? With what dam shall we +withstand it; through what sluices shall we lead it; into what +useful turbines shall we direct it? These things are worth +pondering.</p> +<p>For the present then, this independence of the library as a +distributor may be regarded as one of its chief economic +advantages. Another is its power as a leveler, and hence as an +adjunct of democracy. Democracy is a result, not a cause, of +equality. It is natural in a community whose members resemble each +other in ability, modes of thought and mental development, just as +it is unthinkable where great natural differences, racial or +otherwise, exist. If we wish to preserve democracy, therefore, we +must first maintain our community on something like a level. And we +must level it up, not down; for although a form of democracy may +exist temporarily among individuals equally ignorant or degraded, +the advent of a single person more advanced in the scale of +ability, quickly transforms it into absolutism. Similar +inequalities may result in an aristocratic régime. The +reason why England, with its ancient aristocracy, on the whole, is +so democratic, is that its commoners are constantly recruited by +the younger sons of its nobility, so that the whole body politic is +continually stirred and kept more homogeneous than on the +continent, where all of a noble’s sons and daughters are +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page73" name="page73"></a>[pg +73]</span>themselves noble. This stirring or levelling process may +be effected in many ways and along many lines, but in no way better +than by popular education, as we have well understood in this +country. This is why our educational system is a bulwark of our +form of government, and this is why the public library—the +only continuous feature of that system, exercising its influence +from earliest childhood to most advanced age—is worth to the +community whatever it may cost in its most improved form. There are +enough influences at work to segregate classes in our country, and +they come to us ready-made from other countries; we may be thankful +that the public library is helping to make Americans of our +immigrants and to make uniformly cultivated and well-informed +Americans of us all.</p> +<p>Another interesting light on the functions of the printed page, +and hence of the library, is shown by the recent biological theory +that connects the phenomena of heredity with those of habit and +memory. The inheritance of ancestral characteristics, according to +this view, may be described as racial memory. To illustrate, we may +take an interesting study of a family of Danish athletes, recently +made and published in France. The members of this family, adults +and children, men and women, have all been gymnasts for over three +hundred years—no one of them would think of adopting any +other means of gaining a livelihood. It seems certain to the +scientific men who have been conducting the investigation, that not +only the physical ability to become an acrobat, but also the mental +qualities that contribute so much to success in this +occupation—pride in the acrobatic pre-eminence of the family, +courage, love of applause, and so on—have been handed down +from one generation to another, and that it has cost each +generation <span class="pagenum"><a id="page74" name= +"page74"></a>[pg 74]</span>less time and effort to acquire its +skill than its predecessor. In other words, we are told, members of +this family are born with certain predispositions—latent +ancestral memories, we may say, of the occupations of previous +generations. To make these effective, it is necessary only to +awaken them, and this may be done simply by the sight of other +persons performing gymnastic feats. These they learn in weeks, +where others, without such ancestral memories, would require months +or years.</p> +<p>Evidently this may be applied much more widely than to mere +physical skill. Few of us can boast of gymnastic ancestry, but all +of us have inherited predispositions and have ancestral memories +that make it easier for us to learn certain things and to choose +certain courses than we should find it without them. Some of these +are good; some bad. Some are useful; some injurious. It is +necessary only to awaken them to set going a train of consequences; +if not awakened, they may remain permanently dormant. How +important, therefore, are the suggestions that may serve as such +awakeners; how necessary to bring forward the useful, and to banish +the injurious ones!</p> +<p>Now of all possible agencies that may bring these +predispositions into play—that may awaken our ancestral +memories, if you choose to adopt this theory—I submit that +the book stands at the very head. For it is itself a racial record; +it may contain, in the form best suited to awaken our +predispositions, the very material which, long ages ago, was +instrumental in handing those predispositions down to us. It is in +tune with our latent memories, and it may set them vibrating more +vigorously than any merely contemporary agency.</p> +<p>Does this not place in a new and interesting light the library +and the books of which it is composed? <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page75" name="page75"></a>[pg 75]</span>We have learned to respect +them as the records of the race and to recognize their value as +teachers and their power as energizers; in addition we now see that +they may act as fingers on invisible mental triggers. A slight +impulse—altogether trivial compared with its effect—and +off goes the gun. The discharge may carry a line to a wrecked ship, +or it may sink her with all on board.</p> +<p>We frequently hear it said of some book whose tendency is bad: +“Well, it can’t hurt me, anyway; I’m +immune.” Are you quite sure? Have you gone quite to the +bottom of those ancestral memories of yours, and are you certain +that there are none that such a book may rouse, to your harm?</p> +<p>On the other hand, does this not explain much that has always +interested the librarian; for instance, the vast popularity of +fairy tales, especially those that date back to our racial infancy? +I need dwell no further on the economic importance of the book as +viewed from this standpoint.</p> +<p>But it has also a function almost diametrically opposed to that +which we have just considered; besides harking back to what is +oldest it looks forward to what is newest. It may stir us by +awakening dim racial recollections; but it may also thrill us by +adding to the store of what is already in the mind. In fact, we +like to assimilate new ideas, to think new thoughts, to do new +acts; we like to read or hear something that we could not have +produced ourselves. When we are young and ignorant, therefore, we +like music or art or literature that appears trivial to us as we +grow older and have developed our own creative powers. A poem that +is no better than one a man might dash off himself he likes no +longer; he prefers to be confronted with something that is above +and beyond his own powers, though not above his <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page76" name="page76"></a>[pg +76]</span>comprehension. Thus, as he grows, his zone of enjoyment +shifts upward, and the library covers the whole moving field. When +Solomon John Peterkin, pen in hand, sat down to write a book, he +discovered that he hadn’t anything to say. Happy lad! He had +before him all literature as a field of enjoyment, for all, +apparently, was beyond his creative efforts.</p> +<p>Do those of you who are musicians remember when you first +apprehended the relations between the tonic and the dominant +chords? I have heard a small boy at a piano play these alternately +for hours. Such a performance is torture to you and me; it is the +sweetest harmony to him, because it is new and has just come into +his sphere of creative power. When he is thoroughly satisfied that +he can produce the effect at will, he abandons it for something +newer and a little higher. The boy who discovers, without being +told, that the dominant chord, followed by the tonic, produces a +certain musical effect, is doing something that for him is on a par +with Wagner’s searching the piano for those marvellous +effects of his that are often beyond technical explanation.</p> +<p>The child who reads what you think is a trivial book, re-reads +it, and reads others like it, is doing this same thing in the +domain of literature—he is following the natural course that +will bring him out at the top after a while.</p> +<p>When we distribute books, then, we distribute ideas, not only +actual, but potential. A book has in it not only the ideas that lie +on its surface, but millions of others that are tied to these by +invisible chords, of which we have touched on but a few—the +invisible ancestral memories of centuries ago, the foretastes of +future thoughts in our older selves and our posterity of centuries +hence. When we think of it, it is hard to realize that a book has +not a soul.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page77" name="page77"></a>[pg +77]</span>Gerald Stanley Lee, in his latest book, a collection of +essays on millionaires, sneers at the efforts of the rich mill +owners to improve their employees by means of libraries. Life in a +modern mill, he thinks, is so mechanical as to dull all the higher +faculties. “Andrew Carnegie,” he says (and he +apparently uses the name merely as that of a type), “has been +taking men’s souls away and giving them paper +books.”</p> +<p>Now the mills may be soul-deadening—possibly they are, +though it is hard to benumb a soul—but I will venture to say +that for every soul that Mr. Carnegie, or anyone else, has taken +away, he has created, awakened and stimulated a thousand by contact +with that almost soul—that near-soul—that resides in +books. Mr. Lee’s books may be merely paper; mine have paper +and ink only for their outer garb; their inner warp and woof is of +the texture of spirit.</p> +<p>This is why I rejoice when a new library is opened. I thank God +for its generous donor. I clasp hands with the far-reaching +municipality that accepts and supports it. I wish good luck to the +librarians who are to care for it and give it dynamic force; I +congratulate the public whose privilege it is to use it and to +profit by it.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page79" name="page79"></a>[pg +79]</span> +<h2><a name="Essay9" id="Essay9">Simon Newcomb: America’s +Foremost Astronomer</a></h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>Among those in all parts of the world whose good opinion is +worth having, Simon Newcomb was one of the best known of +America’s great men. Astronomer, mathematician, economist, +novelist, he had well-nigh boxed the compass of human knowledge, +attaining eminence such as is given to few to reach, at more than +one of its points. His fame was of the far-reaching +kind,—penetrating to remote regions, while that of some +others has only created a noisy disturbance within a narrow +radius.</p> +<p>Best and most widely known as an astronomer, his achievements in +that science were not suited for sensational exploitation. He +discovered no apple-orchards on the moon, neither did he dispute +regarding the railways on the planet Venus. His aim was to make +still more exact our knowledge of the motions of the bodies +constituting what we call the solar system, and his labors toward +this end, begun more than thirty years ago, he continued almost +until the day of his death. Conscious that his span of life was +measured by months and in the grip of what he knew to be a fatal +disease, he yet exerted himself with all his remaining energy to +complete his monumental work on the motion of the moon, and +succeeded in bringing it to an end before the final summons came. +His last days thus had in them a cast of the heroic, not less than +if, as the commander of a torpedoed battleship, he had gone down +with her, or than if he had fallen charging at the head of a +forlorn hope. It is pleasant to think that such a man <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page80" name="page80"></a>[pg 80]</span>was laid +to rest with military honors. The accident that he was a retired +professor in the United States Navy may have been the immediate +cause of this, but its appropriateness lies deeper.</p> +<p>Newcomb saw the light not under the Stars and Stripes, but in +Nova Scotia, where he was born, at the town of Wallace on March 12, +1835. His father, a teacher, was of American descent, his ancestors +having settled in Canada in 1761. After studying with his father +and teaching for some little time in his native province he came to +the United States while yet a boy of eighteen, and while teaching +in Maryland in 1854-‘56 was so fortunate as to attract, by +his mathematical ability, the attention of two eminent American +scientific men, Joseph Henry and Julius Hilgard, who secured him an +appointment as computer on the Nautical Almanac. The date of this +was 1857, and Newcomb had thus, at his death, been in Government +employ for fifty-two years. As the work of the almanac was then +carried on in Cambridge, Mass., he was enabled to enter the +Lawrence Scientific School of Harvard University, where he +graduated in 1858 and where he pursued graduate studies for three +years longer. On their completion in 1861 he was appointed a +professor of mathematics in the United States Navy, which office he +held till his death. This appointment, made when he was twenty-six +years old,—scarcely more than a boy,—is a striking +testimony to his remarkable ability as a mathematician, for of +practical astronomy he still knew little.</p> +<p>One of his first duties at Washington was to supervise the +construction of the great 26-inch equatorial just authorized by +Congress and to plan for mounting and housing it. In 1877 he became +senior professor of mathematics in the navy, and from that +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page81" name="page81"></a>[pg +81]</span>time until his retirement as a Rear Admiral in 1897 he +had charge of the Nautical Almanac office, with its large corps of +naval and civilian assistants, in Washington and elsewhere. In 1884 +he also assumed the chair of mathematics and astronomy in Johns +Hopkins University, Baltimore, and he had much to to do, in an +advisory capacity, with the equipment of the Lick Observatory and +with testing and mounting its great telescope, at that time the +largest in the world.</p> +<p>To enumerate his degrees, scientific honors, and medals would +tire the reader. Among them were the degree of LL.D. from all the +foremost universities, the gold medal of the Royal Astronomical +Society of London in 1874, the great gold Huygens medal of the +University of Leyden, awarded only once in twenty years, in 1878, +and the Schubert gold medal of the Imperial Academy of St. +Petersburg. The collection of portraits of famous astronomers at +the Observatory of Pulkowa contains his picture, painted by order +of the Russian Government in 1887. He was, of course, a member of +many scientific societies, at home and abroad, and was elected in +1869 to our own National Academy of Sciences, becoming its +vice-president in 1883. In 1893 he was chosen one of the eight +foreign associates of the Institute of France,—the first +native American since Benjamin Franklin to be so chosen. +Newcomb’s most famous work as an astronomer,—that which +gained him world-wide fame among his brother +astronomers,—was, as has been said, too mathematical and +technical to appeal to the general public among his countrymen, who +have had to take his greatness, in this regard, on trust. They have +known him at first hand chiefly as author or editor of popular +works such as his “Popular Astronomy” (1877); of his +text-books <span class="pagenum"><a id="page82" name= +"page82"></a>[pg 82]</span>on astronomy, algebra, geometry, +trigonometry, and calculus; of his books on political economy, +which science he was accustomed to call his +“recreation”; and of magazine articles on all sorts of +subjects not omitting “psychical research,” which was +one of the numerous by-paths into which he strayed. He held at one +time the presidency of the American Society for Psychical +Research.</p> +<p>The technical nature of his work in mathematical +astronomy,—his “profession,” as he called it, in +distinction to his “recreations” and minor scientific +amusements,—may be seen from the titles of one or two of his +papers: “On the Secular Variations and Mutual Relations of +the Orbits of the Asteroids” (1860); “Investigation of +the Orbit of Neptune, with General Tables of Its Motion” +(1867); “Researches on the Motion of the Moon” (1876); +and so on. Of this work Professor Newcomb himself says, in his +“Reminiscences of an Astronomer” (Boston, 1903), that +it all tended toward one result,—the solution of what he +calls “the great problem of exact astronomy,” the +theoretical explanation of the observed motions of the heavenly +bodies.</p> +<p>If the universe consisted of but two bodies,—say, the sun +and a planet,—the motion would be simplicity itself; the +planet would describe an exact ellipse about the sun, and this +orbit would never change in form, size, or position. With the +addition of only one more body, the problem at once becomes so much +more difficult as to be practically insoluble; indeed, the +“problem of the three bodies” has been attacked by +astronomers for years without the discovery of any general formula +to express the resulting motions. For the actually existing system +of many planets with their satellites and countless asteroids, only +an approximation is possible. The actual motions <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page83" name="page83"></a>[pg 83]</span>as +observed and measured from year to year are most complex. Can these +be completely accounted for by the mutual attractions of the +bodies, according to the law of gravitation as enunciated by Sir +Isaac Newton? In Newcomb’s words, “Does any world move +otherwise than as it is attracted by other worlds?” Of +course, Newcomb has not been the only astronomer at work on this +problem, but it has been his life-work and his contributions to its +solution have been very noteworthy.</p> +<p>It is difficult to make the ordinary reader understand the +obstacles in the way of such a determination as this. Its two +elements are, of course, the mapping out of the lines in which the +bodies concerned actually do move and the calculations of the +orbits in which they ought to move, if the accepted laws of +planetary motion are true. The first involves the study of +thousands of observations made during long years by different men +in far distant lands, the discussion of their probable errors, and +their reduction to a common standard. The latter requires the use +of the most refined methods of mathematical analysis; it is, as +Newcomb says, “of a complexity beyond the powers of ordinary +conception.” In works on celestial mechanics a single formula +may fill a whole chapter.</p> +<p>This problem first attracted Newcomb’s attention when a +young man at Cambridge, when by analysis of the motions of the +asteroids he showed that the orbits of these minor planets had not, +for several hundred thousand years past, intersected at a single +point, and that they could not, therefore, have resulted, during +that period, from the explosion of a single large body, as had been +supposed.</p> +<p>Later, when Newcomb’s investigations along this line had +extended to the major planets and their <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page84" name="page84"></a>[pg +84]</span>satellites, a curious anomaly in the moon’s motion +made it necessary for him to look for possible observations made +long before those hitherto recorded. The accepted tables were based +on observations extending back as far as 1750, but Newcomb, by +searching the archives of European observatories, succeeded in +discovering data taken as early as 1660, not, of course, with such +an investigation as this in view, but chiefly out of pure +scientific curiosity. The reduction of such observations, +especially as the old French astronomers used apparent time, which +was frequently in error by quarter of an hour or so, was a matter +of great difficulty. The ancient observer, having no idea of the +use that was to be made of his work, had supplied no facilities for +interpreting it, and “much comparison and examination was +necessary to find out what sort of an instrument was used, how the +observations were made, and how they should be utilized for the +required purpose.” The result was a vastly more accurate +lunar theory than had formerly been obtained.</p> +<p>During the period when Newcomb was working among the old papers +of the Paris Observatory, the city, then in possession of the +Communists, was beset by the national forces, and his studies were +made within hearing of the heavy siege guns, whose flash he could +even see by glancing through his window.</p> +<p>Newcomb’s appointment as head of the Nautical Almanac +office greatly facilitated his work on the various phases of this +problem of planetary motions. Their solution was here a legitimate +part of the routine work of the office, and he had the aid of able +assistants,—such men as G.W. Hill, who worked out a large +part of the theory of Jupiter and Saturn, and Cleveland Keith, who +died in 1896, just as the final results of his work were being +combined. In <span class="pagenum"><a id="page85" name= +"page85"></a>[pg 85]</span>connection with this work Professor +Newcomb strongly advocated the unification of the world’s +time by the adoption of an international meridian, and also +international agreement upon a uniform system of data for all +computations relating to the fixed stars. The former still hangs +fire, owing to mistaken “patriotism”; the latter was +adopted at an international conference held in Paris in 1896, but +after it had been carried into effect in our own Nautical Almanac, +professional jealousies brought about a modification of the plan +that relegated the improved and modernized data to an appendix.</p> +<p>Professor Newcomb’s retirement from active service made +the continuance of his great work on an adequate scale somewhat +problematical, and his data on the moon’s motion were laid +aside for a time until a grant from the newly organized Carnegie +Institution in 1903 enabled him to employ the necessary assistance, +and the work has since gone forward to completion.</p> +<p>What is the value of such work, and why should fame be the +reward of him who pursues it successfully? Professor Newcomb +himself raises this question in his “Reminiscences,” +and without attempting to answer it directly he notes that every +civilized nation supports an observatory at great annual expense to +carry on such research, besides which many others are supported by +private or corporate contributions. Evidently the consensus of +public opinion must be that the results are worth at least a part +of what they cost. The question is included in the broader one of +the value of all research in pure science. Speaking generally, the +object of this is solely to add to the sum of human knowledge, +although not seldom some application to man’s physical needs +springs unexpectedly from the resulting discoveries, <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page86" name="page86"></a>[pg 86]</span>as in the +case of the dynamo or that of wireless telegraphy. Possibly a more +accurate description of the moon’s motion is unlikely to +bring forth any such application, but those who applaud the +achievements of our experts in mathematical astronomy would be +quick to deny that their fame rests on any such possibility.</p> +<p>Passing now to Professor Newcomb’s +“recreation,” as he called, it,—political +economy, we may note that his contributions to it were really +voluminous, consisting of papers, popular articles and several +books, including “The A B C of Finance” (1877) and +“Principles of Political Economy” (1886). Authorities +in the science never really took these as seriously as they +deserved, possibly because they regarded Professor Newcomb as +scarcely orthodox. Some of his distinctions, however, are of +undoubted value and will live; for instance, that between the fund +and the flux of wealth, on which he insists in his treatises on +finance. As to Professor Newcomb’s single excursion into +fiction, a romance entitled “His Wisdom the Defender,” +it is perhaps sufficient to say that, like everything he attempted, +it is at least worth notice. It is a sort of cross between Jules +Verne and Bulwer Lytton’s “Coming Race.”</p> +<p>Professor Newcomb’s mind was comprehensive in its +activity. One might have thought that an intellect occupied to the +last in carrying out one of the most stupendous tasks ever +attempted by a mathematical astronomer would have had little time +or little energy left for other things; but Newcomb took his rest +and pleasure in popular articles and interviews. Only a short time +before his death he published an essay on aeronautics that +attracted wide attention, drawing the conclusions that the +aeroplane can never be of much use either as a passenger-carrier or +in war, but that the dirigible balloon may <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page87" name="page87"></a>[pg 87]</span>accomplish +something within certain lines, although it will never put the +railways and steamships out of business. In particular, he treated +with unsparing ridicule the panic fear of an aerial invasion that +so lately seized upon our transatlantic cousins.</p> +<p>Personally, Newcomb was an agreeable companion and a faithful +friend. His success was due largely to his tenacity of purpose. The +writer’s only personal contact with him came through the +“Standard Dictionary,”—of whose definitions in +physical science Newcomb had general oversight. On one occasion he +came into the office greatly dissatisfied with the definition that +we had framed for the word “magnet.”—a conception +almost impossible to define in any logical way. We had simply +enumerated the properties of the thing,—a course which in the +absence of authoritative knowledge of their causes was the only +rational procedure. But Newcomb’s mind demanded a logical +treatment, and though he must have seen from the outset that this +was a forlorn hope, his tenacity of purpose kept him, pencil in +hand, writing and erasing alternately for an hour or more. Finally +he confessed that he could do no better than the following pair of +definitions,—”<em>Magnet</em>, a body capable of +exerting magnetic force,” and “<em>Magnetic Force</em>, +the force exerted by a magnet.” With a hearty laugh at this +beautiful <em>circulus in definiendo</em> he threw down his pencil, +and the imperfect and illogical office definition was accepted.</p> +<p>Logical as he was, however, he was in no sense bound by +convention. His economics, as has been said, was often unorthodox, +and even in his mathematical text-books he occasionally shocked the +hide-bound. I well remember an interesting discussion among members +of the Yale mathematical faculty just after the appearance of +Newcomb’s text-book of geometry, in which he was unsparingly +condemned <span class="pagenum"><a id="page88" name= +"page88"></a>[pg 88]</span>by some because he assumed in certain +elementary demonstrations that geometrical figures could be removed +from the paper, turned over and laid down again,—the +so-called “method of superposition,” now generally +regarded as quite allowable. Of course, a figure can be treated in +this way only in imagination and for this season, probably, the +method was not employed by Euclid. Its use, however, leads always +to true results, as anyone may see; and it was quite characteristic +of Professor Newcomb that he should have taken it up, not having +the fear of the Greek geometers before him.</p> +<p>Such was Newcomb; it will be long before American science sees +his equal. Mathematical genius is like an automobile,—it is +looked upon in two opposing fashions as one has it or has it not. A +noted educator not long ago announced his belief that the +possession of a taste for mathematics is an exact index of the +general intellectual powers. Not much later, another eminent +teacher asserted that mathematical ability is an exotic,—that +one may, and often does, possess it who is in other respects +practically an imbecile. This is scarcely a subject in which a +single illustration decides, but surely Newcomb’s career +justifies the former opinion rather than the latter; the amount and +kind of his mental abilities along all lines seemed to run parallel +to his mathematical genius, to resemble it in quantity and in +kind.</p> +<p>The great volumes of astronomical tables without which no +astronomer may now venture upon a computation are his best +monument; yet the general reader will longer remember, perhaps, the +lucid expositor, the genial essayist, the writer of one of the most +readable autobiographies of our day.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page89" name="page89"></a>[pg +89]</span> +<h2><a name="Essay10" id="Essay10">The Companionship of +Books</a><a id="footnotetag5" name="footnotetag5" href="#footnote5" +title= +"Read before the Pacific Northwest Library Association, June, 1910."> +<sup>5</sup></a></h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>Are books fitted to be our companions? That depends. You and I +read them with pleasure; others do not care for them; to some the +reading of any book at all is as impossible as the perusal of a +volume in Old Slavonic would be to most of us. These people simply +do not read at all. To a suggestion that he supplement his usual +vacation sports by reading a novel, a New York police +captain—a man with a common school education—replied, +“Well, I’ve never read a book yet, and I don’t +think I’ll begin now.” Here was a man who had never +read a book, who had no use for books, and who could get along +perfectly well without them. He is not a unique type. Hundreds of +thousands of our fellow citizens might as well be quite illiterate, +so far as the use that they make of their ability to read is +concerned. These persons are not all uneducated; they possess and +are still acquiring much knowledge, but since leaving school they +have acquired it chiefly by personal experience and by word of +mouth. Is it possible that they are right? May it be that to read +books is unnecessary and superfluous?</p> +<p>There has been some effort of late to depreciate the +book—to insist on its inadequacy and on the impracticality of +the knowledge that it conveys. “Book-learning” has +always been derided more or less by so-called “practical +men”. A recent series of comic pictures in the newspapers +makes this clear. It is about “Book-taught Bilkins”. +Bilkins tries to do <span class="pagenum"><a id="page90" name= +"page90"></a>[pg 90]</span>everything by a book. He raises +vegetables, builds furniture, runs a chicken farm, all by the +directions contained in books, and meets with ignominious failure. +He makes himself, in fact, very ridiculous in every instance and +thousands of readers laugh at him and his absurd books. They +inwardly resolve, doubtless, that they will be practical and will +pay no attention to books. Are they right? Is the information +contained in books always useless and absurd, while that obtained +by experience or by talking to one’s neighbor is always +correct and valuable?</p> +<p>Many of our foremost educators are displeased with the book. +They are throwing it aside for the lecture, for laboratory work, +for personal research and experiment. Does this mean that the book, +as a tool of the teacher, will have to go?</p> +<p>What it all certainly does mean is that we ought to pause a +minute and think about the book, about what it does and what it can +not do. This means that we ought to consider a little the whole +subject of written as distinguished from spoken language. Why +should we have two languages—as we practically do—one +to be interpreted by the ear and the other by the eye? Could we or +should we abandon either? What are the advantages and what the +limitations of each? We are so accustomed to looking upon the +printed page, to reading newspapers, books, and advertisements, to +sending and receiving letters, written or typewritten, that we are +apt to forget that all this is not part of the natural order, +except in the sense that all inventions and creations of the human +brain are natural. Written language is a conscious invention of +man; spoken language is a development, shaped by his needs and +controlled by his sense of what is fitting, but not at the outset +consciously devised.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page91" name="page91"></a>[pg +91]</span>We are apt to think of written language as simply a means +of representing spoken language to the eye; but it is more than +this; originally, at least in many cases, it was not this at all. +The written signs represented not sounds, but ideas themselves; if +they were intended to correspond directly with anything, it was +with the rude gestures that signified ideas and had nothing to do +with their vocal expression. It was not until later that these +written symbols came to correspond to vocal sounds and even to-day +they do so imperfectly; languages that are largely phonetic are the +exception. The result is, as I have said, that we have two +languages—a spoken and a written. What we call reading aloud +is translation from the written to the spoken tongue; while writing +from dictation is translation from the spoken to the written. When +we read, as we say, “to ourselves,” we sometimes, if we +are not skilful, pronounce the spoken words under our breath, or at +least form them with our vocal organs. You all remember the story +of how the Irishman who could not read made his friend stop up his +ears while reading a letter aloud, so that he might not hear it. +This anecdote, like all good comic stories, has something in it to +think about. The skilful reader does not even imagine the spoken +words as he goes. He forgets, for the moment, the spoken tongue and +translates the written words and phrases directly into the ideas +for which they stand. A skilful reader thus takes in the meaning of +a phrase, a sentence, even of a paragraph, at a glance. Likewise +the writer who sets his own thoughts down on paper need not voice +them, even in imagination; he may also forget all about the spoken +tongue and spread his ideas on the page at first hand. This is not +so common because one writes slower than he speaks, whereas he +reads <span class="pagenum"><a id="page92" name="page92"></a>[pg +92]</span>very much faster. The swift reader could not imagine that +he was speaking the words, even if he would; the pace is too +incredibly fast.</p> +<p>Our written tongue, then, has come to be something of a language +by itself. In some countries it has grown so out of touch with the +spoken tongue that the two have little to do with each other. Where +only the learned know how to read and write, the written language +takes on a learned tinge; the popular spoken tongue has nothing to +keep it steady and changes rapidly and unsystematically. Where +nearly all who speak the language also read and write it, as in our +own country, the written tongue, even in its highest literary +forms, is apt to be much more familiar and colloquial, but at the +same time the written and the spoken tongue keep closer together. +Still, they never accurately correspond. When a man “talks +like a book,” or in other words, uses such language that it +could be printed word for word and appear in good literary form, we +recognize that he is not talking ordinary colloquial +English—not using the normal spoken language. On the other +hand, when the speech of a southern negro or a down-east Yankee is +set down in print, as it so often is in the modern “dialect +story,” we recognize at once that although for the occasion +this is written language, it is not normal literary English. It is +most desirable that the two forms of speech shall closely +correspond, for then the written speech gets life from the spoken +and the spoken has the written for its governor and controller; but +it is also desirable that each should retain more or less +individuality, and fortunately it is almost impossible that they +should not do so.</p> +<p>We must not forget, therefore, that our written speech is not +merely a way of setting down our <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page93" name="page93"></a>[pg 93]</span>spoken speech in print. +This is exactly what our friends the spelling reformers appear to +have forgotten. The name that they have given to what they propose +to do, indicates this clearly. When a word as written and as spoken +have drifted apart, it is usually the spoken word that has changed. +Reform, therefore, would be accomplished by restoring the old +spoken form. Instead of this, it is proposed to change the written +form. In other words, the two languages are to be forced together +by altering that one of them that is by its essence the most +immutable. Where the written word has been corrupted as in spelling +“guild” for “gild,” the adoption of the +simpler spelling is a reform; otherwise, not.</p> +<p>Now is the possession of two languages, a spoken and a written, +an advantage or not? With regard to the spoken tongue, the question +answers itself. If we were all deaf and dumb, we could still live +and carry on business, but we should be badly handicapped. On the +other hand, if we could neither read nor write, we should simply be +in the position of our remote forefathers or even of many in our +own day and our own land. What then is the reasons for a separate +written language, beyond the variety thereby secured, by the use of +two senses, hearing and sight, instead of only one?</p> +<p>Evidently the chief reason is that written speech is eminently +fitted for preservation. Without the transmittal of ideas from one +generation to another, intellectual progress is impossible. Such +transmittal, before the invention of writing, was effected solely +by memory. The father spoke to the son, and he, remembering what +was said, told it, in turn, to the grandson. This is tradition, +sometimes marvellously accurate, but often untrustworthy. And as it +is without check, there is no way of telling whether a <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page94" name="page94"></a>[pg 94]</span>given +fact, so transmitted, is or is not handed down faithfully. Now we +have the phonograph for preserving and accurately reproducing +spoken language. If this had been invented before the introduction +of written language, we might never have had the latter; as it is, +the device comes on the field too late to be a competitor with the +book in more than a very limited field. For preserving particular +voices, such as those of great men, or for recording intonation and +pronunciation, it fills a want that writing and printing could +never supply.</p> +<p>For the long preservation of ideas and their conveyance to a +human mind, written speech is now the indispensable vehicle. And, +as has been said, this is how man makes progress. We learn in two +ways: by undergoing and reflecting on our own experiences and by +reading and reflecting on those of others. Neither of these ways is +sufficient in itself. A child bound hand and foot and confined in a +dark room would not be a fit subject for instruction, but neither +would he reach a high level if placed on a desert island far from +his kind and forced to rely solely on his own experiences. The +experiences of our forebears, read in the light of our own; the +experiences of our forebears, used as a starting-point from which +we may move forward to fresh fields—these we must know and +appreciate if we are to make progress. This means the book and its +use.</p> +<p>Books may be used in three ways—for information, for +recreation, for inspiration. There are some who feel inclined to +rely implicitly on the information that is to be found in +books—to believe that a book can not lie. This is an +unfortunate state of mind. The word of an author set down in print +is worth no more than when he gives it to us in spoken +language—no more and no less. There was, to be <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page95" name="page95"></a>[pg 95]</span>sure, a +time when the printed word implied at least care and +thoughtfulness. It is still true that the book implies somewhat +more of this than the newspaper, but the difference between the two +is becoming unfortunately less. Now a wrong record, if it purports +to be a record of facts, is worse than none at all. The man who +desires to know the distance between two towns in Texas and is +unable to find it in any book of reference may obtain it at the +cost of some time and trouble; but if he finds it wrongly recorded, +he accepts the result and goes away believing a lie. If we are to +use books for information, therefore, it is of the utmost +consequence that we know whether the information is correct or not. +A general critical evaluation of all literature, even on this score +alone, without going into the question of literary merit, is +probably beyond the possibilities, although it has been seriously +proposed. Some partial lists we have, and a few lists of those +lists, so that we may know where to get at them. There are many +books about books, especially in certain departments of history, +technology, or art, but no one place to which a man may go, before +he begins to read his book, to find out whether he may believe what +he reads in it. This is a serious lack, especially as there is more +than one point of view. Books that are of high excellence as +literature may not be at all accurate. How shall the boy who hears +enthusiastic praise of Prescott’s histories and who is +spellbound when he reads them know that the results of recent +investigation prove that those histories give a totally incorrect +idea of Mexico and Peru? How is the future reader of Dr. +Cook’s interesting account of the ascent of Mount McKinley to +know that it has been discredited? And how is he to know whether +other interesting and well-written histories and books of +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page96" name="page96"></a>[pg +96]</span>travel have not been similarly proved inaccurate? At +present, there is no way except to go to one who knows the +literature of the subject, or to read as many other books on the +subject as can be obtained, weighing one against the other and +coming to one’s own conclusions. Possibly the public library +may be able to help. Mr. Charles F. Lummis of the Los Angeles +library advocates labelling books with what he calls “Poison +Labels” to warn the reader when they are inaccurate or +untrustworthy. Most librarians have hesitated a little to take so +radical a step as this, not so much from unwillingness to assume +the duty of warning the public, as from a feeling that they were +not competent to undertake the critical evaluation of the whole of +the literature of special subjects. The librarian may know that +this or that book is out of date or not to be depended on, but +there are others about which he is not certain or regarding which +he must rely on what others tell him. And he knows that expert +testimony is notoriously one-sided. It is this fear of acting as an +advocate instead of as a judge that has generally deterred the +librarian from labelling his books with notes of advice or +warning.</p> +<p>There is, however, no reason why the librarian should take sides +in the matter. He may simply point out to the reader that there are +other books on the same subject, written from different points of +view, and he may direct attention to these, letting the reader draw +his own conclusions. There is probability that the public library +in the future will furnish information and guidance of this kind +about books, more than it has done in the past.</p> +<p>And here it may be noted in passing that the library is coming +out of its shell. It no longer holds itself aloof, taking good care +of its books and taking <span class="pagenum"><a id="page97" name= +"page97"></a>[pg 97]</span>little care of the public that uses +them. It is coming to realize that the man and the book are +complementary, that neither is much without the other, and that to +bring them together is its duty. It realizes also that a book is +valuable, not because it is so much paper and ink and thread and +leather, but because it records and preserves somebody’s +ideas. It is the projection of a human mind across space and across +time and where it touches another human mind those minds have come +into contact just as truly and with as valuable results as if the +bodies that held them stood face to face in actual converse. This +is the miracle of written speech—a miracle renewed daily in +millions of places with millions of readers.</p> +<p>We have, in the modern library, the very best way of +perpetuating such relations as this and of ensuring that such as +are preserved shall be worth preserving. When the ancients desired +to make an idea carry as far as possible, they saw to the toughness +and strength of the material object constituting the record; they +cut it in stone or cast it in metal, forgetting that all matter is +in a state of continual flux and change; it is the idea only that +endures. Stone and metal will both one day pass away and unless +some one sees fit to copy the inscription on a fresh block or +tablet, the record will be lost. It is, then, only by continual +renewal of its material basis that a record in written language can +be made to last, and there is no reason why this renewal should not +take place every few years, as well as every few centuries. There +is even an advantage in frequent renewal; for this ensures that the +value of the record shall be more frequently passed upon and +prevents the preservation of records that are not worth keeping. +This preservation by frequent renewal is just what is taking place +with books; we make them of <span class="pagenum"><a id="page98" +name="page98"></a>[pg 98]</span>perishable materials; if we want to +keep them, we reprint them; otherwise they decay and are +forgotten.</p> +<p>We should not forget that by this plan the reader is usually +made the judge of whether a book is worth keeping. Why do we +preserve by continual reprinting Shakespeare and Scott and Tennyson +and Hawthorne? The reprinting is done by publishers as a +money-making scheme. It is profitable to them because there is a +demand for those authors. If we cease to care for them and prefer +unworthy writers, Shakespeare and Scott will decay and be forgotten +and the unworthy ones will be preserved. Thus a great +responsibility is thrown upon readers; so far they have judged +pretty well.</p> +<p>Just now, however, we are confining ourselves to the use of +books for information; and here there is less preservation than +elsewhere. Especially in science, statements and facts quickly +become out of date; here it is not the old but the new that we +want—the new based on the accurate and enduring part of the +old.</p> +<p>Before we leave this part of the subject it may be noted that +many persons have no idea of the kinds of information that may be +obtained from books. Even those who would unhesitatingly seek a +book for data in history, art, or mathematics would not think of +going to books for facts on plumbing, weaving, or shoe-making, for +methods of shop-window decoration or of display-advertising, for +special forms of bookkeeping suitable for factories or for +stock-farms—for a host of facts relating to trades, +occupations, and business in general. Yet there are books about all +these things—not books perhaps to read for an idle hour, but +books full of meat for them who want just this kind of food. If +Book-taught Bilkins fails, <span class="pagenum"><a id="page99" +name="page99"></a>[pg 99]</span>after trying to utilize what such +books have taught him, it is doubtless because he has previously +failed to realize that books plus experience, or, to put it +differently, the recorded experience of others plus our own is +better than either could be separately. And the same is true of +information that calls for no physical action to supplement it. +Books plus thought—the thoughts of others plus our +own—are more effective in combination than either could be by +itself. Reading should provoke thought; thought should suggest more +reading, and so on, until others’ thoughts and our own have +become so completely amalgamated that they are our personal +intellectual possessions.</p> +<p>But we may not read for information at all—recreation may +be what we are after. Do not misunderstand me. Many persons have an +idea that if one reads to amuse himself he must necessarily read +novels. I think most highly of good novels. Narrative is a popular +form of literary expression; it is used by those who wish to +instruct as well as to amuse. One may obtain plenty of information +from novels—often in a form nowhere else available. If we +want exact statement, statistical or otherwise, we do not go to +fiction for it; but if we wish to obtain what is often more +important—accurate and lasting general impressions of +history, society, or geography, the novel is often the only place +where these may be had. Likewise, one may amuse himself with +history, travel, science, or art—even with mathematics. The +last is rarely written primarily to amuse, although we have such a +title as “Mathematical recreations,” but there are +plenty of non-fiction books written for entertainment and one may +read for entertainment any book whatever. The result depends not so +much on the book or its contents as on the reader.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page100" name="page100"></a>[pg +100]</span>Recreation is now recognized as an essential part of +education. And just as physical recreation consists largely in the +same muscular movements that constitute work, only in different +combinations and with different ends in view, so mental recreation +consists of intellectual exercise with a similar variation of +combinations and aims.</p> +<p>Somebody says that “play is work that you don’t have +to do”. So reading for amusement may closely resemble +study—the only difference is that it is purely voluntary. +Here again, however, the written language is only an intermediary; +we have as before, the contact of two minds—only here it is +often the lighter contact of good-fellowship. And one who reads +always for such recreation is thus like the man who is always +bandying trivialities, story-telling, and jesting—an +excellent, even a necessary, way of passing part of one’s +time, but a mistaken way of employing all of it.</p> +<p>The best kind of recreation is gently stimulating, but +stimulation may rise easily to abnormality. There are fiction +drunkards just as there are persons who take too much alcohol or +too much coffee. In fact, if one is so much absorbed by the ideas +that he is assimilating that the process interferes with the +ordinary duties of life, he may be fairly sure that it is injuring +him. If one loves coffee or alcohol, or even candy, so dearly that +one can not give it up, it is time to stop using it altogether. If +a reader is so fond of an exciting story that he can not lay it +aside, so that he sits up late at night reading it, or if he can +not drop it from his mind when he does lay it aside, but goes on +thinking about the deadly combat between the hero and Lord William +Fitz Grouchy when he ought to be studying his lessons or attending +to his business, it is time to cut out fiction altogether. This +advice has absolutely nothing to do <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page101" name="page101"></a>[pg 101]</span>with the quality of the +fiction. It will not do simply to warn the habitual drunkard that +he must be careful to take none but the best brands; he must drop +alcohol altogether. If you are a fiction drunkard, enhanced quality +will only enslave you further. This sort of use is no more +recreation in the proper sense of the word than is gambling, or +drinking to excess, or smoking opium.</p> +<p>And now we come to a use of books that is more +important—lies more at the root of things—than their +use for either information or recreation—their use for +inspiration. One may get help and inspiration along with the other +two—reading about how to make a box may inspire a boy to go +out and make one himself. It is this kind of thing that should be +the final outcome of every mental process. Nothing that goes on in +the brain is really complete until it ends in a motor stimulus. The +action, it is true, may not follow closely; it may be the result of +years of mental adjustment; it may even take place in another body +from the one where it originated. The man who tells us how to make +a box, and tells it so fascinatingly that he sets all his readers +to box-making, presumably has made boxes with his own hands, but +there may be those who are fitted to inspire action in others +rather than to undertake it themselves. And the larger literature +of inspiration is not that which urges to specific deeds like +box-making, or even to classes of deeds, like caring for the sick +or improving methods of transportation; rather does it include in +its scope all good thoughts and all good actions. It makes better +men and women of those who read it; it is revolutionary and +evolutionary at the same time, in the best sense of both words.</p> +<p>What will thus inspire me, do you ask? It would be easy to try +to tell you; it would also be easy to fail. Many have tried and +failed. This is a deeply <span class="pagenum"><a id="page102" +name="page102"></a>[pg 102]</span>personal matter. I can not tell +what book, or what passage in a book, will touch the magic spring +that shall make your life useful instead of useless, that shall +start your thoughts and your deeds climbing up instead of +grovelling or passively waiting. Only search will reveal it. The +diamond-miner who expects to be directed to the precise spot where +he will find a gem will never pick one up. Only he who seeks, +finds. There are, however, places to look and places to avoid. The +peculiar clay in which diamonds occur is well known to +mineralogists. He who runs across it, looks for diamonds, though he +may find none. But he who hunts for them on the rock-ribbed hills +of New Hampshire or the sea-sands of Florida is doing a foolish +thing—although even there he may conceivably pick up one that +has been dropped by accident.</p> +<p>So you may know where it is best to go in your search for +inspiration from books, for we know where seekers in the past have +most often found it. He who could read the Bible or Shakespeare +without finding some of it is the exception. It may be looked for +in the great poets—Homer, Virgil, Dante, Chaucer, Milton, +Hugo, Keats, Goethe; or the great historians—Tacitus, +Herodotus, Froissart, Macaulay, Taine, Bancroft; or in the great +travellers from Sir John Mandeville down, or in biographies like +Boswell’s life of Johnson, or in books of +science—Laplace, Lagrange, Darwin, Tyndall, Helmholtz; in the +lives of the great artists; in the great novels and +romances—Thackeray, Balzac, Hawthorne, Dickens, George Eliot. +Yet each and all of these may leave you cold and your may pick up your +gem in some out-of-the-way corner where neither you nor anyone else +would think of looking for it.</p> +<p>Did you ever see a car-conductor fumbling about <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page103" name="page103"></a>[pg 103]</span>in the +dark with the trolley pole, trying to hit the wire? While he is +pulling it down and letting it fly up again, making fruitless dabs +in the air, the car is dark and motionless; in vain the motorman +turns his controller, in vain do the passengers long for light. But +sooner or later the pole strikes the wire; down it flows the +current that was there all the time up in the air; in a jiffy the +car is in motion and ablaze with light. So your search for +inspiration in literature may be long and unsuccessful; you are +dark and motionless. But the life-giving current from some great +man’s brain is flowing through some book not far away. One +day you will make the connection and your life will in a trice be +filled with light and instinct with action.</p> +<p>And before we leave this subject of inspiration, let us dwell +for a moment on that to be obtained from one’s literary +setting in general—from the totality of one’s literary +associations and impressions, as distinguished from that gained +from some specific passage or idea.</p> +<p>It has been said that it takes two to tell the truth; one to +speak and one to listen. In like manner we may say that two persons +are necessary to a great artistic interpretation—one to +create and one to appreciate. And of no art is this more true than +it is of literature. The thought that we are thus cooperating with +Shakespeare and Schiller and Hugo in bringing out the full effect +of their deathless conceptions is an inspiring one and its +consideration may aid us in realizing the essential oneness of the +human race, so far as its intellectual life is concerned.</p> +<p>Would you rather be a citizen of the United States than, we will +say, of Nicaragua? You might be as happy, as well educated, as well +off, there as <span class="pagenum"><a id="page104" name= +"page104"></a>[pg 104]</span>here. Why do you prefer your present +status? Simply and solely because of associations and +relationships. If this is sentiment, as it doubtless is, it is the +kind of sentiment that rules the world—it is in the same +class as friendship, loyalty, love of kin, affection for home. The +links that bind us to the past and the threads that stretch out +into the future are more satisfactory to us here in the United +States, with the complexity of its interests for us, than they +would be in Nicaragua, or Guam, or Iceland.</p> +<p>Then of what country in the realm of literature do you desire to +be a citizen? Of the one where Shakespeare is king and where your +familiar and daily speech is with the great ones of this +earth—those whose wise, witty, good, or inspiring words, +spoken for centuries past, have been recorded in books? Or would +you prefer to dwell with triviality and banality—perhaps with +Laura Jean Libbey or even with Mary J. Holmes, and those a little +better than these—or a little worse.</p> +<p>I am one of those who believe in the best associations, literary +as well as social. And associations may have their effect even if +they are apparently trivial or superficial.</p> +<p>When the open-shelf library was first introduced we were told +that one of its chief advantages was that it encouraged +“browsing”—the somewhat aimless rambling about +and dipping here and there into a book. Obviously this can not be +done in a closed-shelf library. But of late it has been suggested, +in one quarter or another, that although this may be a pleasant +occupation to some, or even to most, it is not a profitable one. +Opponents of the open shelf of whom there are still one or two, +here and there, find in this conclusion a reason for negativing the +argument in its favor, while those of its advocates <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page105" name="page105"></a>[pg 105]</span>who +accept this view see in it only a reason for basing that argument +wholly on other grounds.</p> +<p>Now those of us who like a thing do not relish being told that +it is not good for us. We feel that pleasure was intended as an +outward sign of benefits received and although it may in abnormal +conditions deceive us, we are right in demanding proof before +distrusting its indications. When the cow absorbs physical +nutriment by browsing, she does so without further reason than that +she likes it. Does the absorber of mental pabulum from books argue +wrongly from similar premises?</p> +<p>Many things are hastily and wrongly condemned because they do +not achieve certain results that they were not intended to achieve. +And in particular, when a thing exists in several degrees or +grades, some one of those grades is often censured, although good +in itself, because it is not a grade or two higher. Obviously +everything depends on what is required. When a shopper wants just +three yards of cloth, she would be foolish to buy four. She would, +of course, be even more foolish to imagine that, if she really +wished four, three would do just as well. But if a man wants to go +to the eighth story of a building, he should not be condemned +because he does not mount to the ninth; if he wishes a light lunch, +he should not be found fault with for not ordering a seven-course +dinner. And yet we continually hear persons accused of +“superficiality” who purposely and knowingly acquire +some slight degree of knowledge of a subject instead of a higher +degree. And others are condemned, we will say, for reading for +amusement when they might have read for serious information, +without inquiring whether amusement, in this instance, was not +precisely what they needed.</p> +<p>It may be, therefore, that browsing is productive <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page106" name="page106"></a>[pg 106]</span>of some +good result, and that it fails to effect some other, perhaps some +higher, result which its critics have wrongly fixed upon as the one +desirable thing in this connection.</p> +<p>When a name embodies a figure of speech, we may often learn +something by following up the figure to see how far it holds good. +What does an animal do, and what does it not do, when it +“browses”? In the first place it eats food—fresh, +growing food; but, secondly, it eats this food by cropping off the +tips of the herbage, not taking much at once, and again, it moves +about from place to place, eating now here and now there and then +making selection, from one motive or another, but presumably +following the dictates of its own taste or fancy. What does it not +do? First, it does not, from choice, eat anything bad. Secondly, it +does not necessarily consume all of its food in this way. If it +finds a particularly choice spot, it may confine its feeding to +that spot; or, if its owner sees fit, he may remove it to the +stable, where it may stand all day and eat what he chooses to give +it. The benefits of browsing are, first, the nourishment actually +derived from the food taken, coupled with the fact that it is taken +in small quantities, and in great variety; and secondly, the +knowledge of good spots, obtained from the testing of one spot +after another, throughout the whole broad pasture.</p> +<p>Now I submit that our figure of speech holds good in all these +particulars. The literary “browser” partakes of his +mental food from books and is thereby nourished and stimulated; he +takes it here and there in brief quantities, moving from section to +section and from shelf to shelf, selecting choice morsels of +literature as fancy may dictate. He does not, if he is a healthy +reader, absorb voluntarily anything <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page107" name="page107"></a>[pg 107]</span>that will hurt him, and +this method of literary absorption does not preclude other methods +of mental nourishment. He may like a book so much that he proceeds +to devour it whole, or his superiors in knowledge may remove him to +a place where necessary mental food is administered more or less +forcibly. And having gone so far with our comparison, we shall make +no mistake if we go a little further and say that the benefits of +browsing to the reader are twofold, as they are to the material +feeder—the absorption of actual nutriment in his own wilful, +wayward manner—a little at a time and in great variety; and +the knowledge of good reading obtained from such a wide testing of +the field.