Qualifications of a Librarian.
In directing attention to some of the more important elements which should enter into the character and acquirements of a librarian, I shall perhaps not treat them in the order of their relative importance. Thus, some persons might consider the foremost qualification for one aspiring to the position of a librarian to be wide knowledge in literature and science: others would say that the possession of sound common sense is above all things essential; others an excellent and retentive memory; still others might insist that business habits and administrative faculty are all-important; and others again, a zeal for learning and for communicating it to others.
I shall not venture to pronounce what, among the multitude of talents that are requisite to constitute a good librarian is the most requisite. Suffice it to say, that all of them which I shall notice are important, and that the order of their treatment determines nothing as to which are more and which are less important. So much is expected of librarians that it actually appears as if a large portion of the public were of the opinion that it is the duty of him who has a library in charge to possess himself, in some occult or mysterious way, unknown to the common mind, of all the knowledge which all the books combine.
The Librarian of the British Museum, speaking to a conference of librarians in London, quoted a remark of Pattison, in his "Life of Casaubon," that "the librarian who reads is lost." This was certainly true of that great scholar Casaubon, who in his love for the contents of the books under his charge, forgot his duties as a librarian. And it is to a large degree true of librarians in general, that those who pursue their own personal reading or study during library hours do it at the expense of their usefulness as librarians. They must be content with such snatches of reading as come in the definite pursuit of some object of research incident to their library work, supplemented by such reading time as unoccupied evenings, Sundays, and annual vacations may give them.
Yet nothing is more common than for applicants for the position of librarians or assistant librarians to base their aspiration upon the foolish plea that they are "so fond of reading", or that they "have always been in love with books." So far from this being a qualification, it may become a disqualification. Unless combined with habits of practical, serious, unremitting application to labor, the taste for reading may seduce its possessor into spending the minutes and the hours which belong to the public, in his own private gratification. The conscientious, the useful librarian, living amid the rich intellectual treasures of centuries, the vast majority of which he has never read, must be content daily to enact the part of Tantalus, in the presence of a tempting and appetizing banquet which is virtually beyond his reach.
But he may console himself by the reflection that comparatively few of the books upon his shelves are so far worth reading as to be essential. "If I had read as many books as other men," said Hobbes of Malmesbury, "I should have been as ignorant as they."
If the librarian, in the precious time which is indisputably his, reads a wise selection of the best books, the masterpieces of the literature of all lands, which have been consecrated by time and the suffrages of successive generations of readers, he can well afford to apply to the rest, the short-hand method recommended in a former chapter, and skim them in the intervals of his daily work, instead of reading them. Thus he will become sufficiently familiar with the new books of the day (together with the information about their contents and merits furnished by the literary reviews, which he must read, however sparingly, in order to keep up with his profession) to be able to furnish readers with some word of comment as to most books coming into the Library. This course, or as close an approximation to it as his multifarious duties will permit, will go far to solve the problem that confronts every librarian who is expected to be an exponent of universal knowledge. Always refraining from unqualified praise of books (especially of new ones) always maintaining that impartial attitude toward men and opinions which becomes the librarian, he should act the part of a liberal, eclectic, catholic guide to inquirers of every kind.
And here let me emphasize the great importance to every librarian or assistant of early learning to make the most of his working faculties. He cannot afford to plod along through a book, sentence by sentence, like an ordinary reader. He must learn to read a sentence at a glance. The moment his eye lights upon a title-page he should be able to take it all in by a comprehensive and intuitive mental process. Too much stress cannot be laid upon the every-day habit or method of reading. It makes all the difference between time saved, and time wasted; between efficiency and inefficiency; between rapid progress and standing still, in one's daily work. No pains should be spared, before entering upon the all-engrossing work of a library, to acquire the habit of rapid reading. An eminent librarian of one of the largest libraries was asked whether he did not find a great deal of time to read? His reply was—"I wish that I could ever get as much as one hour a day for reading—but I have never been able to do it." Of course every librarian must spend much time in special researches; and in this way a good deal of some of his days will be spent in acquainting himself with the resources of his library; but this is incidental and not systematic reading.
In viewing the essential qualifications of a librarian, it is necessary to say at the outset that a library is no place for uneducated people. The requirements of the position are such as to demand not only native talent above the average, but also intellectual acquirements above the average. The more a librarian knows, the more he is worth, and the converse of the proposition is equally true, that the less he knows the less he is worth. Before undertaking the arduous task of guiding others in their intellectual pursuits, one should make sure that he is himself so well-grounded in learning that he can find the way in which to guide them. To do this, he must indispensably have something more than a smattering of the knowledge that lies at the foundation of his profession. He must be, if not widely read, at least carefully grounded in history, science, literature, and art. While he may not, like Lord Bacon, take all knowledge to be his province, because he is not a Lord Bacon, nor if he were, could he begin to grasp the illimitable domain of books of science and literature which have been added to human knowledge in the two centuries and a half since Bacon wrote, he can at least, by wise selection, master enough of the leading works in each field, to make him a well-informed scholar. That great treasury of information on the whole circle of the sciences, and the entire range of literature, the Encyclopaedia Britannica, judiciously studied, will alone give what would appear to the average mind, a very liberal education.
One of the most common and most inconsiderate questions propounded to a librarian is this: "Do you ever expect to read all these books through?" and it is well answered by propounding another question, namely—"Did you ever read your dictionary through?" A great library is the scholar's dictionary—not to be read through, but to enable him to put his finger on the fact he wants, just when it is wanted.