</p> +<p>Are not these real benefits, and are they not desirable? I fear +that our original surmise was correct and that browsing is +condemned not for what it does, but because it fails to do +something that it could not be expected to do. Of course, if one +were to browse continuously he would be unable to feed in any other +way. Attendance upon school or the continuous reading of any book +whatever would be obviously impossible. To avoid misunderstanding, +therefore, we will agree at this point that whatever may be said +here in commendation of browsing is on condition that it be +occasional and not excessive and that the normal amount of +continuous reading and study proceed together with it.</p> +<p>Having settled, therefore, that browsing is a good thing when +one does not occupy one’s whole time with it, let us examine +its advantages a little more in detail.</p> +<p>First: about the mental nourishment that is absorbed in +browsing; the specific information, the appreciation of what is +good, the intellectual stimulation—not that which comes from +reading suggested <span class="pagenum"><a id="page108" name= +"page108"></a>[pg 108]</span>or guided by browsing, but from the +actual process itself. I have heard it strenuously denied that any +such absorption occurs; the bits taken are too small, the motion of +the browser is too rapid, the whole process is too desultory. Let +us see. In the first place a knowledge of authors and titles and of +the general character of their works is by no means to be despised. +I heard the other day of a presumably educated woman who betrayed +in a conversation her ignorance of Omar Khayyam—not lack of +acquaintance with his works, but lack of knowledge that such a +person had ever existed. If at some period in her life she had held +in her hand a copy of “The Rubaiyat,” and had glanced +at its back, without even opening it, how much embarrassment she +might have been spared! And if, in addition, she had glanced within +for just ten seconds and had discovered that he wrote poetry in +stanzas of four lines each, she would have known as much about Omar +as do many of those who would contemptuously scoff at her +ignorance. With so brief effort may we acquire literary knowledge +sufficient to avoid embarrassment in ordinary conversation. +Browsing in a good library, if the browser has a memory, will soon +equip him with a wide range of knowledge of this kind. Nor is such +knowledge to be sneered at as superficial. It is all that we know, +or need to know, about scores of authors. One may never study +higher mathematics, but it may be good for him to know that +Lagrange was a French author who wrote on analytical mechanics, +that Euclid was a Greek geometer, and that Hamilton invented +quaternions. All this and vastly more may be impressed on the mind +by an hour in the mathematical alcove of a library of moderate +size. And it will do no harm to a boy to know that Benvenuto +Cellini wrote his autobiography, even if <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page109" name="page109"></a>[pg 109]</span>the +inevitable perusal of the book is delayed for several years, or +that Felicia Hemans, James Thomson, and Robert Herrick wrote +poetry, independently of familiarity with their works, or that +“Lamia” is not something to eat or “As you like +it” a popular novel. Information of this kind is almost +impossible to acquire from lists or from oral statement, whereas a +moment’s handling of a book in the concrete may fix it in the +mind for good and all. So far, we have not supposed that even a +word of the contents has been read. What, now, if a sentence, a +stanza, a paragraph, a page, passes into the brain through the eye? +Those who measure literary effect by the thousand words or by the +hour are making a great mistake. The lightning flash is over in a +fraction of a second, but in that time it may reveal a scene of +beauty, may give the traveller warning of the fatal precipice, or +may shatter the farmer’s home into kindling wood. +Intellectual lightning may strike the “browser” as he +stands there book in hand before the shelf. A word, a phrase, may +sear into his brain—may turn the current of his whole life. +And even if no such epoch-making words meet his eye, in how brief a +time may he read, digest, appreciate, some of the gems of +literature! Leigh Hunt’s “Jennie kissed me” would +probably take about thirty seconds; on a second reading he would +have it by heart—the joy of a life-time. How many meaty +epigrams would take as long? The whole of Gray’s +“Elegy” is hardly beyond the browser’s limit.</p> +<p>In an editorial on the Harvard Classics in the “Chicago +evening post”, (April 22), we read, “the cultural +tabloid has very little virtue;… to gain everything that a +book has to give one must be submerged in it, saturated and +absorbed”. This is very much like saying, “there is +very little nourishment <span class="pagenum"><a id="page110" name= +"page110"></a>[pg 110]</span>in a sandwich; to get the full effect +of a luncheon you must eat everything on the table”. It is a +truism to say that you can not get everything in a book without +reading all of it; but it by no means follows that the virtue of +less than the whole is negligible.</p> +<p>So much for the direct effect of what one may thus take in, bit +by bit. The indirect effect is even more important. For by sampling +a whole literature, as he does, he not only gets a bird’s-eye +view of it, but he finds out what he likes and what he dislikes; +he begins to form his taste. Are you afraid that he will form it +wrong? I am not. We are assuming that the library where he browses +is a good one; here is no chance of evil, only a choice between +different kinds of good. And even if the evil be there, it is +astonishing how the healthy mind will let it slip and fasten +eagerly on the good. Would you prefer a taste fixed by someone who +tells the browser what he ought to like? Then that is not the +reader’s own taste at all, but that of his informant. We have +too much of this sort of thing—too many readers without an +atom of taste of their own who will say, for instance, that they +adore George Meredith, because some one has told them that all +intellectual persons do so. The man who frankly loves George Ade +and can yet see nothing in Shakespeare may one day discover +Shakespeare. The man who reads Shakespeare merely because he thinks +he ought to is hopeless.</p> +<p>But what a triumph, to stand spell-bound by the art of a writer +whose name you never heard, and then discover that he is one of the +great ones of the world! Nought is comparable to it except perhaps +to pick out all by yourself in the exhibition the one picture that +the experts have chosen for the museum <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page111" name="page111"></a>[pg 111]</span>or to be able to say +you liked olives the first time you tasted them.</p> +<p>Who are your favorites? Did some one guide you to them or did +you find them yourselves? I will warrant that in many cases you +discovered them and that this is why you love them. I discovered +DeQuincey’s romances, Praed’s poetry, Béranger +in French, Heine in German, “The Arabian nights”, +Molière, Irving’s “Alhambra,” hundreds of +others probably. I am sure that I love them all far more than if +some one had told me they were good books. If I had been obliged to +read them in school and pass an examination on them, I should have +hated them. The teacher who can write an examination paper on +Gray’s “Elegy”, would, I firmly believe, cut up +his grandmother alive before the physiology class.</p> +<p>And next to the author or the book that you have discovered +yourself comes the one that the discoverer himself—your boy +or girl friend—tells you about. <em>He</em> knows a good +thing—<em>she</em> knows it! No school nonsense about that; +no adult misunderstanding. I found out Poe that way, and +Thackeray’s “Major Gahagan”, and many others.</p> +<p>To go back to our old illustration and consider for a moment not +the book but the mind, the personality whose ideas it records, such +association with books represents association with one’s +fellowmen in society—at a reception, in school or college, at +a club. Some we pass by with a nod, with some we exchange a word; +sometimes there is a warm handgrasp; sometimes a long conversation. +No matter what the mental contact may be, it has its +effects—we are continually gaining knowledge, making new +friends, receiving fresh inspiration. The complexion of this kind +of daily association determines the <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page112" name="page112"></a>[pg 112]</span>cast of one’s +mind, the thoroughness of his taste, the usefulness or uselessness +of what he does. A man is known by the company he keeps, because +that company forms him; he gets from it what becomes brain of his +brain and soul of his soul.</p> +<p>And no less is he formed by his mental associations with the +good and the great of all ages whom he meets in books and who talk +to him there. More rather than less; for into a book the writer +puts generally what is best in him, laying aside the pettiness, the +triviality, the downright wickedness that may have characterized +him in the flesh.</p> +<p>I have often heard the comment from one who had met face to face +a writer whose work he loved—“Oh! he disappointed me +so!” How disappointed might we be with Thackeray, with +Dickens, even with Shakespeare, could we meet them in the flesh! +Now they can not disappoint us, for we know only what they have +left on record—the best, the most enduring part, purified +from what is gross and earthly.</p> +<p>In and among such company as this it is your privilege to live +and move, almost without money and without price. Thank God for +books; let them be your friends and companions through +life—for information, for recreation, but above all for +inspiration.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page113" name="page113"></a>[pg +113]</span> +<h2><a name="Essay11" id="Essay11">Atomic Theories of +Energy</a><a id="footnotetag6" name="footnotetag6" href= +"#footnote6" title= +"Read before the St. Louis Academy of Science."><sup>6</sup></a></h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>A theory involving some sort of a discrete or discontinuous +structure of energy has been put forward by Prof. Max Planck of the +University of Berlin. The various aspects of this theory are +discussed and elaborated by the late M. Henri Poincaré in a +paper entitled “L’Hypothèse des Quanta,” +published in the <em>Revue Scientifique</em> (Paris, Feb. 21, +1912).</p> +<p>A paper in which a discontinuous or “atomic” +structure of energy was suggested was prepared by the present +writer fifteen years ago but remains unpublished for reasons that +will appear later. Although he has no desire to put in a claim of +priority and is well aware that failure to publish would put any +such claim out of court, it seems to him that in connection with +present radical developments in physical theory the paper, together +with some correspondence relating thereto, has historical interest. +Planck’s theory was suggested by thermodynamical +considerations. In the paper now to be quoted the matter was +approached from the standpoint of a criterion for determining the +identity of two portions of matter or of energy. The paper is as +follows:</p> +<h3><em>Some Consideration on the Identity of Definite Portions of +Energy</em></h3> +<p>It has been remarked recently that physicists are now divided +into two opposing schools according to the way in which they view +the subject of energy, some regarding it as a mere mathematical +abstraction and others looking upon it as a physical entity, +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page114" name="page114"></a>[pg +114]</span>filling space and continuously migrating by definite +paths from one place to another. It may be added that there are +numerous factions within these two parties; for instance, not all +of those who consider energy to be something more than a mere +mathematical expression would maintain that a given quantity of it +retains its identity just as a given quantity of matter does. In +fact a close analysis would possibly show that opinions are graded +very closely and continuously from a view hardly differing from +that of Lagrange, who clearly saw and freely used the mathematical +considerations involving energy before the word had been invented +or its physical meaning developed, up to that stated recently in +its extreme form by Professor Ostwald, who would replace what he +terms a mechanical theory of the universe by an +“energetical” theory, and would dwell exclusively on +energy as opposed to its vehicles.</p> +<p>Differences of opinion of this sort very frequently reduce to +differences of definition, and in this case the meaning of the word +“identity” or some similar word or phrase has +undoubtedly much to do with the view that is taken of the matter. +It may be interesting, for instance, to look for a moment at our +ideas of the identity of matter and the extent to which they are +influenced by the accepted theory of its constitution.</p> +<p>Very few persons would hesitate to admit that the matter that +now constitutes the universe is identical in amount with that which +constituted it one million years ago, and that any given portion of +that matter is identical with an equal amount of matter that then +existed, although the situations of the parts of that portion might +be and probably were widely different in the two classes. To assert +this is of course a very different thing from asserting that +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page115" name="page115"></a>[pg +115]</span>the identity of the two portions or any parts thereof +could have been practically shown by following them during all +their changes of location or state. That cannot be done even in the +case of some simple changes that are effected in a fraction of a +second. For instance, if water from the pail A be mixed with water +from the pail B there is no possible way of telling which pail any +given portion of the mixture came from or in what proportions, yet +it is certain that such portion is identical with a portion of +equal mass that recently occupied part of one or both pails.</p> +<p>How far our certainty as to this is influenced by our ideas +regarding the ultimate constitution of the water is worthy of +investigation. All who accept the molecular theory, for instance, +will regard our inability to trace the elements of a mixture as due +to purely physical limitations. A set of Maxwell’s +“demons” if bidden to watch the molecules of the water +in pail A, one demon being assigned to each molecule, would be able +to tell us at any time the precise proportions of any given part of +the mixture. But if we should not accept the molecular theory and +believe for instance, that water is a continuum, absolutely +homogeneous, no matter how small portions of it be selected, then +our demons would be as powerless as we ourselves now are to trace +the constituents in the mixture.</p> +<p>We are now in a position to ask the question: Is the matter in a +mixture of two continua identical with that of its constituents? +The identity certainly seems of a different kind or degree from +that which obtains in the first case, for there is no part, however +small, that was derived from one pail alone. The mixture is +something more than a mere juxtaposition of elements each of which +has retained its <span class="pagenum"><a id="page116" name= +"page116"></a>[pg 116]</span>identity; it is now of such nature +that no part of it is identical with any part of A alone or of B +alone, nor of A+B, where the sign + denotes simple juxtaposition. +It is identical, to be sure, with a perfect mixture of certain +parts of A and B, but this is simply saying that it is identical +with what it is now, that is, with itself, not with something that +went before.</p> +<p>Probably no one now believes that water or any other kind of +matter is a continuum, but the bearing of what has been said may be +seen when we remember that this is precisely the present stage of +our belief regarding energy.</p> +<p>No one, so far as I know, has ventured to suggest what may be +termed a molecular theory of energy, a somewhat remarkable fact +when we consider the control now exercised over all thought in +physics by molecular theories of matter. While we now believe, for +instance, that a material body, say a crystal, can by no +possibility increase continuously in mass, but must do so step by +step, the minimum mass of matter that can be added being the +molecule, we believe on the contrary that the energy possessed by +the same body can and may increase with absolutely perfect +continuity, being hampered by no such restriction.</p> +<p>It is not the purpose of this paper to discuss whether we have +grounds for belief that there is such a thing as a minimum +quantity, or atom, of energy, that does not separate into smaller +parts, no matter what changes it undergoes. Suffice it to say that +there appears to be no <em>a priori</em> absurdity in such an idea. +At first sight both matter and energy appear non-molecular in +structure. But we have been forced to look upon the gradual growth +of a crystal as a step-by-step process, and we may some +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page117" name="page117"></a>[pg +117]</span>day, by equally cogent considerations, be forced to +regard the gradual increase of energy of an accelerating body as +also a step-by-step process, although the discontinuity is as +invisible to the eye in the latter case as in the former.</p> +<p>Without following this out any farther, however, the point may +be here emphasized that it is hardly possible for one who, like the +majority of physicists, regards matter as molecular and energy as a +continuum, to hold the same ideas regarding the identity of the +two. Efforts to show that definite portions of energy, like +definite portions of matter, retain their identity have hitherto +been made chiefly on the lines of a demonstration that energy +travels by definite and continuous paths in space just as matter +does. This is very well, but it would appear to be necessary to +supplement it with evidence to show that the lines representing +these paths do not form at their intersections continuous blurs +that not only forbid any practical attempt at identification on +emergence, but make it doubtful whether we can in any true sense +call the issuing path identical with the entering one. Otherwise +the identity of energy can be admitted to be only that kind of +identity that could be preserved by matter if its molecular +structure did not exist. One who can admit that this sort of +identity is the same sort that can be preserved by molecular matter +may be able to hold the identity of energy in the present state of +the evidence, but the present attitude of physicists would seem to +show that, whether they realize the connection of the two subjects +or not, they cannot take this view. In other words, modern views of +the identity of matter seem closely connected with modern views of +its structure, and the same connection will doubtless hold good for +energy.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page118" name="page118"></a>[pg +118]</span>Regarding the probable success of an attempt to prove +that energy has a “structure” analogous to the +molecular structure of matter, any prediction would doubtless be +rash just now. The writer has been unable, up to the present time, +to disprove the proposition, but the subject is one of +corresponding importance to that of the whole molecular theory of +matter and should not be entered upon lightly.</p> +<hr /> +<p>The writer freely acknowledges at present that the illustrations +in the foregoing are badly chosen and some of the statements are +too strong, but it still represents essentially his ideas on the +subject. No reputable scientific journal would undertake to publish +it. The paper was then sent to Prof. J. Willard Gibbs of Yale, and +elicited the following letter from him:</p> +<blockquote> +<p style="font-variant:small-caps">“New Haven, June 2, +1897.</p> +<p style="font-variant:small-caps">“My Dear Mr. Bostwick:</p> +<p>“I regret that I have allowed your letter to lie so long +unanswered. It was in fact not very easy to answer, and when one +lays a letter aside to answer, the weeks slip away very fast.</p> +<p>“I do not think that you state the matter quite right in +regard to the mixture of fluids if they were continuous. The mixing +of water as I regard it would be like this, if it were continuous +and not molecular. Suppose you should take strips of white and red +glass and heat them until soft and twist them together. Keep on +drawing them out and doubling them up and twisting them together. +It would soon require a microscope to distinguish the red and white +glass, which would be drawn out into thinner and thinner filaments +if the matter were continuous. But it would be always only a matter +of optical power to distinguish perfectly the portion of red and +white glass. The stirring up of water from two pails would not +really mix them but only entangle filaments from the pails.</p> +<p>“To come to the case of energy. All our ideas concerning +energy seem to require that it is capable of gradual increase. Thus +the energy due to velocity can increase continuously if velocity +can. Since the energy is as the square of the velocity, if the +velocity can only increase discontinuously by equal increments, the +energy of the body will increase by unequal increments in such a +way as to make the exchange of energy between bodies a very awkward +matter to adjust.</p> +<p>“But apart from the question of the increase of energy by +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page119" name="page119"></a>[pg +119]</span>discontinuous increments, the question of relative and +absolute motion makes it very hard to give a particular position to +energy, since the ‘energy’ we speak of in any case is +not one quantity but may be interpreted in a great many ways. Take +the important case of two equal elastic balls. One, moving, strikes +the other at rest, we say, and gives it nearly all its energy. But +we have no right to call one ball at rest and we can not say (as +anything absolute) which of the balls has lost and which has gained +energy. If there is such a thing as absolute energy of motion it is +something entirely unknowable to us. Take the solar system, +supposed isolated. We may take as our origin of coordinates the +center of gravity of the system. Or we may take an origin with +respect to which the center of gravity of the solar system has any +(constant) velocity. The kinetic energy of the earth, for example, +may have any value whatever, and the principle of the conservation +of energy will hold in any case for the whole solar system. But the +shifting of energy from one planet to another will take place +entirely differently when we estimate the energies with reference +to different origins.</p> +<p>“It does not seem to me that your ideas fit in with what +we know about nature. If you ask my advice, I should not advise you +to try to publish them.</p> +<p>“At best you would be entering into a discussion (perhaps +not in bad company) in which words would play a greater part than +precise ideas.</p> +<p>“This is the way I feel about it.</p> +<p>“I remain,</p> +<p>“Yours faithfully,</p> +<p style="font-variant:small-caps">“J.W. Gibbs.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Professor Gibbs’s criticism of the illustration of +water-mixture is evidently just. Another might well have been used +where the things mixed are not material—for instance, the +value of money deposited in a bank. If A and B each deposits $100 +to C’s credit and C then draws $10, there is evidently no way +of determining what part of it came from A and what from B. The +structure of “value”, in other words, is perfectly +continuous. Professor Gibbs’s objections to an +“atomic” theory of the structure of energy are most +interesting. The difficulties that it involves are not overstated. +In 1897 they made it unnecessary, but since that time +considerations have been brought forward, and generally recognized, +which may make it necessary to brave those difficulties.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page120" name="page120"></a>[pg +120]</span>Planck’s theory was suggested by the apparent +necessity of modifying the generally accepted theory of statistical +equilibrium involving the so called “law of +equipartition,” enunciated first for gases and extended to +liquids and solids.</p> +<p>In the first place the kinetic theory fixes the number of +degrees of freedom of each gaseous molecule, which would be three +for argon, for instance, and five for oxygen. But what prevents +either from having the six degrees to which ordinary mechanical +theory entitles it? Furthermore, the oxygen spectrum has more than +five lines, and the molecule must therefore vibrate in more than +five modes. “Why,” asks Poincaré, “do +certain degrees of freedom appear to play no part here; why are +they, so to speak, ‘ankylosed’?” Again, suppose a +system in statistical equilibrium, each part gaining on an average, +in a short time, exactly as much as it loses. If the system +consists of molecules and ether, as the former have a finite number +of degrees of freedom and the latter an infinite number, the +unmodified law of equipartition would require that the ether should +finally appropriate all energy, leaving none of it to the matter. +To escape this conclusion we have Rayleigh’s law that the +radiated energy, for a given wave length, is proportional to the +absolute temperature, and for a given temperature is in inverse +ratio to the fourth power of the wave-length. This is found by +Planck to be experimentally unverifiable, the radiation being less +for small wave-lengths and low temperatures, than the law +requires.</p> +<p>Still again, the specific heats of solids, instead of being +sensibly constant at all temperatures, are found to diminish +rapidly in the low temperatures now available in liquid air or +hydrogen and apparently tend to disappear at absolute zero. +“All takes place,” says Poincaré, “as if +these molecules lost <span class="pagenum"><a id="page121" name= +"page121"></a>[pg 121]</span>some of their degrees of freedom in +cooling—as if some of their articulations froze at the +limit.”</p> +<p>Planck attempts to explain these facts by introducing the idea +of what he calls “quanta” of energy. To quote from +Poincaré’s paper:</p> +<p>“How should we picture a radiating body? We know that a +Hertz resonator sends into the ether Hertzian waves that are +identical with luminous waves; an incandescent body must then be +regarded as containing a very great number of tiny resonators. When +the body is heated, these resonators acquire energy, start +vibrating and consequently radiate.</p> +<p>“Planck’s hypothesis consists in the supposition +that each of these resonators can acquire or lose energy only by +abrupt jumps, in such a way that the store of energy that it +possesses must always be a multiple of a constant quantity, which +he calls a ‘quantum’—must be composed of a whole +number of quanta. This indivisible unit, this quantum, is not the +same for all resonators; it is in inverse ratio to the wave-length, +so that resonators of short period can take in energy only in large +pieces, while those of long period can absorb or give it out by +small bits. What is the result? Great effort is necessary to +agitate a short-period resonator, since this requires at least a +quantity of energy equal to its quantum, which is great. The +chances are, then, that these resonators will keep quiet, +especially if the temperature is low, and it is for this reason +that there is relatively little short-wave radiation in +‘black radiation’… The diminution of +specific-heats is explained similarly: When the temperature falls, +a large number of vibrators fall below their quantum and cease to +vibrate, so that the total energy diminishes faster than the old +theories require.”</p> +<p>Here we have the germs of an atomic theory of energy. As +Poincaré now points out, the trouble is <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page122" name="page122"></a>[pg 122]</span>that +the quanta are not constant. In his study of the matter he notes +that the work of Prof. Wilhelm Wien, of Würzburg, leads by +theory to precisely the conclusion announced by Planck that if we +are to hold to the accepted ideas of statistical equilibrium the +energy can vary only by quanta inversely proportional to +wave-length. The mechanical property of the resonators imagined by +Planck is therefore precisely that which Wien’s theory +requires. If we are to suppose atoms of energy, therefore, they +must be variable atoms. There are other objections which need not +be touched upon here, the whole theory being in a very early stage. +To quote Poincaré again:</p> +<p>“The new conception is seductive from a certain +standpoint: for some time the tendency has been toward atomism. +Matter appears to us as formed of indivisible atoms; electricity is +no longer continuous, not infinitely divisible. It resolves itself +into equally-charged electrons; we have also now the magneton, or +atom of magnetism. From this point of view the quanta appear as +<em>atoms</em> of <em>energy</em>. Unfortunately the comparison may +not be pushed to the limit; a hydrogen atom is really +invariable…. The electrons preserve their individuality amid +the most diverse vicissitudes, is it the same with the atoms of +energy? We have, for instance, three quanta of energy in a +resonator whose wave-length is 3; this passes to a second resonator +whose wave-length is 5; it now represents not 3 but 5 quanta, since +the quantum of the new resonator is smaller and in the +transformation the number of atoms and the size of each has +changed.”</p> +<p>If, however, we replace the atom of energy by an “atom of +action,” these atoms may be considered equal and invariable. +The whole study of thermodynamic equilibrium has been reduced by +the French <span class="pagenum"><a id="page123" name= +"page123"></a>[pg 123]</span> mathematical school to a question of +probability. “The probability of a continuous variable is +obtained by considering elementary independent domains of equal +probability…. In the classic dynamics we use, to find these +elementary domains, the theorem that two physical states of which +one is the necessary effect of the other are equally probable. In a +physical system if we represent by <em>q</em> one of the +generalized coordinates and by <em>p</em> the corresponding +momentum, according to Liouville’s theorem the domain +<em>∫∫dpdq</em>, considered at given instant, is invariable +with respect to the time if <em>p</em> and <em>q</em> vary +according to Hamilton’s equations. On the other hand +<em>p</em> and <em>q</em> may, at a given instant take all possible +values, independent of each other. Whence it follows that the +elementary domain is infinitely small, of the magnitude +<em>dpdq</em>…. The new hypothesis has for its object to +restrict the variability of <em>p</em> and <em>q</em> so that these +variables will only change by jumps…. Thus the number of +elementary domains of probability is reduced and the extent of each +is augmented. The hypothesis of quanta of action consists in +supposing that these domains are all equal and no longer infinitely +small but finite and that for each <em>∫∫dpdq</em> equals +<em>h</em>, <em>h</em> being a constant.”</p> +<p>Put a little less mathematically, this simply means that as +energy equals action multiplied by frequency, the fact that the +quantum of energy is proportional to the frequency (or inversely to +the wave-length as stated above) is due simply to the fact that the +quantum of action is constant—a real atom. The general effect +on our physical conceptions, however, is the same: we have a purely +discontinuous universe—discontinuous not only in matter but +in energy and the flow of time. M. Poincaré thus puts it: +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page124" name="page124"></a>[pg +124]</span>”A physical system is susceptible only of a finite +number of distinct states; it leaps from one of these to the next +without passing through any continuous series of intermediate +states.”</p> +<p>He notes later:</p> +<p>“The universe, then, leaps suddenly from one state to +another; but in the interval it must remain immovable, and the +divers instants during which it keeps in the same state can no +longer be discriminated from one another; we thus reach a +conception of the discontinuous variation of time—the atom of +<em>time</em>.”</p> +<p>I quote in conclusion, Poincaré’s final +remarks:</p> +<p>“The present state of the question is thus as follows: the +old theories, which hitherto seemed to account for all the known +phenomena, have met with an unexpected obstacle. Seemingly a +modification becomes necessary. A hypothesis has presented itself +to M. Planck’s mind, but so strange a one that one is tempted +to seek every means of escaping it; these means, however, have been +sought vainly. The new theory, however, raises a host of +difficulties, many of which are real and not simply illusions due +to the indolence of our minds, unwilling to change their modes of +thought….</p> +<p>“Is discontinuity to reign through out the physical +universe, and is its triumph definitive? Or rather shall we find +that it is but apparent and hides a series of continuous +processes?… To try to give an opinion just now on these +questions would only be to waste ink.”</p> +<p>It only remains to call attention again to the fact that this +conception of the discontinuity of energy, the acceptance of which +Poincaré says would be “the most profound revolution +that natural philosophy has undergone since Newton” was +suggested by <span class="pagenum"><a id="page125" name= +"page125"></a>[pg 125]</span>the present writer fifteen years ago. +Its reception and serious consideration by one of the first +mathematical physicists of the world seems a sufficient +justification of its suggestion then as a legitimate scientific +hypothesis.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page127" name="page127"></a>[pg +127]</span> +<h2><a name="Essay12" id="Essay12">The Advertisement of +Ideas</a></h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>Writing is a device for the storage of ideas—the only +device for this purpose prior to the invention of the phonograph, +and not now likely to be generally superseded. A book consists of +stored ideas; sometimes it is like a box, from which the contents +must be lifted slowly and with more or less toil; sometimes like a +storage battery where one only has to make the right kind of +contact to get a discharge. At any rate, if we want people to use +books or to use them more, or to use them better, or to use a +different kind from that which they now use, we must lose sight for +a moment of the material part of the book, which is only the box or +the lead and acid of the storage battery, and fix our attention on +the stored ideas, which are what everybody wants—everybody, +that is, except those who collect books as curiosities. The subject +of this lecture is thus only library advertising, about which we +have heard a good deal of late, but we shall try to confine its +applications to this inner or ideal substance which it is our +special business as librarians to purvey. And first, in considering +the matter, it may be worth while to say a word about advertising +in general. Practically an advertisement is an announcement by +somebody who has something to distribute. Announcements of this +kind may be classified, it seems to me, as economic, uneconomic and +illegitimate.</p> +<p>The most elementary form is that of the person who tells you +where you can get something that you want—a simple statement +that someone is a barber or an inn-keeper, or gives music lessons, +or has shoes <span class="pagenum"><a id="page128" name= +"page128"></a>[pg 128]</span>for sale. This may be accompanied by +an effort to show that the goods offered are of specially good +quality or have some feature that makes them particularly +desirable, either to consumers in general or to those of a certain +class. This is all surely economic, so long as nothing but the +truth is told. Next we have an effort not only to supply existing +wants and to direct them into some particular channel, but to +create a new field, to make people realize a lack previously not +felt; in other words to make people want something that they need. +This may be done simply by exhibiting or describing the article or +it may require long and skillful presentation of the matter. All +this is still economic. But it requires only a step to carry us +across the line. Next the enthusiastic advertiser strives to make +someone want that which he does not need. As may be seen, the line +here is difficult to determine, but this sort of advertising is +surely not economic. So long as the thing not needed is not really +injurious, however, the advertising cannot be called illegitimate. +It is simply uneconomic. The world would be better off without it, +but we may look for its abolition only to the increase of good +judgment and intelligence among consumers. When an attempt however, +is made to cause a man to want something that is really injurious, +then the act becomes illegitimate and should be prevented. Another +class of illegitimate advertising is that which would be perfectly +allowable if it were truthful and becomes objectionable only +because its representations are false. It may be ostensibly of any +of the types noted above.</p> +<p>As we have already noted, the material objects distributed by +the librarian are valued not for their physical characteristics but +for a different reason altogether, the fact that they contain +stored ideas. <span class="pagenum"><a id="page129" name= +"page129"></a>[pg 129]</span>Ideas which, according to some, are +merely the relative positions of material particles in the brain, +and which are indisputably accompanied and conditioned by such +positions, here subsist in the form of peculiar and visible +arrangements of particles of printer’s ink upon paper, which +are capable under certain conditions of generating in the human +brain ideas precisely similar to those that gave them birth. And +although the book cannot think for itself, but must merely preserve +the idea intrusted to it, without change, it is vastly superior in +stability to the brain that gave it birth, so that thousands of +years after that brain has mouldered into dust it is capable of +reproducing the original ideas in a second brain where they may +germinate and bear fruit. How familiar all this is, and yet how +perennially wonderful! The miracle of it is sufficient excuse for +this digression.</p> +<p>Now books, beside this modern form of distribution by loan, are +widely distributed commercially both by loan and by sale, and +especially in the latter form advertisement is now very extensively +used in connection with the distribution. In fact we have all the +different types specified above—economic, uneconomic and +illegitimate, both through misrepresentation and the harmful +character of the subject matter. The reason for all illegitimate +forms of advertising is of course not a desire to misrepresent or +to do harm per se, but to make money, the profit to the distributor +being proportioned to the amount of distribution done and not at +all dependent on its economic value. Distribution by public +officers is of course not open to this objection, nor are the +distributors subject to temptation, since their compensation does +not depend on the amount of distribution. If they are capable and +interested, furthermore, <span class="pagenum"><a id="page130" +name="page130"></a>[pg 130]</span>they are particularly desirous to +increase the economic value of the work that they are doing. Since +this is so and since the danger of uneconomic or harmful forms of +advertising is thus reduced to a minimum, there would seem to be +special reason why the economic forms should be employed very +freely. But the fact is that they have been used sparingly, and by +some librarians shunned altogether.</p> +<p>Let us see what library advertising of the economic types may +mean. In the first place it means telling those who want books +where they may get them. This simple task is rarely performed +completely or satisfactorily. It is astonishing how many +inhabitants of a large town do not even know where the public +library is. Everyone realizes this who has ever tried to find a +public library in a strange place. I once asked repeatedly of +passers-by in a crowded city street a block distant from a library +(in this case not architecturally conspicuous) before finding one +who knew its whereabouts; in another city I inquired in vain of a +conductor who passed the building every few hours in his car. In +the latter case the library was a beautiful structure calculated to +move the curiosity of a less stolid citizen. In New York inquiry +would probably cause you to reach the nearest branch library, +anything more remote than that being beyond the local intelligence. +Sometimes I think we had better drop all our far-reaching plans for +civic betterment and devote our time for a few years to causing +citizens, lettered and unlettered alike to memorize some such +simple formula as this: “There is a Public Library. It is on +Blank street. We may borrow books there, free.”</p> +<p>You will notice that I have inserted in this formula one item of +information that pertains to use, not location. For of those who +know of the existence <span class="pagenum"><a id="page131" name= +"page131"></a>[pg 131]</span>and location of the Public Library +there are many whose ideas of its contents and their uses, and of +the conditions and value of such uses, are limited and crude. The +advertising that succeeds in bettering this state of things is +surely doing an economic service. All these things the +self-respecting citizen should know. But beyond and above all this +there is the final economic service of advertising—the +causing a man to want that which he needs but does not yet desire. +Every man, woman and child in every town and village needs books in +some shape, degree, form or substance. And yet the proportion of +those who desire them is yet outrageously small, though +encouragingly on the increase. Here no memorizing of a formula, +even could we compass it, could suffice. This kind of advertising +means the realization of something lacking in a life. Is the +awakening of such a realization too much for us? Are we to stand by +and see our neighbors all about us awakening to the undoubted fact +that they need telephones in their houses, and electric runabouts, +and mechanical fans in hot weather, and pianolas, and new kinds of +breakfast food, while we despair of awakening them to their needs +of books—quite as undoubted? Are we to admit that personal +gain, which was the victorious motive that spurred on the +commercial advertisers in these and countless other instances, is +to be counted more mighty than the desire to do a service to our +fellowmen and to fulfill the duties of our positions—which +should spur us on?</p> +<p>I am not foolish enough to suppose that by placarding the fences +with the words “Books! Books!” as the patent medicine +man does with “Curoline! Curoline!” we shall make any +progress. The patent medicine man is right; he wants to excite +curiosity <span class="pagenum"><a id="page132" name= +"page132"></a>[pg 132]</span>and familiarize the public with the +name of his nostrum. They all know what a book is—and alas +the name is not even unknown and mysterious—would that it +were! It calls up in many minds associations which, if we are to be +successful we must combat, overthrow, and replace by others. To +many—sad it is to say it—a book is an abhorrent thing; +to more still, it is a thing of absolute indifference. To some a +book is merely a collection of things, having no ascertainable +relationships, that one is required to memorize; to others it is a +collection of statements, difficult to understand, out of which the +meaning must be extracted by hard study; to very few indeed does +the book appear to be what it really is—a message from +another mind. People will go to a seance and listen with thrills to +the silliest stuff purporting to proceed from Plato or Daniel +Webster or Abraham Lincoln, when in the Public Library, a few +blocks away are important and authentic messages from those same +persons, to which they have never given heed. Such a message +derives interest and significance from circumstances outside +itself. Very few books create their own atmosphere unaided. They +presuppose a system of abilities, opinions, prejudices, likes and +dislikes, intellectual connections and what not, that is little +less than appalling, if we try to follow it up. Dislike of books or +indifference toward them is often simply the result of a lack of +these things or of some component part of them. We must supply what +is lacking if we are to arouse a desire for books in those who do +not yet possess it. I say that such a labor is difficult enough to +interest him whose pleasure it is to essay hard tasks; it is noble +enough to attract him who loves his fellow-man; success in it is +rare enough and glorious enough to stimulate him who likes to +succeed where <span class="pagenum"><a id="page133" name= +"page133"></a>[pg 133]</span>others have failed. Advertising may be +good or bad, noble or ignoble, right or wrong, according to what is +advertised and our methods of advertising it. He who would scorn to +announce the curative powers of bottled spring-water and pink +aniline dye; he who regards it as a commonplace task to urge upon +the spendthrift public the purchase of unnecessary gloves and +neckties, may well feel a thrill of satisfaction and of +anticipation in the task of advertising ideas and of persuading the +unheeding citizen to appropriate what he has been accustomed to +view with indifference.</p> +<p>To get at the root of the matter, let us inquire why it is that +so many persons do not care for books. We may divide them, I think, +into two classes—those who do not care, or appear not to care +for ideas at all, whether stored in books or not; and those who do +care for ideas but who either do not easily get them out of storage +or do not realize that they can be and are stored in books. +Absolute carelessness of ideas is, it seems to me, rather apparent +than real. It exists only in the idiot. There are those to be sure +that care about a very limited range of ideas; but about some ideas +they always care.</p> +<p>We must, in our advertisement of ideas, bear this in +mind—the necessity of offering to each that which he +considers it worth his while to take. If I were asked what is the +most fundamentally interesting subject to all classes, I should +unhesitatingly reply “philosophy.” Not, perhaps, the +philosophy of the schools, but the individual philosophy that every +man and woman has, and that is precisely alike in no two of us. I +have heard a tiny boy, looking up suddenly from his play, ask +“Why do we live?” This and its correlative “Why +do we die?” Whence come we and whither do we go? What is the +universe and <span class="pagenum"><a id="page134" name= +"page134"></a>[pg 134]</span>what are our relations to +it—these questions in some form have occurred to everyone who +thinks at all. They are discussed around the stove at the corner +grocery, in the logging camp, on the ranch, in clubs and at +boarding-house tables. Sometimes they take a theological +turn—free will, the origin and purpose of evil, and so on. I +do not purpose to give here a catalogue of the things in which an +ordinary man is interested, and I have said this only to remind you +that his interest may be vivid even in connection with subjects +usually considered abstruse. This interest in ideas we may call the +library’s raw material; anything that tends to create it, to +broaden it, to extend it to new fields and to direct it into paths +that are worth while is making it possible for the library to do +better and wider work—is helping on its campaign of +publicity. This establishes a web of connecting fibers between the +library and all human activity. The man who is getting interested +in his work, debaters at a labor union, students at school and +college, the worker for civic reform, the poetic dreamer—all +are creating a demand for ideas that makes it easier for the +library to advertise them. Those who object to some of the outside +work done by modern libraries should try to look at the whole +matter from this standpoint. The library is taking its place as a +public utility with other public utilities. Its relations with them +are becoming more evident; the ties between them are growing +stronger. As in all cases of such growth it is becoming +increasingly difficult to identify the boundaries between them, so +fast and so thoroughly do the activities of each reach over these +lines and interpenetrate those of the others. And unless there is +actual wasteful duplication of work, we need not bother about our +respective spheres. These activities are all human; <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page135" name="page135"></a>[pg 135]</span>they +are mutually interesting and valuable. A library need be afraid of +doing nothing that makes for the spread of interest in ideas, so +long as it is not neglecting its own particular work of the +collection, preservation and distribution of ideas as stored in +books, and is not duplicating others’ work wastefully.</p> +<p>When we observe those who are already interested in ideas, +however, we find that not all are interested in them as they are +stored up in books. Some of these cannot read; their number is +small with us and growing smaller; we may safely leave the schools +to deal with them. Others can read, but they do not easily +apprehend ideas through print. Some of these must read aloud so +that they may get the sound of the words, before these really mean +anything to them. These persons need practice in reading. They get +it now largely through the newspapers, but their number is still +large. A person in this condition may be intellectually somewhat +advanced. He may be able to discuss single-tax with some acumen, +for instance. It is a mistake to suppose that because a person +understands a subject or likes a thing and is able to talk well +about it, he will enjoy and appreciate a book on that subject or +thing. It may be as difficult for him to get at the meat of it as +if it were a half-understood foreign tongue. You who know enough +French to buy a pair of gloves or sufficient German to inquire the +way to the station, may tackle a novel in the original and realize +at once the hazy degree of such a person’s apprehension. He +may stick to it and become an easy reader, but on the other hand +your well-meant publicity efforts may place in his hands a book +that will simply discourage and ultimately repel him, sending him +to join the army of those to whom no books appeal.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page136" name="page136"></a>[pg +136]</span>Next we find those who understand how to read and to +read with ease, but to whom books—at any rate certain classes +of books—are not interesting. Now interest in a subject may +be so great that one will wade through the driest literature about +it, but such interest belongs to the few—not to the many. I +have come to the conclusion that more readers have had their +interest killed or lessened by books than have had it aroused or +stimulated. This is a proportion that it is our business as +librarians to reverse. More of this unfortunate and heart-breaking, +interest-killing work than I like to think of goes on in school. +Not necessarily; for the name of those is legion who have had their +eyes opened to the beauties of literature by good teachers. This +makes it all the more maddening when we think how many poor +teachers, or good teachers with mistaken methods, or indifferent +teachers, have succeeded in associating with books in the minds of +their pupils simply burdensome tasks—the gloom and heaviness +of life rather than its joy and lightness. Such boys and girls will +no more touch a book after leaving school than you or I would touch +a scorpion after one had stung us.</p> +<p>Perhaps it is useless to try to change this; possibly it is none +of our business, though we have already seen that there are reasons +to the contrary. But we can better matters, and we are daily +bettering them, by our work with children. If a child has once +learned to love books and to associate them powerfully with +something else than a burdensome task, then the labors of the +unskillful teachers will create no dislike of the book but only of +the teacher and his methods; while those of the good teacher will +be a thousand times more fruitful than otherwise.</p> +<p>So much for the ways in which interesting books <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page137" name="page137"></a>[pg 137]</span>are +sometimes made uninteresting. Now for the books that are +uninteresting <em>per se</em>—and how many there are! When a +man has something to distribute commercially for personal gain, the +thing that he tries above all to do is to interest his +public—to make them want what he has to sell. His success or +failure in doing this, means the success or failure of his whole +enterprise. He does not decide what kind of an entertainment his +clients ought to attend and then try to make them go to it, or what +kind of neckties they ought to wear and then try to make them wear +them. Of ten promoters, if nine proceeded on this principle and one +on the plan of offering something attractive and interesting, who +would succeed? It is one of the marvels of all time that this never +seems to have occurred to writers of books. We are almost forced to +conclude that they do not care whether their volumes are read or +not. In only one class of books, as a rule, do the writers endeavor +to interest the reader first and foremost; you all know that I +refer to fiction. What is the result? The writers of fiction are +the ones read by the public. More fiction is read, as you very well +know, than all the other classes of literature put together. The +library that is able to show a fiction percentage of 60, points to +it with pride, while there are plenty with percentages between 70 +and 80. Now this is all to the credit of the fiction writers. I +refuse to believe that their readers are any more fundamentally +interested in the subjects of which they treat than in others. They +simply follow the line of least resistance. They want something +interesting to read and they know from experience where to go for +it. Of course this brings on abuses. Writers use illegitimate +methods to arouse interest—appeals perhaps, to unworthy +instincts. We need not discuss that here, but simply focus our +attention on the fact that <span class="pagenum"><a id="page138" +name="page138"></a>[pg 138]</span>writers of fiction always try to +be interesting because they must; while writers of history, travel, +biography and philosophy do not usually try, because they think it +unnecessary. This is simply a survival. It used to be true that +readers of these subjects read them because of their great +antecedent interest in them—an interest so great that +interesting methods of presentation became unnecessary. No one +cared about the masses, still less about what they might or might +not read. Things are changed now; we are trying to advertise stored +ideas to persons unfamiliar with them and we are suddenly awakening +to the fact that our stock is not all that it should be. We need +history, science and travel fascinatingly presented—at least +as interestingly as the fiction-writer presents his subjects. This +is by no means impossible, because it has been done, in a few +instances. We are by no means in the position of the Irishman who +didn’t know whether or not he could play the piano, because +he had never tried. Some of our authors have tried—and +succeeded. No one after William James can say that philosophy +cannot be made interesting to the ordinary reader. Tyndall showed +us long ago that physics could interest the unlearned, and there +are similarly interesting writers on history and travel—more +perhaps in these two classes than any other. But it remains true +that the vast majority of non-fiction books do not attract, and +were not written with the aim of attracting, the ordinary reader +such as the libraries are now trying to reach. The result is that +the fiction writers are usurping the functions of these +uninteresting scribes and are putting history, science, economics, +biology, medicine—all sorts of subjects, into fictional +form—a sufficient answer to any who may think that the +subjects themselves, as distinguished from the manner in which they +are presented, <span class="pagenum"><a id="page139" name= +"page139"></a>[pg 139]</span>are calculated to repel the ordinary +reader. Fiction is thus becoming, if it has not already become, the +sole form of literary expression, so far as the ordinary reader is +concerned. This is interesting; it justifies the large stock of +fiction in public libraries and the large circulation of that +stock. It does not follow that it is commendable or desirable. For +one thing it places truth and falsehood precisely on the same +plane. The science or the economics in a good novel may be bad and +that in a poor novel may be good. Then again, it dilutes the +interesting matter with triviality. It is right that those who want +to know how and when and under what circumstances Edwin and +Angelina concluded to get married should have an opportunity of +doing so, but it is obviously unfair that the man who likes the +political discussions put into the mouth of Edwin’s uncle, or +the clever descriptions of country-life incident to the courtship, +should be burdened with information of this sort, in which he has +little interest.</p> +<p>To those who are interested in the increase of non-fiction +percentages I would therefore say: devise some means of working +upon the authors. These gentry are yet ignorant of the existence of +a special library public. Some day they will wake up, and then +fiction will be relieved from the burden that oppresses it at +present—of carrying most of the interesting philosophy, +religion, history and social science, in addition to doing its own +proper work.</p> +<p>Meanwhile the librarian, who is interested in advertising ideas, +must do what he can with his material. There is still a saving +remnant of interesting non-fiction, and there is a goodly body of +readers whose antecedent interest in certain subjects is great +enough to attract them to almost any book on those subjects. I have +purposely avoided the discussion <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page140" name="page140"></a>[pg 140]</span>here of the details of +library publicity, which has been well done elsewhere; but I cannot +refrain from expressing my opinion that the ordinary work of the +library and its stock of books if properly displayed, are more +effective than any other means that can be used for the purpose. +From a series of articles entitled “How to Start Libraries in +Small Towns” by A.M. Pendleton, I quote the following, which +appears in The Library Journal for May 13, 1877:</p> +<p>“Plant it [the library] among the people, where its +presence will be seen and felt,… Other things being equal, +it is better to have it upon the first floor, so that passers-by +will see its goodly array of books and be tempted to inspect +them.”</p> +<p>Excellent advice; we might take it if we had not built our +libraries as far away from the street as possible and lifted them +up on as high a pedestal as our money would buy. Who, passing by a +modern library building, branch or central, can by any possibility +see through the windows enough of the interior to tell whether it +is a library rather than a postoffice, a bank, or an office?</p> +<p>Before moving into its new home the St. Louis Public Library +occupied temporarily a business building having a row of six large +plate-glass windows on one side, directly on the sidewalk, enabling +passers-by to see clearly all that went on in the adult +lending-delivery room. The effect on the circulation was +noteworthy. During the last months of our occupancy we went further +and utilized each of the windows for a book display. This was in +charge of a special committee of the staff, and its results were +beyond expectation. In one window we had a shelfful of current +books, open to attractive pictures, with a sign reminding wayfarers +that they might be taken out by cardholders and that cards were +free. In another <span class="pagenum"><a id="page141" name= +"page141"></a>[pg 141]</span>we had standard works, without +pictures, but open at attractive pages. In another we had +children’s books; in another, open reference or art books in +a dust-proof case—and so on. Each of these windows was seldom +without its contingent of gazers, and the direct effect on library +circulation was noticed by all. At the end of the year we moved +into our great million-and-a-half-dollar building; and beautiful as +it is—satisfactory as are its arrangements—we have +had—alas—to give up our show windows. We can, it is +true, have show cases in the great entrance hall, but we want to +attract outsiders, not insiders. Some of our enthusiastic staff +want to build permanent show cases on the sidewalk. What we may +possibly do is to rent real show windows opposite. What we do not +desire, is to abandon our publicity plan altogether. But when, oh +when, shall we have libraries (branches at any rate, if our main +buildings must be monumental) that will throw themselves open to +the public eye, luring in the wayfarer to the joys of reading, as +the commercial window does to the delights of gumdrops or +neckties?</p> +<p>One of the greatest steps ever taken toward the advertisement of +ideas was the adoption, on a large scale, of the open shelf. This +throws the books of a library, or many of them, open to public +inspection and handling; it encourages +“browsing”—the somewhat aimless rambling about +and dipping here and there into a volume.</p> +<p>If we are to present ideas to our would-be readers in great +variety, hoping that among them there may be toothsome bait, surely +there could be no better way than this. The only trouble is that it +appeals only to those who are already sufficiently interested in +stored ideas to enter the library.</p> +<p>We must remember, however, that by our method <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page142" name="page142"></a>[pg 142]</span>of +sending out books for home use we are making a great open-shelf of +the whole city. While the number of volumes in any one place may be +small, the books are constantly changing so that the non-reader has +a good chance of seeing in his friend’s house something that +may attract him. That this may affect the use of the library it is +essential that he who sees a library book on the table or in the +hands of a fellow passenger on a car must be able to recognize its +source at once, so that, if attracted, he may be led thither by the +suggestion. Nothing is better for this purpose than the library +seal, placed on the book where all may see it; and that all may +recognize it, it should also be used wherever possible, in +connection with the library—on letter heads, posters, lists, +pockets and cards, so that the public association between its +display and the work of the library shall become strong.</p> +<p>This making the whole outstanding supply of circulating books an +agency in our publicity scheme for ideas is evidently more +effective as the books better fit and satisfy their users; for in +that case we have an unpaid agent with each book. The adaptation of +book to user helps our advertisement of ideas, and that in turn +aids us in adapting book to user. When a dynamo starts, the newly +arisen current makes the field stronger and that in turn increases +the current. Only here we must have just a little residual +magnetism in the field magnet to start the whole process. In the +library’s work the residual magnetism is represented by the +latent interest in ideas that is present in every community. And I +can do no better, in closing, than to emphasize the fact that +everything that advertises ideas, even if totally unconnected with +their recorded form in books, helps the library and pushes forward +its work.</p> +<p>Itself a product of the great extension of intellectual +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page143" name="page143"></a>[pg +143]</span>activity to classes in which it was formerly bounded by +narrow limits, the library is bound to widen those limits wherever +they can be stretched, and every movement of them reacts to help +it. Surely advertisement on its part is an evangel—a bearing +of good intellectual tidings into the darkness. We are +spiritualistic mediums in the best sense—the bearers of +authentic messages from all the good and great of past or present +time; only with us, no turning on of the light, no publicity +however glaring, will break the spell or do otherwise than aid, for +whether we succeed or fail, whether we live or die, those messages, +recorded as they are in books, will stand while humanity +remains.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page145" name="page145"></a>[pg +145]</span> +<h2><a name="Essay13" id="Essay13">The Public Library, The Public +School, and The Social Center Movement</a><a id="footnotetag7" +name="footnotetag7" href="#footnote7" title= +"Read before the National Education Association."><sup>7</sup></a></h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>The center of a geometrical figure is important, not for its +size and content, but for its position—not for what it is in +itself, but for its relations to the other elements of the figure. +And words used with derived meanings are used best when their +original significations are kept in mind. The business center of a +city does not contain all of that city’s commercial activity; +when we speak of the church as a religious center, we do not mean +that there is to be no religious activity in the home or in other +walks of life; as for the center of population of a large and +populous country, it may be out in the prairie where neither man +nor his dwellings are to be seen. All these centers are what they +are because of certain relationships. It is so with a social +center. But social relationships cover a wide field. The +relationships of business, of religion, even of mere co-existence, +are all social. May we have a center for so wide a range of +activities? Even the narrower relations of business or of religion +tend to form subsidiary groups and to multiply subsidiary centers. +In a large city we may have not only a general business center but +centers of the real estate business, of the hardware or textile +trades, and so on. Our religious affiliations condense into +denominational centers.</p> +<p>In the district of a large city where newly arrived foreign +immigrants gather, you will be shown the group of blocks where the +Poles or the Hungarians <span class="pagenum"><a id="page146" name= +"page146"></a>[pg 146]</span>have segregated themselves from the +rest, and even within these, the houses where dwell families from a +particular province or even from one definite city or village. Man +is social but he is socially clannish, and the broadest is not so +much he who refuses to recognize these clan or caste relationships +as he who enters into the largest number of them—he who keeps +in touch with his childhood home, has a wide acquaintance among +those of his own religious faith and of his chosen business or +profession, keeps up his old college friendships, is interested in +collecting coins or paintings and knows all the other collectors, +is active in civic and charitable societies, takes an interest in +education and educators, and so on. The social democracy that +should succeed in abolishing all these groups or leveling +them—that should recognize no relationships but the broader +ones that underly all human effort and feeling—the touches of +nature that make the whole world kin—would be barren +indeed.</p> +<p>We cannot spare these fundamentals; we could not get rid of them +if we would; but civilization advances by building upon them, and +to do away with these additions would be like destroying a city to +get at its foundation, in the vain hope of securing some +wide-reaching result in economics or aesthetics. Occupying a +foremost place among these groupings is the large division +embracing our educational activities. And these are social not only +in the broad sense, but also in the narrower. The intercourse of +student with student in the school and even of reader with reader +in the library, especially in such departments as the +children’s room, is so obviously that of society that we need +dwell on it no further.</p> +<p>This intercourse, while a necessary incident of education in the +mass, is only an incident. It is sufficiently <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page147" name="page147"></a>[pg +147]</span>obtrusive, however, to make it evident that any use of +school or library building for social purposes is fit and proper. +There is absolutely nothing new nor strange about such use. In +places that cannot afford separate buildings for these purposes, +the same edifice has often served for church, schoolhouse, public +library, and as assembly room for political meetings, amateur +theatricals, and juvenile debating societies. The propriety of all +this has never been questioned and it is difficult to see why it +should not be as proper in a town of 500,000 inhabitants as in one +of 500. The incidence of the cost is a matter of detail. Why should +such purely social use of these educational buildings—always +common in small towns—have been allowed to fall into abeyance +in the larger ones? It is hard to say; but with the recent great +improvements in construction, the building of schools and libraries +that are models of beauty, comfort, and convenience, there has +arisen a not unnatural feeling in the public that all this public +property should be put to fuller use. Why should children be forced +to dance on the street or in some place of sordid association when +comfortable and convenient halls in library or school are closed +and unoccupied? Why should the local debating club, the +mothers’ meeting—nay, why should the political ward +meeting be barred out? Side by side with this trend of public +opinion there has been an awakening realization on the part of many +connected with these institutions that they themselves might +benefit by such extended use.</p> +<p>Probably this realization has come earlier and more fully to the +library, because its educational function is directed so much more +upon adults. The library is coming to be our great continuation +school—an institution of learning with an infinity of purely +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page148" name="page148"></a>[pg +148]</span>optional courses. It may open its doors to any form of +adult social activity.</p> +<p>There are forms of activity proper to a social center that +require special apparatus or equipment. These may be furnished in a +building erected for the purpose, as are the Chicago fieldhouses. +Here we have swimming-pools, gymnasiums for men and for women, and +all the rest of it. A branch library is included and some would +house the school also under the same roof. We may have to wait long +for the general adoption of such a composite social center. Our +immediate problem is to supply an immediate need by using means +directly at our disposal. And it is remarkable how many kinds of +neighborhood activity may take place in a room unprovided with any +special equipment. A brief glance over our own records for only a +few months past enables me to classify them roughly as athletic or +outdoor, purely social, educational, debating, political, labor, +musical, religious, charitable or civic, and expository, besides +many that defy or elude classification.</p> +<p>The athletic or outdoor organizations include the various +turning or gymnastic clubs and the Boy and Girl Scouts; the social +organizations embrace dancing-classes, “welfare” +associations, alumni and graduate clubs of schools and colleges, +and dramatic clubs; the educational, which are very numerous, +reading circles, literary clubs galore, free classes in chemistry, +French, psychology, philosophy, etc., and all such organizations as +the Jewish Culture Club, the Young People’s Ethical Society, +the Longan Parliamentary Class, and the Industrial and Business +Women’s Educational leagues. Religious bodies are parish +meetings, committees of mission boards, and such organizations as +the Theosophical Society; charitable or <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page149" name="page149"></a>[pg 149]</span>civic +activities include the National Conference of Day Nurseries, the +Central Council of Civic Agencies, the W.C.T.U., playground +rehearsals for the Child Welfare Exhibit, and the Business +Men’s Association; and the Advertising Men’s League; +musical organizations embrace St. Paul’s Musical Assembly, +the Tuesday Choral Club, etc. Among exhibitions are local affairs +such as wild flower shows, an exhibit of bird-houses, collections +from the Educational Museum, the Civil League’s Municipal +Exhibit, selected screens from the Child Welfare Exhibit, and the +prize-winners from the St. Louis Art Exhibit held in the art room +of our central library. Then we have the Queen Hedwig Branch, the +Clay School Picnic Association, the Aero Club, the Lithuanian Club, +the Philotechne Club, the Fathers’ Club, and the United +Spanish War Veterans.</p> +<p>I trust you will not call upon me to explain the objects of some +of these, as such a demand might cause me embarrassment—not +because their aims are unworthy, but because these are skilfully +obscured by their names. If anyone believes that there is a limit +to the capacity of the human race for forming groups and subgroups +on a moment’s notice, for any reason or for no reason at all, +I would refer him to our assembly room and clubroom records; and he +would find, I think, that these are typical of every large library +offering the use of such rooms somewhat freely.</p> +<p>It will be noted that the library takes no part in organizing or +operating any of these activities; it does not have to do so.</p> +<p>The successful leader is he who repairs to a hill and raises his +standard, knowing that at sight of it followers will flock around +him. When you drop a tiny crystal into a solution, the atoms all +rush to it <span class="pagenum"><a id="page150" name= +"page150"></a>[pg 150]</span>naturally: there is no effort or +compulsion except that of the aptitudes that their Creator has +implanted in them. So it is with all centers, business or religious +or social. No one instituted a campaign to locate the business +center of a city at precisely such a square or corner. Things +aggregate, and the point to which they tend is their center; they +make it, it does not make them. The leader on a hill is a leader +because he has followers; without them he would be but a lone +warrior. The school or the library that says proudly to itself, +“Go to; I will be a social center,” may find itself in +the same lonely position. It can offer an opportunity: that is all. +It can offer houseroom to clubs, organizations, and groups of all +kinds, whether permanent or temporary, large or small, but its +usefulness as a social center depends largely on the existence of +these and on their desire for a meeting place. We have in St. Louis +six branch libraries with assembly rooms and clubrooms—in all +a dozen or so. I have before me the calendar for a single week and +I find 55 engagements, running from 24 at one branch down thru 13, +8, 6, and 3 to one. If I had before me only the largest number I +should conclude that branch libraries as social centers were a +howling success; if only the smallest, I should say that they were +dismal failures. Why the difference? For the same reason that the +leader who displays his standard may or may not be surrounded with +eager “flocking” followers. There may be no one within +earshot, or they may have no stomach for the war, or they may not +be interested in the cause that he represents. Or again, he may not +shout loud or persuasively enough, or his standard may not be +attractive enough in form or color, or mounted on a sufficiently +high staff.</p> +<p>I have said that all we can offer is opportunity; to +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page151" name="page151"></a>[pg +151]</span>change our figure, we can furnish the +drinking-fountain—thirst must bring the horse to it. But we +must not forget that we offer our opportunity in vain unless we are +sure that everyone who might grasp it realizes our offer and what +it means.</p> +<p>Here is the chance for personal endeavor. If the young people in +a neighborhood continue to hold their social meetings over a saloon +when the branch library or the school is perfectly willing to offer +its assembly room, it is pretty certain that they do not understand +that offer, or that they mistrust its sincerity, or that there is +something wrong that might be remedied by personal effort. In the +one of our branches that is most used by organizations there is +this personal touch. But I should hesitate to say that the others +do not have it too. There are plenty of organizations near this +busiest library and there are no other good places for them to +meet. In the neighborhood of some other branches there are other +meeting-places, and elsewhere, perhaps, the social instinct is not +so strong, or at any rate the effort to organize is lacking. Should +the librarian step out and attempt to stimulate this social +instinct and to guide this organizing effort? There is room for +difference of opinion here.</p> +<p>Personally I think that he should not do it directly and +officially as a librarian. He may do it quietly and unobtrusively +like any other private citizen, but he needs all his efforts, all +his influence, to bring the book and the reader together in his +community. Sometimes by doing this he can be doing the other too, +and he can always do it vicariously. He should bear in mind that +the successful man is not he who does everything himself, but he +who can induce others to do things—to do them in his way and +to direct them <span class="pagenum"><a id="page152" name= +"page152"></a>[pg 152]</span>toward his ends. Even in the most +sluggish, the most indifferent community there are these potential +workers with enthusiasms that need only to be awakened to be let +loose for good. The magic key is often in the librarian’s +girdle, and his free offer of house room and sympathy, with good +literature thrown in, will always be of powerful assistance in this +kind of effort. He will seldom need to do more than to make clear +the existence and the nature of the opportunity that he offers. I +know that there are some librarians and many more teachers who +hesitate to open their doors in any such way as this; who are +afraid that the opportunities offered will be misused or that the +activities so sheltered will be misjudged by the public. It has +shocked some persons that a young people’s dancing-class has +been held, under irreproachable auspices, in one of our branch +libraries; others have been grieved to see that political ward +meetings have taken place in them, and that some rather radical +political theories have been debated there. These persons forget +that a library never takes sides. It places on its shelves books on +the Civil War from the standpoint of both North and South, +histories of the great religious controversies by both Catholics +and Protestants, ideas and theories in science and philosophy from +all sides and at all angles. It may give room at one time to a +young people’s dancing-class and at another to a meeting of +persons who condemn dancing. Its walls may echo one day to the +praises of our tariff system and on another to fierce denunciations +of it.</p> +<p>These things are all legitimate and it is better that they +should take place in a library or a school building than in a +saloon or even in a grocery store. The influence of environment is +gently pervasive. I may be wrong, but I cannot help thinking that +it is <span class="pagenum"><a id="page153" name="page153"></a>[pg +153]</span>easier to be a gentleman in a library, whether in social +meeting or in political debate, than it is in some other places. In +one of our branches there meets a club of men who would be termed +anarchists by some people. The branch librarian assures me that the +brand of anarchism that they profess has grown perceptibly milder +since they have met in the library. It is getting to be literary, +academic, philosophic. Nourished in a saloon, with a little +injudicious repression, it might perhaps have borne fruit of bombs +and dynamite.</p> +<p>In this catholicity I cannot help thinking that the library as +an educational institution is a step ahead of the school. Most +teachers would resent the imputation of partisanship on the part of +the school, and yet it is surely partisan—in some ways +rightly and inevitably so. One cannot well explain both sides of +any question to a child of six and leave its decision to his +judgment. This is obvious; and yet I cannot help thinking that +there is one-sided teaching of children who are at least old enough +to know that there is another side, and that the one-sided teaching +of two-sided subjects might be postponed in some cases until +two-sided information would be possible and proper. Where a child +is taught one side and finds out later that there is another, his +resentment is apt to be bitter; it spoils the educational effect of +much that he was taught and injures the influence of the +institution that taught him. My resentment is still strong against +the teaching that hid from me the southern viewpoint concerning +slavery and secession, the Catholic viewpoint of what we +Protestants call the Reformation—dozens of things omitted +from textbooks on dozens of subjects because they did not happen to +meet the approval of the textbook compiler. I am no less +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page154" name="page154"></a>[pg +154]</span>an opponent of slavery—I am no less a +Protestant—because I know the other side, but I think I am a +better man for knowing it, and I think it a thousand pities that +there are thousands of our fellow citizens, on all sides of all +possible lines, from whom our educative processes have hid even the +fact that there is another side. This question, as I have said, +does not affect the library, and fortunately need not affect it. +And as we are necessarily two-sided in our book material so we can +open our doors to free social or neighborhood use without bothering +our heads about whether the users are Catholics, Protestants, or +Jews; Democrats, Republicans, or Socialists; Christian Scientists +or suffragists. The library hands our suffrage and anti-suffrage +literature to its users with the same smile, and if it hands the +anti-suffrage books to the suffragist, and vice versa, both sides +are certainly the better for it.</p> +<p>I have tried to make it clear in what I have said that in this +matter of social activity, public institutions should go as far as +they can in furnishing facilities without taking upon themselves +the burden of administration. I believe fully in municipal +ownership of all kinds of utilities, but rarely in municipal +operation. Municipal ownership safeguards the city, and private or +corporate operation avoids the numerous objections to close +municipal control of detail. So the library authorities may retain +sufficient control of these social activities by the power that +they have of admitting them to the parts of the buildings provided +for them, or of excluding them at any time. These activities +themselves are better managed by voluntary bodies, and, as I have +said, there is no indication that the formation of such bodies is +on the wane. The establishment and operation of a musical or +athletic <span class="pagenum"><a id="page155" name= +"page155"></a>[pg 155]</span>club, a debating society, or a Boy +Scouts company, are surely quite as educational as the activities +themselves in which their members engage. Do not let us arrogate to +ourselves such opportunities as these. I should be inclined to take +this attitude also with regard to the public playgrounds, were they +not somewhat without the province of this paper; and I take it very +strongly with regard to the public school. Throw open the school +buildings as soon as you can, and as freely as you can to every +legitimate form of social activity, but let your relationship to +this activity be like that of the center to the circle—in it +and of it, but embracing no part of its areal content. So, I am +convinced, will it be best for all of us—for ourselves, the +administrators of public property, and for the public, the owning +body which is now demanding that it should not be barred out by its +servants from that property’s freest and fullest use.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page157" name="page157"></a>[pg +157]</span> +<h2><a name="Essay14" id="Essay14">The Systematization of +Violence</a></h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>The peace propaganda has suffered much from the popular +impression that many of those engaged in it are impractical +enthusiasts who are assuming the possibility of doing away with +passions and prejudices incident to our very humanity, and of +bringing about an ideal reign of love and good will. Whether this +impression is or is not justified we need not now inquire. It is +the impression itself that is injuring the cause of peace, and will +continue to injure it until it is removed.</p> +<p>It may at least be lessened by allowing the mind to dwell for a +time on another aspect of the subject in which the regime of peace +that would follow the discontinuance of all settlement of disputes +by violence will appear to consist not so much in the total +disappearance of violence from the earth as in the use of it for a +different purpose, namely, the preservation of the peaceful status +quo, by a systematic and lawful use of force, or at any rate, the +readiness to employ it.</p> +<p>A state of peace, whether between individuals or nations, +whether without or within a regime of law, always partakes of the +nature of an armed truce: under one regime, however, the arms are +borne by the possible contestants themselves; under the other, by +the community whose members they are. If there is a resort to arms, +violence ensues under both regimes; in both cases it tends +ultimately to restore peace, but the action is more certain and +more systematic when the violence is exerted by the community.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page158" name="page158"></a>[pg +158]</span>These laws may apply indifferently to a community of +individuals or to one of nations. The most cogent and the most +valid argument at the disposal of the peace advocate is the fact +that we no longer allow the individual to take the law into his own +hand, and that logically we should equally prohibit the nation from +doing so. This is unanswerable, but its force has been greatly +weakened by the assumption, which it requires no great astuteness +to find unwarranted, that the settlement of individual quarrels by +individual force has resulted from—or at least resulted +in—the discontinuance of violence altogether, or in the dawn +of a general era of good-will, man to man. On the contrary, it is +very doubtful whether there is less violence to-day than there +would be if the operation of law were suspended altogether; the +difference, is that the violence has shifted its incidence and +altered its aim—it is civic and social and no longer +individual.</p> +<p>If we are to introduce the regime of law among nations as among +individuals, our first step must be similarly to shift the +incidence of violence. In so doing we may not decrease it, we may, +indeed, increase it—but we shall none the less be taking that +step in the only possible direction to achieve our purpose.</p> +<p>Among individuals, custom, crystallizing into law, generally +precedes the enforcement of that law by the community. Hence, a +somewhat elaborate code may exist side by side with the settlement +of disputes, under that code, by personal combat. We have among +nations such a code, and we yet admit the settlement of disputes by +war, because the incidence of violence has not yet completely +shifted. We have established a tribunal to act, in certain cases, +on behalf of the community of nations, but we have not <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page159" name="page159"></a>[pg 159]</span>yet +given that tribunal complete jurisdiction and we have given it no +power whatever to enforce its decrees. It is on this latter point +that I desire to dwell. In a community of individuals, there are +two ways of using violence to enforce law—by the professional +police force and by the posse of citizens. The former is more +effective, but the latter is often readier and more certain in +particular instances, especially in primitive communities. To give +it force we must have readiness on the part of every citizen to +respond to a call from the proper officer, and ability to do +effective service, especially by the possession of arms and skill +in their use. These requisites are not generally found in more +advanced communities.</p> +<p>In like manner, the decrees of an international tribunal might +be enforced either by the creation of an international army or by +calling upon as many of the nations as necessary to aid in coercing +the non-law-abiding member of the international community. Each +nation is already armed and ready.</p> +<p>Whatever may be thought of the ultimate possibility of an +international army, it must be evident that the principle of the +posse must serve us at the outset. An international army would +always consist in part of members of the nation to be coerced, +whereas, in selecting a posse those furthest in race and in +sympathy from the offender might always be chosen, just as members +of a hostile clan would make up the best posse to arrest a +Highlander for sheep-stealing.</p> +<p>Moreover, the posse has been used internationally more than +once, as when decrees have been pronounced by a general European +Congress and some particular nation or nations have been charged +with their execution.</p> +<p>When a frontier community that has been a law unto itself gets +its first sheriff, the earliest visible result <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page160" name="page160"></a>[pg 160]</span>is not +impossibly a sudden increase, instead of a decrease, of violence. +There is a war of the community, represented by the sheriff and the +good citizens, against all the bad ones. Even so it may be expected +that among the first results of an effective agreement to enforce +the decrees of an international tribunal, would be an exceptionally +great and violent war. Sooner or later some nation would be sure to +take issue with an unpopular decree and refuse to obey it. This +would probably be one of the larger and more powerful nations, for +a weaker power would not proceed to such lengths in protest.</p> +<p>Not improbably other nations might join the protesting power. +The result would be a war; it might even be the world war that we +have been fearing for a generation. It might conceivably be the +greatest and the bloodiest war that the world has yet seen. Yet it +would be far the most glorious war of history, for it would be a +struggle on behalf of law and order in the community of +nations—a fight to uphold that authority by whose exercise +alone may peace be assured to the world. The man who shudders at +the prospect of such a war, who wants peace, but is unwilling to +fight for it, should cease his efforts on behalf of a universal +agreement among nations, for there is no general agreement without +power to quell dissension.</p> +<p>This is not the place to discuss the details of an international +agreement to enforce the decrees of an international tribunal. It +may merely be said that if the most powerful and intelligent +communities of men that have ever existed cannot devise machinery +to do what puny individuals have long been successfully +accomplishing, they had better disband and coalesce in universal +anarchy.</p> +<p>My object here is neither to propose plans nor to <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page161" name="page161"></a>[pg 161]</span>discuss +details, but merely to point out that not the abandonment, but the +systematization of violence is the goal of a rational peace +propaganda, and that when this is once acknowledged and universally +realized, an important step will have been taken toward winning +over a class of persons who now oppose a world-peace as impractical +and impossible.</p> +<p>These persons disapprove of disarmament: and from the point of +view here advocated, a general disarmament would be the last thing +to be desired. The possible member of a posse must bear arms to be +effective. Armaments may have to be limited and controlled by +international decree, but to disarm a nation would be as criminal +and foolish as it would be to take away all weapons from the +law-abiding citizens of a mining town as a preliminary to calling +upon them to assist in the arrest of a notorious band of +outlaws.</p> +<p>Again: a common objection to the peace propaganda is that +without war we shall have none of the heroic virtues that war calls +into being. This objection fails utterly when we consider that what +we shall get under a proper international agreement is not the +abolition of war, but simply an assurance that when there is a war +it will be one in which every good citizen can take at once the +part of international law and order—a contest between the law +and the law-breaker, and not one in which both contestants are +equally lawless. Thus the profession of arms will still be an +honorable one—it will, in fact, be much more honorable than +it is to-day, when it may at any moment be prostituted to the +service of greed or commercialism.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page163" name="page163"></a>[pg +163]</span> +<h2><a name="Essay15" id="Essay15">The Art of Re-reading</a></h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>“I have nothing to read,” said a man to me once. +“But your house seems to be filled with books.” +“O, yes; but I’ve read them already.” What should +we think of a man who should complain that he had no friends, when +his house was thronged daily with guests, simply because he had +seen and talked with them all once before? Such a man has either +chosen badly, or he is himself at fault. “Hold fast that +which is good” says the Scripture. Do not taste it once and +throw it away. To get at the root of this matter we must go farther +back than literature and inquire what it has in common with all +other forms of art to compel our love and admiration. Now, a work +of art differs from any other result of human endeavor in +this—that its effect depends chiefly on the way in which it +is made and only secondarily upon what it is or what it represents. +Were this not true, all statues of Apollo or Venus would have the +same art-value; and you or I, if we could find a tree and a hill +that Corot had painted, would be able to produce a picture as +charming to the beholder as his.</p> +<p>The way in which a thing is done is, of course, always +important, but its importance outside of the sphere of art differs +from that within. The way in which a machine is constructed makes +it good or bad, but the thing that is aimed at here is the useful +working of the machine, toward which all the skill of the maker is +directed. What the artist aims at is not so much to produce a +likeness of a god or a picture of a tree, as to produce certain +effects in the person who looks at his complete work; and this he +does by the <span class="pagenum"><a id="page164" name= +"page164"></a>[pg 164]</span>way in which he performs it. The fact +that a painting represents certain trees and hills is here only +secondary; the primary fact is what the artist has succeeded in +making the on-looker feel.</p> +<p>While Sorolla is painting a group of children on the beach, I +may take a kodak picture of the same group. My photograph may be a +better likeness than Sorolla’s picture, but it has no +art-value. Why? Because it was made mechanically, whereas Sorolla +put into his picture something of himself, making it a unique +thing, incapable of imitation or of reproduction.</p> +<p>The man who has a message, one of those pervasive, compelling +messages that are worth while, naturally turns to art. He chooses +his subject not as an end, but as a vehicle, and he makes it speak +his message by his method of treatment, conveying it to his public +more or less successfully in the measure of his skill.</p> +<p>We have been speaking of the representative arts of painting and +sculpture, but the same is true of art in any form. In music, not a +representative art, in spite of the somewhat grotesque claims of +so-called program music, the method of the composer is everything, +or at least his subject is so vague and immaterial that no one +would think of exalting it as an end in itself. There is, however, +an art in which the subject stands forth so prominently that even +those who love the art itself are continually in danger of +forgetting the subject’s secondary character. I mean the art +of literature. Among the works of written speech the boundaries of +art are much more ill-defined than they are elsewhere. There is, to +be sure, as much difference between Shelley’s “Ode to a +Skylark” and Todhunter’s “Trigonometry” as +there is between the Venus de Milo and a battleship; and I conceive +that <span class="pagenum"><a id="page165" name="page165"></a>[pg +165]</span>the difference is also of precisely the same kind, being +that by which, as we have seen above, we may always discriminate +between a work of art and one of utility. But where art-value and +utility are closely combined, as they are most frequently in +literature, it is, I believe, more difficult to divide them +mentally and to dwell on their separate characteristics, than where +the work is a concrete object. This is why we hear so many disputes +about whether a given work does or does not belong to the realm of +“pure literature,” and it is also the reason why, as I +have said, some, even among those who love literature, are not +always ready to recognize its nature as an art, or mistakenly +believe that in so far as its art-value is concerned, the subject +portrayed is of primary importance—is an aim in itself +instead of being a mere vehicle for the conveyance of an +impression.</p> +<p>Take, if you please, works which were intended by their authors +as works of utility, but have survived as works of art in spite of +themselves, such as Walton’s “Compleat Angler” +and White’s “Natural History of Selborne.” Will +anyone maintain that the subject-matter of those books has much to +do with their preservation, or with the estimation in which they +are now held? Nay; we may even be so bold as to enter the field of +fiction and to assert that those fictional works that have purely +literary value are loved not for the story they tell, but for the +way in which the author tells it and for the effect that he thereby +produces on the reader.</p> +<p>I conceive that pure literature is an art, subject to the rules +that govern all art, and that its value depends primarily on the +effect produced on the reader—the message conveyed—by +the way in which the writer has done his work, the subject chosen +being only his vehicle. Where a man who has something to +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page166" name="page166"></a>[pg +166]</span>say looks about for means to say it worthily, he may +select a tale, a philosophical disquisition, a familiar essay, a +drama or a lyric poem. He may choose badly or well, but in any case +it is his message that matters.</p> +<p>My excuse for dwelling on this matter must be that unless I have +carried you with me thus far what I am about to say will have no +meaning, and I had best fold my papers, make my bow, and conclude +an unprofitable business. For my subject is re-reading, the +repetition of a message; and the message that we would willingly +hear repeated is not that of utility but of emotion. It is the word +that thrills the heart, nerves the arm, and puts new life into the +veins, not that which simply conveys information. The former will +produce its effect again and again, custom can not stale it. The +latter, once delivered, has done its work. I see two messengers +approaching; one, whom I have sent to a library to ascertain the +birth-date of Oliver Cromwell, tells me what it is and receives my +thanks. The other tells me that one dear to my heart, long lying at +death’s door, is recovering. My blood courses through my +veins; my nerves tingle; joy suffuses me where gloom reigned +before. I cry out; I beg the bearer of good tidings to tell them +again and again; I keep him by me, so that I may ask him a thousand +questions, bringing out his message in a thousand variant forms. +But do I turn to the other and say, “O, that blessed date! +was Cromwell truly born thereon? Let me, I pray, hear you recite it +again and again!” I trow, not.</p> +<p>The message that we desire to hear again is the one that +produces its effect again and again; and that is the message of +feeling, the message of art—not that of mere utility. This is +so true that I conceive we may use it as a test of art-value. The +great works of literature do not lose their effect on a single +reading. <span class="pagenum"><a id="page167" name= +"page167"></a>[pg 167]</span>One makes response to them the +hundredth time as he did the first. Their appeal is so compelling +that there is no denying it—no resisting it. There are +snatches of poetry—and of prose, too—that we have by +heart; that we murmur to ourselves again and again, sure that the +response which never failed will come again, thrilling the whole +organism with its pathos, uplifting us with the nobility of its +appeal, warming us with its humor. There is a little sequence of +homely verse that never fails to bring the tears to my eyes. I have +tested myself with it under the most unfavorable circumstances. In +the midst of business, amid social jollity, in the mental dullness +of fatigue, I have stopped and repeated to myself those three +verses. So quickly acts the magic of the author’s skill that +the earlier verses grip the fibers of my mind and twist them in +such fashion that I feel the pathos of the last lines just as I +felt them for the first time, years ago. You might all tell similar +stories. I believe that this is a characteristic of good +literature, and that all of it will bear reading, and re-reading, +and reading again.</p> +<p>But I hear someone say, “Do you mean to tell me that those +three little verses that bring the tears to your eyes, will bring +them also to mine and my neighbor’s? I might listen to them +appreciatively but dry-eyed; my neighbor might not care for them +enough to re-read them once. All about us we see this personal +equation in the appreciation of literature. Unless you are +prepared, then, to maintain that literature may be good for one and +bad for another, your contention will scarcely hold +water.”</p> +<p>Even so, brother. The messenger who told me of the safety of my +dear one did not thrill your heart as he did mine. She was dear to +me, not to you, and the infinitely delicate yet powerful chain of +conditions <span class="pagenum"><a id="page168" name= +"page168"></a>[pg 168]</span>and relations that operated between +the messenger’s voice and my emotional nature did not connect +him with yours. Assuredly, the message that reaches one man may not +reach another. It may even reach a man in his youth and fall short +in manhood, or vice versa. It may be good for him and inoperative +on all the rest of the world. We estimate literature, it is true, +by the universality of its appeal or by the character of the +persons whom alone that appeal reaches. The message of literature +as art may thus be to the crowd or to a select few. I could even +imagine intellect and feeling of such exquisite fineness, such +acknowledged superiority, that appeal to it alone might be enough +to fix the status of a work of art, though it might leave all +others cold. Still, in general I believe, that the greatest +literature appeals to the greatest number and to the largest number +of types. I believe that there are very few persons to whom +Shakespeare, properly presented, will not appeal. In him, +nevertheless, the learned and those of taste also delight. There +are authors like Walter Pater who are a joy to the few but do not +please the many. There are others galore, whom perhaps it would be +invidious to name, who inspire joy in the multitude but only +distaste in the more discriminating. We place Pater above these, +just as we should always put quality above quantity; but I place +Shakespeare vastly higher, because his appeal is to the few and the +many at once.</p> +<p>But we must, I think, acknowledge that an author whose value may +not appeal to others may be great to one reader; that his influence +on that reader may be as strong for good as if it were universal +instead of unique. We may not place such a writer in the Walhalla, +but I beseech you, do not let us tear him rudely from the one or +two to whom he is good and great. <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page169" name="page169"></a>[pg 169]</span>Do not lop off the +clinging arms at the elbow, but rather skilfully present some other +object of adoration to the intent that they may voluntarily untwine +and enfold this new object more worthily.</p> +<p>The man who desires to own books but who can afford only a small +and select library can not do better than to make his selection on +this basis—to get together a collection of well-loved books +any one of which would give him pleasure in re-reading. Why should +a man harbor in his house a book that he has read once and never +cares to read again? Why should he own one that he will never care +to read at all? We are not considering the books of the great +collectors, coveted for their rarity or their early dates, for +their previous ownership or the beauty of their binding—for +any reason except the one that makes them books rather than +curiosities. These collections are not libraries in the +intellectual or the literary sense. Three well thumbed volumes in +the attic of one who loves them are a better library for him than +those on which Pierpont Morgan spent his millions.</p> +<p>This advice, it will be noted, implies that the man has an +opportunity to read the book before he decides whether to buy it or +not. Here is where the Public Library comes in. Some regard the +Public Library as an institution to obviate all necessity of owning +books. It should rather be regarded from our present standpoint as +an institution to enable readers to own the books that they +need—to survey the field and make therefrom a proper and +well-considered selection. That it has acted so in the past, none +may doubt; it is the business of librarians to see that this +function is emphasized in the future. The bookseller and the +librarian are not rivals, but co-workers. Librarians complain of +the point of view of those publishers <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page170" name="page170"></a>[pg 170]</span>and dealers who regard +every library user as a lost customer. He is rather, they say, in +many cases a customer won—a non-reader added to the reading +class—a possible purchaser of books. But have not librarians +shared somewhat this mistaken and intolerant attitude? How often do +we urge our readers to become book-owners? How often do we give +them information and aid directed toward this end? The success of +the Christmas book exhibitions held in many libraries should be a +lesson to us. The lists issued in connection with these almost +always include prices, publishers’ names, and other +information intended especially for the would-be purchaser. But why +should we limit our efforts to the holiday season? True, every +librarian does occasionally respond to requests for advice in +book-selection and book-purchase, but the library is not yet +recognized as the great testing field of the would-be book owner; +the librarian is not yet hailed as the community’s expert +adviser in the selection and purchase of books, as well as its book +guardian and book distributor. That this may be and should be, I +believe. It will be if the librarian wills it.</p> +<p>Are we straying from our subject? No; for from our present +standpoint a book bought is a book reread. My ideal private library +is a room, be it large or small, lined with books, every one of +which is the owner’s familiar friend, some almost known by +heart, others re-read many times, others still waiting to be +re-read.</p> +<p>But how about the man whose first selection for this intimate +personal group would be a complete set of the works of George Ade? +Well, if that is his taste, let his library reflect it. Let a man +be himself. That there is virtue in merely surrounding oneself with +the great masters of literature all unread and unloved, I +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page171" name="page171"></a>[pg +171]</span>can not see. Better acknowledge your poor taste than be +a hypocrite.</p> +<p>The librarian can not force the classics down the unwilling +throats of those who do not care for them and are perhaps unfitted +to appreciate them. There has been entirely too much of this +already and it has resulted disastrously. Surely, a sane via media +is possible, and we may agree that a man will never like Eschylus, +without assuring him that Eschylus is an out-of-date old fogy, +while on the other hand we may acknowledge the greatness of Homer +and Milton without trying to force them upon unwilling and +incompetent readers. After all it is not so much a question of +Milton versus George Ade, as it is of sanity and wholesomeness +against vulgarity and morbidity. And if I were to walk through one +city and behold collections of this latter sort predominating and +then through another, where my eyes were gladdened with evidences +of good taste, of love for humor that is wholesome, sentiment that +is sane, verse that is tuneful and noble, I should at once call on +the public librarian and I should say to him, “Thou art the +man!” The literary taste of your community is a reflection of +your own as shown forth in your own institution—its +collection of books, the assistants with which you have surrounded +yourself, your attitude and theirs through you toward literature +and toward the public.</p> +<p>But, someone asks, suppose that I am so fortunate and so happy +as to sit in the midst of such a group of friendly authors; how and +how often shall I re-read? Shall I traverse the group every year? +He who speaks thus is playing a part; he is not the real thing. +Does the young lover ask how and how often he shall go to see his +sweetheart? Try to see whether you can keep him away! The +book-lover reopens his favorite volume whenever he feels like it. +Among the works <span class="pagenum"><a id="page172" name= +"page172"></a>[pg 172]</span>on his shelves are books for every +mood, every shade of varying temper and humor. He chooses for the +moment the friend that best corresponds to it, or it may be, the +one that may best woo him away from it. It may be that he will +select none of them, but occupy himself with a pile of newcomers, +some of whom may be candidates for admission to the inner group. +The whole thing—the composition of his library, his attitude +toward it, the books that he re-reads oftenest, the favorite +passages that he loves, that he scans fondly with his eye while yet +he can repeat them by heart, his standards of admission to his +inner circle—all is peculiarly and personally his own. There +is no other precisely like it, just as there is no other human +being precisely like its owner. There is as much difference between +this kind of a library and some that we have seen as there is +between a live, breathing creature with a mind and emotions and +aspirations, and a wax figure in the Eden Musee.</p> +<p>Thus every book lover re-reads his favorites in a way of his +own, just as every individual human being loves or hates or mourns +or rejoices in a way of his own.</p> +<p>One can no more describe these idiosyncrasies than he can write +a history of all the individuals in the world, but perhaps, in the +manner of the ethnological or zoological classifier, it may +interest us to glance at the types of a few genera or species.</p> +<p>And first, please note that re-reading is the exact repetition +of a dual mental experience, so far at least as one of the minds is +concerned. It is a replica of mind-contact, under conditions +obtainable nowhere else in this world and of such nature that some +of them seem almost to partake of other-worldliness. My +yesterday’s interview with Smith or Jones, trivial as it is, +I can not repeat. Smith can not remember <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page173" name="page173"></a>[pg 173]</span>what he +said, and even if he could, he could not say it to me in the same +way and to the same purpose. But my interview with Plato—with +Shakespeare, with Emerson; my talk with Julius Caesar, with Goethe, +with Lincoln! I can duplicate it once, twice, a hundred times. My +own mind—one party to the contact—may change, but +Plato’s or Lincoln’s is ever the same; they speak no +“various language” like Byrant’s nature, but are +like that great Author of Nature who has taken them to Himself, in +that in them “is no variableness, neither shadow of +turning.” To realize that these men may speak to me today, +across the abyss of time, and that I can count on the same message +tomorrow, next year and on my death bed, in the same authentic +words, producing the same effect, assures me that somewhere, +somehow, a miracle has been wrought.</p> +<p>I have said that one of the minds that come thus into contact +changes not, while the other, the reader’s, is alterable. +This gives him a sort of standard by which he can measure or at +least estimate, the changes that go on within him, the temporary +ones due to fluctuations in health, strength or temper, the +progressive ones due to natural growth or to outside +influences.</p> +<p>In his “Introduction to Don Quixote,” Heine tells us +how that book, the first that he ever read, was his mental +companion through life. In that first perusal knowing not +“how much irony God had interwoven into the world,” he +looked upon the luckless knight as a real hero of romance and wept +bitterly when his chivalry and generosity met with ingratitude and +violence. A little later, when the satire dawned upon his +comprehension, he could not bear the book. Still later he read it +with contemptuous laughter at the poor knight. But when in later +life, he lay racked on <span class="pagenum"><a id="page174" name= +"page174"></a>[pg 174]</span>a bed of pain his attitude of sympathy +returned. “Dulcinea del Toboso,” he says “is +still the most beautiful woman in the world; although I lie +stretched upon the earth, helpless and miserable, I will never take +back that assertion. I can not do otherwise. On with your lances, +ye Knights of the Silver Moon; ye disguised barbers!”</p> +<p>So every reader’s viewpoint shifts with the years.</p> +<p>Our friend who welcomes George Ade to his inner sanctuary may +find as the years go on that his reaction to that contact has +altered. I should not recommend that the author be then be cast +into outer darkness. Once a favorite, always a favorite, for old +sake’s sake even if not for present power and influence. Our +private libraries will hold shelf after shelf of these old-time +favorites—milestones on the intellectual track over which we +have wearily or joyously traveled.</p> +<p>There will always be a warm spot in my heart and a nook on my +private shelf for Oliver Optic and Horatio Alger. Though I bar them +from my library (I mean my Library with a big L) I have no right to +exclude them from my private collection of favorites, for once I +loved them. I scarcely know why or how. If there had been in those +far-off days of my boyhood, children’s libraries and +children’s librarians, I might not have known them; as it is, +they are incidents in my literary past that can not be blinked, +shameful though they may be. The re-reading of such books as these +is interesting because it shows us how far we have traveled since +we counted them among our favorites.</p> +<p>Then there is the book that, despite its acknowledged +excellence, the reader would not perhaps admit to his inner circle +if he read it now for the first time. <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page175" name="page175"></a>[pg 175]</span>It holds its place +largely on account of the glamour with which his youth invested it. +It thrills him now as it thrilled him then, but he half suspects +that the thrill is largely reminiscent. I sometimes fancy that as I +re-read Ivanhoe and my heart leaps to my mouth when the knights +clash at Ashby, the propulsive power of that leap had its origin in +the emotions of 1870 rather than those of 1914. And when some of +Dickens’ pathos—that death-bed of Paul Dombey for +instance—brings the tears again unbidden to my eyes, I +suspect, though I scarcely dare to put my suspicion into words, +that the salt in those tears is of the vintage of 1875. I am +reading Arnold Bennett now and loving him very dearly when he is at +his best; but how I shall feel about him in 1930 or how I might +feel if I could live until 2014, is another question.</p> +<p>Then there is the book that, scarce comprehended or appreciated +when it was first read, but loved for some magic of expression or +turn of thought, shows new beauties at each re-reading, unfolding +like an opening rose and bringing to view petals of beauty, wit, +wisdom and power that were before unsuspected. This is the kind of +book that one loves most to re-read, for the growth that one sees +in it is after all in oneself—not in the book. The gems that +you did not see when you read it first were there then as they are +now. You saw them not then and you see them now, for your mental +sight is stronger—you are more of a man now than you were +then.</p> +<p>Not that all the changes of the years are necessarily for the +better. They may be neither for better nor for worse. As the moving +train hurries us onward we may enjoy successively the beauties of +canyon, prairie and lake, admiring each as we come to it without +prejudice to what has gone before. In <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page176" name="page176"></a>[pg 176]</span>youth we love only +bright colors and their contrasts—brilliant sunsets and +autumn foliage; in later life we come to appreciate also the more +delicate tints and their gradations—a prospect of swamp-land +and distant lake or sea on a gray day; a smoky town in the fog; the +tender dove colors of early dawns. So in youth we eagerly read of +blood and glory and wild adventure; Trollope is insufferably dull. +Jane Austen is for old maids; even such a gem as Cranford we do not +rate at its true value. But in after life how their quiet shades +and tints come out! There is no glory in them, no carnage, no +combat; but there is charm and fascination in the very slowness of +their movement, the shortness of their range, their lack of +intensity, the absence of the shrill, high notes and the tremendous +bases.</p> +<p>Then there is the re-reading that accuses the reader of another +kind of change—a twist to the right or the left, a cast in +the mental eye, or perhaps the correction of such a cast. The +doctrines in some book seemed strange to you once—almost +abhorrent; you are ready to accept them now. Is it because you then +saw through a glass darkly and now more clearly? Or is your vision +darker now than it was? Your rereading apprizes you that there has +been a change of some sort. Perhaps you must await corroborative +testimony before you decide what its nature has been. Possibly you +read today without a blush what your mind of twenty years ago would +have been shocked to meet. Are you broader-minded or just hardened? +These questions are disquieting, but the disturbance that they +cause is wholesome, and I know of no way in which they can be +raised in more uncompromising form than by re-reading an old +favorite, by bringing the alterable fabric of your living, growing +and changing mind into contact with the stiff, unyielding +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page177" name="page177"></a>[pg +177]</span>yardstick of an unchangeable mental record—the +cast of one phase of a master mind that once was but has passed +on.</p> +<p>Here I can not help saying a word of a kind of re-reading that +is not the perusal of literature at all with most of us—the +re-reading of our own words, written down in previous +years—old letters, old lectures, articles—books, +perhaps, if we chance to be authors. Of little value, perhaps, to +others, these are of the greatest interest to ourselves because +instead of measuring our minds by an outside standard they enable +us to set side by side two phases of our own life—the ego of +1892, perhaps, and that of 1914. How boyish that other ego was; how +it jumped to conclusions; how ignorant it was and how +self-confident! And yet, how fresh it was; how quickly responsive +to new impressions; how unspoiled; how aspiring! If you want to +know the changes that have transformed the mind that was into the +very different one that now is, read your own old letters.</p> +<p>I have tried to show you that pure literature is an art and like +other arts depends primarily upon manner and only secondarily upon +matter. That the artist, who in this case is the author, uses his +power to influence the reader usually through his emotions or +feelings and that its effects to a notable extent, are not marred +by repetition. That on this account all good literature may be +re-read over and over, and that the pleasure derived from such +re-reading is a sign that a book is peculiarly adapted in some way +to the reader. Finally, that one’s private library, +especially if its size be limited, may well consist of personal +favorites, often re-read.</p> +<p>When the astronomer Kepler had reduced to simple laws the +complicated motions of the planets he cried out in ecstacy: +“O God! now think I Thy <span class="pagenum"><a id="page178" +name="page178"></a>[pg 178]</span>thoughts after Thee!” Thus +when a great writer of old time has been vouchsafed a spark of the +divine fire we may think his divine thoughts after him by +re-reading. And Shakespeare tells us in that deathless speech of +Portia’s, that since mercy is God’s attribute we may by +exercising it become like God. Thus, by the mere act of tuning our +brains to think the thoughts that the Almighty has put into the +minds of the good and the great, may it not be that our own +thoughts may at the last come to be shaped in the same mould?</p> +<p>“Old wine, old friends, old books,” says the old +adage; and of the three the last are surely the most satisfying. +The old wine may turn to vinegar; old friends may forget or forsake +us; but the old book is ever the same. What would the old man do +without it? And to you who are young I would say—you may +re-read, you first must read. Choose worthy books to love. As for +those who know no book long enough either to love or despise +it—who skim through good and bad alike and forget page +ninety-nine while reading page 100, we may simply say to them, in +the words of the witty Frenchman, “What a sad old age you are +preparing for yourself!”</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page179" name="page179"></a>[pg +179]</span> +<h2><a name="Essay16" id="Essay16">History and Heredity</a><a id= +"footnotetag8" name="footnotetag8" href="#footnote8" title= +"Read before the New England Society of St. Louis."><sup>8</sup></a></h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>In one of his earlier books, Prof. Hugo Munsterberg cites the +growing love for tracing pedigrees as evidence of a dangerous +American tendency toward aristocracy. There are only two little +things the matter with this—the fact and the inference from +it. In the first place, we Americans have always been proud of our +ancestry and fond of tracing it; and in the second place, this +fondness is akin, not to aristocracy but to democracy. It is not +the purpose of this paper to prove this thesis in detail, so I will +merely bid you note that aristocratic pedigree-tracers confine +themselves to one line, or to a few lines. Burke will tell you that +one of the great-great-grandfathers of the present Lord Foozlem was +the First Baron; he is silent about his great-grandfather, the +tinker, and his great-grandfather, the pettifogging country lawyer. +Americans are far more apt to push their genealogical +investigations in all directions, because they are prompted by a +legitimate curiosity rather than by desire to prove a point, +American genealogical research is biological, while that of Europe +is commercial.</p> +<p>An obvious advantage of interest in our ancestors is that it +ought to make history a more vital thing to us; for to them, +history was merely current events in which they took part, or +which, at least, they watched. This linking up of our personal +ancestral lines with past events is done too seldom. Societies like +the New England Society are doing it, and it is <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page180" name="page180"></a>[pg 180]</span>for +this reason that I have chosen to bring the subject briefly before +you.</p> +<p>It has been noted that our historical notions of the Civil War +are now, and are going to be in the future, more just and less +partisan than those of the Revolution. This is not because we are +nearer the Civil War; for nearness often tends to confuse +historical ideas rather than to clear them up. It is because the +descendants of those who fought on both sides are here with us, +citizens of our common country, intermarrying and coming into +contact in a thousand ways. We are not likely to ignore the +Southern standpoint regarding the rights of secession and the +events of the struggle so long as the sons and daughters of +Confederate soldiers live among us. Nor shall we ever forget the +Northern point of view while the descendants of those who fought +with Grant and Sherman are our friends and neighbors.</p> +<p>It is otherwise with the Revolution. We are the descendants only +of those who fought on one side. Of the others, part went back to +their homes in England, the rest, our old neighbors and friends, we +despoiled of their lands and drove across our northern border with +execrations, to make new homes in a new land and view us with a +hatred that has not yet passed away. If you doubt it, discuss the +American Revolution for fifteen minutes with one of the United +Empire Loyalists of Toronto. It will surprise you to know that your +patriot ancestors were thieves, blacklegs and scoundrels. I do not +believe that they were; but possibly they were not the impossible +archangels of the school histories.