A knowledge of some at least of the foreign languages is indispensable to the skilled librarian. In fact, any one aspiring to become an assistant in any large library, or the head of any small one, should first acquire at least an elementary knowledge of French and Latin. Aside from books in other languages than English which necessarily form part of every considerable library, there are innumerable quotations or words in foreign tongues scattered through books and periodicals in English, which a librarian, appealed to by readers who are not scholars, would be mortified if found unable to interpret them. The librarian who does not understand several languages will be continually at a loss in his daily work. A great many important catalogues, and bibliographies, essential parts of the equipment of a library, will be lost to him as aids, and he can neither select foreign books intelligently nor catalogue them properly. If he depends upon the aid of others more expert, his position will be far from agreeable or satisfactory. How many and what foreign languages should be learned may be matter for wide difference of opinion. But so far-reaching is the prevalence of the Latin, as one of the principal sources of our own language, and of other modern tongues, that a knowledge of it is most important. And so rich is the literature of France, to say nothing of the vast number of French words constantly found in current English and American books and periodicals, that at least a fairly thorough mastery of that language should be acquired. The same may be said of the German, which is even more important in some parts of the United States, and which has a literature most copious and valuable in every varied department of knowledge. With these three tongues once familiar, the Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, Dutch, and Scandinavian languages may be, through the aid of dictionaries, so far utilized as to enable one to read titles and catalogue books in any of them, although a knowledge of all, so as to be able to read books in them, is highly desirable.
In the Boston Public Library, the assistants are required to possess an adequate knowledge of Latin, French, and German. And all candidates for positions in the reading-room of the British Museum Library must undergo a thorough test examination as to their knowledge of the Latin language. Opportunities for acquiring foreign languages are now so abundant that there is small excuse for any one who wants to know French, Latin or German, and yet goes through life without learning them. There are even ways of learning these languages with sufficient thoroughness for reading purposes without a teacher, and sometimes without a text-book. Two assistant librarians taught themselves French and German in their evenings, by setting out to read familiar works of English fiction in translations into those languages, and soon acquired a good working knowledge of both, so as to be able to read any work in either, with only occasional aid from the dictionary for the less common words. It is surprising how soon one can acquire a sufficient vocabulary in any language, by reading any of its great writers. A good way for a beginner to learn French without a master is to take a French New Testament, and read the four Gospels through. After doing this three or four times, almost any one who is at all familiar with the Scriptures, will be able to read most books in the French language with facility. In the great art of learning, all doors are easily unlocked—by those who have the key.
It should go without saying that the librarian should possess a wide knowledge of books. This knowledge should include (1) an acquaintance with ancient and modern literature, so as to be able to characterize the notable writers in each of the leading languages of the world; (2) a knowledge of history extensive enough to enable him to locate all the great characters, including authors, in their proper century and country; (3) a knowledge of editions, so as to discriminate between the old and the new, the full and the abridged, the best edited, best printed, etc.; (4) an acquaintance with the intrinsic value or the subject and scope of most of the great books of the world; (5) a knowledge of commercial values, so as to be able to bid or to buy understandingly, and with proper economy; (6) a familiarity with what constitutes condition in library books, and with binding and repairing processes, for the restoration of imperfect volumes for use.
The librarian should be one who has had the benefit of thorough preliminary training, for no novice is qualified to undertake the role of an expert, and any attempt to do so can result only in disappointment and failure. No one who has read little or nothing but novels since leaving school need ever hope to succeed.
No librarian can know too much, since his work brings him into relation with the boundless domain of human knowledge. He should not be a specialist in science (except in the one science of bibliography) but must be content with knowing a little about a great many things, rather than knowing everything about one thing. Much converse with books must fill him with a sense of his own ignorance. The more he comes to know, the wider will open before him the illimitable realm of what is yet to be known. In the lowest deep which research the most profound can reach, there is a lower deep still unattained—perhaps, even, unattainable. But the fact that he cannot by any possibility master all human knowledge should not deter the student from making ever advancing inroads upon that domain. The vast extent of the world of books only emphasizes the need of making a wise selection from the mass. We are brought inevitably back to that precept by every excursion that we make into whatever field of literature.
The librarian should possess, besides a wide acquaintance with books, a faculty of administration, and this rests upon careful business habits. He should have a system in all the library work. Every assistant should have a prescribed task, and be required to learn and to practice all the methods peculiar to library economy, including the economy of time. Each day's business should be so organized as to show an advance at the end. The library must of course have rules, and every rule should be so simple and so reasonable that it will commend itself to every considerate reader or library assistant. All questions of doubt or dispute as to the observance of any regulation, should be decided at once, courteously but firmly, and in a few words. Nothing can be more unseemly than a wrangle in a public library over some rule or its application, disturbing readers who are entitled to silence, and consuming time that should be given to the service of the public.
When Thomas Carlyle, one of the great scholars of modern times, testified in 1848 before a Parliamentary Commission upon the British Museum Library, he thus spoke of the qualifications of a librarian:
"All must depend upon the kind of management you get within the library itself. You must get a good pilot to steer the ship, or you will never get into the harbor. You must have a man to direct who knows well what the duty is that he has to do, and who is determined to go through that, in spite of all clamor raised against him; and who is not anxious to obtain approbation, but is satisfied that he will obtain it by and by, provided he acts ingenuously and faithfully."
Another quality most important in a librarian is an even temper. He should be always and unfailingly courteous, not only to scholars and visitors of high consideration, but to every reader, however humble or ignorant, and to every employee, however subordinate in position. There is nothing which more detracts from one's usefulness than a querulous temper. Its possessor is seldom happy himself, and is the frequent cause of unhappiness in others. Visitors and questions should never be met with a clouded brow. A cheerful "good-morning" goes a great way oftentimes. Many library visitors come in a complaining mood—it may be from long waiting to be served, or from mistake in supplying them with the wrong books, or from errors in charging their accounts, or from some fancied neglect or slight, or from any other cause. The way to meet such ill-humored or offended readers is to gently explain the matter, with that "soft answer which turneth away wrath." Many a foolish and useless altercation may thus be avoided, and the complainant restored to cheerfulness, if not to courtesy; whereas, if the librarian were to meet the case with a sharp or haughty answer, it would probably end without satisfaction on either side. Whatever you do, never permit yourself to be irritable, and resolve never to be irritated. It will make you unhappy, and will breed irritation in others. Cheerfulness under all circumstances, however difficult, is the duty and the interest of the librarian. Thus he will cultivate successfully an obliging disposition, which is a prime requisite to his success with the public and his usefulness as a librarian.
It ought not to be requisite to insist upon good health as a condition precedent for any one aspiring to be a librarian. So very much depends upon this, that it should form a part of the conscientious duty of every one to acquire and maintain a sound condition of physical health, as a most important adjunct of a thoroughly sound and healthy condition of the mind. This is easier than most persons are aware. If we except inherited constitutional weaknesses, or maladies of a serious character, there is almost no one who is not able by proper diet, regimen, and daily exercise, to maintain a degree of health which will enable him to use his brain to its full working capacity. It demands an intelligent and watchful care of the daily regimen, so that only simple and wholesome food and drink may be taken into the system, and what is equally important, adequate sleep, and habitual moderate exercise. No one can maintain perfect health without breathing good unadulterated air, and exercising in it with great frequency. One's walks to and from the library may be sufficient to give this, and it is well to have the motive of such a walk, since exercise taken for the mere purpose of it is of far less value. The habit of taking drugs, or going to a doctor for every little malady, is most pernicious. Every one, and especially a librarian, who is supposed (however erroneously) to know everything, should know more of his own constitution than any physician. With a few judicious experiments in daily regimen, and a little abstinence now and then, he can subdue head-aches, catarrhs and digestive troubles, and by exercising an intelligent will, can generally prevent their recurrence. If one finds himself in the morning in a state of languor and lassitude, be sure he has abused some physical function, and apply a remedy. An invalid will make a poorly equipped librarian. How can a dyspeptic who dwells in the darkness of a disease, be a guiding light to the multitudes who beset him every hour? There are few callings demanding as much mental and physical soundness and alertness as the care of a public library.
Sound common sense is as essential to the librarian as sound health. He should always take the practical straightforward view of every item of library business and management, remembering that the straight road is always the shortest way between two points. While he may be full of ideas, he should be neither an idealist nor a dreamer. In library methods, the cardinal requisites to be aimed at, are utility and convenience. A person of the most perfect education, and the highest literary attainments, but destitute of common sense, will not succeed in the conduct of a library. That intuitive judgment, which sees the reason of everything at a glance, and applies the proper agencies to the case in hand, is wanting in his composition. Multitudes of emergencies arise in library service, where the prompt and practical sense of the librarian is required to settle a dispute, adjust a difficulty, or to direct what is to be done in some arrangement or re-arrangement of books, or some library appliance or repair. In such cases, the unpractical or impracticable man will be very likely to decide wrongly, choosing the inconvenient method instead of the convenient, the more costly instead of the more economical, the laborious in place of the obvious and easy; in short, some way of doing the work or settling the difficulty which will not permit it to stay settled, or will require the work to be done over again. The man of common-sense methods, on the other hand, will at once see the end from the beginning, anticipate every difficulty, and decide upon the proper course without trouble or hesitation, finding his judgment fully vindicated by the result.
The librarian in whom the quality of common sense is well developed will be ever ready to devise or to accept improvements in library methods. Never a slave to "red tape," he will promptly cut it wherever and whenever it stands in the way of the readiest service of books and information to all comers.
Another quality which every librarian or assistant in a library should possess is a thorough love of his work. He should cherish a noble enthusiasm for the success and usefulness of the institution with which he has chosen to be associated. Nor should this spirit be by any means limited to the literary and scientific aid which he is enabled to extend to others, nor to the acquisition of the knowledge requisite to meet the endless inquiries that are made of him. He should take as much interest in restoring a broken binding, or in seeing that a torn leaf is repaired, as in informing a great scholar what the library contains upon any subject.
No one who is listless or indifferent in the discharge of daily duties is fit for a place in a public library. There should be an esprit de corps, a zeal for his profession, which will lead him to make almost any sacrifice of outside interests to become proficient in it. Thus only will he render himself indispensable in his place, and do the greatest amount of service to the greatest number of readers. I have seen employees in libraries so utterly careless of what belongs to their vocation, as to let books, totally unfit for use, ragged or broken, or with plates loosened, ready to drop out and disappear, go back to the shelves unrepaired, to pursue the downward road toward destruction. And I have been in many libraries in which the books upon the shelves exhibited such utter want of care, such disarrangement, such tumbling about and upside-down chaos, and such want of cleanliness, as fairly to make one's heart ache. In some cases this may have been due in great part to unwise free admission of the public to the shelves, and consequent inevitable disorder; in others, it may be partially excused by the librarian's absolute want of the needful help or time, to keep the library in order; but in others, it was too apparent that the librarian in charge took no interest in the condition of the books. Too many librarians (at least of the past, however it may now be) have been of the class described by Dr. Poole, the Chicago librarian. He said that library trustees too often appeared to think that anybody almost would do for a librarian; men who have failed in everything else, broken-down clergymen, or unsuccessful teachers, and the like.