</p> +<p>Of one thing I am sure; that if the descendants of those who +fought against us in ‘76 had been left to mingle with our own +people, the historical recollections of the struggle would have +been surer and truer <span class="pagenum"><a id="page181" name= +"page181"></a>[pg 181]</span>on both sides than they are today. +Here is a case where ancestry has perverted history, but simply +because there has been an unnatural segregation of descendants. Let +me note another where we have absolutely forgotten our ancestral +predilections and have gone over to the other side, simply because +the other side made the records. When we read a Roman account of +encounters between the legions and the northern tribes, where do we +place ourselves in imagination, as readers? Always with the Roman +legions. But our place is not there; it is with our hardy and brave +forefathers, fighting to defend their country and their firesides +against the southern intruders. How many teachers of history try to +utilize race-consciousness in their pupils to make them attain a +clearer knowledge of what it all meant? Should we not be proud that +we are of the blood of men who withstood the self-styled rulers of +the world and won their freedom and their right to shape their own +personal and civic development?</p> +<p>I should like to see a book tracing the history and development +of an imaginary Anglo-Saxon American line of ancestry, taking it +from the forests of Northern Germany across to Britain, through the +Norman conquest and down the stream of subsequent English history +across seas to America—through savage wars and Revolution, +perhaps across the Alleghenies, to settle finally in the great +West. I would try to make the reader realize that here was no fairy +tale—no tale of countries and races with which we have naught +to do, but the story of our own fathers, whose features and whose +characteristics, physical and mental, have been transmitted by +heredity to us, their sons and daughters of the year 1913.</p> +<p>It is unfortunate perhaps, for our perceptions of racial +continuity, that we are rovers by disposition. <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page182" name="page182"></a>[pg 182]</span>Who +runs across the sea, says the Latin poet, changes his sky but not +his mind. True enough, but it is difficult for some of us to +realize it. It is hard for some of us to realize that our emigrant +ancestors were the same men and women when they set foot on these +shores as when they left the other side some weeks before. Our +trans-Atlantic cousins labor under the same difficulties, for they +assure us continually that we are a “new” country. We +have, they say, the faults and the advantages of +“youth.” It would be interesting to know at just what +point in the passage the education and the habits and the +prejudices of the incoming Englishman dropped off. Change of +environment works wonders with habits and even with character; we +must of course recognize that; but it certainly does not make of +the mind a <em>tabula rasa</em>, on which the fresh surroundings +may absolutely work their will.</p> +<p>I must say that our migrations within the limits of our own +continent have not been productive of so much forgetfulness. I have +been struck, for instance, since I came to St. Louis, with what I +may call the source-consciousness of our western population. +Everyone, whether he is particularly interested in genealogy or +not, knows that his people came from Vermont or Virginia or +Pennsylvania. He may not be able to trace his ancestry, or even to +name his great-grandfather; but with the source of that ancestry he +is always acquainted. I believe this to be the case throughout the +Middle West. From this point of view the population is not so well +mixed as it is in the East. No one in Massachusetts or Connecticut +can point out to you, offhand, the families that came from +particular counties in England. And yet in England, a migration +from one county to another is always recognized and remembered. A +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page183" name="page183"></a>[pg +183]</span>cousin of mine, visiting on an English estate, was +casually informed by his host, “Our family are newcomers in +this county. We moved in only about 300 years ago.” From this +point of view we are all newcomers in America. It is to be hoped +that as the years go on, the elements of our western population +will not so thoroughly lose sight of their sources as have the +Easterners. It is not likely that they will, for those sources are +more accessible. We have Virginia families who still keep up +friendly intercourse with the old stock; Vermont families who spend +each summer on the old homestead; and so on. The New Englander did +not and could not keep up similar relations with Old England. Even +the Southerner, who did it for a time, had to drop it. Our +inter-communication with Europe has grown enormously in volume, but +little of it, if any, is due to continuous ancestral interest, +although a revived general interest has sprung up and is to be +commended.</p> +<p>I fear, however, that the greater part of this interest in +sources, where it exists, is very far from an intelligent +connection with the body of historical fact. When a man is proud of +the fact that an ancestor took part in the famous Boston Tea Party, +has he taken any pains to ascertain what actually took place on +that occasion? If he claims descent from Pocahontas, can he tell us +just how much of what we currently believe of her is fact and how +much is myth? If he knows that his family came from Cheshire, +England, and was established and well-known there for centuries, +what does he know of the history of Cheshire and of the connection +of his ancestors with it? Our interest, when it exists, is +concentrated too much on trivial happenings. We know and boast that +an ancestor came over in the Mayflower without knowing of the +family doings before <span class="pagenum"><a id="page184" name= +"page184"></a>[pg 184]</span>and after that event. Of course, +connection with some one picturesque event serves to stimulate the +imagination and focus the interest, but these events should serve +as starting points for investigation rather than resting points +where interest begins and ends. Historical students are beginning +to realize that it is not enough to know about the battle of +Hastings without understanding the causes and forces that led to it +and proceeded from it, and the daily lives and thoughts of those +who took part in it, from captain to spearman.</p> +<p>This failure to link up family history with general history is +responsible for many sad losses of historical material. Many +persons do not understand the value of old letters and diaries; +many who do, keep them closely in the family archives where they +are unknown and unappreciated. Old letters containing material that +bears in any way on the events, customs or life of the time, should +be turned over to the local historical society. If they contain +private matter, seal up the packet and require that it shall remain +sealed for a century, if you wish; but do not burn it. The feeling +that destroys such documents is simply evidence that we are +historically valuing the individual and the family above the +community, just as we still are in so many other fields of thought. +I cannot tolerate the idea that we shall ultimately think only in +terms of the common good; the smaller units, the man, the family +must not lose their influence, but the connection between them and +the general welfare must be better understood and more generally +recognized; and this must be done, in the first place, in all that +relates to their historical records and to our historical +consciousness.</p> +<p>Ancestral feeling should, in this way, always be <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page185" name="page185"></a>[pg +185]</span>historical, not individual. A man is right to be +personally proud of his own achievements, but it is difficult to +see how he can properly take the same kind of pride in that of +others, whether related to him by blood or not. But there are other +kinds of legitimate pride—family pride, racial pride, group +pride of all sorts, where the feeling is not personal. If any +member of a family, a profession or any association, has so +conducted himself that credit is gained for the whole body, it is +proper that this kind of group pride should be felt by each member +of the body, and in the case of a family, where the bond is one of +blood, the group feeling should be stronger and the group pride, if +it is proper to feel it at all, may be of peculiar strength, +provided it be carefully distinguished from the pride due to +personal achievement. And when the member of the family in whom one +takes pride is an ancestor, this means, as I have said, that +feeling should be historical, not individual. And anything that +tends to lift our interest from the individual to the historical +plane—to make us cease from congratulating ourselves +personally on some connection with the good and great and +substitute a feeling of group pride shared in common by some body +to which we all belong, is acting toward this desirable end. The +body may be a family; it may be the community or the state; it may +be as broad as humanity itself, for we may all be proud of the +world’s greatest. Or it may be a body like our own, formed to +cherish the memories of forebears in some particular line of +endeavor, in some particular place or at some particular era. Our +ancestry is part of our history; so long as our regard for it is +properly interwoven with our historical sense, no one can properly +charge us with laying the foundation for aristocracy. We are +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page186" name="page186"></a>[pg +186]</span>rather making true democracy possible, for such is the +case only when the elements of a community are closely united by +ties of blood, interest and knowledge—by pride in those who +have gone before and by determination that the standard set by +these men and women of old shall be worthily upheld.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page187" name="page187"></a>[pg +187]</span> +<h2><a name="Essay17" id="Essay17">What The Flag Stands +For</a><a id="footnotetag9" name="footnotetag9" href="#footnote9" +title= +"An address on Flag Day made in St. Peter's Church, St. Louis."><sup> +9</sup></a></h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>The most important things in the world are ideas. We are so +familiar with the things that are the material embodiment of +ideas—buildings, roads, vehicles and machines—that we +are prone to forget that without the ideas that gave them birth all +these would be impossible. A house is a mass of wood, stone and +metal, but all these substances, collected in a pile, do not +suffice to make a house.</p> +<p>A locomotive is made of steel and brass, but although the +ancient Romans had both the metal and the alloy, they had no +locomotives.</p> +<p>The vital thing about the house—the thing that +differentiates it from other masses of the same materials—is +the idea—the plan—that was in the architect’s +mind while wood and stone and iron were still in forest, quarry and +mine. The vital thing about the locomotive is the builder’s +idea or plan, which he derived, in turn, from the inventor.</p> +<p>The reason why there were no locomotives in ancient Rome is that +in those days the locomotive had not yet been invented, and when we +say this we refer not to the materials, which the Romans had in +abundance, but to the idea or plan of the locomotive. So it is with +the whole material world about us. The things that result, not from +man’s activities, but from the operations of nature, are no +exceptions; for, if we are Christians, we believe that the idea or +plan of a man, or a horse, or a tree, was in the mind of the great +architect, the great machinist, before the world <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page188" name="page188"></a>[pg 188]</span>began, +and that this idea is the important thing about each.</p> +<p>A man, a house, an engine—these are ideas that lead to +things that we can feel, and see and hear. But there are other +ideas that have nothing of the kind to correspond to them—I +mean such ideas as charity, manliness, religion and +patriotism—what sometimes are called abstract qualities. +These are real things and their ideas are even more important than +the others, but we cannot see nor feel them.</p> +<p>Now, man likes to use his senses, and it is for this reason that +he is fond of using for these abstract ideas, symbols that he can +see and feel. We of St. Louis should appreciate this to the full +just now, for we have just set before the world the greatest +assemblage of symbolic images and acts, portraying our pride in the +past and our hope and confidence for the future, that any city on +this earth ever has been privileged to present or to witness.<a id= +"footnotetag10" name="footnotetag10" href="#footnote10" title= +"The Pageant and Masque of St. Louis, 1915."><sup>10</sup></a> +Whether we were actors or spectators; whether we camped with the +Indians, marched with De Soto or La Salle and felled the forests of +early St. Louis with Laclede and Chouteau, or whether we were part +of that great host on the hillside, we can say no longer that we do +not understand the importance of the idea, or the value and cogency +of the visible symbols that fix it in the memory and grip it to the +heart.</p> +<p>The Church of Christ always has understood and used this +property of the visible and tangible symbol to enforce the claims +of the abstract idea.</p> +<p>We revere the cross, not because there is anything in its shape +or substance to make us venerate it, but because it is the symbol +of the Christian religion—of all that it has done for the +world in the past and all that it may do in the future. That is why +we <span class="pagenum"><a id="page189" name="page189"></a>[pg +189]</span>love and honor the flag—not because it is a piece +of cloth bearing certain figures and colors, but because it is to +us the symbol of all that our country has meant to our fathers; all +it means to us and all that it may mean to our children, generation +after generation.</p> +<p>A nation’s flag did not always mean all this to those who +gazed upon it. In very old times the flag was for the soldier alone +and had no more meaning for the ordinary citizen than a helmet or a +spear. When the soldier saw it uplifted in the thick of the battle +he rallied to it. Then the flag became the personal emblem of a +king or a prince, whether in battle or not; then it was used to +mark what belonged to the government of a country. It is still so +used in many parts of Europe, where the display of a flag on a +building marks it as government property, as our flag does when it +is used on a post office or a custom-house. Nowhere but in our own +country is the flag used as the general symbol of patriotic feeling +and displayed alike by soldier and citizen, by Government office +and private dwelling. So it comes about that the stars and stripes +means to us all that his eagles did to the Roman soldier; all that +the great Oriflamme did to the medieval Frenchman; all that the +Union Jack now means to the Briton or the tri-color to the +Frenchman—and more, very much more, beside.</p> +<p>What ideas, then, does the flag stand for? First, it stands for +union. It was conceived in union, it was dipped in blood to +preserve union, and for union it still stands. Its thirteen stripes +remind us of that gallant little strip of united colonies along the +Atlantic shore that threw down the gage of battle to Britain a +century and a half ago. Its stars are symbols of the wider union +that now is. Both may be <span class="pagenum"><a id="page190" +name="page190"></a>[pg 190]</span>held to signify the great truth +that in singleness of purpose among many there is effective +strength that no one by himself can hope to achieve. Our union of +States was formed in fear of foreign aggression; we have need of it +still though our foes be of our own household. If we are ever to +govern our cities properly, hold the balance evenly betwixt capital +and labor, develop our great natural resources without undue +generosity on the one hand or parsimony on the other—solve +the thousand and one problems that rise to confront us on every +hand—we shall never accomplish these things by struggling +singly—one man at a time or even one State at a time, but by +concerted, united effort, the perfect union of which our flag is a +symbol, and which we need to-day even more than we did in 1776 or +1861.</p> +<p>We stand on the threshold of an effort to alter our city +government. Whether that effort should or should not succeed, every +citizen must decide for himself, with the aid of such intelligence +and judgment as it has pleased God to give him. But if he should +decide in its favor, be certain that his individual vote at the +polls will go a very little way toward bringing his desires to +pass. We are governed by majorities, and a majority is a union of +many. He who would win must not only vote, but work. Our flag, with +its assemblages of stripes and stars, is a perpetual reminder that +by the union of the many, and not merely by the rectitude of the +individual, are policies altered and charters changed.</p> +<p>Again, our flag stands for love. It is a beautiful flag and it +stands for a beautiful land. We all love what is our own, if we are +normal men and women—our families, our city, our country. +They are all beautiful to us, and it is right that they should +be.</p> +<p>I confess that the movement that has for its <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page191" name="page191"></a>[pg 191]</span>motto +“See America First” has my hearty sympathy. Not that +the Rockies or the Sierras are necessarily more beautiful than the +Alps or the Missouri fairer than the Danube; we should have no more +to do here with comparisons than the man who loves his children. He +does not, before deciding that he will love them, compare them +critically with his neighbors’. If we do not love the Grand +Canyon and the Northern Rockies, the wild Sierras and the more +peaceful beauties of the Alleghenies or the Adirondacks, simply +because leaving these all unseen we prefer the lakes and mountains +of foreign lands, we are like a man who should desert his own +children, whom he had never seen, to pass his time at a +moving-picture show, because he believed that he saw there faces +and forms more fair than those of his own little ones. When we sing +in our hymn of “America”</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I love thy rocks and rills</p> +<p>Thy woods and templed hills,</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="noindent">we should be able to do it from the heart.</p> +<p>It is indeed fitting that we should love our country, and thrill +when we gaze at the old flag that symbolizes that love. Does this +mean that when our country makes an error we are to shut our eyes +to it? Does it require us to call wrong right and black white?</p> +<p>There is a sentiment with which you are all familiar, “My +country, may she ever be right; but, right or wrong, my +country!”</p> +<p>Understood aright, these are the noblest and truest of words, +but they are commonly misinterpreted, and they have done much harm. +To love and stand by a friend who has done wrong is a fine thing; +but it would be very different to abet him in his wrong-doing and +assure him that he had done right. We may dearly love a son or a +brother who is the <span class="pagenum"><a id="page192" name= +"page192"></a>[pg 192]</span>worst of sinners, without joining him +in sin or persuading him that he is righteous.</p> +<p>So we may say, “Our country, right or wrong” without +forfeiting the due exercise of our judgment in deciding whether she +is right or wrong, or the privilege of exerting our utmost power to +make her do right.</p> +<p>If she is fighting for an unrighteous cause, we should not go +over to the enemy, but we should do our best to make her cease and +to make amends for the wrong she has done.</p> +<p>Another thing for which the flag stands is freedom or liberty. +We all are familiar with the word. It means different things to +different persons. When hampering conditions press hard upon a man, +all that he thinks of for the moment is to be rid of them. Without +them he deems that he will be free. The freedom of which our +fathers thought, for which they fought and which they won, was +freedom from government by what had become to them a foreign power. +The freedom that the black man longed for in the sixties was +freedom from slavery.</p> +<p>To-day men and women living in intolerable industrial conditions +are panting for freedom—the freedom that seems to them just +now more desirable than aught else in the world. All this the flag +stands for, but it stands for much more. Under its folds we are +entitled to live our own lives in the fullest way compatible with +the exercise of the same privilege by others. This includes +political freedom, industrial freedom, social freedom and all the +rest. Despite much grumbling and some denials, I believe that it is +all summed up under political freedom, and that we have it all, +though we may not always take advantage of it. The people who groan +under an <span class="pagenum"><a id="page193" name= +"page193"></a>[pg 193]</span>industrial yoke do so because they do +not choose to exert the power given them by law, under the flag, to +throw it off. The boss-ridden city is boss-ridden only because it +is satisfied to be so. The generation that is throttled by trusts +and monopolies may at any time effect a peaceful revolution. The +flag gives us freedom, but even a man’s eternal salvation +cannot be forced upon him against his will.</p> +<p>Another thing for which the flag stands is justice—the +“square deal,” as it is called by one of our +Presidents. To every man shall come sooner or later, under its +folds, that which he deserves. This means largely “hands +off,” and is but one of the aspects of freedom, or liberty, +since if we do not interfere with a man, what happens to him is a +consequence of what he is and what he does. If we oppress him, or +interfere with him, he gets less than he merits; and if, on the +contrary we coddle him and give him privileges, he may get more +than his due.</p> +<p>Give a man opportunity and a free path and he will achieve what +is before him in the measure of his strength. That the American +Flag stands for all this, thousands will testify who have left +their native shores to live under its folds and who have +contributed here to the world’s progress what the restraints +and injustice of the old world forbade then to give.</p> +<p>This sense of the removal of bonds, of sudden release and the +entry into free space, is well put by a poet of our own, Henry Van +Dyke, when he sings,</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>So it’s home again, and home again, America for me!</p> +<p>My heart is turning home again, and there I long to be,</p> +<p>In the land of youth and freedom beyond the ocean bars,</p> +<p>Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of +stars.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I know that Europe’s wonderful, yet something seems to +lack:</p> +<p>The Past is too much with her, and the people looking back,</p> +<p>But the glory of the Present is to make the Future +free—</p> +<p>We love our land for what she is and what she is to be.</p> +</div> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page194" name="page194"></a>[pg +194]</span> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh, it’s home again, and home again, America for me!</p> +<p>I want a ship that’s westward bound to plough the rolling +sea,</p> +<p>To the blessed Land of Room Enough beyond the ocean bars,</p> +<p>Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of +stars.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>Finally, the flag stands for the use of physical force where it +becomes necessary.</p> +<p>This simple statement of facts will grieve many good people, but +to omit it would be false to the truth and dishonorable to the flag +that we honor today.</p> +<p>Its origin, as we have seen, was in its service as a rallying +point in battle. We are still battling, and we still need it. And +at times our contests still inevitably take the physical form. One +may earnestly pray for peace; one may even pay his dues to the +Peace Society and still realize that to preserve peace we may have +to use the sword.</p> +<p>Northward, across the Canadian border, good men<a id= +"footnotetag11" name="footnotetag11" href="#footnote11" title= +"United States and 'A-B-C' Commissions on the State of Mexico."><sup> +11</sup></a> are striving even now to keep us in peace and to +assure peace to a neighbor severely torn by internal conflict. Can +any of us doubt that our good friend and fellow-citizen—nay, +can anyone doubt that our neighbors of the Southern +Continent—are doing their best to save human lives, to +preserve our young men and the young men of Mexico to build and +operate machines, to raise crops and to rebuild and beautify +cities, instead of sending them to fill soldiers’ graves, as +our bravest and best did in the “sixties?” And yet, +should they succeed, as God grant they may, who can doubt that what +will give strength and effect to their decisions will be the +possibility of force, exerted in a righteous cause, symbolized by +the flag? Who can be sorry that back of the flag there are earnest +men; nay, that there are ships there, and guns? One need not be a +Jingo; one can hate war <span class="pagenum"><a id="page195" name= +"page195"></a>[pg 195]</span>and love peace with all one’s +heart and yet rejoice that the flag symbolizes authority—the +ability to back up a decision without which the mind itself cannot +decide in calmness and impartiality.</p> +<p>Surely, to say that the flag stands for the exertion of force, +is only to say that it stands for peace; for it is by force only, +or by the possibility of it, that peace is assured and +maintained.</p> +<p>These are a few of the many things for which our flag of the +Stars and Stripes stands. We are right to doff our hats when it +passes; we are right to love it and to reverence it, for in so +doing we are reverencing union, patriotism, liberty and justice. +That it shall never become an empty symbol; that it shall never +wave over a land disunited, animated by hate, shackled by +indifference and feebleness, permeated by injustice, unable to +exert that salutary strength which alone can preserve peace without +and within—this is for us to see and for our children and +grandchildren. We must not only exercise that “eternal +vigilance” of which the fathers spoke, but we must be +eternally ready, eternally active. The Star-Spangled Banner! Long +may it wave over a land whose sons and daughters are both free and +brave—free because they are brave, and brave because they are +free, and both because they are true children of that eternal +father without whom both freedom and bravery are but empty +names.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page197" name="page197"></a>[pg +197]</span> +<h2><a name="Essay18" id="Essay18">The People’s Share in The +Public Library</a><a id="footnotetag12" name="footnotetag12" href= +"#footnote12" title= +"Read before the Chicago Woman's Club. January 6, 1915."><sup>12</sup></a></h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>The change that has come over the library in the last half +century may be described, briefly but comprehensively, by saying +that it has become predominantly a social institution; that is, +that its primary concern is now with the service that it may render +to society—to the people. Books, of course, were always +intended to be read, and a library would have no meaning were it +never to be used; yet in the old libraries the collection and +preservation of the books was primary and their use secondary, +whereas the modern institution exists primarily for public service, +the collection of the books, their preservation, and whatever is +done to them being directed to this end. To a social +institution—a family, a school, a club, a church or a +municipality—the persons constituting it, maintaining it, or +served by it are all-important. A family without parents and +children, a school without pupils, a club without members, a church +with no congregation, a city without citizens—all are +unthinkable. We may better realize the change in our conception of +the public library by noting that it has taken its place among +bodies of this type. A modern library with no readers is +unthinkable; it is no library, as we now understand the word; +though it be teeming with books, housed in a palace, well cataloged +and properly manned.</p> +<p>It is no longer possible to question this view of the library as +a social institution—a means of rendering general service to +the widest public. We have <span class="pagenum"><a id="page198" +name="page198"></a>[pg 198]</span>to deal not with theories of what +the library ought to be, but, with facts indicating what it +actually is; and we have only to look about us to realize that the +facts give the fullest measure of support to what I have just said. +The library is a great distributing agency, the commodities in +which it deals being ideas and its customers the citizens at large, +who pay, through the agency of taxation, for what they receive. +This democratic and civic view of the public library’s +functions, however, does not commend itself to those who are not in +sympathy with democratic ideals. In a recent address, a +representative librarian refers to it as “the commercial +traveler theory” of the library. The implication, of course, +is that it is an ignoble or unworthy theory. I have no objection to +accepting the phrase, for in my mind it has no such connotation. +The commercial traveler has done the world service which the +library should emulate rather than despise. He is the advance guard +of civilization. To speak but of our own country and of its recent +years, he is responsible for much of our improvement in transit +facilities and hotel accommodations. Personally, he is becoming +more and more acceptable. The best of our educated young men are +going into commerce, and in commerce to-day no one can reach the +top of the ladder who has not proved his efficiency “on the +road.” Would that we could place men of his type at the head +of all our libraries!</p> +<p>We need not think, however, that there is anything new in the +method of distribution by personal travel. Homer employed it when +he wished his heroic verse to reach the great body of his +countrymen. By personal travel he took it to the +cross-roads—just as the distributor of food and clothing and +labor-saving appliances does to-day; just as we librarians +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page199" name="page199"></a>[pg +199]</span>must do if we are to democratize all literature as Homer +democratized a small part of it. Homer, if you choose to say so, +adopted the “commercial-traveler theory” of literary +distribution; but I prefer to say that the modern public library, +in laying stress on the necessity of distributing its treasures and +in adopting the measures that have proved effective in other +fields, is working on the Homeric method.</p> +<p>Now, without the people to whom he distributed his wares, Homer +would have been dead long ago. He lives because he took his wares +to his audience. And without its public, as we have already said, +the public library, too, would soon pass into oblivion. It must +look to the public for the breath of life, for the very blood in +its veins, for its bone and sinew. What, then, is the part that the +community may play in increasing the efficiency of a public +institution like the public library? Such an institution is, first +of all, a medium through which the community does something for +itself. The community employs and supports it, and at the same time +is served by it. To use another homely illustration, which I am +sure will not please those who object to comparing great things +with small, this type of relationship is precisely what we find in +domestic service. A cook or a housemaid has a dual relation to the +mistress of the house, who is at the same time her employer and the +person that she directly serves. This sort of relation does not +obtain, for instance, in the case of a railroad employe, who is +responsible to one set of persons and serves another. The public +library is established and maintained by a given community in order +that it may perform certain service for that same community +directly. It seems to me that this dual relationship ought to make +for efficiency. If it does not, <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page200" name="page200"></a>[pg 200]</span>it is because its +existence and significance are not always realized. The cook knows +that if she does not cook to suit her mistress she will lose her +job—the thing works almost automatically. If the railroad +employe does not serve the public satisfactorily there is no such +immediate reaction, although I do not deny that the public +displeasure may ultimately reach the railroad authorities and +through them the employe. In most public institutions the reaction +is necessarily somewhat indirect. The post office is a public +institution, but public opinion must act on it generally through +the channels of Congressional legislation, which takes time. Owing +to this fact, very few postmen, for instance, realize that the +persons to whom they deliver letters are also their employers. In +all libraries the machinery of reaction is not the same. In St. +Louis, for instance, the library receives the proceeds of a tax +voted directly by the people; in New York City it receives an +appropriation voted by the Board of Apportionment, whose members +are elected by the people. The St. Louis Public Library is +therefore one step nearer the control of the people than the New +York Public Library. If we could imagine the management of either +library to become so objectionable as to make its abolition +desirable, a petition for a special election could remove public +support in St. Louis very soon. In New York the matter might have +to become an issue in a general election, at which members of a +Board of Apportionment should be elected under pledge to vote +against the library’s appropriation. Nevertheless, in both +cases there is ultimate popular control. Owing to this dual +relation, the public can promote the efficiency of the library in +two ways—by controlling it properly and by its attitude +toward the service that is rendered. Every member of the +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page201" name="page201"></a>[pg +201]</span>public, in fact, is related to the library somewhat as a +railway stockholder, riding on a train, is related to the company. +He is at once boss and beneficiary. Let us see first what the +public can do for its library through its relation of control. +Besides the purse-strings, which we have seen are sometimes held +directly by the public and sometimes by its elected +representatives, we must consider the governing board of the +institution—its trustees or directors. These may be elected +by the people or appointed by an elected officer, such as the +mayor, or chosen by an elected body, such as the city council or +the board of education.</p> +<p>Let us take the purse-strings first. Does your public library +get enough public money to enable it to do the work that it ought +to do? What is the general impression about this in the community? +What does the library board think? What does the librarian think? +What do the members of his staff say? What has the library’s +annual report to say about it? It is not at all a difficult matter +for the citizen to get information on this subject and to form his +own opinion regarding it. Yet it is an unusual thing to find a +citizen who has either the information or a well-considered +opinion. The general impression always seems to be that the library +has plenty of money—rather more, in fact, than it can +legitimately use. It is probably well for the library, under these +circumstances, that the public control of its purse-strings is +indirect. If the citizens of an average American city had to go to +the polls annually and vote their public library an appropriation, +I am sure that most libraries would have to face a very material +reduction of their income.</p> +<p>The trouble about this impression is that it is gained without +knowledge of the facts. If a majority <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page202" name="page202"></a>[pg 202]</span>of the citizens, +understanding how much work a modern public library is expected to +do and how their own library does it, should deliberately conclude +that its management was extravagant, and that its expenditure +should be cut down, the minority would have nothing to do, as good +citizens, but submit. The citizens have nothing to say as directly +as this, but the idea, so generally held, that libraries are well +off, does operate in the long run to limit library appropriations +and to prevent the library from doing much useful work that it +might do and ought to do.</p> +<p>It is then, every citizen’s business, as I conceive it, to +inform himself or herself of the work that the public library is +doing, of that which it is leaving undone, and of the possibilities +of increased appropriations. If the result is a realization that +the library appropriation is inadequate, that realization should +take the form of a statement that will sooner or later reach the +ears, and tend to stimulate the action, of those directly +responsible. And it should, above all, aid in the formation of a +sound public opinion. Ours is, we are told, a government of public +opinion. Such government will necessarily be good or bad as public +opinion is based on matured judgment or only on fleeting +impressions.</p> +<p>Inadequacy of support is responsible for more library +delinquency than the average citizen imagines. Many a librarian is +deservedly condemned for the unsatisfactory condition of his +institution when his fault is not, as his detractors think, failure +to see what should be done, or lack of ability to do it, so much as +inability to raise funds to do it with. This is doubtless a fault, +and its possessor should suffer, but how about the equally guilty +accessories? How about the city authorities who have failed to vote +the library adequate support? How about the board of <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page203" name="page203"></a>[pg +203]</span>trustees who have accepted such a situation without +protest? And what is more to our purpose here, how about the +citizens who have limited their efforts to pointing out the cracks +in the edifice, with not a bit of constructive work in propping it +up and making possible its restoration to strength and +soundness?</p> +<p>In conversation with a friend, not long ago, I referred to the +financial limitations of our library’s work, and said that we +could add to it greatly and render more acceptable service if our +income were larger. He expressed great surprise, and said: +“Why, I thought you had all the money you want; your income +must be all of $100,000 a year.” Now, our income actually is +about $250,000, but how could I tell him that? I judiciously +changed the subject.</p> +<p>Let us look next, if you please, at the library board and +examine some of its functions. There appears to be much public +misapprehension of the duties of this body, and such +misapprehension assumes various and opposing forms. Some appear to +think that the librarian is responsible for all that is done in the +library and that his board is a perfunctory body. Others seem to +believe that the board is the direct administrative head of the +library, in all of its working details and that the librarian is +its executive in the limited sense of doing only those things that +he is told to do. Unfortunately there are libraries that are +operated in each of these ways, but neither one relationship nor +the other, nor any modification of either, is the ideal one between +a librarian and his board. The board is supreme, of course, but it +is a body of non-experts who have employed an expert to bring about +certain results. They ought to know what they want, and what they +have a right to expect, and if their expert does not give them +this, the <span class="pagenum"><a id="page204" name= +"page204"></a>[pg 204]</span>relation between him and them should +terminate; but if they are men of sense they will not attempt to +dictate methods or supervise details. They are the delegated +representatives of the great public, which owns the library and +operates it for a definite purpose. It is this function of the +board as the representative of the public that should be emphasized +here. Has the public a definite idea of what it wants from the +public library, and of what is reasonable for it to ask? If so, is +it satisfied that it is represented by a board that is of the same +mind? The citizens may be assured that the composition of the +library board rests ultimately upon its will. If the board is +elective, this is obvious; if appointive, the appointing officer or +body would hardly dare to go counter to the expressed desire of the +citizens.</p> +<p>What has been said above may be put into a very few words. The +public library is public property, owned and controlled by the +citizens. Every citizen, therefore, should be interested in setting +standards for it and playing his part toward making it conform to +them—in seeing that its governing body represents him in also +recognizing those standards and trying to maintain them—in +laboring for such a due apportionment of the public funds as shall +not make an attempt to live up to such standards a mere farce.</p> +<p>So much for the things that the citizen can and should do in his +capacity of library boss. His possibilities as a beneficiary are +still more interesting and valuable.</p> +<p>Perhaps you remember the story of the man who attempted to board +the warship and, on being asked his business, replied, +“I’m one of the owners.” One version of the tale +then goes on to relate how the sailor thus addressed picked up a +splinter from the <span class="pagenum"><a id="page205" name= +"page205"></a>[pg 205]</span>deck, and, handing it to the visitor, +remarked: “Well, I guess that’s about your share. Take +it and get out!”</p> +<p>I have always sympathized with the sailor rather than with his +visitor. Most of us librarians have had experiences with these +bumptious “owners” of public property. The fact has +already been noted that in a case like this the citizen is both an +owner and a beneficiary. He has duties and privileges in both +capacities, but he sometimes acts the owner in the wrong place. The +man on the warship was doubtless an owner, but at that particular +moment he was only a visitor, subject to whatever rules might +govern visitors; and he should have acted as such. Every citizen is +a part owner of the public library; he should never forget that +fact. We have seen how he may effectively assert his ownership and +control. But when he enters the library to use it his role is that +of beneficiary, and he should act as such. He may so act and at the +same time be of the greatest service to the institution which he, +as a member of the public, has created and is maintaining.</p> +<p>I know of no way in which a man may show his good citizenship or +the reverse—may either demonstrate his ability and +willingness to live and work in community harness, or show that he +is fit for nothing but individual wild life in the +woods—better than in his use of such a public institution as +a library. The man who cannot see that what he gets from such an +institution must necessarily be obtained at the price of +sacrifice—that others in the community are also entitled to +their share, and that sharing always means yielding—that man +has not yet learned the first lesson in the elements of civic +virtue. And when one sees a thousand citizens, each of whom would +surely raise his voice in protest if the library were <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page206" name="page206"></a>[pg 206]</span>to +waste public money by buying a thousand copies of the latest novel, +yet find fault with the library because each cannot borrow it +before all the others, one is tempted to wonder whether we really +have here a thousand bad citizens or whether their early education +in elementary arithmetic has been neglected.</p> +<p>Before the present era there were regulations in all +institutions that seemed to be framed merely to exasperate—to +put the public in its place and chasten its spirit. There are now +no such rules in good libraries. He who thinks there are may find +that there is a difference of opinion between him and those whom he +has set in charge of the library regarding what is arbitrary and +what is necessary; but at any rate he will discover that the +animating spirit of modern library authority is to give all an +equal share in what it has to offer, and to restrain one man no +more than is necessary to insure to his brother the measure of +privilege to which all are equally entitled.</p> +<p>Another way in which the citizen, in his capacity of the +library’s beneficiary, can aid it and improve its service is +his treatment of its administrators. Librarians are very human: +they react quickly and surely to praise or blame, deserved or +undeserved. Blame is what they chiefly get. Sometimes they deserve +it and sometimes not. But the occasions on which some citizen steps +in and says, “Well done, good and faithful servant,” +are rare indeed. The public servant has to interpret silence as +praise; so sure is he that the least slip will be caught and +condemned by a vigilant public. No one can object to discriminating +criticism; it is a potent aid to good administration. Mere petulant +fault-finding, however, especially if based on ignorance or +misapprehension, does positive harm. And a little discriminating +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page207" name="page207"></a>[pg +207]</span>praise, now and then, is a wonderful stimulant. No +service is possible without the men and women who render it; and +the quality of service depends, more than we often realize, on the +spirit and temper of a staff—something that is powerfully +affected, either for good or for evil, by public action and public +response.</p> +<p>Years ago, at a branch library in a distant city, a reader stood +at the counter and complained loudly because the library would not +send her a postal reserve notice unless she defrayed the cost, +which was one cent. The assistant to whom she was talking had no +option in the matter and was merely enforcing a rule common, so far +as I know, to all American public libraries; but she had to bear +the brunt of the reader’s displeasure, which she did meekly, +as it was all in the day’s work. The time occupied in this +useless business spelled delay to half a dozen other readers, who +were waiting their turn. Finally, one of them, a quiet little old +lady in black, spoke up as follows: “Some of us hereabouts +think that we owe a great debt of gratitude to this library. Its +assistants have rendered service to us that we can never repay. I +am glad to have an opportunity to do something in return, and it +therefore gives me pleasure to pay the cent about which you are +taking up this young lady’s time, and ours.” So saying, +she laid the coin on the desk and the line moved on. I have always +remembered these two points of view as typical of two kinds of +library users. Their respective effects on the temper and work of a +library staff need, I am sure, no explanation.</p> +<p>In what I have said, which is such a small fraction of what +might be said, that I am almost ashamed to offer it to you, I have +in truth only been playing the variations on one tune, which +is—Draw closer <span class="pagenum"><a id="page208" name= +"page208"></a>[pg 208]</span>to the library, as it is trying to +draw closer to you. There is no such thing, physicists tell us, as +a one-sided force. Every force is but one aspect of a stress, which +includes also an equal and opposing force. Any two interacting +things in this world are either approaching each other or receding +from each other. So it should be with library and public. A forward +movement on the one hand should necessarily involve one to meet +it.</p> +<p>The peculiarity of our modern temper is our hunger for +facts—our confidence that when the facts are known we shall +find a way to deal with them, and that until the facts are known we +shall not be able to act—not even to think. Our ancestors +thought and acted sometimes on premises that seem to us frightfully +flimsy—they tried, as Dean Swift painted them in his immortal +satire, to get sunbeams from cucumbers. There are some +sunbeam-chasers among us to-day, but even they recognize the need +of real cucumbers to start with; the imaginary kind will not do. I +recently heard a great teacher of medicine say that the task of the +modern physician is merely to ascertain the facts on which the +intelligent public is to act. How different that sounds from the +dicta of the medicine of a past generation! It is the same +everywhere: we are demanding an accurate survey—an +ascertainment of the facts in any field in which action, based on +inference and judgment, is seen to be necessary. Now the library is +nothing more nor less than a storehouse of recorded facts. It is +becoming so more truly and more fully every day, thereby adjusting +itself to the modern temper of which I have already spoken. The +library and its users are coming more closely together, in +sympathy, in aims and in action, than ever before—partly a +result and partly a justification for that <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page209" name="page209"></a>[pg 209]</span>Homeric +method of popularizing it which has been characterized and +condemned as commercial. The day when the librarian, or the +professor, or the clergyman could retire into his tower and hold +aloof from the vulgar herd is past. The logical result of such an +attitude is now being worked out on the continent of Europe. Not +civilizations, as some pessimists are lamenting, but the forces +antagonistic to civilization are there destroying one another, and +there is hope that a purified democracy will arise from the +wreckage. May our American civilization never have to run the +gantlet of such a terrible trial! Meanwhile, there can be no doubt +that the hope for the future efficiency of all our public +institutions, including the library, lies in the success of +democracy, and that depends on the existence and improvement of the +conditions in whose absence democracy necessarily fails. Foremost +among these is the homogeneity of the population. The people among +whom democracy succeeds must have similar standards, ideas, aims +and abilities. Democracy may exist in a pack of wolves, but not in +a group that is half wolves and half men. Either the wolves will +kill the men or the men the wolves. This is an extreme case, but it +is true in general that in a community made up of irreconcilable +elements there can be no true democracy. And the same oneness of +vision and purpose that conduces to the success of democracy will +also bring to perfection such great democratic institutions as the +library, which have already borne such noteworthy fruit among us +just because we are homogeneous beyond all other nations on the +earth. And here progress is by action and reaction, as we see it so +often in the world. The unity of aims and abilities that makes +democracy and democratic institutions possible is itself +facilitated and increased by the work of <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page210" name="page210"></a>[pg 210]</span>those +institutions. The more work the library does, the more its +ramifications multiply, and the further they extend, the more those +conditions are favored that make the continuance of the library +possible. In working for others, it is working for itself, and +every additional bit of strength and sanity that it takes on does +but enable it to work for others the more. And if the democracy +whose servant it is will but realize that it has grown up as a part +of that American system to which we are all committed—to +which we owe all that we are and in which we must place all our +hopes for the future—then neither democracy nor library will +have aught to fear. Democracy will have its “true and +laudable” service from the library, and the library in its +turn will have adequate sympathy, aid and support from the +people.</p> +<p>It is no accident that I make this appeal for sympathy and aid +to a club composed of women. The bonds between the modern public +library and the modern woman’s club have been particularly +strong in this country. The two institutions have grown up +together, making their way against suspicion, contempt and +hostility, aided by the same public demand, and now, when both are +recognized as elements in the intellectual strength of our nation, +they are rendering mutual service. The club turns to the library +daily. Hitherto the library has turned to the club only in some +emergency—a bill to be passed, an appropriation to be made, +an administration to be purified. I have tried to show you how, +apart from these great services, which no one would think of +minimizing, the women of this country, as citizens, can uphold the +hands of the library daily. Ours is a government of public opinion, +and in the formation of that opinion there is no more powerful +element <span class="pagenum"><a id="page211" name= +"page211"></a>[pg 211]</span>than the sentiment of our women, +especially when organized in such bodies as yours.</p> +<p>“To be aristocratic in taste and democratic in +service,” says Bliss Perry, “is the privilege and glory +of the public library.” In appealing thus to both your +aristocracy and your democracy, I feel, then, that I have not gone +astray.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page213" name="page213"></a>[pg +213]</span> +<h2><a name="Essay19" id="Essay19">Some Tendencies of American +Thought</a><a id="footnotetag13" name="footnotetag13" href= +"#footnote13" title= +"Read before the New York Library Association at Squirrel Inn, Haines Falls, September 28, 1915."> +<sup>13</sup></a></h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>The modern American mind, like modern America, itself, is a +melting pot. We are taking men and women of all races and fusing +them into Americans. In the same way we are taking points of view, +ideas, standards and modes of action from whatever source we find +them, combining them and fusing them into what will one day become +American thoughts and standards. We are thus combining the most +varied and opposing things—things that it would seem +impossible to put together. Take our modern American tendency in +government, for instance. Could there be two things more radically +different than despotism and democracy?—the rule of the one +and the rule of the many? And yet I believe that we are taking +steps toward a very successful combination of the two. Such a +combination is essentially ancient. No despotism can hold its own +without the consent of the governed. That consent may be unwilling +and sooner or later it is then withheld, with the result that a +revolution takes place and the despot loses his throne—the +oldest form of the recall. Every despotism is thus tempered by +revolution, and Anglo-Saxon communities have been ready to exercise +such a privilege on the slightest sign that a despotic tendency was +creeping into their government.</p> +<p>It is not remarkable, then, that our own Federal government, +which is essentially a copy of the British government of its day, +should have incorporated this <span class="pagenum"><a id="page214" +name="page214"></a>[pg 214]</span>feature of the recall, which in +England had just passed from its revolutionary to its legal stage. +It was beginning to be recognized then that a vote of the +people’s representatives could recall a monarch, and the +English monarchy is now essentially elective. But to make assurance +doubly sure, the British government, in its later evolution, has +been practically separated from the monarch’s person, and any +government may be simply overthrown or “recalled” by a +vote of lack of confidence in the House of Commons, followed, if +need be, by a defeat in a general election. We have not yet adopted +this feature. Our President is still the head of our government, +and he and all other elected Federal officers serve their terms +out, no matter whether the people have confidence in them or not. +But the makers of our Constitution improved on the British +government as they found it. They made the term of the executive +four years instead of life and systematized the +“recall” by providing for impeachment +proceedings—a plan already recognized in Britain in the case +of certain administrative and judicial officers.</p> +<p>As it stands at present we have a temporary elective monarch +with more power, even nominally, than most European constitutional +monarchs and more actually than many so-called absolute monarchs +such as the Czar or the Sultan. In case he should abuse the power +that we have given him, he may be removed from office after due +trial, by our elected representatives.</p> +<p>In following out these ideas in later years, we are gradually +evolving a form of government that is both more despotic and more +democratic. We are combining the legislative and executive power in +the hands of a few persons, hampering them very little in their +exercise of it, and making it possible to recall them <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page215" name="page215"></a>[pg 215]</span>by +direct vote of the body of citizens that elected them. I think we +may describe the tendency of public thought in governmental matters +as a tendency toward a despotism under legalized democratic +control. It may be claimed, I think, that the best features of +despotism and democracy may thus be utilized, with a minimum of the +evils of each.</p> +<p>It was believed by the ancients, and we frequently see it stated +today, that the ideal government would be government by a perfectly +good despot. This takes the citizens into account only as persons +who are governed, and not as persons who govern or help to govern. +It is pleasant, perhaps, to have plenty of servants to wait upon +one, but surely health, physical, mental and moral, waits on him +who does most things for himself. I once heard Lincoln Steffens +say: “What we want is not ‘Good Government’; it +is <em>Self</em>-Government.” But is it not possible to get +the advantage of government by a few, with its possibilities of +continuous policy and its freedom from +“crowd-psychology,” with its skillful utilization of +expert knowledge, while admitting the public to full knowledge of +what is going on, and full ultimate control of it? We evidently +think so, and our present tendencies are evidence that we are +attempting something of the kind. Our belief seems to be that if we +elect our despot and are able to recall him we shall have to keep +tab on him pretty closely, and that the knowledge of statecraft +that will thus be necessary to us will be no less than if we +personally took part in legislation and +administration—probably far more than if we simply went +through the form of delegating our responsibilities and then took +no further thought, as most of us have been accustomed to do.</p> +<p>Whether this is the right view or not—whether it is +workable—the future will show; I am here discussing +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page216" name="page216"></a>[pg +216]</span>tendencies, not their ultimate outcome. But it would be +too much to expect that this or any other eclectic policy should be +pleasing to all.</p> +<p>“The real problem of collectivism,” says Walter +Lippmann, “is the difficulty of combining popular control +with administrative power…. The conflict between democracy +and centralized authority … is the line upon which the +problems of collectivism will be fought out.”</p> +<p>In selecting elements from both despotism and democracy we are +displeasing the adherents of both. There is too much despotism in +the plan for one side and too much democracy for the other. We +constantly hear the complaint that concentrated responsibility with +popular control is too despotic, and at the same time the criticism +that it is too democratic. To put your city in the hands of a small +commission, perhaps of a city manager, seems to some to be a return +to monarchy; and so perhaps it is. To give Tom, Dick and Harry the +power to unseat these monarchs at will is said to be dangerously +socialistic; and possibly it is. Only it is possible that by +combining these two poisons—this acid and this +alkali—in the same pill, we are neutralizing their harmful +qualities. At any rate this would seem to be the idea on which we +are now proceeding.</p> +<p>We may now examine the effects of this tendency toward +eclecticism in quite a different field—that of morals. Among +the settlers of our country were both Puritans and +Cavaliers—representatives in England of two moral standards +that have contended there for centuries and still exist there side +by side. We in America are attempting to mix them with some measure +of success. This was detected by the German lady of whom Mr. Bryce +tells in his “American Commonwealth,” who said that +American women were <span class="pagenum"><a id="page217" name= +"page217"></a>[pg 217]</span>”<em>furchtbar frei und +furchtbar fromm</em>“—frightfully free and frightfully +pious! In other words they are trying to mix the Cavalier and +Puritan standards. Of course those who do not understand what is +going on think that we are either too free or too pious. We are +neither; we are trying to give and accept freedom in cases where +freedom works for moral efficiency and restraint where restraint is +indicated. We have not arrived at a final standard. We may not do +so. This effort at mixture, like all our others, may fail; but +there appears to be no doubt that we are making it. To take an +obvious instance, I believe that we are trying, with some success, +to combine ease of divorce with a greater real regard for the +sanctity of marriage. We have found that if marriage is made +absolutely indissoluble, there will be greater excuse for +disregarding the marriage vow than if there are legal ways of +dissolving it.</p> +<p>Americans are shocked at Europeans when they allude in ordinary +conversation to infractions of the moral code that they treat as +trivial. They on the other hand are shocked when we talk of divorce +for what they consider insufficient causes. In the former case we +seem to them “frightfully pious”; in the latter, +“frightfully free.” They are right; we are both; it is +only another instance of our tendency towards eclecticism, this +time in moral standards.</p> +<p>In some directions we find that this tendency to eclecticism is +working toward a combination not of two opposite things, but of a +hundred different ones. Take our art for instance, especially as +manifested in our architecture. A purely native town in Italy, +Arabia, or Africa, or Mexico, has its own atmosphere; no one could +mistake one for the other any more than he could mistake a beaver +dam for an ant hill or a bird’s nest for a woodchuck +hole.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page218" name="page218"></a>[pg +218]</span>But in an American city, especially where we have enough +money to let our architects do their utmost, we find streets where +France, England, Italy, Spain, Holland, Arabia and India all stand +elbow to elbow, and the European visitor knows not whether to laugh +or to make a hasty visit to his nerve-specialist. It seems all +right to us, and it <em>is</em> all right from the standpoint of a +nation that is yet in the throes of eclecticism. And our other +art—painting, sculpture, music—it is all similarly +mixed. Good of its kind, often; but we have not yet settled down to +the kind that we like best—the kind in which we are best +fitted to do something that will live through the ages.