Passing now to other needful qualifications of librarians and library assistants, let me say that one of the foremost is accuracy. Perhaps I have before this remarked that exact accuracy is one of the rarest of human qualities. Even an approximation to it is rare, and absolute accuracy is still rarer. Beware of the person who is sure of every thing—who retails to you a conversation he has heard, affecting to give the exact words of a third person, or who quotes passages in verse or in prose, with glib assurance, as the production of some well-known writer. The chances are ten to one that the conversation is mainly manufactured in the brain of the narrator, and that the quotation is either not written by the author to whom it is attributed, or else is a travesty of his real language. It is Lord Byron who tells of that numerous class of sciolists whom one finds everywhere—
"With just enough of learning to misquote."
The books one reads abound in erroneous dates, mistaken names, garbled extracts, and blundering quotations. So much the more important is it to the librarian, who is so continually drawn upon for correct information upon every subject, to make sure of his facts, before communicating them. When (as frequently happens) he has no way of verifying them, he should report them, not as his own conclusions, but on the authority of the book or periodical where found. This will relieve him of all responsibility, if they turn out to be erroneous. Whenever I find a wrong date or name in a printed book, or an erroneous reference in the index, or a mis-spelled word, I always pencil the correct date, or name, or page of reference in the margin. This I do as a matter of instinct, as well as of duty, for the benefit of future inquirers, so that they may not be misled. I speak here of errors which are palpable, or of the inaccuracy of which I have positive knowledge; if in doubt, I either let the matter go entirely, or write a query in pencil at the place, with the presumed correct substitute appended.
Never be too sure of what you find in books; but prove all things and hold fast to those only which you find to be beyond dispute. Thus will you save yourself from falling into many errors, and from recanting many opinions. It is the method of ordinary education to take everything for granted; it is the method of science to take nothing for granted.
I may refer here to another rule always to be observed, and pertaining to the theme of strict accuracy in your daily work. That is, the necessity of carefully examining every piece of work you may have done, before it leaves your hands, for the purpose of correcting errors. All of us are not only liable to make mistakes, but all of us do make them; and if any one has a conceit of his own accuracy, the surest way to take it out of him is to let him serve an apprenticeship in some library, where there is competent revision of all the labor performed. There are multitudes of assistants in libraries who cannot write a letter, even, without making one or more errors. How often do you leave out a word in your writing experience, which may change the meaning of a whole sentence? So, in writing titles, whether for the catalogue, or for a library order, or for the information of some inquirer, you are liable to make errors of date, or edition, or place of publication, or size, or to misplace or omit or substitute some word in the description of the book. There is nothing in the world quite so easy as to be mistaken: and the only remedy (and it is an all-essential one) is to go over every line and every word of what you have written, before it leaves your hands. As second thoughts are proverbially best, so a second careful glance over a piece of writing will almost always reveal some error or omission to be corrected. Think of the mortification you must feel at finding an unverified piece of work returned upon your hands, with several glaring mistakes marked by the reviser! Think, on the other hand, of the inward satisfaction experienced when you have done your best, written and revised your own work, and found it always passed as perfect. I have tried many persons by many tests, and while I have found a great number who were industrious, intelligent, zealous, conscientious, good-tempered, and expeditious, I have found scarcely one who was always accurate. One of the rarest things in a library is to find an assistant who has an unerring sense of the French accents. This knowledge, to one expert in that language, even if he does not speak it, should be as intuitive as the art of spelling correctly, either in English or French. He should write the proper accent over a letter just as infallibly as he writes the proper letters in a word. But, strange to say, it is very common, even with good French scholars (in the book-sense or literary sense of scholarship) to find them putting the acute accent for the grave over a vowel, or the grave instead of the acute, or omitting the circumflex accent entirely, and so on.
Every one commits errors, but the wise man is he who learns by his mistakes, and applies the remedy. The best remedy (as I said in the case of memory in another chapter,) is to cultivate a habit of trained attention in whatever we do. Yet many people (and I am afraid we must say most people) go on through life, making the same blunders, and repeating them. It appears as if the habit of inaccuracy were innate in the human race, and only to be reformed by the utmost painstaking, and even with the aid of that, only by a few. I have had to observe and correct such numberless errors in the work of well-educated, adult, and otherwise accomplished persons, as filled me with despair. Yet there is no more doubt of the improvability of the average mind, however inaccurate at the start, than of the power of the will to correct other bad habits into which people unconsciously fall.
One of the requisites of a successful librarian is a faculty of order and system, applied throughout all the details of library administration. Without these, the work will be performed in a hap-hazard, slovenly manner, and the library itself will tend to become a chaos. Bear in mind the great extent and variety of the objects which come under the care of the librarian, all of which are to be classified and reduced to order. These include not only books upon every earthly subject (and very many upon unearthly ones) but a possibly wide range of newspapers and periodicals, a great mass of miscellaneous pamphlets, sometimes of maps and charts, of manuscripts and broadsides, and frequently collections of engravings, photographs, and other pictures, all of which come in to form a part of most libraries. This great complexity of material, too, exhibits only the physical aspect of the librarian's labors. There are, besides, the preparation, arrangement and continuation of the catalogue, in its three or more forms, the charging and crediting of the books in circulation, the searching of many book lists for purchases, the library bills and accounts, the supervision and revision of the work of assistants, the library correspondence, often requiring wide researches to answer inquiries, the continual aid to readers, and a multitude of minor objects of attention quite too numerous to name. Is it any over-statement of the case to say that the librarian who has to organize and provide for all this physical and intellectual labor, should be systematic and orderly in a high degree?
That portion of his responsible task which pertains to the arrangement and classification of books has been elsewhere treated. But there is required in addition, a faculty of arranging his time, so as to meet seasonably the multifarious drafts upon it. He should early learn not only the supreme value of moments, but how to make all the library hours fruitful of results. To this end the time should be apportioned with careful reference to each department of library service. One hour may be set for revising one kind of work of assistants; another for a different one; another for perusing sale catalogues, and marking desiderata to be looked up in the library catalogue; another for researches in aid of readers or correspondents; still another for answering letters on the many subjects about which librarians are constantly addressed; and still another for a survey of all the varied interests of the library and its frequenters, to see what features of the service need strengthening, what improvements can be made, what errors corrected, and how its general usefulness can be increased. So to apportion one's time as to get out of the day (which is all too short for what is to be done in it) the utmost of accomplishment is a problem requiring much skill, as well as the ability to profit by experience. One has always to be subject to interruptions—and these must be allowed for, and in some way made up for. Remember, when you have lost valuable time with some visitor whose claims to your attention are paramount, that when to-morrow comes one should take up early the arrears of work postponed, and make progress with them, even though unable to finish them.
Another suggestion; proper system in the management and control of one's time demands that none of it be absorbed by trifles or triflers; and so every librarian must indispensably know how to get rid of bores. One may almost always manage to effect this without giving offense, and at the same time without wasting any time upon them, which is the one thing needful. The bore is commonly one who, having little or nothing to do, inflicts himself upon the busy persons of his acquaintance, and especially upon the ones whom he credits with knowing the most—to wit, the librarians. Receive him courteously, but keep on steadily at the work you are doing when he enters. If you are skilful, you can easily do two things at once, for example, answer your idler friend or your bore, and revise title-cards, or mark a catalogue, or collate a book, or look up a quotation, or write a letter, at the same time. Never lose your good humor, never say that your time is valuable, or that you are very busy; never hint at his going away; but never quit your work, answer questions cheerfully, and keep on, allowing nothing to take your eyes off your business. By and by he will take the hint, if not wholly pachydermatous, and go away of his own accord. By pursuing this course I have saved infinite time, and got rid of infinite bores, by one and the same process.
The faculty of organizing one's work is essential, in order to efficiency and accomplishment. If you do not have a plan and adhere to it, if you let this, that, and the other person interrupt you with trifling gossip, or unnecessary requests, you will never get ahead of your work; on the contrary, your work will always get ahead of you. The same result will follow if you interrupt yourself, by yielding to the temptation of reading just a page or a paragraph of something that attracts your eye while at work. This dissipation of time, to say nothing of its unfair appropriation of what belongs to the library, defeats the prompt accomplishment of the work in hand, and fosters the evil habit of scattering your forces, in idleness and procrastination.
It ought not to be needful to urge habits of neatness and the love of order upon candidates for places in libraries. How much a neat and carefully arranged shelf of books appeals to one's taste, I need not say, nor urge the point how much an orderly and neatly kept room, or desk, or table adds to one's comfort. The librarian who has the proper spirit of his calling should take pains to make the whole library look neat and attractive, to have a place for everything, and everything in its place. This, with adequate space existing, will be found easier than to have the books and other material scattered about in confusion, thus requiring much more time to find them when wanted. A slovenly-kept library is certain to provoke public criticism, and this always tells to the disadvantage of the librarian; while a neatly kept, carefully arranged collection of books is not only pleasing to the eye, but elicits favorable judgment from all visitors.
Among the qualities that should enter into the composition of a successful librarian must be reckoned an inexhaustible patience. He will be sorely tried in his endeavors to satisfy his own ideals, and sometimes still more sorely in his efforts to satisfy the public. Against the mistakes and short-comings of assistants, the ignorance of many readers, and the unreasonable expectations of others, the hamperings of library authorities, and the frequently unfounded criticisms of the press, he should arm himself with a patience and equanimity that are unfailing. When he knows he is right, he should never be disturbed at complaint, nor suffer a too sensitive mood to ruffle his feelings. When there is any foundation for censure, however slight, he should learn by it and apply the remedy. The many and varied characters who come within the comprehensive sphere of the librarian necessarily include people of all tempers and dispositions, as well as of every degree of culture. To be gracious and courteous to all is his interest as well as his duty. With the ignorant he will often have to exercise a vast amount of patience, but he should never betray a supercilious air, as though looking down upon them from the height of his own superior intelligence. To be always amiable toward inferiors, superiors, and equals, is to conciliate the regard of all. Courtesy costs so little, and makes so large a return in proportion to the investment, that it is surprising not to find it universal. Yet it is so far from being so that we hear people praising one whose manners are always affable, as if he were deserving of special credit for it, as an exception to the general rule. It is frequently observed that a person of brusque address or crusty speech begets crustiness in others. There are subtle currents of feeling in human intercourse, not easy to define, but none the less potent in effect. A person of marked suavity of speech and bearing radiates about him an atmosphere of good humor, which insensibly influences the manners and the speech of others.
There will often come into a public library a man whose whole manner is aggressive and over-bearing, who acts and talks as if he had a right to the whole place, including the librarian. No doubt, being a citizen, he has every right, except the right to violate the rules—or to make himself disagreeable. The way to meet him is to be neither aggressive, nor submissive and deferential, but with a cool and pleasant courtesy, ignoring any idea of unpleasant feeling on your part. You will thus at least teach a lesson in good manners, which may or may not be learned, according to circumstances and the hopeful or hopeless character of the pupil.
Closely allied to the virtue of patience, is that of unfailing tact. This will be found an important adjunct in the administration of a public library. How to meet the innumerable inquiries made of him with just the proper answer, saying neither too much, nor too little, to be civil to all, without needless multiplication of words, this requires one to hold his faculties well in hand, never to forget himself, and to show that no demand whatever can vex or fluster him. The librarian should know how, or learn how to adapt himself to all readers, and how to aid their researches without devoting much time to each. This requires a fine quality of tact, of adapting one's self quickly to the varied circumstances of the case in hand. One who has it well developed will go through the manifold labors and interviews and annoyances of the day without friction, while one who is without tact will be worried and fretted until life seems to him a burden.