</p> +<p>We used to think for instance that in music the ordinary +diatonic major scale, with its variant minor, was a fact of nature. +We knew vaguely that the ancient Greeks had other scales, and we +knew also that the Chinese and the Arabs had scales so different +that their music was generally displeasing to us. But we explained +this by saying that our scale was natural and right and that the +others were antiquated, barbaric and wrong. Now we are opening our +arms to the exotic scales and devising a few of our own. We have +the tonal and the semi-tonal scales and we are trying to make use +of the Chinese, Arabic and Hindu modes. We are producing results +that sound very odd to ears that are attuned to the old-fashioned +music, but our eclecticism here as elsewhere is cracking the shell +of prejudice and will doubtless lead to some good end, though +perhaps we can not see it yet.</p> +<p>How about education? In the first place there are, as I read the +history of education, two main methods of training youth—the +individual method and the class method. No two boys or girls are +alike; no two have like reactions to the same stimulus. +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page219" name="page219"></a>[pg +219]</span>Each ought to have a separate teacher, for the methods +to be employed must be adapted especially to the material on which +we have to work. This means a separate tutor for every child.</p> +<p>On the other hand, the training that we give must be +social—must prepare for life with and among one’s +fellow beings, otherwise it is worthless. This means training in +class, with and among other students, where each mind responds not +to the teacher’s alone but to those of its fellow pupils.</p> +<p>Here are two irreconcilable requirements. In our modern systems +of education we are trying to respond to them as best we may, +teaching in class and at the same time giving each pupil as much +personal attention as we can. The tutorial system, now employed in +Princeton University, is an interesting example of our efforts as +applied to the higher education.</p> +<p>At the same time, eclecticism in our choice of subjects is very +manifest, and at times our success here seems as doubtful as our +mixture of architectural styles. In the old college days, not so +very long ago, Latin, Greek, and mathematics made up the +curriculum. Now our boys choose from a thousand subjects grouped in +a hundred courses. In our common schools we have introduced so many +new subjects as to crowd the curriculum. Signs of a reaction are +evident. I am alluding to the matter here only as another example +of our modern passion for wide selection and for the combination of +things that apparently defy amalgamation.</p> +<p>What of religion? Prof. George E. Woodberry, in his interesting +book on North Africa, says in substance that there are only two +kinds of religion, the simple and the complex. Mohammedanism he +considers a simple religion, like New England Puritanism, with +which he thinks it has points in common. <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page220" name="page220"></a>[pg 220]</span>Both +are very different from Buddhism, for instance. Accepting for the +moment his classification I believe that the facts show an effort +to combine the two types in the United States. Many of the +Christian denominations that Woodberry would class as +“simple”—those that began with a total absence of +ritual, are becoming ritualized. Creeds once simple are becoming +complicated with interpretation and comment. On the other hand we +may see in the Roman Catholic Church and among the so-called +“High Church” Episcopalians a disposition to adopt some +of the methods that have hitherto distinguished other religious +bodies. Consider, for example, some of the religious meetings held +by the Paulist Fathers in New York, characterized by popular +addresses and the singing of simple hymns. As another example of +the eclectic spirit of churches in America we may point to the +various efforts at combination or unity, with such results as the +Federation of the Churches of Christ in America—an ambitious +name, not yet justified by the facts—the proposed +amalgamation of several of the most powerful Protestant bodies in +Canada, and the accomplished fact of the University of +Toronto—an institution whose constituent colleges are +controlled by different religious denominations, including the +Roman Catholic Church. I may also mention the present organization +of the New York Public Library, many of whose branch libraries were +contributions from religious denominations, including the Jews, the +Catholics and the Episcopalians. All these now work together +harmoniously. I know of nothing of this kind on any other +continent, and I think we shall be justified in crediting it to the +present American tendency to eclecticism.</p> +<p>Turn for a moment to philosophy. What is the philosophical +system most widely known at present <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page221" name="page221"></a>[pg 221]</span>as American? Doubtless +the pragmatism of William James. No one ever agreed with anyone +else in a statement regarding philosophy, and I do not expect you +to agree with me in this; but pragmatism seems to me essentially an +eclectic system. It is based on the character of results. Is +something true or false? I will tell you when I find out whether it +works practically or not. Is something right or wrong? I rely on +the same test. Now it seems to me that this is the scheme of the +peasant in later Rome, who was perfectly willing to appeal to Roman +Juno or Egyptian Isis or Phoenician Moloch, so long as he got what +he wanted. If a little bit of Schopenhauer works, and some of +Fichte; a piece of Christianity and a part of Vedantism, it is all +grist to the mill of pragmatism. Any of it that works must of +necessity be right and true. I am not criticizing this, or trying +to controvert it; I am merely asserting that it leads to +eclecticism; and this, I believe, explains its vogue in the United +States.</p> +<p>It would be impossible to give, in the compass of a brief +address, a list of all the domains in which this +eclecticism—this tendency to select, combine and +blend—has cropped out among us Americans of today. I have +reserved for the last that in which we are particularly +interested—the Public Library, in which we may see it +exemplified in an eminent degree. The public library in America has +blossomed out into a different thing, a wider thing, a combination +of more different kinds of things, than in any other part of the +world. Foreign librarians and foreign library users look at us +askance. They wonder at the things we are trying to combine under +the activities of one public institution; they shudder at our +extravagance. They wonder that our tax-payers do not rebel when +they are compelled to foot the bills for what we do. But the +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page222" name="page222"></a>[pg +222]</span>taxpayers do not seem to mind. They frequently complain, +but not about what we are doing. What bothers them is that we do +not try to do more. When we began timidly to add branch libraries +to our system they asked us why we did not build and equip them +faster; when we placed a few books on open shelves they demanded +that we treat our whole stock in the same way; when we set aside a +corner for the children they forced us to fit up a whole room and +to place such a room in every building, large or small. We have +responded to every such demand. Each response has cost money and +the public has paid the bill. Apparently librarians and public are +equally satisfied. We should not be astonished, for this merely +shows that the library is subject to the same laws and tendencies +as all other things American.</p> +<p>Hence it comes about that whereas in a large library a century +ago there were simply stored books with no appliances to do +anything but keep them safe, we now find in library buildings all +sorts of devices to facilitate the quick and efficient use of the +books both in the building and in the readers’ homes, +together with other devices to stimulate a desire to use books +among those who have not yet felt it; to train children to use and +love books; to interest the public in things that will lead to the +use of books. This means that many of the things in a modern +library seem to an old-fashioned librarian and an old-fashioned +reader like unwarranted extensions or even usurpations. In our own +Central building you will find collections of postal cards and +specimens of textile fabrics, an index to current lectures, +exhibitions and concerts, a public writing-room, with free +note-paper and envelopes, a class of young women studying to be +librarians, meeting places for all sorts of clubs and groups, +civic, educational, social, political and religious; <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page223" name="page223"></a>[pg 223]</span>a +bindery in full operation, a photographic copying-machine; +lunch-rooms and rest-rooms for the staff; a garage, with an +automobile in it, a telephone switchboard, a paintshop, a +carpenter-shop, and a power-plant of considerable capacity. Not one +of these things I believe, would you have found in a large library +fifty years ago. And yet the citizens of St. Louis seem to be +cheerful and are not worrying over the future. We are eclectic, but +we are choosing the elements of our blend with some discretion and +we have been able, so far, to relate them all to books, to the +mental activities that are stimulated by books and that produce +more books, to the training that instils into the rising generation +a love for books. The book is still at the foundation of the +library, even if its walls have received some architectural +embellishment of a different type.</p> +<p>When anyone objects to the introduction into the library of what +the colleges call “extra-curriculum activities,” I +prefer to explain and justify it in this larger way, rather than to +take up each activity by itself and discuss its +reasonableness—though this also may be undertaken with the +hope of success. In developing as it has done, the Library in the +United States of America has not been simply obeying some law of +its own being; it has been following the whole stream of American +development. You can call it a drift if you like; but the Library +has not been simply drifting. The swimmer in a rapid stream may +give up all effort and submit to be borne along by the current, or +he may try to get somewhere. In so doing, he may battle with the +current and achieve nothing but fatigue, or he may use the force of +the stream, as far as he may, to reach his own goal. I like to +think that this is what many American institutions are doing, our +libraries among them. They <span class="pagenum"><a id="page224" +name="page224"></a>[pg 224]</span>are using the present tendency to +eclecticism in an effort toward wider public service. When, in a +community, there seems to be a need for doing some particular +thing, the library, if it has the equipment and the means, is doing +that thing without inquiring too closely whether there is logical +justification for linking it with the library’s activities +rather than with some others. Note, now, how this desirable result +is aided by our prevailing American tendency toward eclecticism. +Suppose precisely the same conditions to obtain in England, or +France, or Italy, the admitted need for some activity, the ability +of the library and the inability of any other institution, to +undertake it. I submit that the library would be extremely unlikely +to move in the matter, simply from the lack of the tendency that we +are discussing. That tendency gives a flexibility, almost a +fluidity, which under a pressure of this kind, yields and ensures +an outlet for desirable energy along a line of least +resistance.</p> +<p>The Englishman and the American, when they are arguing a case of +this kind, assume each the condition of affairs that obtains in his +own land—the rigidity on the one hand, the fluidity on the +other. They assume it without stating it or even thoroughly +understanding it, and the result is that neither can understand the +conclusions of the other. The fact is that they are both right. I +seriously question whether it would be right or proper for a +library in a British community to do many of the things that +libraries are doing in American communities. I may go further and +say that the rigidity of British social life would make it +impossible for the library to achieve these things. But it is also +true that the fluidity of American social life makes it equally +impossible for the library to withstand the pressure that is +brought to <span class="pagenum"><a id="page225" name= +"page225"></a>[pg 225]</span>bear on it here. To yield is in its +case right and proper and a failure of response would be wrong and +improper.</p> +<p>It is usually assumed by the British critic of American +libraries that their peculiarities are due to the temperament of +the American librarian. We make a similar assumption when we +discuss British libraries. I do not deny that the librarians on +both sides have had something to do with it, but the determining +factor has been the social and temperamental differences between +the two peoples. Americans are fluid, experimental, eclectic, and +this finds expression in the character of their institutions and in +the way these are administered and used.</p> +<p>Take if you please the reaction of the library on the two sides +of the water to the inevitable result of opening it to +home-circulation—the necessity of knowing whether a given +book is or is not on the shelves. The American response was to open +the shelves, the British, to create an additional piece of +machinery—the indicator. These two results might have been +predicted in advance by one familiar with the temper of the two +peoples. It has shown itself in scores of instances, in the front +yards of residences, for instance—walled off in England and +open to the street in the United States.</p> +<p>I shall be reminded, I suppose, that there are plenty of open +shelves in English libraries and that the open shelf is gaining in +favor. True; England is becoming “Americanized” in more +respects than this one. But I am speaking of the immediate reaction +to the stimulus of popular demand, and this was as I have stated +it. In each case the reaction, temporarily at least, satisfied the +demand; showing that the difference was not of administrative habit +alone, but of community feeling.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page226" name="page226"></a>[pg +226]</span>This rapid review of modern American tendencies, however +confusing the impression that it may give, will at any rate +convince us, I think, of one thing—the absurdity of objecting +to anything whatever on the ground that it is un-American. We are +the most receptive people in the world. We “take our good +things where we find them,” and what we take becomes +“American” as soon as it gets into our hands. And yet, +if anything new does not happen to suit any of us, the favorite +method of attack is to denounce it as “un-American.” +Pretty nearly every element of our present social fabric has been +thus denounced, at one time or another, and as it goes on changing, +every change is similarly attacked.</p> +<p>The makers of our Constitution were good conservative +Americans—much too conservative, some of our modern radicals +say—yet they provided for altering that Constitution, and set +absolutely no limits on the alterations that might be made, +provided that they were made in the manner specified in the +instrument. We can make over our government into a monarchy +tomorrow, if we want, or decree that no one in Chicago shall wear a +silk hat on New Year’s Day. It was recently the fashion to +complain that the amendment of the Constitution has become so +difficult as to be now practically a dead letter. And yet we have +done so radical a thing as to change absolutely the method of +electing senators of the United States; and we did it as easily and +quietly as buying a hat—vastly more easily than changing a +cook. The only obstacle to changing our Constitution, no matter how +radically and fundamentally, is the opposition of the people +themselves. As soon as they want the change, it comes quickly and +simply. Changes like these are not un-American if the American +people like them well enough to make them. They, and they +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page227" name="page227"></a>[pg +227]</span>alone, are the judges of what peculiarities they shall +adopt as their own customs and characteristics. So that when we +hear that this or that is un-American, we may agree only in so far +as it is not yet an American characteristic. That we do not care +for it today is no sign that we may not take up with it tomorrow, +and it is no legitimate argument against our doing so, if we think +proper.</p> +<p>And now what does this all mean? The pessimist will tell us, +doubtless, that it is a sign of decadence. It does remind us a +little of the later days of the Roman empire when the peoples of +the remotest parts of the known world, with their arts, customs and +manners, were all to be found in the imperial city—when the +gods of Greece, Syria and Egypt were worshipped side by side with +those of old Rome, where all sorts of exotic art, philosophy, +literature and politics took root and flourished. That is usually +regarded as a period of decadence, and it was certainly a precursor +of the empire’s fall. When we consider that it was +contemporaneous with great material prosperity and with the spread +of luxury and a certain loosening of the moral fiber, such as we +are experiencing in America today, we can not help feeling a little +perturbed. Yet there is another way of looking at it. A period of +this sort is often only a period of readjustment. The Roman empire +as a political entity went out of existence long ago, but +Rome’s influence on our art, law, literature and government +is still powerful. Her so-called “fall” was really not +a fall but a changing into something else. In fact, if we take +Bergson’s view-point—which it seems to me is +undoubtedly the true one, the thing we call Rome was never anything +else but a process of change. At the time of which we speak the +visible part of the change was accelerated—that is all. In +like manner each one of you as an individual <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page228" name="page228"></a>[pg 228]</span>is not +a fixed entity. You are changing every instant and the reality +about you is the change, not what you see with the eye or +photograph with the camera—that is merely a stage through +which you pass and in which you do not stay—not for the +thousand millionth part of the smallest recognizable instant. So +our current American life and thought is not something that stands +still long enough for us to describe it. Even as we write the +description it has changed to another phase. And the phenomena of +transition just now are particularly noticeable—that is all. +We may call them decadent or we may look upon them as the +beginnings of a new and more glorious national life.</p> +<p>“The size and intricacy which we have to deal with,” +says Walter Lippmann, “have done more than anything else, I +imagine, to wreck the simple generalizations of our +ancestors.”</p> +<p>This is quite true, and so, in place of simplicity we are +introducing complexity, very largely by selection and combination +of simple elements evolved in former times to fit earlier +conditions. Whether organic relations can be established among +these elements, so that there shall one day issue from the welter +something well-rounded, something American, fitting American +conditions and leading American aspirations forward and upward, is +yet on the knees of the gods. We, the men and women of America, and +may I not say, we, the Librarians of America, can do much to direct +the issue.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page229" name="page229"></a>[pg +229]</span> +<h2><a name="Essay20" id="Essay20">Drugs and The Man</a><a id= +"footnotetag14" name="footnotetag14" href="#footnote14" title= +"A Commencement address to the graduating class of the School of Pharmacy, St. Louis, May 19, 1915."> +<sup>14</sup></a></h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>The graduation of a class of technically trained persons is an +event of special moment. When we send forth graduates from our +schools and colleges devoted to general education, while the +thought of failure may be disquieting or embarrassing, we know that +no special danger can result, except to the man who has failed. The +college graduate who has neglected his opportunities has thrown +away a chance, but he is no menace to his fellows. Affairs take on +a different complexion in the technical or professional school. The +poorly trained engineer, physician or lawyer, is an injury to the +community. Failure to train an engineer may involve the future +failure of a structure, with the loss of many lives. Failure to +train a doctor means that we turn loose on the public one who will +kill oftener than he will cure. Failure to train a lawyer means +wills that can be broken, contracts that will not hold, needless +litigation.</p> +<p>Congressman Kent, of California, has coined a satisfactory word +for this sort of thing—he calls it +“mal-employment.” Unemployment is a bad thing. We have +seen plenty of it here during the past winter. But Kent says, and +he is right, that malemployment is a worse thing. All these poor +engineers and doctors and lawyers are busily engaged, and every +thing on the surface seems to be going on well. But as a matter of +fact, the world would be better off if each one of them should stop +working and never do another stroke. It would pay the community to +support them in idleness.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page230" name="page230"></a>[pg +230]</span>I have always considered pharmacy to be one of the +occupations in which malemployment is particularly objectionable. +If you read Homer badly it affects no one but yourself. If you +think Vera Cruz is in Italy and that the Amazon River runs into the +Arctic Ocean, your neighbor is as well off as before; but if you +are under the impression that strychnine is aspirin, you have +failed in a way that is more than personal.</p> +<p>I am dwelling on these unpleasant possibilities partly for the +reason that the Egyptians displayed a skeleton at their +banquets—because warnings are a tonic to the soul—but +also because, if we are to credit much that we see in general +literature, including especially the daily paper and the popular +magazine, <em>all</em> druggists are malemployed. And if it would +really be better for the community that you should not enter upon +the profession for which you have been trained, now, of course, is +the time for you to know it.</p> +<p>There seems to be a widespread impression—an +assumption—that the day of the drug is over—that the +therapeutics of the future are to be concerned along with hygiene +and sanitation, with physical exercise, diet, and mechanical +operations. The very word “drug” has come to have an +objectionable connection that did not belong to it fifty years ago. +Even some of the druggists themselves, it seems to me, are a little +ashamed of the drug part of their occupation. Their places of +business appear to be news-agencies, refreshment parlors, +stationery stores—the drugs are “on the side,” or +rather in the rear. Sometimes, I am told, the proprietors of these +places know nothing at all about pharmacy, but employ a +prescription clerk who is a capable pharmacist. Here the druggist +has stepped down from his former position as the manager +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page231" name="page231"></a>[pg +231]</span>of a business and has become a servant. All of which +looks to me as if the pharmacist himself might be beginning to +accept the valuation that some people are putting upon his services +to the community.</p> +<p>Now these things affect me, not as a physician nor as a +pharmacist, for I am neither, but they do touch me as a student of +physics and chemistry and as one whose business and pleasure it has +been for many years to watch the development of these and other +sciences. The fact that I am addressing you this evening may be +taken, I suppose, as evidence that you may be interested in this +point of view. The action of most substances on the human organism +is a function of their chemical constitution. Has that chemical +constitution changed? It is one of the most astonishing discoveries +of our age that many, perhaps all, substances undergo spontaneous +disintegration, giving rise to the phenomena now well known as +“radio-activity.” No substances ordinarily known and +used in pharmacy, however, possess this quality in measurable +degree, and we have no reason to suppose that the alkaloids, for +instance, or the salts of potash or iron, differ today in any +respect from those of a century ago. How about the other factor in +the reaction—the human organism and its properties? That our +bodily properties have changed in the past admits of no doubt. We +have developed up to the point where we are at present. Here, +however, evolution seems to have left us, and it is now devoting +its attention exclusively to our mental and moral progress. Judging +from what is now going on upon the continent of Europe, much +remains to be accomplished. But there is no reason to believe that +if Caesar or Hannibal had taken a dose of opium, or ipecac, or +aspirin, the effect would have been different from that experienced +today by one of you. This is <span class="pagenum"><a id="page232" +name="page232"></a>[pg 232]</span>what a physicist or a chemist +would expect. If the action of a drug on the organism is chemical, +and if neither the drug nor the organism has changed, the action +must be the same. If we still desire to bring about the action and +if there is no better way to do it, we must use the drug, and there +is still need for the druggist. As a matter of fact, the number of +drugs at your disposal today is vastly greater than ever before, +largely owing to the labor, and the ingenuity, of the analytical +chemist. And there are still great classes of compounds of whose +existence the chemist is assured, but which he has not even had +time to form, much less to investigate. Among these may lurk +remedies more valuable than any at our disposal today. It does not +look, at any rate, as if the druggist were going to be driven out +of business from lack of stock, whether we regard quantity or +variety. To what, then, must we attribute the growth of the feeling +that the treatment of disease by the administration of drugs is on +the decline? From the standpoint of a layman it seems to be due to +two facts, or at least to have been strongly affected by them: (1) +The discovery and rapid development of other therapeutic measures, +such as those dependent on surgical methods, or on the use of +immunizing serums, or on manipulations such as massage, or on diet, +or even on mental suggestion; and (2) the very increase in the +number and variety of available drugs alluded to above, which has +introduced to the public many new and only partially tried +substances, the results of whose use has often been unexpectedly +injurious, including a considerable number of new habit-forming +drugs whose ravages are becoming known to the public.</p> +<p>The development of therapeutic measures that are independent of +drugs has been coincident with popular <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page233" name="page233"></a>[pg 233]</span>emancipation from the +mere superstition of drug-administration. The older lists of +approved remedies were loaded with items that had no curative +properties at all, except by suggestion. They were purely +magical—the thumb-nails of executed criminals, the hair of +black cats, the ashes of burned toads and so on. Even at this +moment your pharmacopoeia contains scores of remedies that are +without effect or that do not produce the effects credited to them. +I am relying on high therapeutical authority for this statement. +Now when the sick man is told by his own physician to discard +angleworm poultices, and herbs plucked in the dark of the moon, on +which he had formerly relied, it is any wonder that he has ended by +being suspicious also of calomel and ipecac, with which they were +formerly classed? And when the man who believed that he received +benefit from some of these magical remedies is told that the result +was due to auto-suggestion, is it remarkable that he should fall an +easy prey next day to the Christian Scientist who tells him that +the effects of calomel and ipecac are due to nothing else than this +same suggestion? The increased use and undoubted value of special +diets, serums, aseptic surgery, baths, massage, electrical +treatment, radio-therapeutics, and so on, makes it easy for him to +discard drugs altogether, and further, it creates, even among those +who continue to use drugs, an atmosphere favorable to the belief +that they are back numbers, on the road to disuse. Just here comes +in the second factor to persuade the layman, from what has come +under his own observation, that drugs are injurious, dangerous, +even fatal. Newly discovered chemical compounds with valuable +properties, have been adopted and used in medicine before the +necessary time had elapsed to disclose the fact that they possessed +also other properties, <span class="pagenum"><a id="page234" name= +"page234"></a>[pg 234]</span>more elusive than the first, but as +potent for harm as these were for good. Many were narcotics or +valuable anesthetics, local or otherwise, which have proved to be +the creators of habits more terrible than the age-long enemies of +mankind, alcohol and opium. When the man whose wife takes a +coal-tar derivative for headache finds that it stills her heart +forever, the incident affects his whole opinion of drugs. When the +patient for whom one of the new drugs has been prescribed by a +practitioner without knowledge of his idiosyncrasies reacts to it +fatally, it is slight consolation to his survivors that his case is +described in print under the heading, “A Curious Case of +Umptiol Poisoning.” When a mother sees her son go to the bad +by taking cocaine, or heroin, or some other drug of whose existence +she was ignorant a dozen years ago, she may be pardoned for +believing that all drugs, or at least all newly discovered drugs, +are tools of the devil.</p> +<p>And this feeling is intensified by one of our national +faults—the tendency to jump at conclusions, to overdo things, +to run from one evil to its opposite, without stopping at the +harmless mean. We think we are brighter and quicker than the +Englishman or the German. They think we are more superficial. +Whatever name you give the quality it causes us to “catch +on” sooner, to work a good thing to death more thoroughly and +to drop it more quickly for something else, than any other known +people, ancient or modern. Somebody devises a new form of skate +roller that makes roller-skating a good sport. We find it out +before anyone else and in a few months the land is plastered from +Maine to California with huge skating halls or sheds. Everybody is +skating at once and the roar of the rollers resounds across the +oceans. We skate ourselves out in a year or two, and then the roar +ceases, the sheds decay and roller-skating is once <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page235" name="page235"></a>[pg 235]</span>more a +normal amusement. Then someone invents the safety bicycle, and in a +trice all America, man, woman and child, is awheel. And we run this +good horse to death, and throw his body aside in our haste to +discover something new. Shortly afterward someone invents a new +dance, or imports it from Spanish America, and there is hardly time +to snap one’s finger before we are all dancing, grandparents +and children, the cook in the kitchen and the street-cleaner on the +boulevard.</p> +<p>We display as little moderation in our therapeutics. We can not +get over the idea that a remedy of proved value in a particular +case may be good for all others. Our proprietary medicines will +cure everything from tuberculosis to cancer. If massage has +relieved rheumatism, why should it not be good also for typhoid? +The Tumtum Springs did my uncle’s gout so much good; why +doesn’t your cousin try them for her headaches? And even so, +drugs must be all good or bad. Many of us remember the old +household remedies, tonics or laxatives or what not, with which the +children were all dosed at intervals, whether they were ill or not. +That was in the days when all drugs were good: when one “took +something” internally for everything that happened to him. +Now the pendulum has swung to the other side—that is all. If +we can ever settle down to the rational way of regarding these +things, we shall discover, what sensible medical men have always +known, and what druggists as well as mere laymen can not afford to +neglect, that there is no such thing as a panacea, and that all +rational therapeutics is based on common sense study of the +disease—finding out what is the cause and endeavoring to +abate that cause. The cause may be such that surgery is indicated, +or serum, or regulation of diet, or change of scene. It may +obviously <span class="pagenum"><a id="page236" name= +"page236"></a>[pg 236]</span>indicate the administration of a drug. +I once heard a clever lawyer in a poisoning case, in an endeavor to +discredit a physician, whom we shall call Dr. Jones, tell the +following anecdote: (Dr. Jones, who had been called in when the +victim was about to expire, had recommended the application of +ice). Said the lawyer:</p> +<p>“A workman was tamping a charge of blasting-powder with a +crowbar, when the charge went off prematurely and the bar was +driven through the unfortunate man’s body, so that part of it +protruded on either side: A local physician was summoned, and after +some study he pronounced as follows: ‘Now, if I let that bar +stay there, you’ll die. If I pull it out, you’ll die. +But I’ll give you a pill that may melt it where it is!’ +In this emergency,” the lawyer went on to say, “Dr. +Jones doubtless would have prescribed <em>ice</em>.”</p> +<p>Now the pill to melt the crowbar may stand for our former +excessive and absurd regard for drugs. The application of ice in +the same emergency may likewise represent a universal resort to +hydrotherapy. Neither of them is logical. There is place for each, +but there are emergencies that can not be met with either. Still, +to abandon one method of treatment simply because additional +methods have proved to be valuable, would be as absurd as to give +up talking upon the invention of writing or to prohibit the raising +of corn on land that will produce wheat.</p> +<p>No: we shall doubtless continue to use drugs and we shall +continue to need the druggist. What can he do to make his business +more valued and respected, more useful to the public and more +profitable to himself? For there can be no doubt that he will +finally succeed in attaining all these desirable results together, +or fail in all. Here and there we may find a <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page237" name="page237"></a>[pg 237]</span>man who +is making a fortune out of public credulity and ignorance, or, on +the other hand, one who is giving the public more service than it +pays for and ruining himself in the process; but in general and on +the average personal and public interest run pretty well hand in +hand. Henry Ford makes his millions because he is producing +something that the people want. St. Jacob’s Oil, once the +most widely advertised nostrum on the continent, cost its promoters +a fortune because there was nothing in it that one might not find +in some other oil or grease.</p> +<p>What then, I repeat, must the pharmacist do to succeed, +personally and professionally? I welcome this opportunity to tell +you what I think. My advice comes from the outside—often the +most valuable source. I have so little to do with pharmacy, either +as a profession or as a business that I stand far enough away to +get a bird’s-eye view. And if you think that any advice, +based on this view, is worthless, it will be a consolation to all +of us to realize that no force on earth can compel you to take +it.</p> +<p>It is doubtless too late to lament or try to resist the course +of business that has gone far to turn the pharmacy into a +department store. But let me urge you not to let this tendency run +wild. There are side-lines that belong properly to pharmacy, such +as all those pertaining to hygiene or sanitation; to the toilet, to +bodily refreshment. I do not see why one should not expect to find +at his pharmacist’s, soap, or tooth-brushes, or sponges. I do +not see why the thirsty man should not go there for mineral water +as well as the dyspeptic for pills. But I fail to see the +connection between pharmacy and magazines, or stationery or candy. +By selling these the druggist puts himself at once into competition +with the department stores. There can be no doubt about who will +win out <span class="pagenum"><a id="page238" name= +"page238"></a>[pg 238]</span>in any such competition as that. But I +believe there is still a place in the community for any special +line of business if its proprietor sticks to his specialty and +makes himself a recognized expert in it. The department store +spreads itself too thin—there is no room for intensive +development at any point of its vast expanse. Its general success +is due to this very fact. I am not now speaking of the rural +community where there is room only for one general store selling +everything that the community needs. But my statement holds good +for the city and the large town.</p> +<p>Let me illustrate by an instance in which we librarians are +professionally interested—the book store. Once every town had +its book-store. Now they are rare. We have few such stores even in +a city of the size of St. Louis. Every department store has its +book-section. They are rarely satisfactory. Everybody is lamenting +the disappearance of the old book-store, with its old scholarly +proprietor who knew books and the book-market; who loved books and +the book-business. Quarts of ink have been wasted in trying to +account for his disappearance. The Public Library, for one thing, +has been blamed for it. I have no time now to disprove this, though +it is very clear to me that libraries help the book trade instead +of hindering it. I shall simply give you my version of the trouble. +The book-dealer disappeared, as soon as he entered into competition +with the department store. He put in side lines of toys, and art +supplies, and cameras and candy. He began to spread himself thin +and had no time for expert concentration on his one specialty. Thus +he lost his one advantage over the department store—his +strength in the region where it was weak; and of course he +succumbed. If you will think for a moment of the special businesses +that have survived the competition of the department <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page239" name="page239"></a>[pg 239]</span>store, +you will see that they are precisely the ones that have resisted +this temptation to spread themselves and have been content to +remain experts. Look at the men’s furnishing stores. Would +they have survived if they had begun to sell cigars and +lawn-mowers? Look at the retail shoe stores, the opticians, the +cigar stores, the bakers, the meat markets, the confectioners, the +restaurants of all grades! They have all to compete with the +department stores, but their customers realize that they have +something to offer that can be offered by no department +store—expert service in one line, due to some one’s +life-long training, experience and devotion to the public.</p> +<p>I do not want the pharmacist to go the way of the book dealers. +Already some of the department stores include drug departments. I +do not see how these can be as good as independent pharmacies. But +I do not see the essential difference between a drug department in +a store that sells also cigars and stationery and confectionery, +and a so-called independent pharmacy that also distributes these +very things.</p> +<p>I am assuming that the druggist is an expert. That is the object +of our colleges of pharmacy, as I understand the matter. As a +librarian I want to deal with a book man who knows more of the book +business than I do. I want to ask his advice and be able to rely on +it. When I have printing to be done, I like to give it to a man who +knows more about the printed page than I do. When I buy bread, or +shoes, or a house, or a farm I like to deal with recognized experts +in these articles. How much more when I am purchasing substances +where expert knowledge will turn the balance between life and +death. I have gossiped with pharmacists enough to know that all +physicians do not avoid incompatibles in their prescriptions, and +that occasionally a combination falls into <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page240" name="page240"></a>[pg 240]</span>the +prescription clerk’s hands, which, if made up as he reads it +would produce a poisonous compound, or perhaps even an explosive +mixture. Two heads are better than one, and if my physician ever +makes a mistake of this kind I look to my pharmacist to see that it +shall not reach the practical stage.</p> +<p>I recognize the great value and service of the department store, +but I do not go there for my law or medicine; neither do I care to +resort thither for my pharmacy. I want our separate drug stores to +persist, and I want them to remain in charge of experts.</p> +<p>And when the store deals in other things than purely therapeutic +preparations—which I have already said I think probably +unavoidable,—I want it to present the aspect of a pharmacy +that deals also in toilet preparations and mineral water, not of an +establishment for dispensing soda-water and soap, where one may +have a prescription filled on the side, in an emergency. And when +the emergency does arise, I should have the pharmacy respond to it. +It is the place where we naturally look in an emergency—the +spot to which the victim of an accident is carried +directly—the one where the lady bends her steps when she +feels that she is going to faint. In hundreds of cases the drug +store is our only standby, and it should be the druggist’s +business to see that it never fails us. There are pharmacies where +a telephone message brings an unfailing response; there are others +to which one would as soon think of sending an inquiry regarding a +Biblical quotation. To which type, do you think, will the public +prefer to resort?</p> +<p>Then there are those little courtesies that no retail business +is obliged to offer, but that the public has been accustomed to +expect from the druggist—the cashing of checks, the changing +of bills, the furnishing of postage stamps, the consultation of the +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page241" name="page241"></a>[pg +241]</span>city directory. There can be no reason for resorting to +a drug store for all these favors except that the pharmacist has an +enviable reputation as the man who is most likely to grant them. +And yet I begin to hear druggists complaining of the results of +this reputation, of which they ought to be proud; I see them +pointing out that there is no profit on postage stamps and no +commission for changing a bill. They intimate, further, that +although it may be proper for them to put themselves out for +regular customers, it is absurd for strangers to ask for these +courtesies. I marvel when I hear these sentiments. If this popular +impression regarding the courtesy of the druggist did not exist, it +would be worth the expenditure of vast sums and the labor of a +lifetime to create it. To deliberately undo it would be as foolish +as to lock the door in the face of customers.</p> +<p>I do not believe that in St. Louis the pharmaceutical profession +is generally averse to a reputation for generous public service, +and I base my belief on some degree of personal knowledge. The St. +Louis Public Library operates about sixty delivery stations in +various parts of the city. These stations are all in drug stores. +The work connected with them, though light, is by no means +inconsiderable, and yet not one of the druggists who undertake it +charges the library a cent for his space or his services. Doubtless +they expect a return from the increased attractiveness of their +places to the public. I hope that they get it and I believe that +they do. At any rate we have evidence here of the +pharmacist’s belief that the bread of public service, cast +upon the waters, will sooner or later return.</p> +<p>You will notice that I am saying nothing about advertising. One +would think from the pharmaceutical papers, with which I am not +unfamiliar, that the <span class="pagenum"><a id="page242" name= +"page242"></a>[pg 242]</span>druggist’s chief end was to have +a sensational show window of some kind. These things are not +unimportant, but I do not dwell on them because I believe that if a +druggist realizes the importance of his profession; if he makes +himself a recognized expert in it; if he sticks to it and magnifies +it; if he makes his place indispensable to the community around +him, the first point to which the citizens resort for help in an +emergency, an unfailing center of courtesy and favor—he may +fill his window with toilet soap, or monkeys, or with nothing at +all—there will still be a trodden path up to his door.</p> +<p>Gentlemen, you have chosen as your life work a profession that I +believe to be indispensable to human welfare—one of enviable +tradition and honor and with standing and reputation in the +community that set it apart, in some degree from all others. And +while I would not have you neglect the material success that it may +bring you, I would urge you to expect this as a result rather than +strive for it as an immediate end. I would have you labor to +maintain and develop the special knowledge that you have gained in +this institution, to hold up the standard of courtesy and +helpfulness under which you can best do public service, confident +that if you do these things, business standing and financial +success will also be added unto you.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page243" name="page243"></a>[pg +243]</span> +<h2><a name="Essay21" id="Essay21">How The Community Educates +Itself</a><a id="footnotetag15" name="footnotetag15" href= +"#footnote15" title= +"Read before the American Library Association, Asbury Park, N.J., June 27, 1916."> +<sup>15</sup></a></h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>In endeavoring to distinguish between self-education and +education by others, one meets with considerable difficulty. If a +boy reads Mill’s “Political Economy’” he is +surely educating himself; but if after reading each chapter he +visits a class and answers certain questions propounded for the +purpose of ascertaining whether he has read it at all, or has read +it understandingly, then we are accustomed to transfer the credit +for the educative process to the questioner, and say that the boy +has been educated at school or college. As a matter of fact, I +think most of us are self-educated. Not only is most of what an +adult knows and can do, acquired outside of school, but in most of +what he learned even there he was self-taught. His so-called +teachers assigned tasks to him and saw that he performed them. If +he did not, they subjected him to discipline. Once or twice in a +lifetime most of us have run up against a real teacher—a man +or a woman that really played a major part in shaping our minds as +they now are—our stock of knowledge, our ways of thought, our +methods of doing things. These men have stood and are still +standing (though they may have joined the great majority long ago) +athwart the stream of sensation as it passes through us, and are +determining what part shall be stored up, and where; what kind of +action shall ultimately result from it. The influence of a good +teacher spreads farther and lasts longer than that of any other +man. If his words have been recorded in books it may reach across +the seas and down the ages.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page244" name="page244"></a>[pg +244]</span>There is another reason why the distinction between +school education and self-education breaks down. If the boy with +whom we began had any teacher at all it was John Stuart Mill, and +this man was his teacher whether or not his reading of the book was +prescribed and tested in a class-room. I would not have you think +that I would abolish schools and colleges. I wish we had more of +the right kind, but the chief factor in educative acquirement will +still be the pupil.</p> +<p>So when the community educates itself, as it doubtless does and +as it must do, it simply continues a process with which it has +always been familiar, but without control, or under its own +control. Of all the things that we learn, control is the most +vital. What we are is the sum of those things that we do not +repress. We begin without self-repression and have to be controlled +by others. When we learn to exercise control ourselves, it is right +that even our education should revert wholly to what it has long +been in greater part—a voluntary process.</p> +<p>This does not mean that at this time the pupil abandons +guidance. It means that he is free to choose his own guides and the +place and method of using them. Some rely wholly on experience; +others are wise enough to see that life is too short and too narrow +to acquire all that we need, and they set about to make use also of +that acquired by others. Some of these wiser ones use only their +companions and acquaintances; others read books. The wisest are +opportunists; they make use of all these methods as they have +occasion. Their reading does not make them avoid the exchange of +ideas by conversation, nor does the acquirement of ideas in either +way preclude learning daily by experience, or make reflection +useless or unnecessary.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page245" name="page245"></a>[pg +245]</span>He who lives a full life acquires ideas as he may, +causes them to combine, change and generate in his own mind, and +then translates them into action of some kind. He who omits any of +these things cannot be said to have really lived. He cannot, it is +true, fail to acquire ideas unless he is an idiot; but he may fail +to acquire them broadly, and may even make the mistake of thinking +that he can create them in his own mind.</p> +<p>He may, however, acquire fully and then merely store without +change or combination; that is, he may turn his brain into a +warehouse instead of using it as a factory.</p> +<p>And the man who has acquired broadly and worked over his raw +material into a product of his own, may still stop there and never +do anything. Our whole organism is subsidiary to action and he who +stops short of it has surely failed to live.</p> +<p>Our educative processes, so far, have dwelt heavily on +acquirement, somewhat lightly on mental assimilation and digestion, +and have left action almost untouched. In these two latter +respects, especially, is the community self-educated.</p> +<p>The fact that I am saying this here, and to you, is a sufficient +guaranty that I am to lay some emphasis on the part played by books +in these self-educative processes. A book is at once a carrier and +a tool; it transports the idea and plants it. It is a carrier both +in time and in space—the idea that it implants may be a +foreign idea, or an ancient idea, or both. Either of its functions +may for the moment be paramount; a book may bring to you ideas +whose implantation your brain resists, or it may be used to implant +ideas that are already present, as when an instructor uses his own +text book. Neither of these two cases represents education in the +fullest sense.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page246" name="page246"></a>[pg +246]</span>You will notice that I have not yet defined education. I +do not intend to try, for my time is limited. But in the course of +my own educative processes, which I trust are still proceeding, the +tendency grows stronger and stronger to insist on an intimate +connection with reality in all education—to making it a +realization that we are to do something and a yearning to be able +to do it. The man who has never run up against things as they are, +who has lived in a world of moonshine, who sees crooked and +attempts what is impossible and what is useless—is he +educated? I used to wonder what a realist was. Now that I am +becoming one myself I begin dimly to understand. He certainly is +not a man devoid of ideals, but they are real ideals, if you will +pardon the bull.</p> +<p>I believe that I am in goodly company. The library as I see it +has also set its face toward the real. What else is meant by our +business branches, our technology rooms, our legislative and +municipal reference departments? They mean that slow as we may be +to respond to community thought and to do our part in carrying on +community education, we are vastly more sensitive than the school, +which still turns up its nose at efforts like the Gary system; than +the stage, which still teaches its actors to be stagy instead of +natural; even than the producers of the very literature that we +help to circulate, who rarely know how even to represent the +conversation of two human beings as it really is. And when a great +new vehicle of popular artistic expression arises, like the moving +picture, those who purvey it spend their millions to build mock +cities instead of to reproduce the reality that it is their special +privilege to be able to show. And they hire stage actors to show +off their staginess on the screen—staginess that is a +thousand times more stagy because its background <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page247" name="page247"></a>[pg 247]</span>is of +waving foliage and glimmering water, instead of the painted canvas +in front of which it belongs. The heart of the community is right. +Its heroine is Mary Pickford. It rises to realism as one man. The +little dog who cannot pose, and who pants and wags his tail on the +screen as he would anywhere else, elicits thunderous applause. The +baby who puckers up its face and cries, oblivious of its +environment, is always a favorite. But the trend of all this, these +institutions cannot see. We librarians are seeing it a little more +clearly. We may see it—we shall see it, more clearly +still.</p> +<p>The self-education of a community often depends very closely on +bonds of connection already established between the minds of that +community’s individual members. Sometimes it depends on a +sudden connection made through the agency of a single event of +overwhelming importance and interest. Let me illustrate what I mean +by connection of this kind. For many years it was my duty to cross +the Hudson river twice daily on a crowded ferry-boat, and it used +to interest me to watch the behavior of the crowds under the +influence of simple impulses affecting them all alike. I am happy +to say that I never had an opportunity of observing the effect of +complex impulses such as those of panic terror. I used particularly +to watch, from the vantage point of a stairway whence I could look +over their heads, the behavior of the crowd standing in the cabin +just before the boat made its landing. Each person in the crowd +stood still quietly, and the tendency was toward a loose formation +to ensure comfort and some freedom of movement. At the same time +each was ready and anxious to move forward as soon as the landing +should be made. Only those in front could see the bow of the +ferryboat; the others could see nothing but the persons +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page248" name="page248"></a>[pg +248]</span>directly in front of them. When those in the front rank +saw that the landing was very near they began to move forward; +those just behind followed suit and so on to the rear. The result +was that I saw a wave of compression, of the same sort as a +sound-wave in air, move through the throng. The individual motions +were forward but the wave moved backward. No better example of a +wave of this kind could be devised. Now the actions and reactions +between the air-particles in a sound wave are purely mechanical. +Not so here. There was neither pushing nor pulling of the ordinary +kind. Each person moved forward because his mind was fixed on +moving forward at the earliest opportunity, and because the forward +movement of those just in front showed him that now was the time +and the opportunity. The physical link, if there was one, properly +speaking, between one movement and another was something like this: +A wave of light, reflected from the body of the man in front, +entered the eye of the man just behind, where it was transformed +into a nerve impulse that readied the brain through the optic +nerve. Here it underwent complicated transformations and reactions +whose nature we can but surmise, until it left the brain as a motor +impulse and caused the leg muscles to contract, moving their owner +forward. All this may or may not have taken place within the sphere +of consciousness; in the most cases it had happened so often that +it had been relegated to that of unconscious cerebration.</p> +<p>I have entered into so much detail because I want to make it +clear that a connection may be established between members of a +group, even so casual a group as that of persons who happen to +cross on the same ferry boat, that is so real and compelling, that +its results simulate those of physical forces. In thin <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page249" name="page249"></a>[pg 249]</span>case +the results were dependent on the existence in the crowd of one +common bond of interest. They all wanted to leave the ferry boat as +soon as possible, and by its bow. If some of them had wanted to +stay on the boat and go back with it, or if it had been a river +steamboat where landings were made from several gangways in +different parts of the boat the simple wave of compression that I +saw would not have been set up. In like manner the ordinary +influences that act on men’s minds tend in all sorts of +directions and their results are not easily traced. Occasionally, +however, there occurs some event so great that it turns us all in +the same direction and establishes a common network of psychical +connections. Such an event fosters community education.</p> +<p>We have lately witnessed such a phenomenon in the sudden +outbreak of the great European War. Probably no person in the +community as we librarians know it remained unaffected by this +event. In most it aroused some kind of a desire to know what was +going on. It was necessary that most of us should know a little +more than we did of the differences in racial temperament and aim +among the inhabitants of the warring nations, of such movements as +Pan-Slavism and Pan-Germanism, of the recent political history of +Europe, of modern military tactics and strategy, of international +law, of geography, of the pronunciation of foreign placenames, of +the chemistry of explosives—of a thousand things regarding +which we had hitherto lacked the impulse to inform ourselves. This +sort of thing is going on in a community every day, but here was a +catastrophe setting in motion a mighty brain-wave that had twisted +us all in one direction. Notice now what a conspicuous role our +public libraries play in phenomena of this kind. In the first +place, the newspaper <span class="pagenum"><a id="page250" name= +"page250"></a>[pg 250]</span>and periodical press reflects at once +the interest that has been aroused. Where man’s unaided +curiosity would suggest one question it adds a hundred others. +Problems that would otherwise seem simple enough now appear +complex—the whole mental interest is intensified. At the same +time there is an attempt to satisfy the questions thus raised. The +man who did not know about the Belgian treaty, or the possible use +of submarines as commerce-destroyers, has all the issues put before +him with at least an attempt to settle them. This service of the +press to community education would be attempted, but it would not +be successfully rendered, without the aid of the public library, +for it has come to pass that the library is now almost the only +non-partisan institution that we possess; and community education, +to be effective, must be non-partisan. The press is almost +necessarily biassed. The man who is prejudiced prefers the paper or +the magazine that will cater to his prejudices, inflame them, cause +him to think that they are reasoned results instead of prejudices. +If he keeps away from the public library he may succeed in blinding +himself; if he uses it he can hardly do so. He will find there not +only his own side but all the others; if he has the ordinary +curiosity that is our mortal heritage he cannot help glancing at +the opinions of others occasionally. No man is really educated who +does not at least know that another side exists to the question on +which he has already made up his mind—or had it made up for +him.</p> +<p>Further, no one is content to stop with the ordinary periodical +literature. The flood of books inspired by this war is one of the +most astonishing things about it. Most libraries are struggling to +keep up with it in some degree. Very few of these books +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page251" name="page251"></a>[pg +251]</span>would be within the reach of most of us were it not for +the library.</p> +<p>I beg you to notice the difference in the reaction of the +library to this war and that of the public school as indicative of +the difference between formal educative processes, as we carry them +on, and the self-education of the community. I have emphasized the +freedom of the library from bias. The school is necessarily +biassed—perhaps properly so. You remember the story of the +candidate for a district school who, when asked by an examining +committee-man whether the earth was round or flat, replied, +“Well, some says one and some t’other. I teach either +round or flat, as the parents wish.”</p> +<p>Now, there are books that maintain the flatness of the earth, +and they properly find a place on the shelves of large public +libraries. Those who wish to compare the arguments pro and con are +at liberty to do so. Even in such a <em>res adjudicata</em> as this +the library takes no sides. But in spite of the obliging school +candidate, the school cannot proceed in this way. The teaching of +the child must be definite. And there are other subjects, +historical ones for instance, in which the school’s attitude +may be determined by its location, its environment, its management. +When it is a public school and its controlling authority is really +trying to give impartial instruction there are some subjects that +must simply be skipped, leaving them to be covered by +post-scholastic community education. This is the school’s +limitation. Only the policy of caution is very apt to be carried +too far. Thus we find that in the school the immense educational +drive of the European War has not been utilized as it has in the +community at large. In some places the school authorities have +erected a barrier against it. So far as they are concerned +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page252" name="page252"></a>[pg +252]</span>the war has been non-existent. This difference between +the library and the school appears in such reports as the following +from a branch librarian:</p> +<p>“Throughout the autumn and most of the winter we found it +absolutely impossible to supply the demand for books about the war. +Everything we had on the subject or akin to it—books, +magazines, pamphlets—were in constant use. Books of travel +and history about the warring countries became popular—things +that for years had been used but rarely became suddenly vitally +interesting.</p> +<p>“I have been greatly interested by the fact that the high +school boys and girls never ask for anything about the war. Not +once during the winter have I seen in one of them a spark of +interest in the subject. It seems so strange that it should be +necessary to keep them officially ignorant of this great war +because the grandfather of one spoke French and of another +German.”</p> +<p>Another librarian says:</p> +<p>“The war again has naturally stimulated an interest in +maps. With every turn in military affairs, new ones are issued and +added to our collection. These maps, as received, have been +exhibited for short periods upon screens and they have never lacked +an appreciative line of spectators, representing all +nationalities.”</p> +<p>One noticeable effect of the war in libraries has been to +stimulate the marking of books, periodicals and newspapers by +readers, especially in periodical rooms. Readers with strong +feelings cannot resist annotating articles or chapters that express +opinions in which they cannot concur. Pictures of generals or +royalties are especially liable to defacement with opprobrious +epithets. This feeling extends even to bulletins. Libraries receive +strenuous protests <span class="pagenum"><a id="page253" name= +"page253"></a>[pg 253]</span>against the display of portraits and +other material relating to one of the contesting parties without +similar material on the other side to offset it.</p> +<p>“Efforts to be strictly neutral have not always met with +success, some readers apparently regarding neutrality as synonymous +with suppression of everything favorable to the opposite side. One +library reports that the display of an English military portrait +called forth an energetic protest because it was not balanced by a +German one.”</p> +<p>Such manifestations as these are merely symptoms. The impulse of +the war toward community education is a tremendous one and it is +not strange that it should find an outlet in all sorts of odd ways. +The German sympathizer who would not ordinarily think of objecting +to the display of an English portrait, and in fact would probably +not think of examining it closely enough to know whether it was +English or Austrian, has now become alert. His alertness makes him +open to educative influences, but it may also show itself in such +ways as that just noted.</p> +<p>Keeping the war out of the schools is of course a purely local +phenomenon, to be deprecated where it occurs. The library can do +its part here also.</p> +<p>“G. Stanley Hall believes that the problem of teaching the +war is how to utilize in the very best way the wonderful +opportunity to open, see and feel the innumerable and vital lessons +involved.” Commenting on this a children’s librarian +says: “The unparalleled opportunity offered to our country, +and the new complex problems presented by these new conditions +should make the children’s librarian pause and take heed.</p> +<p>“Can we do our part toward using the boy’s loyalty +to his gang or his nine, his love of his country, <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page254" name="page254"></a>[pg 254]</span>his +respect for our flag, his devotion to our heroes, in developing a +sense of human brotherhood which alone can prevent or delay in the +next generation another such catastrophe as the one we face +to-day?”</p> +<p>Exclusion of the war from the schools is partly the outcome of +the general attitude of most of our schoolmen, who object to the +teaching of a subject as an incidental. Arithmetic must be studied +for itself alone. To absorb it as a by-product of shop-work, as is +done in Gary, is inadmissible. But it is also a result of the fear +that teaching the war at all would necessarily mean a partisan +teaching of it—a conclusion which perhaps we cannot condemn +when we remember the partisan instruction in various other subjects +for which our schools are responsible.</p> +<p>Again, this exclusion is doubtless aided by the efforts of some +pacifists, who believe that, ostrich-like, we should hide our heads +in the sand, to avoid acknowledging the existence of something we +do not like. “Why war?” asks a recent pamphlet. Why, +indeed? But we may ask in turn “Why fire?” “Why +flood?” I cannot answer these questions, but it would be +foolish to act as if the scourges did not exist. Nay, I hasten to +insure myself against them, though the possibility that they will +injure me is remote. This ultra-pacifist attitude has gone further +than school education and is trying to put the lid on community +education also. Objection, for instance, has been made to an +exhibit of books, prints and posters about the war, which was +displayed in the St. Louis Public Library for nearly two months. We +intended to let it stand for about a week, but the public would not +allow this. The community insists on self-education even against +the will of its natural allies. The contention that we are +cultivating the innate blood-thirstiness of our public, I regard as +absurd.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page255" name="page255"></a>[pg +255]</span>What can we do toward generating or taking advantage of +other great driving impulses toward community education? Must we +wait for the horrors of a great war to teach us geography, +industrial chemistry and international law? Is it necessary to burn +down a house every time we want to roast a pig? Certainly not. But +just as one would not think of bringing on any kind of a +catastrophe in order to utilize its shock for educational purposes, +so also I doubt very much whether we need concern ourselves about +the initiation of any impulse toward popular education. These +impulses exist everywhere in great number and variety and we need +only to select the right one and reinforce it. Attempts to generate +others are rarely effective. When we hear the rich mellow tone of a +great organ pipe, it is difficult to realize that all the pipe does +is to reinforce a selected tone among thousands of +indistinguishable noises made by the air rushing through a slit and +striking against an edge. Yet this is the fact. These incipient +impulses permeate the community all about us; all we have to do is +to select one, feed it and give it play and we shall have an +“educational movement.” This fact is strongly impressed +upon anyone working with clubs. If it is desired to foster some +movement by means of an organization, it is rarely necessary to +form one for the purpose. Every community teems with clubs, +associations and circles. All that is needed is to capture the +right one and back it up. Politicians well understand this art of +capture and use it often for evil purposes. In the +librarian’s hands it becomes an instrument for good. Better +than to offer a course of twenty lectures under the auspices of the +library is it to capture a club, give it house-room, and help it +with its program. I am proud of the fact that in fifteen public +rooms in <span class="pagenum"><a id="page256" name= +"page256"></a>[pg 256]</span>our library, about four thousand +meetings are held in the course of the year; but I am inclined to +be still prouder of the fact that not one of these is held formally +under the auspices of the library or is visibly patronized by it. +To go back to our thesis, all education is self-education; we can +only select, guide and strengthen, but when we have done these +things adequately, we have done a very great work indeed.</p> +<p>What is true of assemblies and clubs is also true of the +selection and use of books. A book purchased in response to a +demand is worth a dozen bought because the librarian thinks the +library ought to have them. The possibilities of free suggestion by +the community are, it seems to me, far from realized, yet even as +it is, I believe that librarians have an unexampled opportunity of +feeling out promising tendencies in this great flutter of +educational impulses all about us, and so of selecting the right +ones and helping them on.</p> +<p>Almost while I have been writing this I have been visited by a +delegate from the foundrymen’s club—an organization +that wants more books on foundry practice and wants them placed +together in a convenient spot. Such a visit is of course a +heaven-sent opportunity and I suppose I betrayed something of my +pleasure in my manner. My visitor said, “I am so glad you +feel this way about it; we have been meaning for some time to call +on you, but we were in doubt about how we should be +received.” Such moments are humiliating to the librarian. +Great heavens! Have we advertised, discussed, talked and plastered +our towns with publicity, only to learn at last that the spokesman +of a body of respectable men, asking legitimate service, rather +expects to be kicked <span class="pagenum"><a id="page257" name= +"page257"></a>[pg 257]</span>downstairs than otherwise when he +approaches us? Is our publicity failing in quantity or in +quality?</p> +<p>Whatever may be the matter, it is in response to demands like +this that the library must play its part in community education. +Here as elsewhere it is the foundrymen who are the important +factors—their attitude, their desires, their capabilities. +Our function is that of the organ pipe—to pick out the +impulse, respond to it and give it volume and carrying power. The +community will educate itself whether we help or not. It is +permeated by lines of intelligence as the magnetic field is by +lines of force. Thrust in a bit of soft iron and the force-lines +will change their direction in order to pass through the iron. +Thrust a book into the community field, and its lines of +intelligence will change direction in order to take in the contents +of the book. If we could map out the field we should see great +masses of lines sweeping through our public libraries.</p> +<p>All about us we see men who tell us that they despair of +democracy; that at any rate, whatever its advantages, democracy can +never be “efficient.” Efficient for what? Efficiency is +a relative quality, not absolute. A big German howitzer would be +about as inefficient a tool as could be imagined, for serving an +apple-pie. Beside, democracy is a goal; we have not reached it yet; +we shall never reach it if we decide that it is undesirable. The +path toward it is the path of Nature, which leads through +conflicts, survivals, and modifications. Part of it is the path of +community education, which I believe to be efficient in that it is +leading on toward a definite goal. Part of Nature is man, with his +desires, hopes and abilities. Some men, and many women, are +librarians, in whom these desires and hopes have definite +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page258" name="page258"></a>[pg +258]</span>aims and in whom the corresponding abilities are more or +less developed. We are all thus cogs in Nature’s great scheme +for community education; let us be intelligent cogs, and help the +movement on instead of hindering it.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page259" name="page259"></a>[pg +259]</span> +<h2><a name="Essay22" id="Essay22">Clubwomen’s +Reading</a></h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<h3>I—<em>The Malady</em></h3> +<p>A well-dressed woman entered the Art Department of a large +public library. “Have you any material on the Medici?” +she asked the custodian. “Yes; just what kind of material do +you want?” “Stop a minute,” cried the woman, +extending a detaining hand; “before you get me anything, just +tell me what they are!” Librarians are trained not to laugh. +No one could have detected the ghost of a smile on this one’s +face as she lifted the “M” volume of a cyclopedia from +a shelf and placed it on the table before the seeker after +knowledge. “There; that will tell you,” she said, and +returned to her work.</p> +<p>Not long afterward she was summoned by a beckoning finger. +“I can’t tell from this book,” said the perplexed +student, “whether the Medici were a family or a race of +people.” The Art Librarian tried to untie this knot, but it +was not long before another presented itself. “This book +doesn’t explain,” said the troubled investigator, +“whether the Medici were Florentines or Italians.” +Still without a quiver, the art assistant emitted the required drop +of information. “Shan’t I get you something more +now?” she asked. “Oh, no; this will be quite +sufficient,” and taking out pencil and paper the inquirer +began to write rapidly with the cyclopedia propped before her. +Presently, when the Art Librarian looked up, her guest had +disappeared. But she was on hand the next morning. “May I see +that book again?” she <span class="pagenum"><a id="page260" +name="page260"></a>[pg 260]</span>asked sweetly. “There are +some words here in my copy that I can’t quite make +out.”</p> +<p>On another occasion a reader, of the same sex, wandered into the +reading-room and began to gaze about her with that peculiar sort of +perplexed aimlessness that librarians have come to recognise +instinctively as an index to the wearer’s state of mind. +“Have you anything on American travels?” she asked.</p> +<p>“Do you mean travels in America, or travels by Americans +in foreign countries?”</p> +<p>“Well; I don’t know—exactly.”</p> +<p>“Do you want books like Dickens’s <em>American +Notes</em>, that give a foreigner’s impression of this +country?”</p> +<p>“Ye-es—possibly.”</p> +<p>“Or books like Hawthorne’s <em>Note Book</em>, +telling how a foreign country appears to an American?”</p> +<p>“We-ell; perhaps.”</p> +<p>“Are you following a programme of reading?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“May I see it? That may give me a clue.”</p> +<p>“I haven’t a copy here.”</p> +<p>“Can you give me the name of the person or committee who +made it?”</p> +<p>“Oh, I <em>made</em> it <em>myself</em>.”</p> +<p>This was a “facer”; the librarian seemed to have +brought up against a stone wall, but she waited, knowing that a +situation, unlike a knot, will sometimes untie itself.</p> +<p>The seeker after knowledge also waited for a time. Then she +broke out animatedly:</p> +<p>“Why, I just wanted American travels, don’t you +know? Funny little stories and things about the sort of Americans +that go abroad with a bird-cage!”</p> +<p>Just what books were given to her I do not know; <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page261" name="page261"></a>[pg 261]</span>but in +due time her interesting paper before the Olla Podrida Club was +properly noticed in the local papers.</p> +<p>In another case a perplexed club-woman came to a library for aid +in making a programme of reading. “Have you some ideas about +the subject you want to take up?” asked the reference +assistant.</p> +<p>“Well, we had thought of England, or perhaps Scotland; and +some of us would like the Elizabethan Period.”</p> +<p>The assistant, after some faithful work, produced a list of +books and articles on each of these somewhat comprehensive subjects +and sent them to the reader for selection. “Which did you +finally take?” she asked when the inquirer next visited the +library.</p> +<p>“Oh, they were so good, we decided to use all of them this +year!”</p> +<p>The writer is no pessimist. These stories which are as true, +word for word, as any tales not taken down by a stenographer (and +far more so than some that are) seemed to throw the persons who +told them into a sort of dumb despair, but I hastened to reassure +them. I pointed out that the inquirers after knowledge had, beyond +all doubt, obtained some modicum of what they wanted. If the lady +in the first tale, for instance, had mistakenly supposed that the +Medici were a new kind of dance or something to eat, she surely has +been disabused. And her cyclopedia article was probably as well +written as most of its kind, so that a literal transcript of it +could have done no harm either to the copyist or to her clubmates. +And the paper on “American Travels,” and the combined +lists on England, Scotland and the Elizabethan Period; did not +those who laboured on them, or with them, acquire information in +the process? Most assuredly!</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page262" name="page262"></a>[pg +262]</span>Still, I must confess that, in advancing these +arguments, I feel somewhat like an <em>advocatus diaboli</em>. It +is all very well to treat the puzzled clubwoman as a joke. When a +man slips on a banana-peel and goes down, we may laugh at his +plight; but suppose the whole crowd of passers-by began to pitch +and slide and tumble! Should we not think that some horrible +epidemic had laid its hand on us? The ladies with their Medici and +their Travels are not isolated instances. Ask the librarians; they +know, but in countless instances they do not tell, for fear of +casting ridicule upon the hundreds of intelligent clubwomen whom +they are proud to help. In many libraries there is a standing rule +against repeating or discussing the errors and slips of the public, +especially to the ever hungry reporter. I break this rule here with +equanimity, and even with a certain degree of hope, for my object +is to awaken my readers to the knowledge that part of the reading +public is suffering from a malady of some kind. Later I may try my +hand at diagnosis and even at therapeutics. And I am taking as an +illustration chiefly the reading done by women’s clubs, not +because men do not do reading of the same kind, or because it is +not done by individuals as well as by groups; but because, just at +the present time, women in general, and clubwomen in particular, +seem especially likely to be attacked by the disease. It must be +remembered also that I am writing from the standpoint of the public +library, and I here make humble acknowledgement of the fact that +many things in the educational field, both good and bad, go on +quite outside of that institution and beyond its ken.</p> +<p>The intellectual bonds between the library and the woman’s +club have always been close. Many libraries <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page263" name="page263"></a>[pg 263]</span>are the +children of such clubs; many clubs have been formed in and by +libraries. If any mistakes are being made in the general policies +and programmes of club reading, the librarian would naturally be +the first to know it, and he ought to speak out. He does know it, +and his knowledge should become public property at once. But, I +repeat, although the trouble is conspicuous in connection with the +reading of women’s clubs, it is far more general and deeply +rooted than this.</p> +<p>The malady’s chief symptom, which is well known to all +librarians, is a lack of correspondence between certain readers and +the books that they choose. Reading, like conversation, is the +meeting of two minds. If there is no contact, the process fails. If +the cogs on the gearwheels do not interact, the machine can not +work. If the reader of a book on algebra does not understand +arithmetic; if he tackles a philosophical essay on the +representative function without knowing what the phrase means; if +he tries to read a French book without knowing the language, his +mind is not fitted for contact with that of the writer, and the +mental machinery will not move.</p> +<p>In the early days of the Open Shelf, before librarians had +realised the necessity of copious assignments to “floor +duty,” and before there were children’s librarians, I +saw in a branch library a small child staggering under the weight +of a volume of Schaff’s <em>History of the Christian +Church</em>, which he had taken from the shelves and was presenting +at the desk to be charged. “You are not going to read that, +are you?” said the desk assistant.</p> +<p>“It isn’t for me; it’s for me big +brudder.”</p> +<p>“What did your big brother ask you to get?”</p> +<p>“Oh, a Physiology!”</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page264" name="page264"></a>[pg +264]</span>Nowadays, our well-organised children’s rooms make +such an occurrence doubtful with the little ones, but apparently +there is much of it with adults.</p> +<p>Too much of our reading—I should rather say our attempts +at reading—is of this character. Such attempts are the result +of a tendency to regard the printed page as a fetich—to think +that if one knows his alphabet and can call the printed words one +after another as his eye runs along the line, some unexplained good +will result, or at least that he has performed a praiseworthy act, +has “accumulated merit” somehow or somewhere, like a +Thibetan with his prayer-wheel.</p> +<p>It is probably a fact that if a man should meet you in the +street and say, “In beatific repentance lies jejune +responsibility,” you would stare at him and pass him by, or +perhaps flee from him as from a lunatic; whereas if you saw these +words printed in a book you might gravely study them to ascertain +their meaning, or still worse, might succeed in reading your own +meaning into them. The words I have strung together happen to have +no meaning, but the result would be the same if they meant +something that was hidden from the reader by his inability to +understand them, no matter what the cause of that inability might +be.</p> +<p>This malady is doubtless spontaneous in some degree, and +dependent on failings of the human mind that we need not discuss +here, but there are signs that it is being fostered, spread, and +made more acute by special influences. Probably our educational +methods are not altogether blameless. The boy who trustfully +approached a Reference Librarian and said, “I have to write a +composition on what I saw between home and school; have you got a +book about that?” had doubtless been taught that he must look +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page265" name="page265"></a>[pg +265]</span>in a book for everything. The conscientious teacher who +was now trying to separate him from his notion may have been the +very one who, perhaps unconsciously, had instilled it; if so, her +fault had thus returned to plague her.</p> +<p>The boy or girl who comes to attach a sacredness or a wizardry +to the book in itself will naturally believe, after a little, that +whether he understands what is in it matters little—and this +is the malady of which we have been complaining.</p> +<p>A college teacher of the differential calculus, in a time now +happily long past, when a pupil timidly inquired the reason for +this or that, was wont to fix the interrogator with his eye and +say, “Sir; it is so because the book says so!” Even in +more recent days a well-known university teacher, accustomed to use +his own text-book, used to say when a student had ventured to vary +its classic phraseology, “It can not be expressed better than +in the words of the book!?” These instances, of course, are +taken from the dark ages of education, but even to-day I believe +that a false idea of the value of a printed page merely as +print—not as the record of a mind, ready to make contact with +the mind of a reader—has impressed itself too deeply on the +brains of many children at an age when such impressions are apt to +be durable. Not that the schools are especially at fault; we have +all played our part in this unfortunate business. It might all +fade, at length; we all know that many good teachings of our +childhood do vanish; why should not the bad ones occasionally +follow suit?</p> +<p>But now come in all the well-meaning instructors of the +adult—the Chautauquans, the educational extensionists, the +lecturers, the correspondence schools, the advisers of reading, the +makers of booklists, the devisers of “courses.” They +deepen the fleeting impression <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page266" name="page266"></a>[pg 266]</span>and increase its +capacity for harm, while varying slightly the mechanism that +produced it. As the child grows into a man, his childish idea that +a book will produce a certain effect independently of what it +contains is apt to yield a little to reason. The new influences, +some of which I have named above, do not attempt directly to combat +this dawning intelligence; they utilise it to complete the mental +discomfiture of their victims. They admit the necessity of +comprehending the contents of the book, but they persuade the +reader that such comprehension is easier than it really is. And +they often administer specially concocted tabloids that convince +one that he knows more than he really does. Thus the unsuspecting +adult goes on reading what he does not understand, not now thinking +that it does not matter, but falsely persuaded that he has become +competent to understand.</p> +<p>Every one of the agencies that I have named aims to do good +educational work; every one is competent to do such work; nearly +every one does much of it. I am finding fault with them only so far +as they succeed in persuading readers that they are better educated +than they really are. In this respect such agencies are precisely +on a par with the proprietary medicine that is an excellent +laxative or sudorific, but is offered also as a cure for +tuberculosis or cancer.</p> +<p>I once heard the honoured head of a famous body that does an +enormous amount of work of this sort deliver an <em>apologia</em>, +deserving of all attention, in which he complained that his +institution had been falsely accused of superficiality. It was, he +said, perfectly honest in what it taught. If its pupils thought +that the elementary knowledge they were gaining was comprehensive +and thorough, that was their fault—not his. And vet, at that +moment, the <span class="pagenum"><a id="page267" name= +"page267"></a>[pg 267]</span>institution was posing before its +pupils as a “university” and using the forms and +nomenclature of such a body to strengthen the idea in their minds. +We cannot acquit it, or any of the agencies like it, of complicity +in the causation of the malady whose symptoms we are +discussing.</p> +<p>It is not the fault of the women’s clubs that they have +fallen into line in such an imposing procession as this. Their +formation and work constitute one of the most interesting and +important manifestations of the present feminist movement. Their +rôle in it is partly social, partly educational; and as they +consist of adults, elementary education is of course excluded from +their programme. We therefore find them committed, perhaps +unconsciously, to the plan of required or recommended reading, in a +form that has long been the bane of our educational systems both in +school and out.</p> +<p>One of the corner-stones of this system is the idea that the +acquisition of information is valuable in itself, no matter what +may be the relationship between it and the acquiring mind, or what +use of it may be made in the future. According to this idea, if a +woman can once get into her head that the Medici were a family and +not “a race of people,” it matters little that she is +unfitted to comprehend why they are worth reading about at all, or +that the fact has nothing to do with what she has ever done or is +likely to be called upon to do in the future.</p> +<p>That the members of these clubs are willing to pursue knowledge +under these hampering conditions is of course a point in their +favour, so far as it goes. A desire for knowledge is never to be +despised, even when it is not entertained for its own sake. And a +secondary desire may often be changed into a primary one, if the +task is approached in the right way. <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page268" name="page268"></a>[pg 268]</span>The possibility of such +a transformation is a hopeful feature of the present situation.</p> +<p>The reading that is done by women in connection with club work +is of several different types. In the simplest organisations, which +are reading clubs pure and simple, a group of books, roughly equal +in number to the membership, is taken and passed around until each +person has read them all. There is no connection between them, and +each volume is selected simply on some one’s statement that +it is a “good book.” A step higher is the club where +the books are on one general subject, selected by some one who has +been asked to prescribe a “course of reading.” By easy +gradations we arrive at the final stage, where the reading is of +the nature of investigation and its outcome is an essay. A subject +is decided on at the beginning of the season. The programme +committee selects several phases of it and assigns each to a +member, who prepares her essay and reads it to the club at one of +the stated meetings. In this case the reading to be done in +preparation for writing the essay may or may not be guided by the +committee. In many cases, where the local public library cooperates +actively with the clubs, a list may be made out by the librarian +and perhaps printed, with due acknowledgment, in the club’s +year book. No one can doubt, in looking over typical programmes and +lists among the thousands that represent the annual reading of the +women’s clubs throughout the United States, that a serious +and sustained effort is being made to introduce the intellect, as +an active factor, into the lives of thousands of women—lives +where hitherto it has played little part, whether they are +millionaires or near paupers, workers or idlers. With this aim +there must be frill measure of sympathy, but I fear we can commend +it only in the back-handed <span class="pagenum"><a id="page269" +name="page269"></a>[pg 269]</span>fashion in which a great +authority on sociology recently commended the Socialists. “If +sympathy with what they are trying to do, as opposed to the way in +which they are trying to do it, makes one a Socialist,” said +the Professor, “then I am a Socialist.” Here also we +may sympathise with the aim, but the results are largely dependent +on the method; and that method is the offspring of ignorance and +inefficiency. The results may be summed up in one +word—superficiality. I have elsewhere warned readers not to +think that this word means simply a slight knowledge of a subject. +A slight knowledge is all that most of us possess, or need to +possess, about most subjects. I know a little about Montenegro for +instance—something of its origin and relationships, its +topography, the names and characteristics of a city or two, the +racial and other peculiarities of its inhabitants. Yet I should cut +a poor figure indeed in an examination on Montenegrin history, +geography or government. Is my knowledge “superficial”? +It could not properly be so stigmatised unless I should pose as an +authority on Montenegro, or unless my opportunities to know about +the country had been so great that failure to take advantage of +them should argue mental incapacity. The trouble with the +reading-lists and programmes of our women’s clubs, inherited +in some degree from our general educational methods, is that they +emphasise their own content and ignore what they do not contain, to +such an extent that those who use them remain largely in ignorance +of the fact that the former bears a very small proportion indeed to +the latter.</p> +<p>It was once my duty to act as private tutor in algebra and +geometry to a young man preparing for college. He was bright and +industrious, but I found <span class="pagenum"><a id="page270" +name="page270"></a>[pg 270]</span>that he was under the impression +that when he had gone to the end of his text-books in those two +subjects he would have mastered, not only all the algebra and +geometry, but all the mathematics, that the world held in store. +And when this story has been told in despair to some very +intelligent persons they have commented: “Well, there +isn’t much more, is there?”</p> +<p>The effort of the text-book writer, as well as that of the maker +of programmes, lists, and courses, appears to have been to produce +what he calls a “well-rounded” effect; in other words, +to make the student think that the whole subject—in condensed +form perhaps, but still the whole—lies within what he has +turned out. Did you ever see a chemistry that gave, or tried to +give, an idea of the world of chemical knowledge that environs its +board cover? One has to become a Newton before he feels, with that +sage, like a child, playing on the sands, with the great, +unexplored ocean of knowledge stretching out before him. Most +students are rather like ducks in a barn-yard puddle, quite sure +that they are familiar with the whole world and serene in that +knowledge.</p> +<p>Most writers of text-books would indignantly deny that this +criticism implies a fault. It is none of their business, they would +say, to call attention to what is beyond their scope. So be it. +Unfortunately, every one feels in the same way and so the horizon +of our women’s clubs is that of the puddle instead of the +ocean.</p> +<p>It is a most interesting fact in this connection that there +exist certain organisations which make a business of furnishing +clubwomen with information for their papers. I have heard this +service described as a “godsend,” to clubs in small +places where there are no libraries, or where the libraries are +poorly <span class="pagenum"><a id="page271" name="page271"></a>[pg +271]</span>equipped with books and <em>personnel</em>. But, if I am +correctly informed, the service does not stop with the supply of +raw material; it goes on to the finished product, and the perplexed +lady who is required to read a paper on “Melchisedek” +or on “Popular Errors Regarding the Theory of Groups,” +may for an adequate fee, or possibly even for an inadequate one, +obtain a neatly typewritten manuscript on the subject, ready to +read.</p> +<p>This sort of thing is not at all to be wondered at. It has gone +on since the dawn of time with college theses, clergymen’s +sermons, the orations and official papers of statesmen. Whenever a +man is confronted with an intellectual task that he dare not shirk, +and yet has not the intellect or the interest to perform, the first +thing he thinks of is to hire some one to do it for him, and this +demand has always been great enough and widespread enough to make +it profitable for some one to organise the supply on a commercial +basis. What interests us in the present case is the fact that its +existence in the woman’s club affords an instant clue to the +state of mind of many of its members. They have this in common with +the plagiarising pupil, clergyman, or statesman—they are +called upon to do something in which they have only a secondary +interest. The minister who reads a sermon on the text “Thou +Shalt Not Steal,” and considers that the fact that he has +paid five dollars for it will absolve him from the charge of +inconsistency, does not—cannot—feel any desire to +impress his congregation with a desire for right living—he +wants only to hold his job. The university student who, after +ascertaining that there is no copyable literature in the Library on +“Why I Came to College,” pays a classmate a dollar to +give this information to the Faculty, cares nothing about the +question; but he <span class="pagenum"><a id="page272" name= +"page272"></a>[pg 272]</span>does care to avoid discipline. So the +clubwoman who reads a purchased essay on “Ireland in the +Fourteenth Century,” has not the slightest interest in the +subject; but she does want to remain a member of her club, in good +and regular standing. It is the same substitution of adventitious +for natural motives and stimuli that works intellectual havoc from +the mother’s knee up to the Halls of Congress.</p> +<p>When I assert boldly that at the present time the majority of +vague and illogical readers are women, and that women’s clubs +are responsible for much of that kind of reading, I shall doubtless +incur the displeasure of the school of feminists who seem bent on +minimising the differences between the two sexes. Obvious physical +differences they have not been able to explain away, and to deny +that corresponding mental differences exist is to shut one’s +eyes to all the teachings of modern physiology. The mental life is +a function, not of the brain alone, but of the whole nervous system +of which the brain is but the principal ganglion. Cut off a +man’s legs, and you have removed something from his mental, +as well as from his physical equipment. That men and women should +have minds of the same type is a physiological impossibility. A +familiar way of stating the difference is to say that in the +man’s mind reason predominates, in the woman’s, +intuition. There is doubtless something to be said for this +statement of the distinction, but it is objectionable because it is +generally interpreted to mean—quite unnecessarily—that +a woman’s mind is inferior to a man’s—a +distinction about as foolish as it would be to say the negative +electricity is inferior to positive, or cold to heat. The types are +in most ways supplementary, and a combination of the two has always +been a potent intellectual force—one of the strongest +arguments for marriage as an institution. <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page273" name="page273"></a>[pg 273]</span>When we +try to do the work of the world with either type alone we have +generally made a mess of it. And the outcome seems to make it +probable that the female type is especially prone to become the +prey of fallacies like that which has brought about the present +flood of useless, or worse than useless, reading.</p> +<p>I shall doubtless be asked whether I assert that one type of +mind belongs always to the man and one to the woman. By no means. I +do not even lay emphasis on the necessity of naming the two types +“male” and “female.” All I say is that the +types exist—with those intermediate cases that always bother +the classifier—and that the great majority of men possess one +type and the great majority of women the other. It is possible that +differences of training may have originated or at least emphasised +the types; it is possible that future training may obliterate the +lines that separate them, but I do not believe it. I am even afraid +of trying the experiment, for there is reason to believe that its +success in the mental field might react unfavourably on those +physical differences on which the future of the race depends. We +may have gone too far in this direction already; else why the +feverish anxiety of the girls’ colleges to prove that their +graduates are marrying and bearing children?</p> +<p>The fact is that the problem of the education of the sexes is +not yet solved. Educating one sex alone didn’t work; neither, +I believe, does the present plan of educating both alike, whether +in the same institution, or separately.</p> +<h3>II—<em>A Diagnosis</em></h3> +<p>Reading, like conversation, is, or ought to be, a contact +between two minds. The difference is that while one may talk only +with his contemporaries and <span class="pagenum"><a id="page274" +name="page274"></a>[pg 274]</span>neighbours one may read the words +of a writer far distant both in time and space. It is no wonder, +perhaps, that the printed word has become a fetish, but fetishes of +any kind are not in accordance with the spirit of the age, and +their veneration should be discouraged. Reading in which the +contact of minds is of secondary importance, or even cuts no figure +at all, is meaningless and valueless.</p> +<p>In a previous paper, reasons have been given for believing that +reading of this kind is peculiarly prevalent among the members of +women’s clubs. The value of these organisations is so great, +and the services that they have rendered to women, and through them +to the general cause of social betterment, are so evident, that it +seems well worth while to examine the matter a little more closely, +and to complete a diagnosis based on the study of the symptoms that +have already presented themselves. As most of the reading done in +connection with clubs is in preparation for the writing and reading +of papers, we may profitably, perhaps, direct our attention to this +phase of the subject.</p> +<p>Most persons will agree, probably, that the average club paper +is not notably worth while. It is written by a person not primarily +and vitally interested in the subject, and it is read to an +assemblage most of whom are similarly devoid of interest—the +whole proceeding being more or less perfunctory. Could it be +expected that reading done in connection with such a performance +should be valuable?</p> +<p>This is worth pondering, because it is a fact that almost all +the vital informative literature that is produced at first hand +sees the light in connection with clubs and +associations—bodies that publish journals, +“transactions” or “proceedings” for the +especial purpose of printing the productions of their members.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page275" name="page275"></a>[pg +275]</span> This literature, for the most part, does not come to +the notice of the general reader. The ordinary books on the +technical subjects of which it treats are not raw material, but a +manufactured product—compilations from the original sources. +And the pity of it is that very many of them, often the best of +them from a purely literary point of view, are so unsatisfactory, +viewed from the point of view of accomplishment. They do not do +what they set out to do; they are full of misunderstandings, +misinterpretations, interpolations and omissions. It is the old +story; those who know won’t tell and the task is assumed by +those who are eminently able to tell, but don’t know. The +scientific expert despises the public, which is forced to get its +information through glib but ignorant expounders. This is a +digression, but it may serve to illuminate the situation, which is +that the authoritative literature of special subjects sees the +light almost wholly in the form of papers, read before clubs and +associations. Evidently there is nothing in the mere fact that a +paper is to be read before a club, to make it trivial or valueless. +Yet how much that is of value to the world first saw the light in a +paper read before a woman’s club? How much original thought, +how much discovery, how much invention, how much inspiration, is +put into their writing and emanates from their reading?</p> +<p>There must be a fundamental difference of some kind between the +constitution and the methods of these two kinds of clubs. A study +of this difference will throw light on the kind of reading that +must be done in connection with each and may explain, in great +part, why the reading done for women’s club-papers is what it +is.</p> +<p>A scientific or technical society exists largely for the purpose +of informing its members of the original <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page276" name="page276"></a>[pg 276]</span>work +that is being done by each of them. When anyone has accomplished +such work or has made such progress that he thinks an account of +what he has done would be interesting, he sends a description of it +to the proper committee, which decides whether it shall be read and +discussed at a meeting, or published in the Proceedings, or both, +or neither. The result depends on the size of the membership, on +its activity, and on the value of its work. It may be that the +programme committee has an embarrassment of riches from which to +select, or that there is poverty instead. But in no case does it +arrange a programme. The Physical Society, if that is its name and +subject, does not decide that it will devote the meetings of the +current season to a consideration of Radio-activity and assign to +specified members the reading of papers on Radio-active springs, +the character of Radium Emanation, and so on. If it did, it would +doubtless get precisely the same results that we are complaining of +in the case of the Woman’s Club. A man whose specialty is +thermodynamics might be told off to prepare a paper on Radio-active +Elements in Rocks—a subject in which he is not interested. He +could have nothing new nor original to say on the subject and his +paper would be a mere compilation. It would not even be a good +compilation, for his interest and his skill would lie wholly in +another direction. The good results that the society does get are +wholly dependent on the fact that each writer is full of new +information that he desires, above all things, to communicate to +his fellow-members.</p> +<p>In the preparation of such a paper, one needs, of course, to +read, and often to read widely. Much of the reading will be done in +connection with the work described, or even before it is begun. No +one wishes to undertake an investigation that has already been made +by someone else, and so the first thing that a <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page277" name="page277"></a>[pg +277]</span>competent investigator does is to survey his field and +ascertain what others have accomplished in it. This task is by no +means easy, for such information is often hidden in journals and +transactions that are difficult to reach, and the published indexes +of such material, though wonderfully advanced on the road toward +perfection in the past twenty years, have yet far to travel before +they reach it. Not only the writer’s description of what he +has done or ascertained, but the character of the work itself; the +direction it takes—the inferences that he draws from it, will +be controlled and coloured by what he reads of others’ work. +And even if he finds it easy to ascertain what has been done and to +get at the published accounts and discussions of it, the mass may +be so great that he has laid out for him a course of reading that +may last many months.</p> +<p>But mark the spirit with which he attacks it! He is at work on +something that seems to him supremely worth while. He is labouring +to find out truth, to dissipate error, to help his fellow-men to +know something or to do something. The impulse to read, and to read +much and thoroughly, is so powerful that it may even need judicious +repression. The difference between this kind of reading and that +done in the preparation of a paper to fill a place in a set +programme hardly needs emphasis.</p> +<p>The preparation of papers for professional and technical +societies has been dwelt upon at such length, because I see no +reason why the impulse to reading that it furnishes cannot also be +placed at the disposal of the woman’s club; and I shall have +some suggestions toward this end in a future article.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, I shall doubtless be told that it is unfair to +compare the woman’s club, with its didactic aim, and the +scientific association of trained and interested <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page278" name="page278"></a>[pg +278]</span>investigators. It is true that we have plenty of +clubs—some of men alone, some of both sexes—whose +object is to listen to interesting and instructive papers on a set +subject, often forming part of a pre-arranged programme. These, +however, need our attention here only so far as the papers are +prepared by members of the club, and in this case they are in +precisely the same class as the woman’s club. In many cases, +however, the paper is merely the excuse for a social gathering, +perhaps at a dinner or a luncheon. Of course if the paper or +lecture is by an expert invited to give it, the case falls +altogether outside of the region that we are exploring.</p> +<p>I am condemning here all clubs, formed for an avowed educational +or cultural purpose, that adopt set programmes and assign the +subjects to their own members. I am deploring the kind of reading +to which this leads, the kind of papers that are prepared in this +way, and the kind of thought and action that are the inevitable +outcome.</p> +<p>It would seem that the women’s clubs now form an immense +majority of all organisations of this kind and that there are +reasons for warning women that they are specially prone to this +kind of mistake.</p> +<p>The diversity of interests of the average man, the wideness of +his contacts—the whole tradition of his sex—tends to +minimise the injury that may be done to him, intellectually and +spiritually, by anything of this kind. The very fact that he is the +woman’s inferior spiritually, and in many cases, in +intellect, also—although probably not at the +maximum—relieves him, in great part, of the odium attaching +to the error that has been described. Women are becoming keenly +alive to the deficiencies of their sex-tradition; they are trying +to broaden their intellectual contacts—that is the great +modern feminist movement. Some <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page279" name="page279"></a>[pg 279]</span>of those who are active +in it are making two mistakes—they are ignoring the +differences between the sexes and they are trying to substitute +revolution for evolution. In this latter error they are in very +good company—hardly one of the great and the good has not +made it, at some time and in some way. Revolution is always the +outcome of a mistake. The mistake may be antecedent and +irrevocable, and the revolution therefore necessary, but this is +rarely the case. The revolutionist runs a risk common to all who +are in a hurry—he may break the object of his attention +instead of moving it. When he wants to hand you a dish he hits it +with a ball-bat. Taking a reasonable amount of time is better in +the long run.</p> +<p>That there is no royal road to knowledge has long been +recognised. The trouble with most of us is that we have interpreted +this to mean that the acquisition of knowledge must always be a +distasteful process. On the contrary, the vivid interest that is +the surest guide to knowledge is also the surest smoother of the +path. Given the interest that lures the student on, and he will +spend years in surmounting rocks and breaking through thorny +jungles, realising their difficulties perhaps, but rejoicing the +more when those difficulties prove no obstacles.</p> +<p>The fact that the first step toward accomplishment is to create +an interest has long been recognised, but attempts have been made +too often to do it by devious ways, unrelated to the matter in +hand. Students have been made to study history or algebra by +offering prizes to the diligent and by threatening the slothful +with punishment. More indirect rewards and punishments abound in +all our incitements to effort and need not be mentioned here. They +may often be effective, but the further removed they are from +direct personal interest in the subject, the <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page280" name="page280"></a>[pg 280]</span>weaker +and the less permanent is the result. You may offer a boy a dollar +to learn certain facts in English history, but those facts will not +be fixed so well or so lastingly in his mind as those connected +with his last year’s trip to California, which he remembers +easily without offer of reward or threat of punishment.</p> +<p>The interest in the facts gathered by reading in connection with +the average club paper is merely the result of a desire to remain +in good standing by fulfilling the duties of membership; and these +duties may be fulfilled with slight effort and no direct interest, +as we have already seen.</p> +<p>If interest were present even at the inception of the programme, +something would be gained; but in too many cases it is not. The +programme committee must make some kind of a programme, but what it +is to be they know little and care less.</p> +<p>Two women recently entered a branch library and asked the +librarian, who was busy charging books at the desk, what two +American dramatists she considered “foremost.” This was +followed by the request, “Please tell me the two best plays +of each of them.” A few minutes later the querists returned +and asked the same question about English dramatists, and still +later about German, Russian, Italian and Spanish writers of the +drama. Each time they eagerly wrote down the information and then +retired to the reading-room for a few minutes’ +consultation.</p> +<p>Finally they propounded a question that was beyond the +librarian’s knowledge, and then she asked why they wanted to +know.</p> +<p>“We are making out the programme for our next year’s +study course in the Blank Club,” was the answer.</p> +<p>“But you mustn’t take my opinion as final,” +protested <span class="pagenum"><a id="page281" name= +"page281"></a>[pg 281]</span>the scandalised librarian. “You +ought to read up everything you can find about dramatists. I may +have left out the most important ones.”</p> +<p>“This will do nicely,” said the club-woman, as she +folded her sheets of paper. And it did—whether nicely or not +deponent saith not? but it certainly constituted the club +programme.</p> +<p>On another occasion a clubwoman entered the library and said +with an air of importance, “I want your material on Susanna +H. Brown.”</p> +<p>The librarian had never heard of Susanna, but experience had +taught her modesty and also a certain degree of guile, so she +merely said, “What do you want to know about her, +particularly?”</p> +<p>“Our club wishes to discuss her contributions to American +literature.”</p> +<p>Now the Brown family has been active in letters, from Charles +Brockden down to Alice, but no one seems to know of Susanna H. The +librarian contrived to put off the matter until she could make some +investigations of her own, but, all the resources of the central +reference room proving unequal to the task, she timidly asked the +clubwoman, at her next visit, to solve the problem.</p> +<p>“Oh, we don’t know who Susanna H. Brown was; that is +why we came to you for information!”</p> +<p>“But where did you find the name?”</p> +<p>“Well, I don’t know exactly; but one of our members, +in a conversation with some one who knows a lot about +literature—I forget just who it was—was told that +Susanna H. Brown had rendered noteworthy services to American +literature. We’ve got to find out, for her name is already +printed on the programme!”</p> +<p>I don’t know what was said of Miss, or Mrs. Brown at the +meeting; but my opinion is that this particular item on the +programme had to be omitted.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page282" name="page282"></a>[pg +282]</span>Another lady entered a library abruptly and said +“I want your books on China.”</p> +<p>“Do you mean the country of that name? or are you looking +up porcelain?”</p> +<p>First perplexity and then dismay spread over the lady’s +face. “Why, I don’t know,” she faltered. +“The program just said China!”</p> +<p>A university professor was once asked by one of these program +committees for a list of references on German folklore—a +subject to which it had decided that its club should devote the +current season. The list, as furnished, proved rather stiff, and +the astonished professor received forthwith the following epistle +(quoted from memory):</p> +<p style="font-variant:small-caps;">“Dear +Professor—</p> +<p>“Thank you so much for the folk-lore; but we have changed +our minds and have decided to study the Chicago Drainage Canal +instead.”</p> +<p>This hap-hazard method of programme-making is not confined to +club papers, as the following anecdote will show:</p> +<p>An officer of a woman’s club entered a library and said +that she thought it would be nice to vary the usual literary +programme by the introduction of story-telling, and she asked for +aid from the library staff. It was a busy season and as the +librarian hesitated the clubwoman added hastily that the whole +programme need not occupy more than half an hour. “We want +the very simplest things, told in a few words, so that it will +really be no trouble at all.”</p> +<p>Pressed to be more specific, she went on: “Well—no +story must take more than three minutes, and we want Little Nell, +Louis IX, Moses in the Bulrushes, the Princes in the Tower, +Cinderella, Jack and the Bean Stalk, the Holy Night and Louis +XI.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page283" name="page283"></a>[pg +283]</span>”You see that allowing three minutes apiece would +bring them all within twenty-four minutes—less than half an +hour, just as I said.</p> +<p>“And—oh, yes! we want the storyteller to sit on a +platform, and just in front of her we will pose a group of little +girls, all in white frocks. Won’t that be nice?”</p> +<p>The making of programmes has in many cases been influenced by +the fact that some subjects are considered more +“high-toned” than others. The drama is at present a +particularly high-toned subject. The fine arts are always placed in +the first class. Apparently anything closely related to the +personal lives, habits and interests of those concerned is under a +ban. The fine arts, for instance, are not recognised as including +the patterns of wall-paper or curtains, or the decoration of plates +or cups. Copying from one programme to another is a common +expedient. The making of these programmes betrays, all through its +processes and their inevitable result, lack of originality, blind +adherence to models, unquestioning imitation of something that has +gone before. I do not believe these to be sex-characteristics, and +there are signs that the sex is growing out of them. If they are +not sex characteristics they must be the results of education, for +ordinary heredity would quickly equalise the sexes in this respect. +I have already stated my belief that the physical differences +between the sexes are necessarily accompanied by mental +differences, and I think it probable that the characteristics noted +above, although not proper to sex, spring from the fact that we are +expecting like results from the same educational treatment of +unlike minds. When we have learned how to vary our treatment of +these minds so as to produce like results—in those cases +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page284" name="page284"></a>[pg +284]</span>where we want the results to be alike, as in the present +instance—we shall have solved the problem of education, so +far as it affects sex-differences.</p> +<p>It has long been recognised that whenever woman does show a +deviation from standards she is apt to deviate far and erratically. +So far, however, she has shown no marked tendency so to deviate in +the arts and a very slight one in the sciences. There have been +lately some marked instances of her upward deviation in the field +of science. In literature, no age has been wanting in great woman +writers, though there have been few of them. I look eventually to +see woman physicists as eminent as Helmholtz and Kelvin, woman +painters as great as Raphael and Velasquez, woman musicians as able +as Bach and Beethoven. That we have had none yet I believe to be +solely the fault of inadequate education. Of this inadequacy our +imitative, arbitrary and uninspiring club programmes are a +part—the very fact that our clubwomen pin their faith to +programmes of any kind is a consequence of it. The substitution of +something else for these programmes, with the accompanying change +in the interests and reading of clubwomen, will be one step toward +the rationalisation of education—for all processes of this +kind are essentially educative.</p> +<p>We need not despair of finding ultimately the exact differences +in method which, applied in the education of the sexes, will +minimise such of the present mental differences as we desire to +obliterate. Problems of this sort are solved usually by the +discovery of some automatic process. In this case the key to such a +process is the fact that the mental differences between the sexes +manifest themselves in differences of interest.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page285" name="page285"></a>[pg +285]</span>Every parent of boys and girls knows that these +differences begin early to show themselves. We have been too prone +to disregard them and to substitute a set of imagined differences +that do not really exist. We go about the moral training of the boy +and the girl in precisely the same way, although their moral points +of view and susceptibilities differ in degree and kind; and then we +marvel that we do not get precisely similar moral products. But we +assume that there is some natural objection to the climbing of +trees by girls, while it is all right for boys—an imaginary +distinction that has caused tears and heart-burnings. We are +outgrowing this particular imaginary distinction, and some others +like it. Possibly we may also outgrow our systems of co-education, +so far as this means the subjection of the male and the female mind +to exactly the same processes of training. The training of the +sexes in the same institution, with its consequent mental contact +between them, has nothing to do with this, necessarily, and has +advantages that cannot be overlooked.</p> +<p>Whatever we do in school, our subsequent education, which goes +on at least as long as we inhabit this world, must be in and +through social contact, men and women together. But if each sex is +not true to itself and does not live its own life, the results +cannot be satisfactory. Reactions that are sought in an effort made +by women to conform their instincts, aspirations and mental +processes to those of men will be feeble or perverted, just as they +would be if men should seek a similar distortion. The remedy is to +let the woman’s mind swing into the channel of least +resistance, just as the man’s always has done. Then the +clubs, and the clubwomen, their exercises, their papers and their +preparatory reading will all be released <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page286" name="page286"></a>[pg 286]</span>from +the constraint that is now pinching them and pinning them down and +will bud and blossom and grow up to normal and valuable +fruition.</p> +<p>We have started with the fact that the reading done by the +members of women’s clubs, especially in connection with club +papers, is often trivial, superficial, devoid of intelligence and +lacking in judgment. Treating this as a symptom; we have, I think, +traced the cause to a total lack of interest due to arbitrary, +perfunctory and unintelligent programme-making. The disease may be +diagnosed, I think, as acute programitis and the physician is in a +position to consider what therapeutic measures may be indicated. We +shall endeavor to prescribe some simple remedies.</p> +<h3>III—<em>The Remedy</em></h3> +<p>When we have once discovered the cause of a malady, we may +proceed in two ways to combat it; either we may destroy the cause +or we may render the possible victims immune. To put it a little +differently, we may eliminate either of the two elements whose +conjunction causes the disease. To grow weeds, there must co-exist +their seeds and a favourable soil. They may be exterminated either +by killing the seeds or sterilising the soil. Either of these +methods may be used in dealing with the disease that prevails among +readers, or, if you prefer the other metaphor, with the rank +vegetation that has choked the fertile soil of their minds, making +any legitimate mental crop impossible. We have seen that the +conditions favorable to the disease are a lack of interest and a +fallacious idea that there is something inherent in the printed +page <em>per se</em> that makes its perusal valuable whether the +reader is interested or not—somewhat as <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page287" name="page287"></a>[pg 287]</span>a charm +is supposed to work even when it is in a language that the user +does not understand.</p> +<p>We are considering only the form of the disease that affects +clubwomen, and this we have diagnosed as +<em>programitis</em>—the imposition of a set programme of +work—which, as an exciting cause, operates on the mental soil +prepared by indifference and fetichism to produce the malady from +which so many are now suffering.</p> +<p>I think physicians will generally agree that where the exciting +cause can be totally removed that method of dealing with the +disease is far more effective than any attempt to secure immunity. +I believe that in most cases it is so in the present instance.