Need I mention, after all that has been said of the exacting labors that continually wait upon the librarian, that he should be possessed both of energy and untiring industry? By the very nature of the calling to which he is dedicated, he is pledged to earnest and thorough work in it. He cannot afford to be a trifler or a loiterer on the way, but must push on continually. He should find time for play, it is true, and for reading for his own recreation and instruction, but that time should be out of library hours. And a vigilant and determined economy of time in library hours will be found a prime necessity. I have dwelt elsewhere upon the importance of choosing the shortest methods in every piece of work to be accomplished. Equally important is it to cultivate economy of speech, or the habit of condensing instructions to assistants, and answers to inquiries into the fewest words. A library should never be a circumlocution office. The faculty of condensed expression, though somewhat rare, can be cultivated.
In the relations existing between librarian and assistants there should be mutual confidence and support. All are equally interested in the credit and success of the institution which engages their services, and all should labor harmoniously to that end. Loyalty to one's employers is both the duty and the interest of the employed: and the reciprocal duty of faithfulness to those employed, and interest in their improvement and success should mark the intercourse of the librarian with his assistants. He should never be too old nor too wise to learn, and should welcome suggestions from every intelligent aid. I have suggested the importance of an even temper in the relations between librarians and readers; and it is equally important as between all those associated in the administration of a library. Every one has faults and weaknesses; and those encountered in others will be viewed with the most charity by those who are duly conscious of their own. Every one makes mistakes, and these are often provoking or irritating to one who knows better; but a mild and pleasant explanation of the error is far more likely to lead to amendment, than a sharp reproof, leaving hard feeling or bitterness behind. Under no circumstances is peevishness or passion justifiable. Library assistants in their bearing toward each other, should suppress all feelings of censoriousness, fault-finding or jealousy, if they have them, in favor of civility and good manners, if not of good fellowship. They are all public servants engaged in a common cause, aiming at the enlightenment and improvement of the community; they should cherish a just pride in being selected for this great service, and to help one another in every step of the work, should be their golden rule. Everything should be done for the success and usefulness of the library, and all personal considerations should be merged in public ones.
Turning now to what remains of suggestion regarding the qualities which should enter into the character, or form a part of the equipment of a librarian, let me urge the importance of his possessing a truly liberal and impartial mind. It is due to all who frequent a public library to find all those in charge ready and willing to aid their researches in whatever direction they may lie. Their attitude should be one of constant and sincere open-mindedness. They are to remember that it is the function of the library to supply the writings of all kinds of authors, on all sides of all questions. In doing this, it is no part of a librarian's function to interpose any judgments of his own upon the authors asked for. He has no right as a librarian to be an advocate of any theories, or a propagandist of any opinions. His attitude should be one of strict and absolute impartiality. A public library is the one common property of all, the one neutral ground where all varieties of character, and all schools of opinion meet and mingle. Within its hallowed precincts, sacred to literature and science, the voice of controversy should be hushed. While the librarian may and should hold his own private opinions with firmness and entire independence, he should keep them private—as regards the frequenters of the library. He may, for example, be profoundly convinced of the truth of the Christian religion; and he is called on, we will suppose, for books attacking Christianity, like Thomas Paine's "Age of Reason," or Robert G. Ingersoll's lectures on "Myth and Miracle." It is his simple duty to supply the writers asked for, without comment, for in a public library, Christian and Jew, Mahometan and Agnostic, stand on the same level of absolute equality. The library has the Koran, and the Book of Mormon, as well as the Scriptures of the Old and New Testament, and one is to be as freely supplied as the other. A library is an institution of universal range—of encyclopaedic knowledge, which gathers in and dispenses to all comers, the various and conflicting opinions of all writers upon religion, science, politics, philosophy, and sociology. The librarian may chance to be an ardent Republican or a zealous Democrat; but in either case, he should show as much alacrity in furnishing readers with W. J. Bryan's book "The First Battle," as with McKinley's speeches, or the Republican Hand-Book. A library is no place for dogmatism; the librarian is pledged, by the very nature of his profession, which is that of a dispenser of all knowledge—not of a part of it—to entire liberality, and absolute impartiality. Remembering the axiom that all errors may be safely tolerated, while reason is left free to combat them, he should be ever ready to furnish out of the intellectual arsenal under his charge, the best and strongest weapons to either side in any conflict of opinion.
It will have been gathered from what has gone before, in recapitulation of the duties and responsibilities of the librarian's calling, that it is one demanding a high order of talent. The business of successfully conducting a public library is complex and difficult. It is full of never-ending detail, and the work accomplished does not show for what it is really worth, except in the eyes of the more thoughtful and discerning observers.
I may here bring into view some of the drawbacks and discouragements incident to the librarian's vocation, together with an outline of the advantages which belong to it.
In the first place, there is little money in it. No one who looks upon the acquisition of money as one of the chief aims of life, should think for a moment of entering on a librarian's career. The prizes in the profession are few—so few indeed, as to be quite out of the question for most aspirants. The salaries paid in subordinate positions are very low in most libraries, and even those of head-librarians are not such that one can lay up money on them. A lady assistant librarian in one city said she had found that one of a librarian's proper qualifications was to be able to live on two meals a day. This doubtless was a humorous exaggeration, but it is true that the average salaries hitherto paid in our public libraries, with few exceptions, do not quite come up to those of public school teachers, taking the various grades into account. Most of the newly formed libraries are poor, and have to be economical. But there is some reason to hope that as libraries multiply and their unspeakable advantages become more fully appreciated, the standard of compensation for all skilled librarians will rise. I say skilled, because training and experience are the leading elements which command the better salaries, in this, as in other professions.
Another drawback to be recognized in the librarian's calling, is that there are peculiar trials and vexations connected with it. There are almost no limits to the demands made upon the knowledge and the time of the librarian. In other professions, teaching for example, there are prescribed and well-defined routines of the instruction to be given, and the teacher who thoroughly masters this course, and brings the pupils through it creditably, has nothing to do beyond. The librarian, on the other hand, must be, as it were, a teacher of all sciences and literatures at once. The field to be covered by the wants of readers, and the inquiries that he is expected to answer, are literally illimitable. He cannot rest satisfied with what he has already learned, however expert or learned he may have become; but he must keep on learning forevermore. The new books that are continually flooding him, the new sciences or new developments of old ones that arise, must be so far assimilated that he can give some account of the scope of all of them to inquiring readers.
In the third place, there are special annoyances in the service of a public, which includes always some inconsiderate and many ignorant persons, and these will frequently try one's patience, however angelic and forbearing. So, too, the short-comings of library assistants or associates may often annoy him, but as all these trials have been before referred to, it may be added that they are not peculiar to library service, but are liable to occur in the profession of teaching or in any other.
In the next place, the peculiar variety and great number of the calls incessantly made upon the librarian's knowledge, constitute a formidable draft upon any but the strongest brain. There is no escape from these continual drafts upon his nervous energy for one who has deliberately chosen to serve in a public library. And he will sometimes find, wearied as he often must be with many cares and a perfect flood of questions, that the most welcome hour of the day is the hour of closing the library.
Another of the librarian's vexations is frequently the interference with his proper work by the library authorities. Committees or trustees to oversee the management and supervise expenditures are necessary to any public library. Sometimes they are quick-sighted and intelligent persons, and recognize the importance of letting the librarian work out everything in his own way, when once satisfied that they have got a competent head in charge. But there are sometimes men on a board of library control who are self-conceited and pragmatical, thinking that they know everything about how a library should be managed, when in fact, they are profoundly ignorant of the first rudiments of library science. Such men will sometimes overbear their fellows, who may be more intelligent, but not so self-asserting, and so manage as to overrule the best and wisest plans, or the most expedient methods, and vex the very soul of the librarian. In such cases the only remedy is patience and tact. Some day, what has been decided wrongly may be reversed, or what has been denied the librarian may be granted, through the conversion of a minority of the trustees into a majority, by the gentle suasion and skilful reasoning of the librarian.
There are other drawbacks and discomforts in the course of a librarian's duties which have been referred to in dealing with the daily work under his charge. There remains the fact that the profession is no bed of roses, but a laborious and exacting calling, the price of success in which is an unremitting industry, and energy inexhaustible. But these will not appear very formidable requisites to those who have a native love of work, and it is a fact not to be doubted that work of some kind is the only salvation of every human creature.
Upon the whole, if the calling of the librarian involves many trials and vexations, it has also many notable compensations. Foremost among these is to be reckoned the fact that it opens more and wider avenues to intellectual culture than any other profession whatever. This comes in a two-fold way: first, through the stimulus to research given by the incessant inquiries of readers, and by the very necessity of his being, as a librarian; and secondly, by the rare facilities for investigation and improvement supplied by the ample and varied stores of the library always immediately at hand. Other scholars can commonly command but few books, unless able to possess a large private library: their researches in the public one are hampered by the rule that no works of reference can be withdrawn, and that constitutes a very large and essential class, constantly needed by every scholar and writer. The librarian, on the other hand, has them all at his elbow.
In the next place, there are few professions which are in themselves so attractive as librarianship. Its tendency is both to absorb and to satisfy the intellectual faculties. No where else is the sense of continual growth so palpable; in no other field of labor is such an enlargement of the bounds of one's horizon likely to be found. Compare it with the profession of teaching. In that, the mind is chained down to a rigorous course of imparting instruction in a narrow and limited field. One must perforce go on rehearsing the same rudiments of learning, grinding over the same Latin gerunds, hearing the same monotonous recitations, month after month, and year after year. This continual threshing over of old straw has its uses, but to an ardent and active mind, it is liable to become very depressing. Such a mind would rather be kept on the qui vive of activity by a volley of questions fired at him every hour in a library, than to grind forever in an intellectual tread-mill, with no hope of change and very little of relief. The very variety of the employments which fill up the library hours, the versatility required in the service, contributes to it a certain zest which other professions lack.
Again, the labors of the librarian bring him into an intimate knowledge of a wide range of books, or at least an acquaintance with authors and titles far more extensive than can be acquired by most persons. The reading of book catalogues is a great and never-ending fascination to one who has a love for books. The information thus acquired of the mighty range of the world's literature and science is of inestimable value. Most of it, if retained in a retentive memory, will enable its possessor to answer multitudes of the questions continually put to the librarian.