</p> +<p>In other words, my prescription is the abandonment, in nine +cases out of ten, of the set programme, and the substitution of +something that is interesting primarily to each individual +concerned. This is no new doctrine. Listen to William James:</p> +<blockquote>Any object not interesting in itself may become +interesting through becoming associated with an object in which an +interest already exists. The two associated objects grow, as it +were, together: the interesting portion sheds its quality over the +whole; and thus things not interesting in their own right borrow an +interest which becomes as real and as strong as that of any +natively interesting thing.... If we could recall for a moment our +whole individual history, we should see that our professional +ideals and the zeal they inspire are due to nothing but the slow +accretion of one mental object to another, traceable backward from +point to point till we reach the moment when, in the nursery or in +the schoolroom, some little story told, some little object shown, +some little operation witnessed, brought the first new object and +new interest within our ken by associating it with some one of +those primitively there. The interest now suffusing the whole +system took its rise in that little event, so insignificant to us +now as to be entirely forgotten. As the bees in swarming cling to +one another in layers till the few are reached whose feet grapple +the bough from which the swarm depends; so with the objects of our +thinking--they hang to each other by associated links, but the +original source of interest in all of them is the native interest +which the earliest one once possessed.</blockquote> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page288" name="page288"></a>[pg +288]</span> If we are to exorcise this spirit of indifference that +has settled down like a miasma upon clubdom we must find +James’s original germ of interest—the twig upon which +our cluster of bees is ultimately to hang. Here we may introduce +two axioms: Everyone is deeply interested in something; few are +supremely interested in the same thing. I shall not attempt to +prove these, and what I shall have to say will be addressed only to +those who can accept them without proof. But I am convinced that +illustrations will occur at once to everyone. Who has not seen the +man or woman, the boy or girl who, apparently stupid, indifferent +and able to talk only in monosyllables, is suddenly shocked into +interest and volubility by the mere chance mention of some subject +of conversation—birds, or religion, or Egyptian antiquities, +or dolls, or skating, or Henry the Eighth? There are millions of +these electric buttons for galvanising dumb clay into mental and +spiritual life, and no one of them is likely to act upon more than +a very few in a given company—the theory of chances is +against it. That is why no possible programme could be made that +would fit more than a very small portion of a given club. We have +seen that many club-programmes are made with an irreducible minimum +of intelligence; but even a programme committee with superhuman +intellect and angelic goodwill could never compass the solution of +such a problem as this. Nor will it suffice to abandon the general +programme and endeavour to select for each speaker the subject that +he would like best to study and expound. No one knows what these +subjects are but the owners of the hearts that love them.</p> +<p>We have seen how the scientific and technical societies manage +the matter and how well they succeed. <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page289" name="page289"></a>[pg 289]</span>They appoint a +committee whose duty it is to receive contributions and to select +the worthiest among those presented. The matter then takes care of +itself. These people are all interested in something. They are +finding out things by experimentation or thought; by induction or +deduction. It is the duty and the high pleasure of each to tell his +fellows of his discoveries. It is in this way that the individual +gives of his best to the race—the triumph of the social +instinct over selfishness. As this sort of intellectual +profit-sharing becomes more and more common, the reign of the +social instinct will extend and strengthen. To do one’s part +toward such an end ought to be a pleasure, and this is one reason +why this course is commended here to the women’s clubs.</p> +<p>Everyone, I repeat, is deeply interested in something. I am not +talking of idiots; there are no such in women’s clubs. I have +been telling some odd stories of clubwomen, in which they are +represented as doing and saying idiotic things. These stories are +all true, and if one should take the time to collect and print +others, I do not suppose, as the sacred writer says, “that +all the world could contain the books that should be +written.” Things quite as idiotic as these that I have +reported are said and done in every city and every hamlet of these +United States every day in the year and every hour in the +day—except possibly between three and five A.M., and +sometimes even then. Yet those who say and do these things are not +idiots. When your friend Brown is telling you his pet anecdote for +the thirty-fifth time, or when Smith insists that you listen to a +recital of the uninteresting accomplishments of his newly-arrived +infant, you may allow your thoughts to wander and make some inane +remark, yet you are not an idiot. You are simply <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page290" name="page290"></a>[pg 290]</span>not +interested. You are using most of your mind in another direction +and it is only with what is left of it that you hear Brown or Smith +and talk to him. Brown or Smith is not dealing with your +personality as a whole, but with a residuum.</p> +<p>And this is what is the matter with the clubwomen who read +foolishly and ask foolish questions in libraries. They are residual +personalities. Not being at all interested in the matter in hand, +they are devoting to it only a minimum part of their brains; and +what they do and say is comparable with the act of the +perambulating professor, who, absorbed in mathematical calculation, +lifted his hat to the cow.</p> +<p>The professor was perhaps pardonable, for his mind was not +wandering—it was suffering, on the contrary, from excessive +concentration—but it was not concentrated on the cow. In the +case of the clubwomen, the role of the cow is played by the papers +that they are preparing, while, in lieu of the mathematical +problems, we have a variety of really absorbing subjects, more or +less important, over which their minds are wandering. What we must +do is to capture these wandering minds, and this we can accomplish +only by enlisting their own knowledge of what interests them.</p> +<p>If you would realise the difference between the mental processes +of a mere residue and those of the whole personality when its +vigour is concentrated on one subject, listen first to one of those +perfunctory essays, culled from a collection of cyclopædias, +and then hear a whole woman throw her whole self into something. +Hear her candid opinion of some person or thing that has fallen +below her standard! Hear her able analysis of the case at law +between her family and the neighbours! Hear her make a speech on +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page291" name="page291"></a>[pg +291]</span>woman suffrage—I mean when it is really to her the +cause of causes; there are those who take it up for other reasons, +as the club-women do their papers, with not dissimilar results. In +all these cases clearness of presentation, weight of invective, +keenness of analysis spring from interest. None of these women, if +she has a feminine mind, treats these things as a man would. We men +are very apt to complain of the woman’s mental processes, for +the same reason that narrow “patriots” always suspect +and deride the methods of a foreigner, simply because they are +strange and we do not understand them. But what we are compelled to +think of the results is shown by the fact that when we are truly +wise we are apt to seek the advice and counsel of the other sex and +to act upon it, even when we cannot fathom the processes by which +it was reached.</p> +<p>All the more reason this why the woman should be left to herself +and not forced to model her club paper on the mental processes of a +man, used with many necessary elisions and sometimes with very bad +workmanship, in the construction of the cyclopædia article +never intended to be employed for any such purpose.</p> +<p>Perhaps we can never make the ordinary clubwoman talk like Susan +B. Anthony, or Anna Shaw, or Beatrice Hale, or Fola La Follette; +any more than we can put into the mouth of the ordinary business +man the words of Lincoln, or John B. Gough, or Phillips Brooks, or +Raymond Robins—but get somehow into the weakest of either sex +the impulses, the interests, the energies that once stood or now +stand behind the utterances of any one of these great Americans, +and see if the result is not something worth while! <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page292" name="page292"></a>[pg 292]</span> An +appreciative critic of the first paper in this series, writing in +<em>The Yale Alumni Weekly</em>, gives it as his opinion that these +readers are in the first stage of their education—that of +“initial intellectual interest.” He says: +“Curiosity, then suspicion, come later to grow into +individual intellectual judgment.”</p> +<p>I wish I could agree that what we have diagnosed as a malady is +only an early stage of something that is ultimately to develop into +matured judgment. But the facts seem clearly to show that, far from +possessing “initial intellectual interest,” these +readers are practically devoid of any kind of interest whatever, +properly speaking. Such as they have is not proper to the subject, +but simply due to the fact that they desire to retain their club +membership, to fulfil their club duties, and to act in general as +other women do in other clubs. To go back to our recent simile, it +is precisely the same interest that keeps you listening, or +pretending to listen, to a bore, while you are really thinking of +something else. If you were free to follow your impulses, you would +insult the bore, or throw him downstairs, or retreat precipitately. +You are inhibited by your sense of propriety and your recognition +of what is due to a fellow-man, no matter how boresome he may be. +The clubwoman doubtless has a strong impulse to throw the +encyclopædia out of the window, or to insult the librarian +(occasionally she does) or even to resign from the club. She is +prevented, in like manner, by her sense of propriety, and often, +too, we must admit, by a real, though rudimentary, desire for +knowledge. But such inhibitions cannot develop into judgment. They +are merely negative, while the interest that has a valuable outcome +is positive.</p> +<p>Another thing that we shall do well to remember is that no +condition or relation one of whose elements <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page293" name="page293"></a>[pg 293]</span>or +factors is the human mind can ever be properly considered apart +from that mind. Shakespeare’s plays would seem to be fairly +unalterable. Shakespeare is dead and cannot change them, and they +have been written down in black and white this many a year. But the +real play, so far as it makes any difference to us to-day, is not +in the books; or, at least, the book is but one of its elements. It +is the effect produced upon the auditor, and of this a very +important element is the auditor’s mental and spiritual +state. Considered from this standpoint, Shakespeare’s plays +have been changing ever since they were written. Environment, +physical and mental, has altered; the language has developed; the +plain, ordinary talk of Shakespeare’s time now seems to us +quaint and odd; every-day allusions have become cryptic. It all +“ain’t up to date,” to quote the Cockney’s +complaint about it. Probably no one to-day can under any +circumstances get the same reaction to a play of Shakespeare as +that of his original audience, and probably no one ever will.</p> +<p>Anecdotes possess a sort of centripetal force; tales +illustrative of the matter at hand have been flying to me from all +parts of the country. From the Pacific Northwest comes this, which +seems pertinent just here. A good clubwoman, who had been slaving +all day over a paper on Chaucer, finally at its close threw down +her pen and exclaimed, “Oh, dear! I wish Chaucer were +<em>dead</em>!” She had her wish in more senses than the +obvious one. Not only has Chaucer’s physical body long ago +given up its substance to earth and air, but his works have to be +translated for most readers of the present day; his language is +fast becoming as dead as Latin or Greek. But, worse still, his +very spirit was dead, so far as its reaction on her was concerned. +Poetry, to you and me, is what we <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page294" name="page294"></a>[pg 294]</span>make of it; and what do +you suppose our friend from Oregon was making of Chaucer? Our +indifference, our failure to react, is thus more far-reaching than +its influence on ourselves—it is, in some sense, a sin +against the immortal souls of those who have bequeathed their +spiritual selves to the world in books. And this sin the clubs are, +in more cases than I care to think, forcing deliberately upon their +members.</p> +<p>A well-known cartoonist toiled long in early life at some +uncongenial task for a pittance. Meanwhile he drew pictures for +fun, and one day a journalist, seeing one of his sketches, offered +him fifty dollars for it—the salary of many days. “And +when,” said the cartoonist, “I found I could get more +money by playing than by working, I swore I would never work +again—and I haven’t.”</p> +<p>When we can all play—do exactly what we like—and +keep ourselves and the world running by it, then the Earthly +Paradise will be achieved. But, meanwhile, cannot we realize that +these clubwomen will accomplish more if we can direct and control +their voluntary activity, backed by their whole mental energy, than +when they devote some small part of their minds to an uncongenial +task, dictated by a programme committee?</p> +<p>I shall doubtless be reminded that the larger clubs are now +generally divided into sections, and that membership in these +sections is supposed to be dictated by interest. This is a step in +the right direction, but it is an excessively short one. The +programme, with all its vicious accompaniments and lamentable +results, persists. What I have said and shall say applies as well +to an art or a domestic science section as to a club <em>in +toto</em>.</p> +<p>To bring down the treatment to a definite prescription, let us +suppose that the committee in charge <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page295" name="page295"></a>[pg 295]</span>of a club’s +activities, instead of marking out a definite programme for the +season, should simply announce that communications on subjects of +personal interest to the members, embodying some new and original +thought, method, idea, device, or mode of treatment, would be +received, and that the best of these would be read and discussed +before the club, after which some would appear in print. No +conditions would be stated, but it would be understood that such +features as length and style, as well as subject matter, would be +considered in selecting the papers to be read. Above all, it would +be insisted that no paper should be considered that was merely +copied from anything, either in substance or idea. It is, of +course, possible to constitute a paper almost entirely of +quotations and yet so to group and discuss these that the paper +becomes an original contribution to thought; but mere parrot-like +repetition of ascertained facts, or of other people’s +thoughts, should not be tolerated.</p> +<p>Right here the first obstacle would be encountered. Club +members, accustomed to be assigned for study subjects like +“The Metope of the Parthenon” or “The True +Significance of Hyperspace,” will not easily comprehend that +they are really desired to put briefly on paper original ideas +about something that they know at first hand. Mrs. Jones makes +better sponge cake than any one in town; the fact is known to all +her friends. If sponge cake is a desirable product, why should not +the woman who has discovered the little knack that turns failure +into success, and who is proud of her ability and special +knowledge, tell her club of it, instead of laboriously copying from +a book—or, let us say, from two or three books—some one +else’s compilation of the facts ascertained at second or +third hand by various other writers on “The Character of the +Cid”? Why should not Mrs. <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page296" name="page296"></a>[pg 296]</span>Smith, who was out over +night in the blizzard of 1888, recount her experiences, mental as +well as physical? Why should not Miss Robinson, who collects coins +and differs from the accepted authorities regarding the +authenticity of certain of her specimens, tell why and how and all +about it? Why should not the member who is crazy about begonias and +the one who thinks she saw Uncle Hiram’s ghost, and she who +has read and re-read George Meredith, seeing beauties in him that +no one else ever detected—why should not one and all give +their fellows the benefit of the really valuable special knowledge +that they have acquired through years of interested thinking and +talking and doing?</p> +<p>But there will be trouble, as I have said. The thing, simple as +it is, would be too unaccustomed to comprehend. And then a real +article in a real cyclopædia by a real writer is Information +with a big “I.” My little knowledge about making quince +jelly, or darning stockings, or driving an auto, or my thoughts +about the intellectual differences between Dickens and Thackeray, +or my personal theories of conduct, or my reasons for preferring +hot-water heat to steam—these are all too trivial to mention; +is it possible that you want me to write them down on paper?</p> +<p>It may thus happen that when the committee opens its mail it may +find—nothing. What, then? Logically, I should be forced to +say: Well, if none of your members is interested enough in anything +to have some original information to tell about it, disband your +club. What is the use of it? Even three newsboys, when they meet on +the street corner, begin at once to interchange ideas. Where are +yours?</p> +<p>Possibly this would be too drastic. It might be better to hold a +meeting, state the failure, and adjourn for another trial. It might +be well to repeat <span class="pagenum"><a id="page297" name= +"page297"></a>[pg 297]</span>this several times, in the hope that +the fact that absence of original ideas means no proceedings might +soak in and germinate. If this does not work, it might be possible +to fight the devil with fire, by going back to the programme method +so far as to assign definitely to members subjects in which they +are known to be deeply interested. This, in fact, is the second +method of treatment mentioned at the outset, namely, the endeavour +to secure immunity where the germ cannot be exterminated. We shall +probably never be able to rid the world of the <em>bacillus +tuberculosis</em>; the best we can do is to keep as clear of it as +we can and to strengthen our powers of resistance to it. So, if we +cannot kill the programme all at once, let us strive to make it +innocuous and to minimise its evil effects on its victims.</p> +<p>Let us suppose, now, that in one way or another, it is brought +about that every club member who reads a paper is reporting the +result of some personal experience in which her interest is +vivid—some discovery, acquisition, method, idea, criticism or +appreciation that is the product of her own life and of the +particular, personal way in which she has lived it.</p> +<p>What a result this will have on that woman’s +reading—on what she does before she writes her paper and on +what she goes through after it! If her interest is as vivid as we +assume it to be, she will not be content to recount her own +experiences without comparing them with those of others. And after +her paper has been read and the comment and criticism of other +interested members have been brought out—of some, perhaps, +whose interest she had never before suspected, then she will feel a +fresh impulse to search for new accounts and to devour them. There +is no longer anything perfunctory about the matter. She can no +longer even trust the labour of looking up her <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page298" name="page298"></a>[pg +298]</span>references to others. She becomes an investigator; she +feels something of the joy of those who add to the sum of human +knowledge.</p> +<p>And lo! the problem of clubwomen’s reading is solved! The +wandering mind is captured; the inane residuum is abolished by +union with the rest to form a normal, intelligent whole. No more +idiotic questions, no more cyclopædia-copying, no more +wool-gathering programmes. Is it too much to expect? Alas, we are +but mortal!</p> +<p>I trust it has been made sufficiently clear that I think meanly +neither of the intellectual ability of women nor of the services of +women’s clubs. The object of these papers is to give the +former an opportunity to assert itself, and the latter a chance to +profit by the assertion. The woman’s club of the future +should be a place where original ideas, fed and directed by +interested reading, are exchanged and discussed. Were I writing of +men’s clubs, I should point out to them the same goal. And +then, perhaps, we may look forward to a time when a selected group +of men and women may come together and talk of things in which they +both, as men and women, are interested.</p> +<p>When this happens, I trust that in the discussion we shall not +heed the advice of some modern feminists and forget that we are as +God made us. Why should each man talk to a woman “as if she +were another man”? I never heard it advised that each woman +should talk to each man “as if he were another woman”; +but I should resent it if I did. Why shut our eyes to the truth? I +trust that I have not been talking to the club-women “as if +they were men”; I am sure I have not meant to do so. They are +not men; they have their own ways, and those ways should be +developed and encouraged. We have had the psychology of race, of +the crowd and of the criminal; <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page299" name="page299"></a>[pg 299]</span>where is the +investigator who has studied the Psychology of Woman? When she +(note the pronoun) has arrived, let us make her president of a +woman’s club.</p> +<p>It is with diffidence that I have outlined any definite +procedure, because, after all, the precise manner in which the +treatment should be applied will depend, of course, on the club +concerned. To prescribe for you most effectively, your physician +should be an intimate friend. He should have known you from +birth—better still, he should have cared for your father and +your grandfather before you. Otherwise, he prescribes for an +average man; and you may be very far from the average. The drug +that he administers to quiet your nerves may act on your heart and +give you the smothers—it might conceivably quiet you +permanently. Then the doctor would send to his medical journal a +note on “A Curious Case of Umptiol Poisoning,” but you +would still be dead, even if all his readers should agree with +him.</p> +<p>I have no desire to bring about casualties of this kind. Let +those who know and love each particular club devote themselves to +the task of applying my treatment to it in a way that will involve +a minimum shock to its nerves and a minimum amount of interference +with its metabolic processes. It will take time. Rome was not built +in a day, and a revolution in clubdom is not going to be +accomplished over night.</p> +<p>I have prescribed simple remedies—too simple, I am +convinced, to be readily adopted. What could be simpler than to +advise the extermination of all germ diseases by killing off the +germs? Any physician will tell you that this method is the very +acme of efficiency; yet, the germs are still with us, and bid fair +to spread suffering and death over our planet for many a long year +to come. So I am not sanguine that we <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page300" name="page300"></a>[pg 300]</span>shall be able all at +once to kill off the programmes. All that may be expected is that +at some distant day the simplicity and effectiveness of some plan +of the sort will begin to commend itself to clubwomen. If, then, +some lover of the older literature will point out the fact that, +back in 1915, the gloomy era when fighting hordes were spreading +blood and carnage over the fair face of Europe, an obscure and +humble librarian, in the pages of <span style= +"font-variant:small-caps;">The Bookman</span>, pointed out the way +to sanity, I shall be well content.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page301" name="page301"></a>[pg +301]</span> +<h2><a name="Essay23" id="Essay23">Books For Tired Eyes</a></h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>The most distinctive thing about a book is the possibility that +someone may read it. Is this a truism? Evidently not; for the +publishers, who print books, and the libraries, which store and +distribute them, have never thought it worth their while to collect +and record information bearing on this possibility. In the +publisher’s or the bookseller’s advertising +announcements, as well as on the catalogue cards stored in the +library’s trays, the reader may ascertain when and where the +book was published, the number of pages, and whether it contains +plates or maps; but not a word of the size or style of type in +which it is printed. Yet on this depends the ability of the reader +to use the book for the purpose for which it was intended. The +old-fashioned reader was a mild-mannered gentleman. If he could not +read his book because it was printed in outrageously small type, he +laid it aside with a sigh, or used a magnifying lens, or persisted +in his attempts with the naked eye until eyestrain, with its +attendant maladies, was the result. Lately however, the libraries +have been waking up, and their readers with them. The utilitarian +side of the work is pushed to the front; and the reader is by no +means disposed to accept what may be offered him, either in the +content of the book or its physical make-up. The modern library +must adapt itself to its users, and among other improvements must +come an attempt to go as far as possible in making books +physiologically readable.</p> +<p>Unfortunately the library cannot control the output of books, +and must limit itself to selection. An <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page302" name="page302"></a>[pg 302]</span>experiment in such +selection is now in progress in the St. Louis Public Library. The +visitor to that library will find in its Open Shelf Room a section +of shelving marked with the words “Books in large +type.” To this section are directed all readers who have +found it difficult or painful to read the ordinary printed page but +who do not desire to wear magnifying lenses. It has not been easy +to fill these shelves, for books in large type are few, and hard to +secure, despite the fact that artists, printers, and oculists have +for years been discussing the proper size, form, and grouping of +printed letters from their various standpoints. Perhaps it is time +to urge a new view—that of the public librarian, anxious to +please his clients and to present literature to them in that +physical form which is most easily assimilable and least +harmful.</p> +<p>Tired eyes belong, for the most part, to those who have worked +them hardest; that is, to readers who have entered upon middle age +or have already passed through it. At this age we become conscious +that the eye is a delicate instrument—a fact which, however +familiar to us in theory, has previously been regarded with +aloofness. Now it comes home to us. The length of a sitting, the +quality, quantity, and incidence of the light, and above all, the +arrangement of the printed page, become matters of vital importance +to us. A book with small print, or letters illegibly grouped, or of +unrecognizable shapes, becomes as impossible to us as if it were +printed in the Chinese character.</p> +<p>It is an unfortunate law of nature that injurious acts appear to +us in their true light only after the harm is done. The burnt child +dreads the fire after he has been burned—not before. So the +fact that the middle-aged man cannot read small, or crooked, or +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page303" name="page303"></a>[pg +303]</span>badly grouped type means simply that the harmfulness of +these things, which always existed for him, has cumulated +throughout a long tale of years until it has obtruded itself upon +him in the form of an inhibition. The books that are imperative for +the tired eyes of middle age, are equally necessary for those of +youth—did youth but know it. Curiously enough, we are +accustomed to begin, in teaching the young to read, with very +legible type. When the eyes grow stronger, we begin to maltreat +them. So it is, also, with the digestive organs, which we first +coddle with pap, then treat awhile with pork and cocktails, and +then, perforce, entertain with pap of the second and final period. +What correspond, in the field of vision, to pork and cocktails, are +the vicious specimens of typography offered on all sides to +readers—in books, pamphlets, magazines, and +newspapers—typography that is slowly but surely ruining the +eyesight of those that need it most.</p> +<p>Hitherto, the public librarian has been more concerned with the +minds and the morals of his clientele than with that physical +organism without which neither mind nor morals would be of much +use. It would be easy to pick out on the shelves of almost any +public library books that are a physiological scandal, printed in +type that it is an outrage to place before any self-respecting +reader. I have seen copies of “Tom Jones” that I should +be willing to burn, as did a puritanical British library-board of +newspaper notoriety. My reasons, however, would be typographic, not +moral, and I might want to add a few copies of “The +Pilgrim’s Progress” and “The Saint’s +Everlasting Rest,” without prejudice to the authors’ +share in those works, which I admire and respect. Perhaps it is too +much to ask for complete typographical expurgation of our +libraries. But, at least, readers with <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page304" name="page304"></a>[pg 304]</span>tired eyes who do not +yet wear, or care to wear, corrective lenses, should be able to +find, somewhere on the shelves, a collection of works in relatively +harmless print—large and black, clear in outline, simple and +distinctive in form, properly grouped and spaced.</p> +<p>The various attempts to standardize type-sizes and to adopt a +suitable notation for them have been limited hitherto to the sizes +of the type-body and bear only indirectly on the size of the actual +letter. More or less arbitrary names—such as minion, +bourgeois, brevier, and nonpareil,—were formerly used; but +what is called the point-system is now practically universal, +although its unit, the “point,” is not everywhere the +same. Roughly speaking, a point is one-seventy-second of an inch, +so that in three-point type, for example, the thickness of the +type-body, from the top to the bottom of the letter on its face, is +one-twenty-fourth of an inch. But on this type-body the face may be +large or small—although of course, it cannot be larger than +the body,—and the size of the letters called by precisely the +same name in the point notation may vary within pretty wide limits. +There is no accepted notation for the size of the letters +themselves, and this fact tells, more eloquently than words, that +the present sizes of type are standardized and defined for +compositors only, not for readers, and still less for scientific +students of the effect upon the readers’ eyes of different +arrangements of the printed page.</p> +<p>What seems to have been the first attempt to define sizes of +type suitable for school grades was made fifteen years ago by Mr +Edward R. Shaw in his “School Hygiene”; he advocates +sizes from eighteen-point in the first year to twelve-point for the +fourth. “Principals, teachers, and school +superintendents,” he says, “should possess a millimetre +measure and a <span class="pagenum"><a id="page305" name= +"page305"></a>[pg 305]</span>magnifying glass, and should subject +every book presented for their examination to a test to determine +whether the size of the letters and the width of the leading are of +such dimensions as will not prove injurious to the eyes of +children.” To this list, librarians might be well +added—not to speak of authors, editors, and publishers. In a +subsequent part of his chapter on “Eyesight and +Hearing,” from which the above sentence is quoted, appears a +test of illumination suggested by “The Medical Record” +of Strasburg, which may serve as a “horrid example” in +some such way as did the drunken brother who accompanied the +temperance lecturer. According to this authority, if a pupil is +unable to read diamond +type—four-and-one-half-point—“at twelve-inch +distance and without strain,” the illumination is dangerously +low. The adult who tries the experiment will be inclined to +conclude that whatever the illumination, the proper place for the +man who uses diamond type for any purpose is the penitentiary.</p> +<p>The literature upon this general subject, such as it is, is +concerned largely with its relations with school hygiene. We are +bound to give our children a fair start in life, in conditions of +vision as well as in other respects, even if we are careless about +ourselves. The topic of “Conservation of Vision,” in +which, however, type-size played but a small part, was given +special attention at the Fourth International Congress of School +Hygiene, held in Buffalo in 1913. Investigations on the subject, so +far as they affect the child in school, are well summed up in the +last chapter of Huey’s “Psychology and Pedagogy of +Reading.” In general, the consensus of opinion of +investigators seems to be that the most legible type is that +between eleven-point and fourteen-point. Opinion regarding space +between lines, due to “leading,” <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page306" name="page306"></a>[pg 306]</span>is not +quite so harmonious. Some authorities think that it is better to +increase the size of the letters; and Huey asserts that an attempt +to improve unduly small type by making wide spaces between lines is +a mistake.</p> +<p>As to the relative legibility of different type-faces, one of +the most exhaustive investigations was that made at Clark +University by Miss Barbara E. Roethlin, whose results were +published in 1912. This study considers questions of form, style, +and grouping, independently of mere size; and the conclusion is +that legibility is a product of six factors, of which size is one, +the others being form, heaviness of face, width of the margin +around the letter, position in the letter-group, and shape and size +of adjoining letters. For “tired eyes” the size factor +would appear of overwhelming importance except where the other +elements make the page fantastically illegible. In Miss +Roethlin’s tables, based upon a combination of the factors +mentioned above, the maximum of legibility almost always coincides +with that of size. These experiments seem to have influenced +printers, whose organization in Boston has appointed a committee to +urge upon the Carnegie Institution the establishment of a +department of research to make scientific tests of printing-types +in regard to the comparative legibility and the possibility of +improving some of their forms. Their effort, so far, has met with +no success; but the funds at the disposal of this body could surely +be put to no better use.</p> +<p>With regard to the improvement of legibility by alteration of +form, it has been recognized by experiments from the outset that +the letters of our alphabet, especially the small, or +“lower-case” letters, are not equally legible. Many +proposals for modifying or changing them have been made, some of +them odd <span class="pagenum"><a id="page307" name= +"page307"></a>[pg 307]</span>or repugnant. It has been suggested, +for instance, that the Greek lambda be substituted for our +<em>l</em>, which in its present form is easily confused with the +dotted <em>i</em>. Other pairs of letters (<em>u</em> and +<em>n</em>, <em>o</em> and <em>e</em>, for example) are +differentiated with difficulty. The privilege of modifying +alphabetic form is one that has been frequently exercised. The +origin of the German alphabet and our own, for instance, is the +same, and no lower-case letters in any form date further back than +the Middle Ages. There could be no well-founded objection to any +change, in the interests of legibility, that is not so far-reaching +as to make the whole alphabet look foreign and unfamiliar. It may +be queried, however, whether the lower-case alphabet had not better +be reformed by abolishing it altogether. There would appear to be +no good reason for using two alphabets, now one and now the other, +according to arbitrary rules, difficult to learn and hard to +remember. That the general legibility of books would benefit by +doing away with this mediaeval excrescence appears to admit of no +doubt, although the proposal may seem somewhat startling to the +general reader.</p> +<p>In 1911, a committee was appointed by the British Association +for the Advancement of Science “to inquire into the influence +of school-books upon eyesight.” This committee’s report +dwells on the fact that the child’s eye is still in process +of development and needs larger type than the fully developed eye +of the adult. In making its recommendation for the standardization +of school-book type, which it considers the solution of the +difficulty, the committee emphasizes the fact that forms and sizes +most legible for isolated letters are not necessarily so for the +groups that need to be quickly recognized by the trained reader. It +dwells upon the importance of <span class="pagenum"><a id="page308" +name="page308"></a>[pg 308]</span>unglazed paper, flexible sewing, +clear, bold illustrations, black ink, and true alignment. Condensed +or compressed letters are condemned, as are long serifs and hair +strokes. On the other hand, very heavy-faced type is almost as +objectionable as that with the fine lines, the ideal being a proper +balancing of whites and blacks in each letter and group. The size +of the type face, as we might expect, is pronounced by the +committee “the most important factor in the influence of +books upon vision”; it describes its recommended sizes in +millimetres—a refinement which, for the purposes of this +article, need not be insisted upon. Briefly, the sizes run from +thirty-point, for seven-year-old children, to ten-point or +eleven-point, for persons more than twelve years old. Except as an +inference from this last recommendation, the committee, of course, +does not exceed its province by treating of type-sizes for adults; +yet it would seem that it considers ten-point as the smallest size +fit for anyone, however good his sight. This would bar much of our +existing reading matter.</p> +<p>A writer whose efforts in behalf of sane typography have had +practical results is Professor Koopman, librarian of Brown +University, whose plea has been addressed chiefly to printers. +Professor Koopman dwells particularly on the influence of short +lines on legibility. The eye must jump from the end of each line +back to the beginning of the next, and this jump is shorter and +less fatiguing with the shorter line, though it must be oftener +performed. Owing largely to his demonstration, “The Printing +Art,” a trade magazine published in Cambridge, Massachusetts, +has changed its make-up from a one-column to a two-column page. It +should be noted, however, that a uniform, standard length of line +is even more to be desired than a short one. When the <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page309" name="page309"></a>[pg 309]</span>eye has +become accustomed to one length for its linear leaps, these leaps +can be performed with relative ease and can be taken care of +subconsciously. When the lengths vary capriciously from one book, +or magazine, to another, or even from one page to another, as they +so often do, the effort to get accustomed to the new length is more +tiring than we realize. Probably this factor, next to the size of +type, is most effective in tiring the middle-aged eye, and in +keeping it tired. The opinion may be ventured that the reason for +our continued toleration of the small type used in the daily +newspapers is that their columns are narrow, and still more, that +these are everywhere of practically uniform width.</p> +<p>The indifference of publishers to the important feature of the +physical make-up of books appears from the fact that in not a +single case is it included among the descriptive items in their +catalogue entries. Libraries are in precisely the same class of +offenders. A reader or a possible purchaser of books is supposed to +be interested in the fact that a book is published in Boston, has +four hundred and thirty-two pages, and is illustrated, but not at +all in its legibility. Neither publishers nor libraries have any +way of getting information on the subject, except by going to the +books themselves. Occasionally a remainder-catalogue, containing +bargains whose charms it is desired to set forth with unusual +detail, states that a certain book is in “large type,” +or even in “fine, large type,” but these words are +nowhere defined, and the purchaser cannot depend on their accuracy. +An edition of Scott, recently advertised extensively as in +“large, clear type,” proved on examination to be +printed in ten-point.</p> +<p>In gathering the large-type collection for the St. Louis Library +fourteen-point was decided upon as the <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page310" name="page310"></a>[pg 310]</span>standard, which means, +of course, types with a face somewhere between the smallest size +that is usually found on a fourteen-point body, even if actually on +a smaller body, and the largest that this can carry, even if on a +larger body. The latter is unusually large, but it would not do to +place the standard below fourteen-point, because that would lower +the minimum, which is none too large as it is. The first effort was +to collect such large-type books, already in the library, as would +be likely to interest the general reader. In the collection of +nearly 400,000 volumes, it was found by diligent search that only +150 would answer this description. Most octavo volumes of travel +are in large type, but only a selected number of these was placed +in the collection to avoid overloading it with this particular +class. This statement applies also to some other classes, and to +certain types of books, such as some government reports and some +scientific monographs, which have no representatives in the group. +The next step was to supplement the collection by purchase. All +available publishers’ catalogues were examined, but after a +period of twelve months it was found possible to spend only $65.00 +in the purchase of 120 additional books. A circular letter was then +sent to ninety-two publishers, explaining the purpose of the +collection and asking for information regarding books in +fourteen-point type, or larger, issued by them. To these there were +received sixty-three answers. In twenty-nine instances, no books in +type of this size were issued by the recipients of the circulars. +In six cases, the answer included brief lists of from two to twelve +titles of large-type books; and in several other cases, the +publishers stated that the labor of ascertaining which of their +publications are in large type would be prohibitive, as it would +involve actual inspection of each and every volume on their lists. +In two instances, <span class="pagenum"><a id="page311" name= +"page311"></a>[pg 311]</span>however, after a second letter, +explaining further the aims of the collection, publishers promised +to undertake the work. The final result has been that the Library +now has over four hundred volumes in the collection. This is surely +not an imposing number, but it appears to represent the available +resources of a country in which 1,000 publishers are annually +issuing 11,000 volumes—to say nothing of the British and +Continental output. In the list of the collection and in the +entries, the size of the type, the leading, and the size of the +book itself are to be distinctly stated. The last-mentioned item is +necessary because the use of large type sometimes involves a heavy +volume, awkward to hold in the hand. The collection for adults in +the St. Louis Library, as it now exists, may be divided into the +following classes, according to the reasons that seem to have +prompted the use of large type:</p> +<ol> +<li> +<p class="noindent">Large books printed on a somewhat generous +scale and intended to sell at a high price, the size of the type +being merely incidental to this plan. These include books of +travel, history, or biography in several volumes, somewhat +high-priced sets of standard authors, and books intended for +gifts.</p> +</li> +<li> +<p class="noindent">Books containing so little material that large +type, thick paper, and wide margins were necessary to make a volume +easy to handle and use. These include many short stories of +magazine length, which for some inscrutable reason are now often +issued in separate form.</p> +</li> +<li> +<p class="noindent">Books printed in large type for aesthetic +reasons. These are few, beauty and artistic form being apparently +linked in some way with illegibility by many printers, no matter +what the size of the type-face.</p> +</li> +</ol> +<p>The large-type collection is used, not only by <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page312" name="page312"></a>[pg 312]</span>elderly +persons, but also in greater number by young persons whose oculists +forbid them to read fine print, or who do not desire to wear +glasses. The absence of a wide range in the collection drives +others away to books that are, doubtless, in many cases bad for +their eyes. Some books that have not been popular in the general +collection have done well here, while old favorites have not been +taken out. Such facts as these mean little with so limited a +collection. Until readers awake to the dangers of small print and +the comfort of large type there will not be sufficient pressure on +our publishers to induce them to put forth more books suitable for +tired eyes. It is probably too much to expect that the trade itself +will try to push literature whose printed form obeys the rules of +ocular hygiene. All that we can reasonably ask is that type-size +shall be reported on in catalogues, so that those who want books in +large type may know what is obtainable and where to go for it.</p> +<p>It has often been noted that physicians are the only class of +professional men whose activities, if properly carried on, tend +directly to make the profession unnecessary. Medicine tends more +and more to be preventive rather than curative. We must therefore +look to the oculists to take the first steps towards lessening the +number of their prospective patients by inculcating rational +notions about the effects of the printed page on the eye. Teachers, +librarians, parents, the press—all can do their part. And +when a demand for larger print has thus been created the trade will +respond. Meanwhile, libraries should be unremitting in their +efforts to ascertain what material in large type already exists, to +collect it, and to call attention to it in every legitimate +way.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page313" name="page313"></a>[pg +313]</span> +<h2><a name="Essay24" id="Essay24">The Magic Casement</a><a id= +"footnotetag16" name="footnotetag16" href="#footnote16" title= +"Read before the Town and Gown Club, St. Louis."><sup>16</sup></a></h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>Anyone who talks or writes about the “movies” is +likely to be misunderstood. There is little to be said now about +the moving picture as a moving picture, unless one wants to discuss +its optics or mechanics. The time is past when anyone went to see a +moving picture as a curiosity. It was once the eighth wonder of the +world; it long ago abdicated that position to join its dispossessed +brothers the telephone, the X-ray, the wireless telegraph and the +phonograph. What we now go to see is not the moving picture, but +what the moving picture shows us; it is no more than a window +through which we gaze—the poet’s “magic +casement” opening (sometimes) “on the foam of perilous +seas.” We may no more praise or condemn the moving picture +for what it shows us than we may praise or condemn a proscenium +arch or the glass in a show window.</p> +<p>The critic who thinks that the movies are lowering our tastes, +or doing anything else objectionable, as well as he who thinks they +are educating the masses, is not of the opinion that the moving +pictures are doing these things because they show moving objects on +a screen, but because of the character of what is photographed for +such exhibition.</p> +<p>Thoughts on the movies, therefore, must be rather thoughts on +things that are currently shown us by means of the movies; thoughts +also on some of the things that we might see and do not. I have +compared the screen above to a proscenium arch and a <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page314" name="page314"></a>[pg 314]</span>show +window, but both of these are selective: the screen is as broad as +the world. It is especially adapted to show realities; through it +one may see the coast of Dalmatia as viewed from a steamer, the +habits of animals in the African jungle, or the play of emotion on +the faces of an audience at a ball game in Philadelphia. I am +pleased to see that more and more of these interesting realities +are shown daily in the movie theatres. There has been a determined +effort to make them unpopular by calling them +“educational,” but they seem likely to outlive it. One +is educated, of course, by everything that he sees or does, but why +rub it in? The boy who thoroughly likes to go sailing will get more +out of it than he who goes because he thinks it will be “an +educational experience.” As one who goes to the movies I +confess that I enjoy its realities. Probably they educate me, and I +take that with due meekness. Some of these realities I enjoy +because they are unfamiliar, like the boiling of the lava lake in +the Hawaiian craters and the changing crowds in the streets of +Manila; some because they are familiar, like a college foot-ball +game or the movement of vessels in the North River at New York.</p> +<p>I like the realities, too, in the dramatic performances that +still occupy and probably will continue to occupy, most of the time +at a movie theatre. Here I come into conflict with the producer. +Like every other adapter he can not cut loose from the old when he +essays the new. We no longer wear swords, but we still carry the +buttons for the sword belt, and it is only recently that +semi-tropic Americans gave up the dress of north-temperate Europe. +So the movie producer can not forget the theatre. Now the theatre +has some advantages that the movie can never attain—notably +the use of speech. The movie, on the other <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page315" name="page315"></a>[pg 315]</span>hand, +has unlimited freedom of scene and the use of real backgrounds. We +do not object to a certain amount of what we call +“staginess” on the stage—it is a part of its art; +as the pigment is part of that of the painter. We are surrounded by +symbols; we are not surprised that costume, gesture and voice are +also symbolic instead of purely natural. But in the moving picture +play it is, or should be, different. The costume and make-up, the +posture and gesture, that seem appropriate in front of a painted +house or tree on a back-drop, become so out-of-place as to be +repulsive when one sees them in front of a real house and real +trees, branches moving in the wind, running water—all the +familiar accompaniments of nature. The movie producers, being +unable to get away from their stage experience, are failing to +grasp their opportunity. Instead of creating a drama of reality to +correspond with the real environment that only the movie can offer, +they are abandoning the unique advantages of that environment, to a +large degree. They build fake cities, they set all their interiors +in fake studio rooms, where everything is imitation; even when they +let us see a bit of outdoors, it is not what it pretends to be. We +have all seen, on the screen, bluffs 200 feet high on the coast of +Virginia and palm trees growing in the borough of the Bronx. And +they hire stage actors to interpret the stagiest of stage plots in +as stagy a way as they know how. I am taking the movie seriously +because I like it and because I see that I share that liking with a +vast throng of persons with whom it is probably the only thing I +have in common—persons separated from me by differences of +training and education that would seem to make a common ground of +any kind well-nigh impossible. With some persons the fact that the +movie is democratic puts it outside the pale at once. Nothing, +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page316" name="page316"></a>[pg +316]</span>in their estimation, is worth discussing unless +appreciation of it is limited to the few. Their attitude is that of +the mother who said to the nurse: “Go and see what baby is +doing, and tell him he musn’t.” “Let us,” +they say, “find out what people like, and then try to make +them like something else.” To such I have nothing to say. We +ought rather, I believe, to find out the kind of thing that people +like and then do our best to see that they get it in the best +quality—that it is used in every way possible to pull them +out of the mud, instead of rubbing their noses further in.</p> +<p>On the other hand, some capable critics, like Mr. Walter +Pritchard Eaton, decry the movies because they are +undemocratic—because they are offering a form of +entertainment appealing only to the uneducated and thus segregating +them from the educated, who presumably all attend the regular +theatre, sitting in the parquet at two dollars per. One wonders +whether Mr. Eaton has attended a moving-picture theatre since 1903. +I believe the movie to be by all odds the most democratic form of +intellectual (by which I mean non-physical) entertainment ever +offered; and I base my belief on wide observation of audiences in +theatres of many different grades. Now this democracy shows itself +not only in the composition of audiences but in their +manifestations of approval. I do not mean that everyone in an +audience always likes the same thing. Some outrageous +“slap-stick” comedy rejoices one and offends another. A +particularly foolish plot may satisfy in one place while it bores +in another. But everywhere I find one thing that appeals to +everybody—realism. Just as soon as there appears on the +screen something that does not know how to pose and is forced by +nature to be natural—an animal or a young child, for +instance—there are immediate manifestations of interest and +delight.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page317" name="page317"></a>[pg +317]</span>The least “stagy” actors are almost always +favorites. Mary Pickford stands at the head. There is not an ounce +of staginess in her make-up. She was never particularly successful +on the stage. Some of her work seems to me ideal acting for the +screen—simple, appealing, absolutely true. Of course she is +not always at her best.</p> +<p>To the stage illusions that depend on costume and make-up, the +screen is particularly unfriendly. Especially in the +“close-ups” the effect is similar to that which one +would have if he were standing close to the actor looking directly +into his face. It is useless to depend on ordinary make-up under +these circumstances. Either it should be of the description used by +Sherlock Holmes and other celebrated detectives (we rely on +hearsay) which deceives the very elect at close quarters, or else +the producer must choose for his characters those that naturally +“look the parts.” In particular, the lady who, although +long past forty, continues to play <em>ingenue</em> parts and +“gets away with it” on the stage, must get away +<em>from</em> it, when it comes to the screen. The “close +up” tells the sad story at once. The part of a +sixteen-year-old girl must be played by a real one. Another +concession to realism, you see. And what is true of persons is true +of their environment. I have already registered my disapproval of +the “Universal City” type of production. It is almost +as easy for the expert to pick out the fake Russian village or the +pasteboard Virginia court-house as it is for him to spot the +wrinkles in the countenance of the school girl who left school in +1892. Next to a fake environment the patchwork scene enrages +one—the railway that is double-track with 90-pound rails in +one scene and single-track with streaks of rust in the next; the +train that is hauled in quick succession by locomotives of the +Mogul type, the Atlantic and the wood-burning vintage of 1868. +There <span class="pagenum"><a id="page318" name="page318"></a>[pg +318]</span>is here an impudent assumption in the producer, of a +lack of intelligence in his audience, that is quite maddening. The +same lack of correspondence appears between different parts of the +same street, and between the outside and inside of houses. I am +told by friends that I am quite unreasonable in the extent to which +I carry my demands for realism in the movies. “What would you +have?” they ask. I would have a producing company that should +advertise, “We have no studio” and use only real +backgrounds—the actual localities represented. “Do you +mean to tell me,” my friend goes on, “that you would +carry your company to Spain whenever the scene of their play is +laid in that country? The expense would be prohibitive.” I +most certainly should not, and this because of the very realism +that I am advocating. Plays laid in Spain should be acted not only +in Spain but by Spaniards. The most objectionable kind of fake is +that in which Americans are made to do duty for Spaniards, Hindus +or Japanese when their appearance, action and bearing clearly +indicate that they were born and brought up in Skowhegan, Maine or +Crawfordsville, Indiana. I have seen Mary Pickford in “Madame +Butterfly”, and I testify sadly that not even she can succeed +here. No; if we want Spanish plays let us use those made on Spanish +soil. Let us have free interchange of films between all +film-producing countries. All the change required would be +translating the captions, or better still, plays might be produced +that require no captions. This might mean the total reorganization +of the movie-play business in this country—a revolution which +I should view with equanimity. Speaking of captions, here again the +average producer appears to agree with Walter Pritchard Eaton that +he is catering only to the uneducated. The writers of most captions +seem, indeed, <span class="pagenum"><a id="page319" name= +"page319"></a>[pg 319]</span>to have abandoned formal instruction +in the primary school. Why should not a movie caption be good +literature? Some of them are. The Cabiria captions were fine: +though I do not admire that masterpiece. I am told that +D’Annunzio composed them with care, and equal care was +evidently used in the translation. The captions of the George Ade +fables are uniformly good, and there are other notable exceptions. +Other places where knowledge of language is required are +inadequately taken care of. Letters from eminent persons make one +want to hide under the chairs. These persons usually sign +themselves “Duke of Gandolfo” or “Secretary of +State Smith.” Are grammar school graduates difficult to get, +or high-priced? I beg you to observe that here again lack of +realism is my objection.</p> +<p>But divers friends interpose the remark that the movies are +already too realistic. “They leave nothing to the +imagination.” If this were so, it were a grievous +fault—at any rate in so far as the moving-picture play aims +at being an art-form. All good art leaves something to the +imagination. As a matter of fact, however, the movie is the exact +complement of the spoken play as read from a book. Here we have the +words in full, the scene and action being left to the imagination +except as briefly sketched in the stage direction. In the movie we +have scene and action in full, the words being left to the +imagination except as briefly indicated in the captions. Where +captions are very full the form may perhaps be said to be +complementary to the novel, where besides the words we are given a +written description of scene and action that is often full of +detail. The movie leaves just as much to the imagination as the +novel, but what is so left is different in the two cases. Do I +think that everyone in a movie audience makes use of his privilege +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page320" name="page320"></a>[pg +320]</span>to imagine what the actors are saying? No; neither does +the novel-reader always image the scene and action. This does not +depend on ignorance or the reverse, but on imaging power. +Exceptional visual and auditive imaging power are rarely present in +the same individual. I happen to have the former. I automatically +see everything of which I read in a novel, and when the +descriptions are not detailed, this gets me into trouble. On a +second reading my imaged background may be different and when the +earlier one asserts itself there is a conflict that I can compare +only to hearing two tunes played at once. Persons having already +good visual imaging power should develop their auditive imaging +power by going to the movies and hearing what the actors say; these +with deficient visual imagery should read novels and see the +scenery. But to say that the movies allow no scope for the +imagination is absurd. As I said at the outset, the movie play is +just a play seen through the medium of a moving picture. It is like +seeing a drama near enough to note the slightest play of feature +and at the same time so far away that the actors can not be +heard—somewhat like seeing a distant play through a fine +telescope. The action should therefore differ in no respect from +what would be proper if the words were intended to be heard. +Doubtless this imposes a special duty upon both the author of the +scenario and the producer, and they do not always respond to it. +Action is introduced that fails to be intelligible without the +words, and to clear it up the actors are made to use pantomime. +Pantomime is an interesting and valuable form of dramatic art, but +it is essentially symbolic and stagy and has, I believe, no place +in the moving picture play as we have developed it. If owing to the +faulty construction of the play, or a lack of skill on the part of +producer <span class="pagenum"><a id="page321" name= +"page321"></a>[pg 321]</span>or actors, all sorts of gestures and +grimaces become necessary that would not be required if the words +were heard, the production can not be considered good. Sometimes, +of course, words are <em>seen</em>; though not heard. The story of +the deaf mutes who read the lips of the movie actors, and detected +remarks not at all in consonance with the action of the play, is +doubtless familiar. It crops up in various places and is as +ubiquitous as Washington’s Headquarters. It is good enough to +be true, but I have never run it to earth yet. Even those of us who +are not deaf-mutes, however, may detect an exclamation now and then +and it gives great force to the action, though I doubt whether it +is quite legitimate in a purely picture-play.