Then, too, the service of a public library is a valuable school for the study of human nature. One comes in contact with scholars, men of business, authors, bright young people, journalists, professional men and cultured women, to an extent unequaled by the opportunities of any other calling. This variety of intercourse tends to broaden one's sympathies, to strengthen his powers of observation, to cultivate habits of courtesy, to develop the faculty of adapting himself to all persons—qualities which contribute much to social interest and success. The discipline of such an intercourse may sometimes make out of a silent and bashful recluse, a ready and engaging adept in conversation, able to command the attention and conciliate the regard of all. Farther than this, one brought into so wide a circle of communication with others, cannot fail to learn something from at least some among them, and so to receive knowledge as well as to impart it. The curious and diverse elements of character brought out in such intercourse will make their impress, and may have their value. All these many facilities for intellectual intercourse both with books and with men, contribute directly to keep the librarian in contact with all the great objects of human interest. They supply an unfailing stimulus to his intellectual and moral nature. They give any active-minded person rare facilities, not only for the acquisition, but for the communication of ideas. And there is one avenue for such communication that is peculiarly open to one whose mind is stored with the ripe fruits of reading and observation. I mean the field of authorship—not necessarily the authorship of books, but of writing in the form of essays, reviews, lectures, stories or contributions to the periodical press. There are in every community literary societies, clubs, and evening gatherings, where such contributions are always in demand, and always welcomed, in exact proportion to their inherent interest and value. Such avenues for the communication of one's thought are of great and sometimes permanent advantage. The knowledge which we acquire is comparatively barren, until it is shared with others. And whether this be in an appreciative circle of listeners, or in the press, it gives a certain stimulus and reward to the thinker and writer, which nothing else can impart. To convey one's best thought to the world is one of the purest and highest of intellectual pleasures.
Let me add that there are two sides to the question of authorship, as concerns librarians. On the one hand, their advantages for entering that field are undoubtedly superior, both from the ready command of the most abundant material, and from experience in its use. On the other hand, while authorship may be said to be the most besetting temptation of the librarian, it is one that should be steadily resisted whenever it encroaches on the time and attention due to library duties. If he makes it a rule to write nothing and to study nothing for his own objects during library hours, he is safe. Some years since it was a common subject of reproach regarding the librarians of several university libraries in England that they were so engaged in writing books, that no scholar could get at them for aid in his literary researches. The librarians and assistants employed in the British Museum Library, where the hours of service are short, have found time to produce numerous contributions to literature. Witness the works, as authors and editors, of Sir Henry Ellis, Antonio Panizzi, Dr. Richard Garnett, Edward Edwards, J. Winter Jones, Thomas Watts, George Smith, and others. And in America, the late Justin Winsor was one of the most prolific and versatile of authors, while John Fiske, once assistant librarian at Harvard, Reuben A. Guild, William F. Poole, George H. Moore, J. N. Larned, Frederick Saunders and others have been copious contributors to the press.
In a retrospective view of what has been said in respect to the qualifications of a librarian, it may appear that I have insisted upon too high a standard, and have claimed that he should be possessed of every virtue under heaven. I freely admit that I have aimed to paint the portrait of the ideal librarian; and I have done it in order to show what might be accomplished, rather than what has been accomplished. To set one's mark high—higher even than we are likely to reach, is the surest way to attain real excellence in any vocation. It is very true that it is not given to mortals to achieve perfection: but it is none the less our business to aim at it, and the higher the ideal, the nearer we are likely to come to a notable success in the work we have chosen.
Librarianship furnishes one of the widest fields for the most eminent attainments. The librarian, more than any other person whatever, is brought into contact with those who are hungering and thirsting after knowledge. He should be able to satisfy those longings, to lead inquirers in the way they should go, and to be to all who seek his assistance a guide, philosopher and friend. Of all the pleasures which a generous mind is capable of enjoying, that of aiding and enlightening others is one of the finest and most delightful. To learn continually for one's self is a noble ambition, but to learn for the sake of communicating to others, is a far nobler one. In fact, the librarian becomes most widely useful by effacing himself, as it were, in seeking to promote the intelligence of the community in which he lives. One of the best librarians in the country said that such were the privileges and opportunities of the profession, that one might well afford to live on bread and water for the sake of being a librarian, provided one had no family to support.
There is a new and signally marked advance in recent years, in the public idea of what constitutes a librarian. The old idea of a librarian was that of a guardian or keeper of books—not a diffuser of knowledge, but a mere custodian of it. This idea had its origin in ages when books were few, were printed chiefly in dead languages, and rendered still more dead by being chained to the shelves or tables of the library. The librarian might be a monk, or a professor, or a priest, or a doctor of law, or theology, or medicine, but in any case his function was to guard the books, and not to dispense them. Those who resorted to the library were kept at arm's length, as it were, and the fewer there were who came, the better the grim or studious custodian was pleased. Every inquiry which broke the profound silence of the cloistered library was a kind of rude interruption, and when it was answered, the perfunctory librarian resumed his reading or his studies. The institution appeared to exist, not for the benefit of the people, but for that of the librarian; or for the benefit, besides, of a few sequestered scholars, like himself, and any wide popular use of it would have been viewed as a kind of profanation.
We have changed all that in the modern world, and library service is now one of the busiest occupations in the whole range of human enterprise. One cannot succeed in the profession, if his main idea is that a public library is a nice and easy place where one may do one's own reading and writing to the best advantage. A library is an intellectual and material work-shop, in which there is no room for fossils nor for drones. My only conception of a useful library is a library that is used—and the same of a librarian. He should be a lover of books—but not a book-worm. If his tendencies toward idealism are strong, he should hold them in check by addicting himself to steady, practical, every-day work. While careful of all details, he should not be mastered by them. If I have sometimes seemed to dwell upon trifling or obvious suggestions as to temper, or conduct, or methods, let it be remembered that trifles make up perfection, and that perfection is no trifle.
I once quoted the saying that "the librarian who reads is lost"; but it would be far truer to say that the librarian who does not read is lost; only he should read wisely and with a purpose. He should make his reading helpful in giving him a wide knowledge of facts, of thoughts, and of illustrations, which will come perpetually in play in his daily intercourse with an inquiring public.