</p> +<p>I beg leave to doubt whether realism is fostered by a method of +production said to be in vogue among first rate producers; namely +keeping actors in ignorance of the play and directing the action as +it goes on.</p> +<p>“Come in now, Mr. Smith; sit in that chair; cross your +legs; light a cigar; register perplexity; you hear a sound; jump to +your feet”—and so on. This may save the producer +trouble, but it reduces the actors to marionettes; it is not thus +that masterpieces are turned out.</p> +<p>Is there any chance of a movie masterpiece, anyway? Yes, but not +in the direction that most producers see it. What Vachell Lindsay +calls “Splendor” in the movies is an interesting and +striking feature of them—the moving of masses of people amid +great architectural construction—sieges, triumphs, battles, +mobs—but all this is akin to scenery. Its movements are like +those of the trees or the surf. One can not make a play entirely of +scenery, though the contrary seems to be the view of some +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page322" name="page322"></a>[pg +322]</span>managers, even on the stage of the regular theatre. So +far, the individual acting and plot construction in the great +spectacular movies has been poor. It was notably so, it seems to me +in the Birth of a Nation and not much better in Cabiria. Judith of +Bethulia (after T.B. Aldrich) is the best acted +“splendor” play that I have seen. Masterpieces are +coming not through spending millions on supes, and +“real” temples, and forts; but rather by writing a +scenario particularly adapted to film-production, hiring and +training actors that know how to act for the camera, preferably +those without bad stage habits to unlearn, cutting out all unreal +scenery, costume and make-up and keeping everything as simple and +as close to the actual as possible. The best movie play I ever saw +was in a ten-cent theatre in St. Louis. It was a dramatization of +Frank Norris’s “McTeague.” I have never seen it +advertised anywhere, and I never heard of the actors, before or +since. But most of it was fine, sincere work, and seeing it made me +feel that there is a future for the movie play.</p> +<p>One trouble is that up to date, neither producers nor actors nor +the most intelligent and best educated part of the audience take +the movies seriously. Here is one of the marvels of modern times; +something that has captured the public as it never was captured +before. And yet most of us look at it as a huge joke, or as +something intended to entertain the populace, at which we, too are +graciously pleased to be amused. It might mend matters if we could +have every day in some reputable paper a column of readable serious +stuff about the current movie plays—real criticism, not +simply the producer’s “blurb.”</p> +<p>Possibly, too, a partnership between the legitimate stage and +the movie may be possible and I shall <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page323" name="page323"></a>[pg 323]</span>devote to a somewhat +wild scheme of this sort the few pages that remain to me. To begin +with, the freedom enjoyed by the Elizabethan dramatists from the +limitations imposed by realistic scenery has not been sufficiently +insisted upon as an element in their art. Theirs was a true +<em>drame libre</em>, having its analogies with the present +attempts of the vers-librists to free poetry from its restrictions +of rhyme and metre. But while the tendency of poetry has always +been away from its restrictions, the <em>mise-en-scene</em> +in the drama has continually, with the attempts to make it conform +to nature, tightened its throttling bands on the real vitality of +the stage.</p> +<p>Those who periodically wonder why the dramatists of the +Elizabethan age—the greatest productive period in the history +of the English stage—no longer hold the stage, with the +exception of Shakespeare, and who lament that even Shakespeare is +yielding his traditional place, have apparently given little +thought to this loss of freedom as a contributing cause. While the +writers of <em>vers libre</em> have so far freed themselves that +some of them have ceased to write poetry at all, it is a question +whether the scenic freedom of the old dramatists may not have +played such a vital part in the development of their art, that they +owed to it at least some of their pre-eminence.</p> +<p>Shakespeare’s plays, as Shakespeare wrote them, read +better than they act. Hundreds of Shakespeare-lovers have reached +this conclusion, and many more have reached it than have dared to +put it into words. The reason is, it seems to me, that we can not, +on the modern stage, enact the plays of Shakespeare as he intended +them to be acted—as he really wrote them.</p> +<p>If we compare an acting edition of any of the plays with the +text as presented by any good editor, <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page324" name="page324"></a>[pg 324]</span>this becomes +increasingly clear. Shakespeare in his original garb, is simply +impossible for the modern stage.</p> +<p>The fact that the Elizabethan plays were given against an +imaginary back-ground enabled the playwright to disregard the old, +hampering unity of place more thoroughly than has ever been +possible since his time. His ability to do so, was the result not +of any reasoned determination to set his plays without +“scenery,” but simply of environment. As the scenic art +progressed, the backgrounds became more and more realistic and less +and less imaginary. The imagination of the audience, however, has +always been more or less requisite to the appreciation of drama, as +of any other art. No stage tree or house has ever been close enough +to its original to deceive the onlooker. He always knows that they +are imitations, intended only to aid the imagination, and his +imagination has always been obliged to do its part. In +Shakespeare’s time the imagination did all the work; and as +imaginary houses and trees have no weight, the services of the +scene-shifter were not required to remove them and to substitute +others. The scene could be shifted at once from a battlefield in +Flanders to a palace in London and after the briefest of dialogues +it could change again to a street in Genoa—all without +inconveniencing anyone or necessitating a halt in the presentation +of the drama. Any reflective reader of Shakespeare will agree, I +think, that this ability to shift scenes, which after all, is only +that which the novelist or poet has always possessed and still +possesses, enables the dramatist to impart a breadth of view that +was impossible under the ideas of unity that governed the drama of +the Ancients. Greek tragedy was drama in concentration, a tabloid +of intense power—a brilliant light focussed <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page325" name="page325"></a>[pg 325]</span>on a +single spot of passion or exaltation. The Elizabethan drama is a +view of life; and life does not focus, it is diffuse—a +congeries of episodes, successive or simultaneous—something +not re-producible by the ancient dramatic methods.</p> +<p>Today, while we have not gone back to the terrific force of the +Greek unified presentation, we have lost this breadth. We strive +for it, but we can no longer reach it because of the growth of an +idea that realism in <em>mise-en-scéne</em> is absolutely +necessary. Of course this idea has been injurious to the drama in +more ways than the one that we are now considering. The notable +reform in stage settings associated with the names of Gordon Craig, +Granville Barker, Urban, Hume and others, arises from a conviction +that <em>mise-en-scéne</em> should inspire and reflect a +mood—should furnish an atmosphere, rather than attempt to +reproduce realistic details. To a certain extent these reforms also +operate to simplify stage settings and hence to make a little more +possible the quick transitions and the play of viewpoint which I +regard as one of the glories of the Elizabethan drama. This +simplification, however, is very far from a return to the absolute +simplicity of the Elizabethan setting. Moreover, it is doubtful +whether the temper of the modern audience is favorable to a great +change in this direction. We live in an age of realistic detail and +we must yield to the current, while using it, so far as possible, +to gain our ends.</p> +<p>This being the case, it is certainly interesting to find that, +entirely without the aid or consent of those who have at heart the +interests of the drama, a new dramatic form has grown up which +caters to the utmost to the modern desire for realistic +detail—far beyond the dreams of ordinary stage +settings—and at the same time makes possible the quick +transitions <span class="pagenum"><a id="page326" name= +"page326"></a>[pg 326]</span>that are the glory of the Elizabethan +drama. Here, of course, is where we make connection with the moving +picture, whose fascinating realism and freedom from the taint of +the footlights have perhaps been sufficiently insisted upon in what +has been already said. In the moving picture, with the possibility +of realistic backgrounds such as no skill, no money, no opportunity +could build up on the ordinary stage—distant prospects, +marvels of architecture, waving trees and moving +animals—comes the ability of passing from one environment to +another, on the other side of the globe perhaps, in the twinkling +of an eye. The transitions of the Elizabethan stage sink into +insignificance beside the possibilities of the moving-picture +screen. Such an alternation as is now common in the film play, +where two characters, talking to each other over the telephone, are +seen in quick succession, would be impossible on the ordinary +stage. The Elizabethan auditor, if his imagination were vivid and +ready, might picture such a background of castle or palace or rocky +coast as no photographer could produce; but even such imagination +takes time to get under way, whereas the screen-picture gets to the +brain through the retina instantly.</p> +<p>It is worth our while, I think, to consider whether this kind of +scenery, rich in detail, but immaterial and therefore devoid of +weight, could not be used in connection with the ordinary drama. +There are obstacles, but they do not appear insuperable. The +ordinary moving-picture, of course, is much smaller than the back +drop of a large stage. Its enlargement is merely a matter of +optical apparatus. Wings must be reduced in number and provided +each with its own projection-machine, or replaced with drops +similarly provided. Exits and entrances must be managed somewhat +differently than with ordinary scenery. <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page327" name="page327"></a>[pg 327]</span>All +this is surely not beyond the power of modern stagecraft, which has +already surmounted such obstacles and accomplished such wonders. +The projection, it is unnecessary to say, must be from behind, not +from before, to avoid throwing the actors’ shadows on the +scenery. There must still, of course, be lighting from the front, +and the shadow problem still exists, but no more than it does with +ordinary scenery. Its solution lies in diffusing the light. No +spotlight could be used, and its enforced absence would be one of +the incidental blessings of the moving scene.</p> +<p>The advantages of this moving-picture scenery would be many and +obvious. Prominent among them of course are fidelity to nature and +richness of detail. The one, however, on which I desire to lay +stress here is the flexibility in change of scene that we have lost +with the introduction of heavy material “scenery” on +our stages. This flexibility would be regained without the +necessity of discarding scenery altogether and going back to the +Elizabethan reliance on the imagination of the audience.</p> +<p>Of course, moving scenery would not be required or desired in +all dramatic productions—only in those where realistic detail +combined with perfect flexibility and rapidity of change in scene +seems to be indicated. The scenery should of course be colored, and +while we are waiting for the commercial tri-chroic picture with +absolutely true values, we may get along very well with the +di-chroic ones, such as those turned out with the so-called +Kinemacolor process. Those who saw the wonderful screen +reproduction of the Indian durbar, several years ago, will realize +the possibilities.</p> +<p>And more than all else, may we not hope that these new +backgrounds may react on the players who perform their parts in +front of them? Not necessarily; <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page328" name="page328"></a>[pg 328]</span>for we have seen that +it does not always do so in the present movie play. But I am +confident that the change will come. Little by little the +necessities of the case are developing actors who act naturally. +One may pose in a canoe on a painted rapid; but how can he do so in +the real water course, where every attitude, every play of the +muscles must be adapted to the real propulsion of the boat?</p> +<p>In short, the movie may ultimately require its presenters to be +real, and so may come a school of realism in acting that may have +its uses on the legitimate stage also.</p> +<p>Who will be the first manager to experiment with this new +adjunct to the art of the stage?</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page329" name="page329"></a>[pg +329]</span> +<h2><a name="Essay25" id="Essay25">A Word to Believers</a><a id= +"footnotetag17" name="footnotetag17" href="#footnote17" title= +"Address at the closing session of the Church School of Religious Instruction, St. Louis."> +<sup>17</sup></a></h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>People may be divided into a great many different classes +according to their attitude toward belief and beliefs—toward +the meaning and value of belief in general—toward their own +beliefs and those of their neighbors. We have the man who does not +know what “belief” means, and who does not care; the +man whose idea of its meaning is perverse and wrong; the man who +thinks his own beliefs are important and those of his neighbors are +unimportant; the man who thinks it proper to base belief on certain +considerations and not on others—the man, for instance, who +will say he believes that two plus two equals four, but can not +believe in the existence of God because the grounds for such belief +can not be stated in the same mathematical symbols. These are only +a few of the classes that might be defined, using this interesting +basis of classification. But before we can take up the question of +instruction in the church’s beliefs, about which I have been +asked to address you this evening, we must recognize the existence +of these classes, and possibly the fact that you yourselves are not +all in accord in the way in which you look at the subject.</p> +<p>What I shall say is largely personal and you must not look upon +me as representing anybody or anything. I may even fail to agree +with some of the instruction that you have received in this +interesting and valuable course. But I do speak, of course, as one +who loves our church and as a loyal and I hope a thoughtful +layman.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page330" name="page330"></a>[pg +330]</span>First, what is belief? We surely give the word a wide +range of values. A man says that he believes in his own existence, +which the philosopher Descartes said was the most sure thing in the +world—“<em>Cogito, ergo sum</em>”. He also says +that he believes it will rain to-morrow. What can there be in +common between these two acts of faith? Between a certainty and a +fifty per cent chance, or less? This—that a man is always +willing to act on his beliefs; if not, they are not beliefs within +the meaning of this address. If you believe it will rain, you take +an umbrella. Your doing so is quite independent of the grounds for +your belief. There may really be very little chance of its raining; +but it is your belief that causes your action, no matter whether it +is justified or not. You could not act more decisively if you were +acting on the certainty of your own existence. It is this +willingness to act that unifies our beliefs—that gives them +value. If I heard a man declare his belief that a fierce wild +animal was on his track, and if I then saw him calmly lie down and +go to sleep on the trail, I should know that he was either insane +or a liar.</p> +<p>I have intimated above that belief may or may not be based on +mathematical certainty. Fill up a basket with black and white +pebbles and then draw out one. Let us create a situation that shall +make it imperative for a person to declare whether a black or a +white pebble will be drawn. For instance, suppose the event to be +controlled by an oriental despot who has given orders to strike off +the man’s head if he announces the wrong color. Of course, if +he has seen that only white pebbles went into the basket he says +boldly “White.” That is certainty. But suppose he saw +one black pebble in the mass. Does he any the less say +“White”? That one black pebble represents a tiny doubt; +does it affect the direction of his enforced <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page331" name="page331"></a>[pg 331]</span>action? +Suppose there were two black pebbles; or a handful. Suppose nearly +half the pebbles were black? Would that make the slightest +difference about what he would do? If you judge a man’s +belief by what he does, as I think you should do, that belief may +admit of a good deal of doubt before it is nullified. Are your +beliefs all based on mathematical certainties? I hope not; for then +they must be few indeed.</p> +<p>That many of our fellow men have a wrong conception of belief is +a very sad fact. The idea that it must be based on a mathematical +demonstration of certainty, or even that it must be free from doubt +is surely not Christian. Our prayers and our hymns are full of the +contrary. We are beset not only by “fightings” but by +“fears”—“within; without;” by +“many a conflict, many a doubt”; we pray to be +delivered from this same doubt. The whole body of Christian +doctrine is permeated with the idea that the true believer is +likely to be beset by doubts of all kinds, and that it is his duty, +despite all this, to believe.</p> +<p>And yet there are many who will not call themselves Christians +so long as they can not construct a rigid demonstration of every +Christian doctrine. There are many thoughtful men who call +themselves Agnostics just because they can not be mathematically +sure of religious truth. Some of these men are better Christians +than many that are so named. That they hold aloof from Christian +fellowship is due to their mistaken notion of the nature of belief. +The more is the pity. Now let us go back for a moment to our basket +of pebbles. We have seen that the action of the guesser is based to +some extent on his knowledge of the contents of the basket. In +other words, he has grounds for the belief by which his act +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page332" name="page332"></a>[pg +332]</span>is conditioned. Persons may act without grounds; it may +be necessary for them so to do. Even in this case there may be a +sort of blind substitute for belief. A man, pursued by a bear, +comes to a fork in the road. He knows nothing about either branch; +one may lead to safety and one to a jungle. But he has to choose, +and choose at once; and his choice represents his bid for safety. +There is plenty of action of this sort in the world; if we would +avoid the necessity for it we must do a little preliminary +investigation; and if we can not find definitely where the roads +lead, we may at least hit upon some idea of which is the +safest.</p> +<p>But with all our investigation we shall find that we must rely +in the end on our trust in some person; either ourselves or someone +else. Even the certainty of the mathematical formula depends on our +confidence in the sanity of our own mental processes. The man who +sees the basket filled with white pebbles must trust the accuracy +of his eyesight. If he relies for his information on what someone +else told him, he must trust not only that other’s eyesight, +but his memory, his veracity, his friendliness. And yet one may be +far safer in trusting another than in relying on his own unaided +powers. <em>Securus judicat orbis terrarum</em>, says the old +Latin. “The world’s judgment is safe.” We have +learned to modify this, for we have seen world judgments that are +manifestly incorrect. The world thought the earth was flat. It +thought there were witches, and it burned them. Here individuals +simply followed one another like sheep; and all, like sheep, went +astray. But where there is a real, independent judgment on the part +of each member of a group, and all agree, that is better proof of +its correctness than most individual investigations could furnish. +My watch, of the best make and carefully regulated, indicates five +o’clock, <span class="pagenum"><a id="page333" name= +"page333"></a>[pg 333]</span>but if I meet five friends, each of +whom tells me, independently, that it is six, I conclude that my +watch is wrong. There was never a more careful scientific +investigation than that by which a French physicist thought he had +established the existence of what he called the “N +ray”—examined its properties and measured its +constants. He read paper after paper before learned bodies as his +research progressed. He challenged the interest of his brother +scientists on three continents. And yet he was entirely wrong: +there never was any “N ray.” The man had deceived +himself. The failure of hundreds to see as he did weighed more than +his positive testimony that he saw what he thought he saw. Here as +elsewhere our view of what may be the truth is based on trust. If +you trust the French physicist, you will still believe in the +“N ray.” Creeds, we are told, are outworn, and yet we +are confronted, from birth to death, with situations that +imperiously require action of some sort. Every act that responds +must be based on belief of some kind. Creeds are only expressions +of belief. The kind of Creed that <em>is</em> outworn (and this is +doubtless what intelligent persons mean when they make this +statement) is the parrot creed, the form of words without meaning, +the statement of belief without any grounds behind it or any action +in front of it. For this the modern churchman has no use.</p> +<p>And if he desires to avoid the parrot creed, he must surely +inform himself regarding the meaning of its articles and the +grounds on which they are held. More; he must satisfy himself of +the particular meaning that they have for him and the personal +grounds on which he is to hold them. This is the reason why such a +course as that which you complete to-night is necessary and +valuable. I have heard instruction of this kind deprecated as +likely to bring disturbing elements <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page334" name="page334"></a>[pg 334]</span>into the mind. One may +doubtless change from belief to skepticism by too much searching. +It used to be a standing joke in Yale College, when I was a student +there, that a well-known professor reputed to be an Atheist, had +been perfectly orthodox until he had heard President Porter’s +lectures on the “Evidences of Christianity.” But +seriously, this objection is but another phase of the fallacy at +which we have already glanced—that doubts are fatal to +belief. I am certain that the professor in question might have +examined in detail every one of President Porter’s +“Evidences,” and found them wanting, only to discover +clearer and stronger grounds of belief elsewhere—in his mere +confidence in others, perhaps. Or he might have turned pragmatist +and believed in Christianity because it +“worked”—a valid reason in this case doubtless, +but not always to be depended on; because the Father of Lies +sometimes makes things “work” himself—at least +temporarily.</p> +<p>But if examining into the grounds of his belief makes a man +honestly give up that belief, then I bid him God-speed. I may weep +for him, but I cannot help believing that he stands better with his +Maker for being honest with himself than if he had gone on with his +parrot belief that meant absolutely nothing. I can not feel that +the Aztecs who were baptized by the followers of Cortes were any +more believers in Christianity after the ceremony than they were +before. It seems to me, however that a Christian, examining +faithfully the grounds of his belief, will usually have that belief +strengthened, and that a churchman, examining the doctrines of the +church will be similarly upheld.</p> +<p>Not that church instruction should be one-sided. The teaching +that tends to make us believe that every intelligent man thinks as +we do reacts against itself. <span class="pagenum"><a id="page335" +name="page335"></a>[pg 335]</span>It is like the unfortunate +temperance teaching that represents the liking for wine as always +acquired. When the pupil comes to taste wine and finds that he +likes it at once, he concludes that the whole body of instruction +in the physiology of alcohol is false and acts accordingly. When a +boy is taught that there is nothing of value beyond his own church, +or nothing of value outside of Christianity, he will think less of +his church, and less of Christianity when he finds intelligent, +upright, lovable outsiders. I look back with horror on some of the +books, piously prepared under the auspices of the S.P.C.K. in +London, that I used to take home from Sunday School. In them we +were told that a good man outside the church was worse than a bad +man in it. If that was not the teaching in the book, it was at +least the form in which it took lodgment in my boyish brain. Thank +God it never found permanent foothold there. Instead, I hold in my +memory the Eastern story of God’s rebuke to Abraham when he +expelled the Fire Worshipper from his tent. “Could you not +bear with him for one hour? Lo! I have borne with him these forty +years!”</p> +<p>I have always thought that a knowledge of what our neighbors +believe is an excellent balance-wheel to our own beliefs and that +our own beliefs, so balanced, will be saner and more restrained. It +would be well, I think, if we could have a survey of the +world’s religions, setting down in parallel columns all the +faiths of mankind. If this is too great a task we might begin with +a survey of Christianity, set down in the same way. I believe that +the results of such a survey might surprise us, showing, as I think +it would do, the many fundamentals that we hold in common and the +trivial nature of some of the barriers that appear to separate +us.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page336" name="page336"></a>[pg +336]</span>In your course, just completed, you have had such a +survey, I doubt not, of the beliefs of our own beloved church. +Where her divines have differed, you have had the varying opinions +spread before you. You have not been told that the mind of every +churchman has always been a replica of the mind of every other +churchman. Personally, I feel grateful that this has not been the +case. As I say my creed and begin “I believe in God, the +Father Almighty,” I realize that the aspect of even such a +basic belief as this, is the same in no two minds; that it shifts +from land to land and from age to age. I know that God, as he is, +is past human knowledge and that until we see Him face to face we +can not all mean just the same thing when we repeat this article of +belief. But I realize also that this is not due to the mutability +of the Almighty but to man’s variability. The Gods of St. +Jerome, of Thomas Carlyle and of William James are different; but +that is because these men had different types of minds. Behind +their human ideas stands God himself—“the same +yesterday, to-day and forever.” So we may go through the +creed; so we may study, as you have been doing, the beliefs of the +church. Everywhere we see the evidences of the working, upon +fallible human minds of a dim appreciation of something beyond full +human knowledge—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"That one far-off divine event</p> +<p>Toward which the Whole Creation moves."</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>We have a wonderful church, my friends. It is a church to live +with; a church to be proud of. Those who miss what we are +privileged to enjoy are missing something from the fulness of life. +We have not broken with the historic continuity of the Christian +faith: there is no chasm, filled with wreckage, between us and the +fathers of the church. Above all we have enshrined our beliefs in a +marvellous liturgy, <span class="pagenum"><a id="page337" name= +"page337"></a>[pg 337]</span>which is ever old and ever new, and +which had the good fortune to be put into English at a day when the +force of expression in our Mother tongue was peculiarly virile, yet +peculiarly lovely. I know of nothing in the whole range of English +literature that will compare with the collects as contained in our +Book of Common Prayer, for beauty, for form, for condensation and +for force. They are a string of pearls. And indeed, what I have +said of them applies to the whole book. When I see Committees of +well-meaning divines trying to tamper with it, I shudder as I might +if I witnessed the attempt of a guild of modern sculptors to +improve the Venus of Milo by chipping off a bit here and adding +something there. Good reasons exist for changes, doubtless; but I +feel that we have here a work of art, of divine art; and art is one +of God’s ways of reaching the human heart. We are proud that +we have not discarded it from our church buildings, from our +altars, from the music of our choirs. Let us treat tenderly our +great book of Common Prayer, like that other great masterpiece of +divine literary art, the King James version of the Bible. There are +plenty of better translations; there is not one that has the same +magic of words to fire the imagination and melt the heart.</p> +<p>These are all trite things to say to churchmen: I have tried, on +occasion, to say them to non-churchmen, but they do not seem to +respond. There are those who rejoice in their break with historic +continuity, who look upon a written form of service with horror. It +is well, as I have said, for us to realize that our friends hold +these opinions. One can not strengthen his muscles in a tug of war +unless some one is pulling the other way. The savor of religion, +like that of life itself, is in its contrasts. I thank God that we +have them even within our own Communion. <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page338" name="page338"></a>[pg 338]</span>We are +high-church and low-church and broad-church. We burn incense and we +wear Geneva gowns. This diversity is not to be condemned. What is +to be deprecated is the feeling among some of us that the diversity +should give place to uniformity—to uniformity of their own +kind, of course. To me, this would be a calamity. Let us continue +to make room in our church for individuality. God never intended +men to be pressed down in one mold of sameness. In the last +analysis, each of us has his own religious beliefs. The doctrines +of our church, or of any church are but a composite portrait of +these beliefs. But when one takes such a portrait throughout all +lands and in all time, and the features keep true, one can not help +regarding them as the divine lineaments.</p> +<p>This is how I would have you regard the beliefs of our church, +as you have studied them throughout this course—as our +particular composite photograph of the face of God, as He has +impressed it on the hearts and minds of each one of us. I commend +this view to those who have no reverence for beliefs, particularly +when they are formulated as creeds. These persons mean that they +have no regard for group beliefs but only for those of the +individual. Each has his own beliefs, and he must have confidence +in them, for they are the grounds on which he acts, if he is a +normal man. Even the faith of an Agnostic is based on a very +positive belief. As for me, I feel that the churchman goes one step +beyond him: he even doubts Doubt. Said Socrates: “I know +nothing except this one thing, that I know nothing. The rest of you +are ignorant even of this.” Socrates was a great man. If he +had been greater still, he might have said something like this: +“I freely acknowledge that a mathematical formula can not +satisfy all the cases that we discuss. But neither can it be stated +mathematically <span class="pagenum"><a id="page339" name= +"page339"></a>[pg 339]</span>that they are all unknowable. I am not +even sure that I know nothing.” Surely, under these +circumstances, we may give over looking for mathematical +demonstrations and believe a few things on our own +account—that our children love us—that our eyes do not +deceive us; that the soul lives on; that God rules all. We may put +our faith in what our own church teaches us, even as a child trusts +his father though he can not construct a single syllogism that will +increase that trust.</p> +<p>This does not mean that we shall not benefit by examining the +articles of our faith; by learning what they are, what they mean +and what others have thought of them. The churchman must combine, +in his mental habits, all that is best of the Conservative and the +Radical. While holding fast that which is good he must keep an open +mind toward every change that may serve to bring him nearer to the +truth or give him a clearer vision of it.</p> +<p>How we can insure this better than by such an institution as the +Church School for Religious Instruction I am sure I do not see. May +God guide it and aid it in its work!</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page341" name="page341"></a>[pg +341]</span> +<h2><a id="Index" name="Index">Index</a></h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<ul> +<li>Abraham, Story of, <a href="#page335">335</a></li> +<li>Action, test of belief, <a href="#page332">332</a></li> +<li>Ade, George, <a href="#page110">110</a>, <a href= +"#page170">170</a>; +<ul> +<li>fables in picture plays, <a href="#page319">319</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>Adults and children, compared, <a href="#page14">14</a></li> +<li>Advertisement of ideas, <a href="#page127">127</a></li> +<li>Aldrich, T.B., <a href="#page322">322</a></li> +<li>Alger, Horatio, <a href="#page16">16</a>, <a href= +"#page174">174</a></li> +<li>America, Fluid customs in, <a href="#page224">224</a></li> +<li>“America”, hymn, <a href="#page191">191</a></li> +<li>American Academy of Sciences, <a href="#page57">57</a></li> +<li>American ancestry, <a href="#page179">179</a>; +<ul> +<li>architecture, <a href="#page218">218</a>;</li> +<li>art, <a href="#page217">217</a>;</li> +<li>music, <a href="#page218">218</a>;</li> +<li>philosophy, <a href="#page220">220</a>;</li> +<li>religion, <a href="#page219">219</a>;</li> +<li>thought, tendencies of, <a href="#page213">213</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>American Association for the Advancement of Science, <a href= +"#page50">50</a></li> +<li>American Library Association, <a href="#page51">51</a></li> +<li>American Library Institute, <a href="#page52">52</a></li> +<li>American readers, <a href="#page42">42</a></li> +<li>Americanization, <a href="#page17">17</a>, <a href= +"#page73">73</a></li> +<li>Americanization of England, <a href="#page225">225</a></li> +<li>Ancestry, American, <a href="#page179">179</a></li> +<li>Anglo-Saxon ancestry, <a href="#page181">181</a></li> +<li>Architecture, American, <a href="#page218">218</a></li> +<li>Archives, family, <a href="#page184">184</a></li> +<li>Army, international, <a href="#page159">159</a></li> +<li>Art, American, <a href="#page217">217</a>; +<ul> +<li>effect of, <a href="#page163">163</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>Art, Early forms of, <a href="#page37">37</a></li> +<li>Association, value of, <a href="#page45">45</a></li> +<li>Atoms of energy and action, <a href="#page122">122</a></li> +<li>Attractiveness a selective feature, <a href= +"#page26">26</a></li> +<li>Austen, Jane, <a href="#page176">176</a></li> +<li>Author, Function of, <a href="#page67">67</a></li> +<li>Authors Club, N.Y., <a href="#page51">51</a></li> +<li>Auto-suggestion in drugs, <a href="#page233">233</a></li> +<li>Aviation, Newcomb’s opinion of, <a href= +"#page86">86</a></li> +<li style="padding-top:1em;">Belief, What is?, <a href= +"#page339">339</a></li> +<li>Bennett, Arnold, <a href="#page175">175</a></li> +<li>Bible, King James Version, <a href="#page337">337</a></li> +<li>Birth of a nation; picture play, <a href= +"#page322">322</a></li> +<li>Book-stores, disappearance of, <a href="#page238">238</a></li> +<li>Books in selective education, <a href="#page27">27</a></li> +<li>“Book-Taught Bilkins”, <a href="#page89">89</a>, +<a href="#page98">98</a></li> +<li>Book-titles, Possessive case in, <a href="#page19">19</a></li> +<li>Boston tea-party, <a href="#page183">183</a></li> +<li>Branch libraries, Reasons given for using, <a href= +"#page11">11</a></li> +<li>British Association, <a href="#page307">307</a></li> +<li>Brooklyn Public Library, <a href="#page4">4</a></li> +<li>Brown, Susannah H., who was she? <a href= +"#page281">281</a></li> +<li>Browsing, <a href="#page27">27</a>; +<ul> +<li>uses of, <a href="#page104">104</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>Bryce, James, quoted, <a href="#page216">216</a></li> +<li>Buildings, Monumental, <a href="#page141">141</a></li> +<li>Bulwer-Lytton, E.G.E.L., <a href="#page86">86</a></li> +<li>Burbank, Luther, <a href="#page24">24</a></li> +<li style="padding-top:1em;">Cabiria; motion picture play, <a href= +"#page319">319</a>, <a href="#page322">322</a></li> +<li>Captions in motion pictures, <a href="#page318">318</a></li> +<li>Carnegie, Andrew, <a href="#page77">77</a></li> +<li>Carnegie Institution, <a href="#page85">85</a>, <a href= +"#page306">306</a></li> +<li>Cartoonist, Anecdote of, <a href="#page294">294</a></li> +<li>Centre, What is a?, <a href="#page145">145</a></li> +<li>Centralized associations, <a href="#page58">58</a></li> +<li>Certainty and belief, <a href="#page330">330</a></li> +<li>Chaucer, <a href="#page293">293</a></li> +<li>Chautauqua, <a href="#page265">265</a></li> +<li>Chemistry, New drugs from, <a href="#page232">232</a></li> +<li>Chicago Evening Post, quoted, <a href="#page109">109</a></li> +<li>Chicago, Field houses in, <a href="#page148">148</a></li> +<li>Chicago Women’s Club, Paper before, <a href= +"#page197">197</a></li> +<li>Children’s editions, <a href="#page6">6</a>; +<ul> +<li>rooms, <a href="#page31">31</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>Christian Science and drugs, <a href="#page233">233</a></li> +<li>Christianity, <a href="#page331">331</a></li> +<li>Christmas book shows, <a href="#page170">170</a></li> +<li>Church School of religious instruction, <a href= +"#page329">329</a></li> +<li>Church, Use of symbols by, <a href="#page188">188</a></li> +<li>Churches of Christ in America, Federation of, <a href= +"#page220">220</a></li> +<li>Circulation by volumes, <a href="#page6">6</a>; +<ul> +<li>publicity value of, <a href="#page142">142</a>;</li> +<li>tables, <a href="#page7">7</a>, <a href="#page8">8</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>Circulation, Publicity, <a href="#page142">142</a></li> +<li>Civil Engineers, Society of, <a href="#page52">52</a></li> +<li>Civil War, Notions of, <a href="#page180">180</a></li> +<li>Classroom libraries, <a href="#page29">29</a></li> +<li>Clergy, Slight influence of, <a href="#page13">13</a></li> +<li>“Close-ups” in motion pictures, <a href= +"#page317">317</a></li> +<li>Clubs that meet in libraries, <a href="#page148">148</a></li> +<li>Clubwomen’s reading, <a href="#page259">259</a></li> +<li>Colloquial speech, <a href="#page92">92</a></li> +<li>Color-photography in motion pictures, <a href= +"#page327">327</a></li> +<li>Combat, Settlement by, <a href="#page158">158</a></li> +<li>Commercial travellers, <a href="#page198">198</a></li> +<li>Commission government, <a href="#page216">216</a></li> +<li>Constitution, United States, <a href="#page50">50</a>, <a href= +"#page214">214</a>; +<ul> +<li>amendment of, <a href="#page226">226</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>Continuum, <a href="#page116">116</a></li> +<li>Cook, Dr. Frederick, <a href="#page95">95</a></li> +<li>Copyright conference, <a href="#page53">53</a></li> +<li>Courses of reading, <a href="#page268">268</a></li> +<li>Court, International, <a href="#page159">159</a></li> +<li>Creeds, Uses of, <a href="#page333">333</a></li> +<li>Crowd-psychology on a ferry, <a href="#page247">247</a></li> +<li style="padding-top:1em;">Dante, <a href="#page46">46</a></li> +<li>D’Annunzio, G., <a href="#page322">322</a></li> +<li>Delivery stations in drug stores, <a href= +"#page241">241</a></li> +<li>Democracy a result, <a href="#page72">72</a>; +<ul> +<li>and ancestry, <a href="#page186">186</a>;</li> +<li>and despotism, <a href="#page213">213</a>;</li> +<li>conditions of, <a href="#page209">209</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>Department stores, <a href="#page238">238</a></li> +<li>Despotism and democracy, <a href="#page213">213</a></li> +<li>Dickens, pathos of, <a href="#page175">175</a></li> +<li>Disarmament, <a href="#page161">161</a></li> +<li>Discontinuity of the universe, <a href="#page124">124</a></li> +<li>Distribution of books, <a href="#page67">67</a>, <a href= +"#page129">129</a></li> +<li>Distributor, Library as a, <a href="#page198">198</a></li> +<li>Divorce, Freedom of, <a href="#page217">217</a></li> +<li>Don Quixote, Heine on, <a href="#page173">173</a></li> +<li>Drug-addiction, <a href="#page234">234</a></li> +<li>Drugs and the man, <a href="#page229">229</a></li> +<li style="padding-top:1em;">Eaton, Walter Pritchard, quoted, +<a href="#page316">316</a></li> +<li>Eclecticism in America, <a href="#page213">213</a></li> +<li>Economic advertising, <a href="#page130">130</a></li> +<li>Economic writings of Newcomb, <a href="#page86">86</a></li> +<li>Education, American, <a href="#page218">218</a>; +<ul> +<li>in recreation, <a href="#page100">100</a>;</li> +<li>modern methods of, <a href="#page63">63</a>;</li> +<li>of the community, <a href="#page243">243</a>;</li> +<li>of the sexes, <a href="#page273">273</a>;</li> +<li>post-scholastic, <a href="#page30">30</a>;</li> +<li>selective, <a href="#page23">23</a>, <a href= +"#page65">65</a>;</li> +<li>through books, <a href="#page90">90</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>Efficiency in association, <a href="#page48">48</a>; +<ul> +<li>What is? <a href="#page257">257</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>Elizabethan drama, <a href="#page323">323</a></li> +<li>Energetics, Theory of, <a href="#page114">114</a></li> +<li>Energy, Atomic theories of, <a href="#page113">113</a></li> +<li>England an elective monarchy, <a href="#page214">214</a>; +<ul> +<li>rigid customs in, <a href="#page224">224</a>;</li> +<li>source consciousness in, <a href="#page182">182</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>Ephemeral, Meaning of, <a href="#page36">36</a></li> +<li>Episcopalians, <a href="#page220">220</a></li> +<li>Eyes, injured by small type, <a href="#page302">302</a></li> +<li style="padding-top:1em;">Fairy tales, <a href= +"#page75">75</a></li> +<li>Falsity in books, <a href="#page39">39</a></li> +<li>Feminist movement, <a href="#page267">267</a></li> +<li>Flag, what it stands for, <a href="#page187">187</a></li> +<li>Fiction, <a href="#page39">39</a>; +<ul> +<li>interest in, <a href="#page137">137</a>;</li> +<li>intoxication by, <a href="#page40">40</a>, <a href= +"#page100">100</a>;</li> +<li>uses of, <a href="#page35">35</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>Fluids, Mixture of, <a href="#page118">118</a></li> +<li>Force symbolized by flag, <a href="#page194">194</a></li> +<li>Ford, Henry, <a href="#page237">237</a></li> +<li>Freedom, What is? <a href="#page192">192</a></li> +<li style="padding-top:1em;">Gallicism in book-titles, <a href= +"#page22">22</a></li> +<li>Gary system, <a href="#page246">246</a></li> +<li>Genealogy, American, <a href="#page179">179</a></li> +<li>Gibbs, J. Willard, quoted, <a href="#page118">118</a></li> +<li>Good-will, Influence of, <a href="#page17">17</a></li> +<li>Government, Federal, <a href="#page213">213</a></li> +<li>Gravitation, Law of, <a href="#page83">83</a></li> +<li>Gray’s Elegy, <a href="#page111">111</a></li> +<li>Greek tragedy, <a href="#page324">324</a></li> +<li>Group-action, <a href="#page45">45</a>; +<ul> +<li>on a ferry, <a href="#page247">247</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li style="padding-top:1em;">Hall, G. Stanley, quoted, <a href= +"#page253">253</a></li> +<li>Harvard Classics, <a href="#page109">109</a></li> +<li>Heine, Heinrich, quoted, <a href="#page173">173</a></li> +<li>Henry, Joseph, <a href="#page80">80</a></li> +<li>Heredity, and memory, <a href="#page73">73</a>; +<ul> +<li>History and, <a href="#page179">179</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>Hertzian waves, <a href="#page121">121</a></li> +<li>Hilgard, Julius, <a href="#page80">80</a></li> +<li>Hill, G.W., <a href="#page84">84</a></li> +<li>Holmes, Mary J., <a href="#page104">104</a></li> +<li>Homer, Methods of, <a href="#page198">198</a></li> +<li>Honesty, Lack of, <a href="#page32">32</a></li> +<li>Huey, Book by, <a href="#page305">305</a></li> +<li>Hunt, Leigh, <a href="#page109">109</a></li> +<li>Huret, Jules, <a href="#page41">41</a></li> +<li style="padding-top:1em;">Identity, Meaning of, <a href= +"#page114">114</a></li> +<li>Impeachment, <a href="#page214">214</a></li> +<li>Indicator, in English libraries, <a href= +"#page225">225</a></li> +<li>Indifference to books, <a href="#page133">133</a></li> +<li>Information in books, <a href="#page94">94</a></li> +<li>Inspiration from books, <a href="#page101">101</a></li> +<li>Intemperance in reading, <a href="#page40">40</a>, <a href= +"#page100">100</a></li> +<li>Interest, Importance of, <a href="#page287">287</a>, <a href= +"#page289">289</a>; +<ul> +<li>Necessity of, <a href="#page5">5</a>, <a href= +"#page137">137</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>International agreements in science, <a href= +"#page85">85</a></li> +<li>Internationalism, <a href="#page159">159</a></li> +<li>Intoxication by fiction, <a href="#page40">40</a>, <a href= +"#page100">100</a></li> +<li>Ivanhoe, <a href="#page175">175</a></li> +<li style="padding-top:1em;">James, William, <a href= +"#page138">138</a>; +<ul> +<li>founder of pragmatism, <a href="#page221">221</a>;</li> +<li>quoted, <a href="#page287">287</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li style="padding-top:1em;">Keith, Cleveland, <a href= +"#page84">84</a></li> +<li>Kent, William, quoted, <a href="#page229">229</a></li> +<li>Kepler, quoted, <a href="#page177">177</a></li> +<li>Kinemacolor process, <a href="#page327">327</a></li> +<li>Kinetic theory, <a href="#page120">120</a></li> +<li>Koopman, H.L., <a href="#page308">308</a></li> +<li style="padding-top:1em;">Lagrange, <a href= +"#page114">114</a></li> +<li>Languages, written and spoken, <a href="#page90">90</a></li> +<li>Large type, Books in, <a href="#page301">301</a></li> +<li>Law, Enforcement of, <a href="#page158">158</a></li> +<li>Le Bon, Gustave, <a href="#page45">45</a></li> +<li>Lee, Gerald Stanley, <a href="#page77">77</a></li> +<li>Legibility of type, <a href="#page306">306</a></li> +<li>Libbey, Laura Jean, <a href="#page41">41</a>, <a href= +"#page104">104</a></li> +<li>Libraries, Economic features of, <a href="#page67">67</a></li> +<li>Library associations. <a href="#page49">49</a>; +<ul> +<li>Non-partisanship of, <a href="#page70">70</a>, <a href= +"#page96">96</a>, <a href="#page152">152</a>;</li> +<li>Private basis of, <a href="#page169">169</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>Lindsay, Vachell, <a href="#page321">321</a></li> +<li>Lines, Length of on printed page, <a href= +"#page309">309</a></li> +<li>Liouville’s theorem, <a href="#page123">123</a></li> +<li>Lippmann, Walter, quoted, <a href="#page216">216</a>, <a href= +"#page228">228</a></li> +<li>Literature an art, <a href="#page165">165</a>; +<ul> +<li>evaluation of, <a href="#page95">95</a>;</li> +<li>static and dynamic, <a href="#page35">35</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>Los Angeles Public Library, <a href="#page96">96</a></li> +<li>Lower-case letters. <a href="#page307">307</a></li> +<li>Loyalists, United Empire, <a href="#page180">180</a></li> +<li>Lummis, Chas. F., <a href="#page96">96</a></li> +<li>Lunar theory, <a href="#page84">84</a></li> +<li style="padding-top:1em;">Magazines, Support of, <a href= +"#page68">68</a></li> +<li>Magical remedies, <a href="#page233">233</a></li> +<li>Magnet, Definition of, <a href="#page87">87</a></li> +<li>Make-up in motion pictures, <a href="#page317">317</a></li> +<li>Malemployment, <a href="#page229">229</a></li> +<li>Maxwell Jas. Clerk, <a href="#page115">115</a></li> +<li>Mayflower, The, <a href="#page183">183</a></li> +<li>Medical Record, Strasburg, <a href="#page305">305</a></li> +<li>Meetings in libraries, <a href="#page147">147</a></li> +<li>Memory, Latent, <a href="#page74">74</a></li> +<li>Meredith, Geo., <a href="#page110">110</a></li> +<li>Mexican commission, <a href="#page194">194</a></li> +<li>Military associations, <a href="#page48">48</a></li> +<li>Mill, John Stuart, <a href="#page243">243</a>, <a href= +"#page244">244</a></li> +<li>Mind, Male and female types, <a href="#page272">272</a></li> +<li>Moderation, Lack of in America, <a href="#page235">235</a></li> +<li>Mohammedanism, <a href="#page219">219</a></li> +<li>Molecular theory, <a href="#page115">115</a></li> +<li>Moon’s motion, <a href="#page84">84</a></li> +<li>Morals, Eclecticism in, <a href="#page216">216</a></li> +<li>Morgan, J.P., <a href="#page169">169</a></li> +<li>Motives of library users, <a href="#page11">11</a></li> +<li>Moving pictures, <a href="#page313">313</a></li> +<li>Municipal ownership and operation, <a href= +"#page154">154</a></li> +<li>Music, American, <a href="#page218">218</a></li> +<li style="padding-top:1em;">N-ray, <a href="#page333">333</a></li> +<li>Narrative, earliest literary form, <a href= +"#page37">37</a></li> +<li>National Academy of Fine Arts, <a href="#page57">57</a></li> +<li>National Academy of Science, <a href="#page52">52</a></li> +<li>National Education Association, <a href="#page50">50</a>; +<ul> +<li>Address before, <a href="#page145">145</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>Nautical Almanac, <a href="#page80">80</a></li> +<li>New country, What is? <a href="#page182">182</a></li> +<li>New England Society, <a href="#page179">179</a></li> +<li>New York, Free Circulating Library, <a href= +"#page19">19</a></li> +<li>New York, Library support in, <a href="#page200">200</a>; +<ul> +<li>West side readers, <a href="#page42">42</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>New York Public Library, <a href="#page11">11</a>, <a href= +"#page30">30</a>, <a href="#page220">220</a></li> +<li>Newcomb, Simon, Sketch of, <a href="#page79">79</a></li> +<li>Newspapers, <a href="#page36">36</a></li> +<li>Newton, Isaac, <a href="#page83">83</a></li> +<li>Non-partisanship of library, <a href="#page250">250</a></li> +<li>Norris, Frank, <a href="#page322">322</a></li> +<li style="padding-top:1em;">Omar Khayyam, <a href= +"#page108">108</a></li> +<li>Open shelves, <a href="#page104">104</a>; +<ul> +<li>Origin of, <a href="#page225">225</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>Optic, Oliver, <a href="#page174">174</a></li> +<li>Ostwald, Wilhelm, <a href="#page114">114</a></li> +<li style="padding-top:1em;">Pacifism, <a href= +"#page157">157</a></li> +<li>Pageant of St. Louis, <a href="#page188">188</a></li> +<li>Pantomime in the motion picture, <a href= +"#page320">320</a></li> +<li>Papers, Ready-made, for clubs, <a href="#page270">270</a>; +<ul> +<li>scientific, <a href="#page275">275</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>Pater, Walter, <a href="#page168">168</a></li> +<li>Paulist fathers, <a href="#page220">220</a></li> +<li>Pauperization, intellectual, <a href="#page68">68</a></li> +<li>Pendleton, A.M., quoted, <a href="#page140">140</a></li> +<li>Perry, Bliss, quoted, <a href="#page211">211</a></li> +<li>Pharmacy, School of, address to, <a href= +"#page229">229</a></li> +<li>Philadelphia Free Library, Address at, <a href= +"#page67">67</a></li> +<li>Philosophy, an interesting subject, <a href="#page133">133</a>, +<a href="#page138">138</a>; +<ul> +<li>in America, <a href="#page220">220</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>Phonograph, Uses of, <a href="#page94">94</a></li> +<li>Physics made interesting, <a href="#page138">138</a></li> +<li>Pickford, Mary, <a href="#page247">247</a>, <a href= +"#page317">317</a></li> +<li>Planck, Max, <a href="#page113">113</a>, <a href= +"#page120">120</a></li> +<li>Planets, Orbits of, <a href="#page83">83</a></li> +<li>Players’ Club, N.Y., <a href="#page51">51</a></li> +<li>Pocahontas, <a href="#page183">183</a></li> +<li>Poincaré, Henri, <a href="#page113">113</a>, <a href= +"#page120">120</a></li> +<li>“Poison labels” for books, <a href= +"#page96">96</a></li> +<li>Porter, Noah, <a href="#page334">334</a></li> +<li>Posse, International, <a href="#page159">159</a></li> +<li>Possessive case, Use of, <a href="#page19">19</a></li> +<li>Pragmatism in America, <a href="#page221">221</a></li> +<li>Prayer Book as literature, <a href="#page337">337</a></li> +<li>Prescott, William H., <a href="#page95">95</a></li> +<li>Press, Slight influence of, <a href="#page13">13</a></li> +<li>Pride, Personal and group, <a href="#page185">185</a></li> +<li>Princeton University, <a href="#page219">219</a></li> +<li>Printing Art, magazine, <a href="#page308">308</a></li> +<li>Programitis, club disease, <a href="#page286">286</a></li> +<li>Programmes, Club, <a href="#page268">268</a>, <a href= +"#page280">280</a>, <a href="#page295">295</a></li> +<li>Public as library owners, <a href="#page205">205</a></li> +<li>Public Library, <a href="#page169">169</a>; +<ul> +<li>eclecticism of, <a href="#page221">221</a>;</li> +<li>people’s share in, <a href="#page197">197</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>Publicity, Library, <a href="#page140">140</a></li> +<li>Publisher, Function of, <a href="#page67">67</a></li> +<li>Puritanism, <a href="#page219">219</a></li> +<li style="padding-top:1em;">Quanta, <a href="#page121">121</a>; +<ul> +<li>hypothesis of, <a href="#page113">113</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li style="padding-top:1em;">Race-record, Library as a, <a href= +"#page74">74</a></li> +<li>Radio-activity, <a href="#page231">231</a></li> +<li>Rayleigh’s Law, <a href="#page120">120</a></li> +<li>Readers, Do they read? <a href="#page3">3</a></li> +<li>Reading, mechanism of, <a href="#page91">91</a>; +<ul> +<li>skill in, <a href="#page135">135</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>Realism in education, <a href="#page246">246</a>; +<ul> +<li>in motion pictures, <a href="#page314">314</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>Recall, earliest form of, <a href="#page213">213</a></li> +<li>Records, varieties of, <a href="#page94">94</a></li> +<li>Recreation through books, <a href="#page99">99</a></li> +<li>Religion in America, <a href="#page219">219</a></li> +<li>Renewal, Preservation by, <a href="#page97">97</a></li> +<li>Repetition a test of art, <a href="#page166">166</a></li> +<li>Reprinting, Use of, <a href="#page98">98</a></li> +<li>Re-reading, Art of, <a href="#page163">163</a></li> +<li>Residual personality, <a href="#page290">290</a></li> +<li>Resonators, <a href="#page121">121</a></li> +<li>Revolution, American, notions of, <a href="#page180">180</a>; +<ul> +<li>versus evolution, <a href="#page279">279</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>Revue Scientifique, <a href="#page113">113</a></li> +<li>Roethlin, Barbara E., <a href="#page306">306</a></li> +<li>Roman Catholic Church, <a href="#page220">220</a></li> +<li>Roman viewpoint in history, <a href="#page181">181</a></li> +<li>Rome, decadence of, <a href="#page227">227</a></li> +<li>Rousiers, Paul de., quoted, <a href="#page55">55</a>, <a href= +"#page56">56</a>, <a href="#page57">57</a></li> +<li style="padding-top:1em;">St. Louis Academy of Science, paper +before, <a href="#page113">113</a></li> +<li>St. Louis, library tax in, <a href="#page200">200</a></li> +<li>St. Louis Public Library, <a href="#page140">140</a>, <a href= +"#page254">254</a>, <a href="#page302">302</a>; +<ul> +<li>meetings in, <a href="#page150">150</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>Sampling books, <a href="#page110">110</a></li> +<li>Scenery in motion pictures, <a href="#page317">317</a>; +<ul> +<li>in Elizabethan drama, <a href="#page323">323</a>;</li> +<li>made of motion pictures, <a href="#page327">327</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>School libraries, <a href="#page29">29</a></li> +<li>School, Non-partisanship of, <a href="#page70">70</a>; +<ul> +<li>Community use of, <a href="#page155">155</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>Schoolmen of N.Y., Paper before, <a href="#page23">23</a></li> +<li>Scientific societies, <a href="#page52">52</a></li> +<li>“See America First” movement, <a href= +"#page191">191</a></li> +<li>Selection In nature, <a href="#page23">23</a>; +<ul> +<li>mechanical, <a href="#page47">47</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>Selective education, <a href="#page65">65</a></li> +<li>Sex in library use, <a href="#page15">15</a></li> +<li>Sexes, differences of, <a href="#page272">272</a></li> +<li>Shakespeare, <a href="#page178">178</a>; +<ul> +<li>changes in, <a href="#page293">293</a>;</li> +<li>rank of, <a href="#page168">168</a>;</li> +<li>unavailable for stage, <a href="#page323">323</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>Shaw, Edw. R., <a href="#page304">304</a></li> +<li>Social Centre movement, <a href="#page145">145</a></li> +<li>Society for Psychical Research, <a href="#page82">82</a></li> +<li>Society of Illuminating Engineers, <a href= +"#page57">57</a></li> +<li>Socrates, quoted, <a href="#page338">338</a></li> +<li>Sorolla, <a href="#page164">164</a></li> +<li>Southern views of Civil War, <a href="#page180">180</a></li> +<li>Spelling reform, <a href="#page93">93</a></li> +<li>Staginess of the theatre, <a href="#page315">315</a></li> +<li>Standard Dictionary, <a href="#page87">87</a></li> +<li>Standards in literature, <a href="#page36">36</a></li> +<li>Statistics of reading, actual, <a href="#page4">4</a></li> +<li>Story-telling, <a href="#page37">37</a>; +<ul> +<li>extraordinary, <a href="#page282">282</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>Structure of energy, <a href="#page118">118</a></li> +<li>Superficiality, meaning of, <a href="#page105">105</a>; +<a href="#page269">269</a></li> +<li>Swift, Dean, <a href="#page208">208</a></li> +<li>Symbols, Use of, <a href="#page188">188</a></li> +<li style="padding-top:1em;">Taste, literary, <a href= +"#page171">171</a>; +<ul> +<li>origin of, <a href="#page4">4</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +<li>Tax, library, <a href="#page200">200</a></li> +<li>Teacher, influence of, <a href="#page13">13</a>, <a href= +"#page243">243</a></li> +<li>Text-books, Defects of, <a href="#page270">270</a></li> +<li>Therapeutics, Changes in, <a href="#page230">230</a></li> +<li>Tocqueville, de., quoted, <a href="#page56">56</a></li> +<li>Toronto, University of, <a href="#page220">220</a></li> +<li>Trade-literature, <a href="#page98">98</a></li> +<li>Tradition, Uses of, <a href="#page93">93</a></li> +<li>Travel, Foreign, in United States, <a href= +"#page41">41</a></li> +<li>Trollope, Anthony, <a href="#page176">176</a></li> +<li>Tutorial system, <a href="#page219">219</a></li> +<li>Tyndall, John, <a href="#page138">138</a></li> +<li>Type sizes, Standardization of, <a href="#page304">304</a></li> +<li style="padding-top:1em;">Un-American, what is? <a href= +"#page226">226</a></li> +<li>Unfitness, Elimination of, <a href="#page24">24</a></li> +<li>Union, symbolized by flag, <a href="#page189">189</a></li> +<li>Unity of place on the stage, <a href="#page324">324</a></li> +<li>Universal City, <a href="#page317">317</a></li> +<li style="padding-top:1em;">Value, Structure of, <a href= +"#page119">119</a></li> +<li>Van Dyke, Henry, quoted, <a href="#page193">193</a></li> +<li>Verne, Jules, <a href="#page86">86</a></li> +<li>Violence, systematization of, <a href="#page157">157</a></li> +<li>Vision, Conservation of, <a href="#page305">305</a></li> +<li>Volumes, Statistics by, <a href="#page4">4</a></li> +<li style="padding-top:1em;">Walton, Isaac, <a href= +"#page165">165</a></li> +<li>War, European, <a href="#page209">209</a>, <a href= +"#page249">249</a>; status of, <a href="#page158">158</a></li> +<li>Wesley, John, <a href="#page46">46</a></li> +<li>West, source-consciousness of, <a href="#page182">182</a></li> +<li>White, Gilbert, <a href="#page165">165</a></li> +<li>Wien, Wilhelm, <a href="#page122">122</a></li> +<li>Women’s Clubs, <a href="#page210">210</a>; reading of, +<a href="#page259">259</a></li> +<li>Woodbury, George E., quoted, <a href="#page219">219</a></li> +<li style="padding-top:1em;">Yale Alumni Weekly, quoted, <a href= +"#page292">292</a></li> +</ul> +<hr /> +<h3>Footnotes</h3> +<h6>(click footnote to return to text)</h6> +<blockquote> +<ol> +<li><a id="footnote1" name="footnote1" href="#footnotetag1">Read +before the Schoolmen of New York.</a></li> +<li><a id="footnote2" name="footnote2" href="#footnotetag2">Read +before the American Library Association, Asheville Conference, May +28, 1907</a></li> +<li><a id="footnote3" name="footnote3" href="#footnotetag3">An +address delivered before the Library Associations of Iowa, +Nebraska, Kansas, Missouri, Indiana and Ohio, October 9-18, +1907.</a></li> +<li><a id="footnote4" name="footnote4" href="#footnotetag4">Read at +the opening of the Chestnut Hill Branch, Philadelphia Free Library, +January 22, 1909.</a></li> +<li><a id="footnote5" name="footnote5" href="#footnotetag5">Read +before the Pacific Northwest Library Association, June, +1910.</a></li> +<li><a id="footnote6" name="footnote6" href="#footnotetag6">Read +before the St. Louis Academy of Science.</a></li> +<li><a id="footnote7" name="footnote7" href="#footnotetag7">Read +before the National Education Association.</a></li> +<li><a id="footnote8" name="footnote8" href="#footnotetag8">Read +before the New England Society of St. Louis.</a></li> +<li><a id="footnote9" name="footnote9" href="#footnotetag9">An +address on Flag Day made in St. Peter's Church, St. Louis.</a></li> +<li><a id="footnote10" name="footnote10" href="#footnotetag10">The +Pageant and Masque of St. Louis, 1915.</a></li> +<li><a id="footnote11" name="footnote11" href= +"#footnotetag11">United States and "A-B-C" Commissions on the State +of Mexico.</a></li> +<li><a id="footnote12" name="footnote12" href="#footnotetag12">Read +before the Chicago Woman's Club. January 6, 1915.</a></li> +<li><a id="footnote13" name="footnote13" href="#footnotetag13">Read +before the New York Library Association at Squirrel Inn, Haines +Falls, September 28, 1915.</a></li> +<li><a id="footnote14" name="footnote14" href="#footnotetag14">A +Commencement address to the graduating class of the School of +Pharmacy, St. Louis, May 19, 1915.</a></li> +<li><a id="footnote15" name="footnote15" href="#footnotetag15">Read +before the American Library Association, Asbury Park, N.J., June +27, 1916.</a></li> +<li><a id="footnote16" name="footnote16" href="#footnotetag16">Read +before the Town and Gown Club, St. Louis.</a></li> +<li><a id="footnote17" name="footnote17" href= +"#footnotetag17">Address at the closing session of the Church +School of Religious Instruction, St. Louis.</a></li> +</ol> +</blockquote> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13430 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |