Handbook of the new Library of Congress

by Unknown

THE ROTUNDA.

Entering by either of the doors at the head of the staircase, the visitor at once steps out upon an embayed gallery, affording a spacious and uninterrupted view of the great domed Reading Room, or Rotunda, which, in every sense, is the central and most important portion of the Library. As such, it is marked by a magnificence of architecture and decoration nowhere else to be found in the building. Outside, from whatever direction one approaches, the gilded dome which forms its outer shell is the first thing to catch the eye; and the golden flame of the torch which surmounts the lantern indicates to the passer-by at once the central and the highest point of the whole structure. Within, richer materials have been used, and decoration has been more freely employed than in any other part of the Library. Sculpture and paintings, rare marbles, and a broad scheme of color and of ornamentation in stucco relief unite with a lofty architectural design to form what is one of the most notable interiors in the country.

The Importance of the Rotunda.—The detailed description of the Rotunda may be deferred a little, however, in order to explain its relation to the rest of the building, and, especially, the reason for its central position. Besides accumulating books and providing the student with proper accommodations for his work—such as good light and convenient chairs and tables—it is the business of every well managed library to supply its readers with the books they desire in the shortest possible time and with the least possible amount of friction. A well digested catalogue is the first requisite; the second is that the books should be stored in a place as closely accessible to the reading room as may be. In a small library this is a simple matter; the same room will be sufficient for both books and readers. When the number of volumes increases it is necessary to shelve them in a compact system of bookcases called a “stack”—or, as in the Library of Congress, in a series of stacks—which must occupy a portion of the building by itself. The reading room and the stacks being thus separated, it is still the aim of the architect to place them in such a way as to retain as far as possible the practical convenience of the smaller library, where every reader is almost within reaching distance of every book. This end is most easily attained by adopting what is called the “central system” of library construction, which is the system followed in the Library of Congress. It has already been seen that the building is in the form of a cross enclosed within a rectangle, thus allowing space for four courts for light and air. At the intersections of the arms of the cross is the Rotunda, the main entrance to which is through the west arm of the cross. The other three arms are occupied by the stacks; the East Stack, directly opposite, is the second short arm; the North and South Stacks, each the same length, are the two long arms. It is obvious that by this arrangement the books can be more easily reached than in any other way. The axes of the stacks are continued radii of the Rotunda, and, so far as the ground plan is concerned, the shortest way from any part of the cross to the Distributing Desk which the visitor sees below in the centre of the room is always along a straight line. This Distributing Desk, of course, being in the exact centre of everything, is the vital point, the kernel, of the whole arrangement. No part of the stack, it will be noted, is far enough away from it to delay the transmission of a book unreasonably, as might very well be the case if the three stacks were in one. Moreover, by the use of a mechanical contrivance, which will be explained later, even this distance is in effect very greatly reduced.

THE GALLERY OF THE ROTUNDA.
SHOWING THE STATUES OF HERODOTUS AND BEETHOVEN.

Another thing may well be noted in this connection although it has already been referred to in the preliminary description of the building—and that is, the comparative unimportance, from the standpoint of the real requirements of the Library, of the great Rectangle which encloses the stacks and the Rotunda, and necessarily appears from the street to be the main portion of the building. It contains rooms which, at present, are very convenient for clerical work or as art galleries and special reading rooms, and which may in time be necessary to accommodate an overflow of books; but it must steadily be borne in mind that the Rotunda and the stacks contain the real life of the institution. They are the only really essential and vital portion of the building; without them, there could hardly be a library; and by themselves they would be sufficient for almost every present need.

The General Arrangement.—The character of the Rotunda is warm and rich in ornament as befits a room where people remain to read. It is naturally not so formal as the Rotunda of the Capitol. The height of the room from the floor to the top of the dome, where it converges upon the lantern, is one hundred and twenty-five feet, and from the floor to the crown of the domed ceiling of the lantern itself, one hundred and sixty feet. This latter point, however, is quite shut off from the view of a person standing in the gallery and can be seen only from a position near the centre of the room. The ground plan of the room is octagonal in shape, measuring one hundred feet from one side to another. Eight massive clustered piers, each set some ten feet forward from a corner of the octagon, support a series of heavy arches running entirely round the room. These piers serve, as it were, to stake out the limit of the Reading Room proper; between them are marble screens arcaded in two stories, and behind they are connected with the outer wall by partitions which divide the octagon into eight bays or alcoves, each fourteen feet deep and thirty wide. In each alcove, at the height of the screen, is a gallery like that which the visitor has already entered, one connecting with another, through doors pierced in the partition walls, so as to form a continuous promenade—as it may be called, considering its purpose—in which the sightseer may walk without fear of disturbing the readers below.

LAW.
BY PAUL W. BARTLETT.

The alcoves are arched and enclose great semi-circular windows filled with stained glass, which furnish the greater part of the light needed for the room. The arches springing from the piers support a heavy circular entablature, immediately above which is the dome, arched in the line of an exact circle and supported upon eight ribs dividing it into eight sections or compartments. The ribs are the essential feature of the dome construction, and continue naturally the line of support of the great piers which are the ultimate support of the whole interior—a fact which is more clearly brought out to the eye by paired consoles or brackets introduced in the entablature between the two and seeming to carry the weight from one to the other.

The surface of the dome is of stucco, attached to a framework of iron and steel filled in with terra cotta, and richly ornamented with coffers and with a very elaborate arabesque of figures in relief. At the top, where the dome prepares to join the lantern, the ribs terminate against a broad circular “collar,” so called, containing a painted decoration by Mr. Edwin Howland Blashfield. Finally comes the lantern, thirty-five feet in height, and pierced by eight windows, recalling the octagonal arrangement with which the construction began. The shallow dome which covers the lantern is ornamented with a second painting by Mr. Blashfield, summing up the idea of his decoration in the collar.

At the risk of some tediousness, perhaps, but thinking that afterwards the connection between the decoration and the architecture would be more clearly understood, the writer has given this general description of the Rotunda, in order that the visitor might immediately see what portion of the whole was essential and what not essential; what was “structural” and vital, in other words, and what not. It will have been observed that we have, on the outside, an octagon supporting a shallow dome, on which rests the lantern. Well within this is an octagonal arrangement of piers carrying a much steeper dome. Alcoves occupy the space between the inner and outer octagons. Between the two domes—the inner shell and the outer—is vacancy. The whole exterior—walls, dome, and lantern—the partitions back of the piers, and the connecting screens: all could be torn away and the inner dome still remain secure on its eight massive piers.

COMMERCE.
BY JOHN FLANAGAN.

The piers are constructed of brick, veneered with marble from Numidia in Africa, curiously mottled and in color a sort of dusky red. The high base on which the pier rests is sheathed with a chocolate brown variety of the familiar close-grained Tennessee marble. The height of the piers, including base and capital, is forty-four feet.

The screens are built solidly of marble from Sienna, Italy, which encloses in its rich black veining almost every variety of yellow, from cream color to dark topaz. Like the piers, the screens are erected upon a Tennessee marble base, in this case, however, very much lower—four feet to the other’s eleven. The arcading of the screens is in two stories, the first of three and the second of seven arches. At the top of each screen the gallery is railed in by a heavy balustrade—still of the same Sienna marble—connected with which are two marble pedestals which bear bronze statues of illustrious men. The screens are alike on every side of the octagon but two, the west and the east—the former the entrance from the Staircase Hall, and the latter affording a way through to the east side of the building. In both instances, therefore, the central arch is accentuated by free standing columns. In the second story of the west screen, also, still another modification has been made in order to allow space for a large clock—the three middle arches giving place to a rich architectural setting ornamented with bronze statuary.

The Alcoves.—The alcoves behind the screens are in two stories, like the arcading, and are intended to contain a collection of the most necessary standard books on all important topics. The entrance from the floor of the Reading Room is through the central arch of the screen. One may pass through doors in the partitions from one alcove to another, on either floor; and by means of a winding staircase inside each of the piers one may go up or down, not only from story to story, but, on the one hand, into the basement below, and, on the other, to the space between the inner and the outer dome above.

Altogether, the alcoves have a capacity, with their present shelving, of 130,000 volumes. The cases are of iron, and similar in a general way to those in the large stacks, to be described later; but they are built against the walls, according to the older method of library arrangement, and with very little attempt to combine them in a real stack system, properly so called. The upper shelves in the lower story are reached from a small iron gallery; in the second story a step-ladder must be used—the only instance in the whole building where a book-shelf cannot be reached by a person standing on the floor.

PHILOSOPHY.
BY BELA L. PRATT.

In front of each of the great piers of the Rotunda is an engaged column, so called because it is not quite clear of the mass behind it, which serves as the ultimate support of a statue placed between the arches upholding the dome. In height, base, and capital, it is the same as the pier with which it is connected, and, like it, is sheathed in Numidian marble, but not so dark in tone, since the burden resting on the column includes no part of the dome, and is therefore much lighter than that borne by the pier.

The engaged columns, however, join with the piers to carry an elaborate entablature some seven feet in height, which, finding its way in and out of the alcoves from pier to pier, completely encompasses the room. The color of the entablature, which is entirely of stucco, is a cream or ivory white, like the dome, touched sparingly with gold. The mouldings, which are of the usual Greek patterns employed in Renaissance architecture, are very rich and heavy. The topmost member of the cornice is boldly projected upon a series of modillions, the soffits between being ornamented with rosetted coffers—gilt on a blue ground. The frieze is enriched with an arabesque of Renaissance ornament in relief, including antique urns and lamps; garlands enclosing tablets; and winged half-figures. The general design of the frieze, as of all such work in the Library, is by Mr. Casey as architect; the individual figures, however, were modelled by Mr. Weinert.

The Symbolical Statues.—The eight statues set upon the entablature over the engaged columns represent eight characteristic features of civilized life and thought. From the floor to the plinth or base on which they stand is a distance of fifty-eight feet; each is ten and a half feet, or, including the plinth, eleven feet high. All are of plaster, toned an ivory white to match the general tone of the stucco decoration throughout the room, and are effectively placed against the plain red pendentives of the dome as a background. The title of each is inscribed in gilt letters in a tablet in the frieze below. Beginning with the figure directly to the right as one enters the west gallery of the Rotunda, the order is as follows: Religion, modelled by Mr. Theodore Baur; Commerce, by Mr. John Flanagan; History, by Mr. Daniel C. French; Art, by a French artist, Mr. Dozzi, after sketches by Mr. Augustus St. Gaudens; Philosophy, by Mr. Bela L. Pratt, who modelled the granite spandrels of the Main Entrance; Poetry, by Mr. J. Q. A. Ward; Law, by Mr. Paul W. Bartlett; and Science, by Mr. John Donoghue.

SHAKESPEARE.
BY FREDERICK MACMONNIES.

Nearly all bear some appropriate and distinguishing object. Religion holds a flower in her hand, seeming to draw from it the lesson of a God revealed in Nature. Commerce, crowned with a wreath of the peaceful olive, holds in her right hand a model of a Yankee schooner, and in her left a miniature locomotive. History has a book in her hand, and with an obvious symbolism holds up a hand-glass so that it will reflect things behind her. Art is unlike the other figures in being represented as nearly nude. She is crowned with laurel, and bears a model of the Parthenon. Beside her is a low tree, in the branches of which are hung a sculptor’s mallet and the palette and brush of the painter. Philosophy is a grave figure with downcast eyes, carrying a book in her hand. The garment of Poetry falls in severe lines, which suggest the epic and the more serious forms of the drama, rather than the lighter aspects of the Muse. Law has a scroll in her hand; a fold of her robe is drawn over her head to signify the solemnity of her mission; and beside her is the stone Tablet of the Law. Science holds in her left hand a globe of the earth, surmounted by a triangle. In her right hand is a mirror, not, like History’s, turned backward, but held forward so that all may perceive the image of Truth.

Above each statue the pendentive of the dome is occupied by a group in plaster, sculptured by Mr. Martiny, consisting of two winged geniuses, modelled as if half flying, half supported on the curve of the arches, and holding between them a large tablet carrying an inscription in gilt letters. Above the tablet is a pair of crossed palm-branches (meaning peace), and below are the lamp and open book symbolical of learning, these last being surrounded by an oak-wreath, typifying strength—the whole group thus signifying the power and beneficence of wisdom.

The inscriptions were selected by President Eliot of Harvard University, who several years before had furnished the memorable sentences carved upon the Water Gate at the World’s Fair in Chicago. Each is appropriate to the subject of the statue below it.

Thus, above the figure of Religion are the words:—

What doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love

mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?

Micah vi, 8.

Above the figure of Commerce:—

We taste the spices of Arabia yet never feel the scorching sun

which brings them forth.

Anonymous.[9]

Above the figure of History:—

One God, one law, one element,

And one far-off divine event,

To which the whole creation moves.

Tennyson.

Above the figure of Art:—

As one lamp lights another, nor grows less,

So nobleness enkindleth nobleness.

Lowell.

Above the figure of Philosophy:—

The inquiry, knowledge, and belief of truth is the sovereign good of

human nature.

Bacon.

Above the figure of Poetry:—

Hither, as to their fountain, other stars

Repairing, in their golden urns draw light.

Milton.

Above the figure of Law:—

Of law there can be no less acknowledged than that her voice is the

harmony of the world.

Hooker.

Above the figure of Science:—

The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth

his handiwork.

Psalms xix, 1.

The Portrait Statues.—The sixteen bronze statues set along the balustrade of the galleries represent men illustrious in the various forms of thought and activity typified in the figures just described. The arrangement of the statues is in pairs, each pair flanking one of the eight great piers of the Rotunda. The list of those who have been thus selected to stand as typical representatives of human development and civilization is as follows: Under Religion, Moses and St. Paul; Commerce, Columbus and Robert Fulton; History, Herodotus and Gibbon; Art, Michael Angelo (a single figure, but standing at once for Architecture, Sculpture, and Painting) and Beethoven; Philosophy, Plato and Lord Bacon; Poetry, Homer and Shakespeare; Law, Solon and Chancellor Kent (the author of the well-known Commentaries); Science, Newton and Professor Joseph Henry. The sculptors were: of the Moses and Gibbon, Mr. Charles H. Niehaus; St. Paul, Mr. John Donoghue (the sculptor of the figure of Science); Columbus and Michael Angelo, Mr. Paul W. Bartlett (who modelled the figure of Law); Fulton, Mr. Edward C. Potter; Herodotus, Mr. Daniel C. French (History); Beethoven, Mr. Theodore Baur (Religion); Plato and Bacon, Mr. John J. Boyle; Homer, Mr. Louis St. Gaudens; Shakespeare, Mr. Frederick Macmonnies (who did the central doors at the Main Entrance); Solon, Mr. F. Wellington Ruckstuhl (the sculptor of the busts of Goethe, Macaulay, and Franklin, in the Entrance Portico); Kent, Mr. George Bissell; Newton, Mr. C. E. Dallin; and Henry, Mr. Herbert Adams, whom the visitor already knows for his work in connection with Mr. Warner on the bronze entrance doors, as well as for his little figures of Minerva in the Main Vestibule.

Of these figures, two, the Moses and St. Paul, are ideal, though modelled, in a general way, according to conventions long established in Christian art. The Solon is an original study, although, of course, aiming to be entirely Greek in spirit and costume. The Homer follows an ancient ideal bust. The Herodotus and Plato are studied from original Greek sculptures. The features of the other ten are taken from portraits from life, and the costumes are accurately copied from contemporary fashions.

HERODOTUS.
BY DANIEL C. FRENCH.

The Moses of Mr. Niehaus holds the Table of the Law, and, like Michael Angelo’s famous figure, is horned—a curious convention which crept into art from an ancient mistranslation of a passage in Exodus. The St. Paul is a bearded figure, one hand on the hilt of a great two-edged sword, and the other holding a scroll. Mr. Ruckstuhl has conceived his Solon as the typical law-giver of the ancient world. He is represented as stepping forward, clothed in all the power of the state, to announce at a solemn gathering of the people the supremacy of Law over Force. A fold of his garment is drawn over his head with a certain priestly suggestion, as if the laws he proclaimed were of divine origin. He holds aloft, in his left hand, a scroll bearing the Greek words OI NOMOI, which, though meaning simply “The Law,” were understood as referring especially to Solon’s enactments. His right hand rests upon a sheathed and inverted sword, which is wreathed with laurel. The idea is that law has supplanted force, but that force is always ready to carry out the mandates of the law. Homer is represented with a staff in his hand and a wreath of laurel crowning his head. Mr. French represents Herodotus as a traveller, searching the known world for the materials of his histories. His garments are girt up, he bears a long staff in one hand, and shades his eyes with a scroll as he gazes into the distance to discover his destination. The Fulton carries a model of a steamboat, and the Henry an electro-magnet, for discoveries in electrical science. The Beethoven shows the composer with his hand uplifted as if to beat the measure of the harmony which has suddenly come into his mind—so suddenly that in the eagerness of his movement he has pulled the pocket of his greatcoat inside out. Mr. Macmonnies’s Shakespeare is a somewhat novel study, so far as the head is concerned; it is a composite of the portrait in the first collected edition of the Plays and of the Stratford bust. The figure of Kent wears the judicial ermine; he carries in one hand the manuscript of his Commentaries, and holds a pen in the other. Of the other figures, some, like the Gibbon, carry a book or pen; but in most instances the sculptor has sought merely to give his subject an appropriately noble and contemplative attitude and expression, without trying to introduce any special symbol of his work.

Mr. Flanagan’s Clock. [[10]]—Still another piece of sculpture—the group ornamenting the great clock over the entrance to the Rotunda—remains to be spoken of before passing on to a description of the dome and Mr. Blashfield’s decorations. It is the work of Mr. John Flanagan, the sculptor of the figure of Commerce, and, taken altogether, is one of the most sumptuous and magnificent pieces of decoration in the Library. The clock itself is constructed of various brilliantly colored precious marbles, and is set against a background of mosaic, on which are displayed, encircling the clock, the signs of the zodiac, in bronze. Above is a life-size figure, executed in high relief in bronze, of Father Time, striding forward scythe in hand. To the left and right are the figures of maidens with children, also in bronze, representing the Seasons. The dial of the clock is about four feet in diameter; in the centre is a gilt glory, or “sunburst.” The hands, which are also gilded, are jewelled with semi-precious stones.

THE ROTUNDA CLOCK.
BY JOHN FLANAGAN.

Including, of course, Mr. Weinert’s and Mr. Martiny’s work, it will be seen that no less than nineteen American sculptors have contributed to the decoration of the Rotunda. Considering the room—just for the moment, and for the sake of the special point of view—merely as a Gallery of Statuary, it will be seen how important and representative a collection of American sculpture has been brought together. The choosing of the sculptors to be commissioned, and of the work to be assigned to each—not only here but throughout the Library—were necessarily matters of very careful consideration. To aid in this work, General Casey secured the advice of the President of the National Sculpture Society (the authoritative organization in such matters), then as now Mr. J. Q. A. Ward, who associated with him as a committee two others of the most prominent members of the Society. This committee went into the question very thoroughly, and as a result recommended the sculptors for the Entrance Portico, the bronze entrance doors, the Commemorative Arch in the Staircase Hall, and the Rotunda. Their advice was accepted in toto, with the result, barring a few changes made necessary by subsequent circumstances, that the visitor has now seen.

DETAIL OF THE ROTUNDA.
SHOWING THE STATUE OF GIBBON.

The Lighting of the Rotunda.—The soffits of the arches upholding the dome are ornamented with a row of plain coffers; the larger arches which roof the alcoves within, carry a triple row of more elaborate coffers, each with a gilt rosette. The windows of stained glass, already spoken of as enclosed by these arches, are semicircular in form and measure thirty-two feet across at the base. They furnish the greater part of the light needed for the illumination of the room. No shadows are cast in any direction. Being so high above the floor, the light from them is much more effective than if they were nearer the level of the reader’s eye. They are better even than skylights, and with none of the disadvantages of skylights. Other sources of light are the various little windows pierced in the four walls of the Octagon which face the interior courts; and, above, the eight windows of the Lantern. It has been said that no reading room in the world is so well lighted—so steadily, abundantly and uniformly, whether on the brightest or the darkest day. Mr. Blashfield’s paintings in the dome, for example, can hardly be said to receive direct light from a single window in the room, but for all that, so perfectly is the light diffused, they are as easily made out as any decorations in the building.

In the evening, the light, which is furnished entirely by electric lamps, is quite as perfect in its way as in the daytime. In the second story of the arcading of the marble screens, a brass rod runs between the capitals of each arch, supporting in the centre a brass star of eight points, each point an electric lamp of thirty-two-candle power. With seven of these in each screen (except the west, where Mr. Flanagan’s clock leaves room for only four), and eight screens, one has a total of four hundred and twenty-four lamps thus used. Above the cornice of the second entablature is a great ring containing three hundred and eight more. Similarly, a line of fifty lamps occurs at the bottom of each of the semicircular windows, making four hundred in all; and in the eye of the lantern, so placed, however, that the lamps themselves are invisible, is a second ring numbering forty-six. On the floor, the reading desks are equipped, altogether, with sixty-eight bronze standards, each bearing three lamps, or two hundred and four in all. Add the number, seventy-six, which serve to light the Distributing Desk and the lower story of the alcoves, and the result is a grand total of fourteen hundred and fifty-eight, and a total candle-power of upwards of forty thousand. When the current is turned on and all these lamps are lit, the Rotunda presents a spectacle of light and shadow worth going far to see.

SEALS OF WASHINGTON AND KANSAS.—BY H. T. SCHLADERMUNDT.
WITH AUTHORIZED SEAL OF KANSAS IN THE CENTRE.

The Semicircular Windows.—It is calculated that, by putting stained glass in the eight semicircular windows, the amount of light admitted has been diminished almost exactly one-eighth; in other words, the result is the same as if one of the eight had been quite closed up. The loss, of course, is hardly appreciated in a room sufficiently supplied with light from such a number of sources.

The windows are double, with about four inches between the two sashes. The glass used for the outside is plain, but of different degrees of translucency, according as it is necessary to prevent the entrance of direct sunshine, which, if admitted, would be disagreeable to the occupant of the room and would distort the desirable even effect of the stained glass within. Thus, in the east and west, ribbed skylight glass is used; in the southeast, south, and southwest, ribbed and ground glass; while on the other three sides, where the sun never comes, the glass is left perfectly clear.

The cartoons for the stained glass were made by Mr. Schladermundt, after designs prepared by the architect, Mr. Casey. The ground is a crackled white, leaded throughout into small, square panes. In order to give an effect of boldness and strength, the windows are divided vertically by heavy iron bars. The design is surrounded by a richly colored border of laurel, combined with rosettes and Roman fasces. At the top, in the middle of each window, is the great seal of the United States, four feet high, surmounted by the American eagle, whose outstretched wings measure eight feet from tip to tip. To the right and left, following the curve of the window, are the seals of the States and Territories, three on a side, or six in each window, so that forty-eight—excluding only Alaska and Indian Territory—are contained in the eight windows. Torches alternate with the seals, and the fasces are introduced at the bottom.

The name of the State or Territory is inscribed above each seal, with the date of the year in which it was admitted to the Union, or organized under a territorial form of government. The seals occur in the order of their dates, the series beginning with the Thirteen Original States—which start in the easterly window in the order in which they signed the Constitution—and continuing around the room to the three Territories of New Mexico, Arizona, and Oklahoma. Taken all in all they form one of the most interesting decorations in the Library, for the reason that the artist has succeeded in making a harmonious whole out of a very heterogeneous collection of designs. The originals, of course, were separately drawn, often by persons unacquainted with heraldry, and never with any particular thought of fitting them into a single series like the present. The result is that these originals show the greatest diversity of treatment. The key, so to speak, is continually changing. Sometimes, for example, a figure introduced in the foreground is dwarfed by an altogether disproportionate background, while in other cases the figure overpowers everything else; copied exactly, any heraldic or artistic unity of effect would be entirely lacking. Accordingly, after getting together a complete collection of the seals—in every instance an authentic impression of the original obtained from the State secretary—Mr. Schladermundt re-drew, and often almost redesigned his material to bring it into accordance with his decorative scheme. Just what it was that Mr. Schladermundt undertook to do may best be seen in the accompanying engravings of the Seal of Kansas, the first giving the seal as used on official papers, the second copied from Mr. Schladermundt’s cartoon. It will be seen that the spirit of the seal and its heraldic intention are the same in both. The only difference is that in Mr. Schladermundt’s design certain changes of proportion have been made to make the seal harmonize with the style to which the artist wished to have all his designs adhere. In many cases, particularly in the seals of the Thirteen Original States, the original has hardly been changed at all. In the seal of the State of Washington, indeed, which consists merely of a portrait of Washington himself, Mr. Schladermundt has unobtrusively added the Washington arms in the upper corner of the design, in order to suggest the desirable heraldic conventionality more fully; occasionally, too, it has been necessary to omit certain minor details as being unsuited to the breadth of treatment necessary in stained glass—but, as a rule, Mr. Schladermundt has followed very carefully the specifications contained in the authoritative legislative enactments.

DOME ORNAMENT.
BY ALBERT WEINERT.

The Dome.—A vertical section of the dome of the Rotunda would show an exact half circle, with a diameter of one hundred feet. As has been said before, the dome is of stucco, applied to a framework of iron and steel, filled in with terra cotta. Although, as previously described, it appears to rest upon the deep upper entablature, it really springs immediately from the eight arches resting upon the great piers. The entablature, as will be seen on a close inspection, bears no part in the construction. It is projected so far forward from the dome that one may easily walk between the two.

The entablature is about seven feet high, with a richly moulded architrave and a heavy projecting cornice. The ground of the frieze is gilt, with a relief ornament in white of eagles standing upon hemispheres and holding in their beaks a heavy garland of laurel. Over the north, south, east, and west arches, are two female figures—the work of Mr. Philip Martiny—represented as seated upon the architrave moulding and supporting a heavy cartouche—another instance of the emphasis which the architect has so often placed upon the four main axes of the building.

HALF FIGURES.
BY ALBERT WEINERT.

The Stucco Ornamentation.—The dome is so simply planned that a description of its main features may be given in a very brief space. The surface is filled with a system of square coffers. The ornamentation of the body of the dome is in arabesque. The eight ribs which mark off the dome into compartments are each divided into two by a band of gilded ornament resembling a guilloche. The coffers diminish in size from four and a half feet square at the bottom to two and a half feet at the top. The total number of coffers is three hundred and twenty—or forty in each compartment, and also in each horizontal row, and eight in each vertical row. The ground of the coffers is blue, the sky-color, as if one were really looking out into the open air—and therefore the color traditionally used in coffering. To give sparkle and brilliancy, many shades and kinds of blue are used, the darker and heavier at the bottom, and the lighter and airier toward the top. The transition is so gradual and natural that the eye does not perceive any definite change, but only a generally increased vividness. The border mouldings of the coffers are cream-colored—old ivory is the usual term—strongly touched with gold, and in the centre of each is a great gold rosette.

Although the purpose of the dome arabesque is primarily to give an agreeable impression of light and shade, the individual figures of which it is composed are nearly as interesting a study as the general effect of the whole. The variety of the figures is almost bewildering—lions’ heads, sea-horses, dolphins, urns, cartouches, griffins, shells, storks, caryatides, tridents, eagles, cherubs, half-figures, geniuses—altogether something like forty-five principal type-designs, interwoven with very many smaller but no less beautiful pieces of ornament. All are adapted from Renaissance models of the best and purest period, and are combined with the utmost spirit and harmony in an arabesque whose every portion has equal artistic value. No single figure catches the eye; broad horizontal and vertical bands of decoration, gradually diminishing as they approach the top, encircle and ascend the dome, each with its particular “note” of arrangement and design, but all cunningly united to form an indisputable whole, everywhere balanced and restrained.

DETAIL OF THE DOME.

It may be of interest to the visitor to learn that one of the most novel and ingenious pieces of engineering connected with the construction of the Library was a so-called “travelling” or rotary scaffold, devised by Mr. Green for the use of the workmen employed on the stucco decorations of the dome. It may be likened to a huge pair of steps, ascending from the upper entablature to the lantern. Its upper end thrust against an iron pintle secured to beams laid across the eye of the lantern, and was steadied at the bottom by a pair of flanged wheels, which travelled on a track in the entablature, so that the whole apparatus could be traversed entirely round the room. The various stages or landings were adjusted to fit the concave of the dome, with the result that the accuracy of the curve could be tested with almost mathematical exactness. At one time two of these scaffolds were swung to the same pintle.

Mr. Blashfield’s Paintings.—The position of Mr. Blashfield’s decorations in the Collar and Lantern of the dome is the noblest and most inspiring in the Library. They are literally and obviously the crowning glory of the building, and put the final touch of completion on the whole decorative scheme of the interior. The visitor will see how, without them, not a painting in the building would seem to remain solidly and easily in its place, for they occupy not only the highest, but the exact central point of the Library, to which, in a sense, every other is merely relative.

As was hinted in the description of Mr. Vedder’s paintings, Mr. Blashfield was almost necessarily drawn to select some such subject as he has here chosen—the Evolution of Civilization, the records of which it is the function of a great library to gather and preserve.

The ceiling of the Lantern is sky and air, against which, as a background, floats the beautiful female figure representing the Human Understanding, lifting her veil and looking upward from Finite Intellectual Achievement (typified in the circle of figures in the collar) to that which is beyond; in a word, Intellectual Progress looking upward and forward. She is attended by two cherubs, or geniuses; one holds the book of wisdom and knowledge, the other seems, by his gesture, to be encouraging those beneath to persist in their struggle towards perfection.

The decoration of the collar consists of a ring of twelve seated figures, male and female, ranged against a wall of mosaic patterning. They are of colossal size, measuring, as they sit, about ten feet in height. They represent the twelve countries, or epochs, which have contributed most to the development of present-day civilization in this country. Beside each is a tablet, decorated with palms, on which is inscribed the name of the country typified, and below this, on a continuous banderole or streamer, is the name of some chief or typical contribution of that country to the sum of human excellence. The figures follow each other in chronological order, beginning, appropriately enough, at the East, the East being the cradle of civilization. The list is as follows: Egypt, typifying Written Records; Judea, Religion; Greece, Philosophy; Rome, Administration; Islam, Physics; The Middle Ages, Modern Languages; Italy, the Fine Arts; Germany, the Art of Printing; Spain, Discovery; England, Literature; France, Emancipation; and America, Science.

BACON.
BY JOHN J. BOYLE.

Each figure is winged, as representing an ideal, but the wings, which overlap each other regularly throughout, serve mainly to unite the composition in a continuous whole, and in no case have been allowed to hamper the artist in his effort to make each figure the picture of a living, breathing man or woman. Four of the twelve figures, it will be observed, stand out more conspicuously than the rest on account of the lighter tone of their drapery—Egypt, Rome, Italy, and England. They occupy respectively the east, south, west, and north points in the decoration, and furnish another instance of the stress that has been laid, throughout the Library, upon the four cardinal points of the compass which govern the axial lines of the building, and which in turn have been enriched and dignified in the final decorative scheme of the interior. Each of these axial figures is painted in a more rigid attitude than those beside it, and forms, as will be noticed, the centre of a triad, or group of three, each of the flanking figures leaning more or less obviously toward it. It should be noted that there was no intention on the part of the painter to magnify the importance of the four figures thus represented over any of the others. The emphasis of color is solely for decorative purposes. The arrangement being chronological, Mr. Blashfield was unable to exercise much control over the order in which each figure should occur, and still retain his original selection of countries.

Egypt is represented by a male figure clad in the waistcloth and cap with lappets so familiar in the ancient monuments. The idea of Written Records is brought out by the tablet he supports with his left hand, on which is inscribed in hieroglyphics the cartouche or personal seal of Mena, the first recorded Egyptian king; and by the case of books at his feet, which is filled with manuscript rolls of papyrus, the Egyptian paper. Besides the idea of Writing and Recording, Mr. Blashfield brings out the fact that the Egyptians were among the first who held the doctrine of the immortality of the soul. The figure holds in the right hand the Tau, or cross with a ring head, the emblem of life both in this world and beyond it; and on the tablet behind his feet is the winged ball, the more familiar symbol of the same idea.

Judea is shown as a woman lifting her hands in an ecstatic prayer to Jehovah. The over-garment which she wears falls partly away, and discloses the ephod, which was a vestment worn by the high priests, ornamented with a jewelled breastplate and with onyx shoulder clasps set in gold, on which were engraved the names of the Twelve Tribes of Israel. On the face of a stone pillar set beside her is inscribed, in Hebrew characters, the injunction, as found in Leviticus, xix, 18: Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself—a sentence selected as being perhaps the noblest single text contributed by the Jewish race to the system of modern morality. In her lap is a scroll, containing, presumably, a portion of the Scriptures; and at her feet is a censer, typical of the Hebrew ritualism.

THE HUMAN UNDERSTANDING.—BY E. H. BLASHFIELD.

The figure of Greece is distinctly suggestive, so far as attitude and drapery are concerned, of one of the beautiful little Tanagra figures of terra-cotta—so called from the ancient Greek town in which they were first discovered—which are so familiar to students of Greek art. A bronze lamp is set beside her, and in her lap is a scroll—the emblems of wisdom. Her head is crowned with a diadem—possibly with a reference to the City of the Violet Crown, Athens, the Mother of Philosophy.

Rome, the second axial figure, wears the armor of a centurion, or captain in a legion. A lion’s skin, the mark of a standard-bearer, is thrown over him, the head covering the top of his casque. The whole conception is that of the just but inexorable administration of Rome founded upon the power of its arms. One foot is planted upon the lower drum of a marble column, signifying stability. His right arm rests upon the fasces, or bundle of rods, the typical emblem of the Roman power and rule. In his right hand he holds the baton of command.

Islam is an Arab, standing for the Moorish race which introduced into Europe not only an improved science of Physics, as here used by Mr. Blashfield in its older and less restricted sense—but of mathematics and astronomy also. His foots rests upon a glass retort, and he is turning over the leaves of a book of mathematical calculations.

By the term Middle Ages, represented by the female figure which comes next in the decoration, is usually understood the epoch beginning with the dissolution of the Western Roman Empire in 455 and ending with the discovery of America in 1492. No single country is here indicated, for Europe was throughout that period in a state of flux, so to say, in the movement of which the principal modern languages were finally evolved from the Latin and Teutonic tongues. But it was an epoch notable for many other things, also. The figure typifying the epoch is distinguished by an expression at once grave and passionate, and has a sword, casque and cuirass, emblematic of the great institution of Chivalry; a model of a cathedral, standing for Gothic Architecture, which was brought to its greatest perfection in these thousand years; and a papal tiara and the keys of St. Peter, signifying mediæval devotion and the power of the Church.

SECTION OF THE DOME DECORATION.—BY EDWIN H. BLASHFIELD.

The next figure, Italy—the Italy of the Renaissance—is shown with symbols of four of the Fine Arts which she represents—Painting, Sculpture, Architecture, and Music. She holds a palette in her left hand, and with the brush in her right seems about to lay another stroke of color on her canvas. To her left is a statuette after Michael Angelo’s celebrated David, in Florence. At her feet is a Renaissance capital; and leaning against the wall a violin, at once the typical musical instrument and that in the manufacture of which the Italians peculiarly excelled.

Germany is the printer, turning from his press—a hand-press, accurately copied from early models—to examine the proof-sheet he has just pulled. His right foot is placed upon a pile of sheets already corrected, and a roller for inking lies convenient to his hand.

Spain is the sixteenth century Spanish adventurer. He wears a steel morion on his head, and is clad in a leathern jerkin. Holding the tiller of a ship in his right hand, he seems to be watching for land to appear in the sea. Beside him is a globe of the earth, and at his feet a model of a caravel, the sort of ship in which Columbus sailed on his voyages, is introduced.

England wears the ruff and full sleeves of the time of Elizabeth—the era when English Literature, both poetry and prose, was at its highest. She is crowned with laurel—the reward of literature—and bears in her lap an open book of Shakespeare’s Plays—the right-hand page with a facsimile of the title-page of the first edition of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, dated 1600.

SECTION OF THE DOME DECORATION.—BY EDWIN H. BLASHFIELD.

France, standing for Emancipation and the great revolutionary upheaval of the eighteenth century, is dressed in a characteristic garb of the First Republic—a jacket with lapels, a tricolor scarf, and a liberty-cap with a tricolor cockade. She sits on a cannon and carries a drum, a bugle, and a sword—emblems of her military crusade in behalf of liberty. In her left hand she displays a scroll bearing the words “Les Droits de l’Homme,” the famous Declaration of the Rights of Man adopted by the French Assembly in 1789.

The twelfth and last figure, bringing us once more round to the east, is that of America—represented as an engineer, in the garb of the machine-shop, sitting lost in thought over a problem of mechanics he has encountered. He leans his chin upon the palm of one hand, while the other holds the scientific book which he has been consulting. In front of him is an electric dynamo—recalling the part which the United States has taken in the advancement of electrical science.

On the base of the dynamo, Mr. Blashfield has signed his work in an inscription which recalls also the name of the artist who assisted him in laying it upon the plaster: “These decorations were designed and executed by Edwin Howland Blashfield, assisted by Arthur Reginald Willett, A. D. MDCCCLXXXXVI.”

The visitor will perhaps have been a little perplexed by the familiar appearance of some of the faces in Mr. Blashfield’s decoration. It is an interesting fact that in several cases Mr. Blashfield has introduced a resemblance, more or less distinct, to the features of some real person in order to give greater variety, and, above all, greater vitality to his figures. The persons chosen were selected because the character of their features seemed to him peculiarly suited to the type which he wished to represent. In the case of Abraham Lincoln—the figure of America—and of General Casey—the Germany—the choice was fitting for other reasons. Among the female figures, The Middle Ages is Mrs. De Navarro (Mary Anderson), and England, Miss Ellen Terry. The faces of Italy and Spain are from sketches made from Miss Amy Rose, a young sculptor in New York, and Mr. William Bailey Faxon, the painter, respectively. France suggests the features of the artist’s wife. Throughout, however, it must be remembered that, to use Mr. Blashfield’s own words, “no portraiture has been attempted, but only characterization.”

HENRY.
BY HERBERT ADAMS.

The Rotunda Color Scheme.—One can hardly leave this description of the decoration of the Rotunda without a word respecting the general color scheme. Beginning with the brown, red, and yellow marbles at the base, one ends with the pure whites and bright greens and violets of Mr. Blashfield’s final decoration. The difference between these two extremes has been bridged over by the use of harmonizing colors on the walls and in the dome. The Pompeiian red of the alcove walls and the pendentives is suggested by the Numidian marble of the piers. A touch of brown on the wall below the semicircular windows echoes the brown Tennessee base, and the yellow predominant in the alcove arches above derives from the Sienna screens. These last, again, in their lightest portions, strike the key for the “old ivory”—the delicate gray yellow—which, either deeper or lighter, is always the ruling tone of the entablature, the dome, and the sculptural figures in plaster. The coffers of the dome, one will notice by looking closely, are defined by a narrow band of yellow or red—yellow throughout one whole compartment, and red in the next. The former carries up (more markedly than in the ivory-toned stucco) the color of the screens; the latter the color of the piers. The blue ground, moreover, and the yellow stripe create together, whether one will or not, an impression of green upon the eye, because green is compounded of blue and yellow; and the blue and the red, in turn, create an impression of violet, for a similar reason. Thus, the visitor, glancing up to the decorations of the collar, is already prepared for Mr. Blashfield’s two dominating tones. The white is expected as the natural result of a color scheme which has been steadily growing lighter from the beginning, and, after being used in Mr. Blashfield’s painting, it is at last appropriately employed almost solely in the lantern which crowns the whole Rotunda. Finally, considering the room as a whole, it will be noted that the profuse use of gold throughout the dome and lantern is not only legitimately suggested by the Sienna marble, but of itself helps to keep the various colors—in marble or stucco—in what may be called a more complete “state of solution” than would otherwise have been possible. By attracting attention to itself, it softens the contrasts between the other colors.

The floor of the Rotunda is a kind of mosaic, known as terrazzo, ornamented with great concentric bands of Tennessee marble. Terrazzo, sometimes called “chip mosaic” or “granito,” is made by sprinkling a layer of small pieces of marble upon a bed of Portland cement, rolling it all down so that the pieces are thoroughly embedded, and, after it is dry, rubbing it down smooth with sandstone. When carefully prepared, it makes an especially durable floor.

NEWTON.
BY C. E. DALLIN.

Provision for Readers.—The reading desks are arranged in three circles, surrounding the Distributing Desk as a centre. Each row contains eight desks, leaving room between for aisles radiating from the central desk. They are constructed of dark, heavy mahogany, and are supported on iron standards with gratings admitting warm or fresh air, for heating and ventilation. The inmost row is a combination of reading-tables, settees, and standing writing-desks, with shelves for reference books,—encyclopædias, dictionaries, directories, atlases, etc.,—of which there is a very full selection. The outer rows are double-faced, and arranged exclusively for persons reading and studying. Allowing each a space of four feet, the desks are capable of seating altogether two hundred and forty-six readers. Including the alcoves, which, on account of the number of separate spaces they contain, are well adapted to the use of special students, particularly those desiring to turn over a large number of books at one time, the total number of readers that can be accommodated in the Rotunda is two hundred and eighty-nine.

The Distributing Desk is surrounded by a circular counter for attendants, and for delivering and receiving books, and cases containing a card catalogue of the Library, arranged alphabetically in shallow drawers according to the subject, author, and title. It has been the policy of the Library from the beginning, moreover, to issue its catalogue in printed volumes, new editions being prepared as the old ones became obsolete on account of fresh accessions. Of late years, however, the Library has grown so enormously that the annual appropriations of Congress have not been sufficient to warrant this undertaking. The latest volumes were published in 1881, and carried the catalogue only through the letter “C.”

Within the enclosures formed by these various desks and cabinets is a small elevator for bringing books by the truck-load from the basement story. The Distributing Desk itself is built of mahogany, ornamented with panelling and carving. On the east side it consists of a high station for the use of the Superintendent—the officer in charge in the Rotunda—who is thus able to keep in touch with everything doing in the room. On the other side is a cabinet containing the terminus of the system of book-carrying apparatus connecting the Reading Room and Stacks, and in the centre is a stairway leading to the basement. Along the front of the desk, also, is a row of twenty-four pneumatic tubes for the transmission of messages, either in cylindrical pouches, as in the case of the written applications which those desiring to draw books are required to make out, or verbally, by means of a mouth-piece with which each tube is equipped. Nine tubes go to the North Stack and nine to the South Stack, or one for every floor. Four go to the East Stack, or one to every other floor. An attendant for any portion of the stack system can thus be reached at a moment’s notice. Of the other two tubes, one goes to the Librarian’s Room and the other connects with the Capitol.

Each tube is numbered, and is operated by pressing a button, the action of which indicates, also, when the pouch is delivered at the other end. Each tube terminates in a separate bronze case or box, which is heavily cushioned, and closed by self-shutting glass doors in order to prevent noise. The tube enters at the bottom, and the pouch is thrown against a curved “hood,” so called, which guides it to one side so that it may not fall back into the mouth of the tube.

KENT.
BY GEORGE E. BISSELL.

The Book-Carrying Apparatus.—The main features of the book-carrying apparatus were suggested by Mr. Green, although worked out with the assistance of ingenious mechanics. The apparatus is in two parts, each separately operated, the first of which connects with the North Stack and the second with the South Stack. The East Stack is so much less extensive than the other two that it was thought more economical to rely solely upon the services of the attendants for the delivery and return of the books it contained. Each section of the apparatus (north or south) consists of a pair of endless chains kept continuously in motion, at the rate of about one hundred feet a minute, by means of power furnished by an electric dynamo. These two chains run from the terminal cabinet to the basement; thence on a level to the stacks; and from there directly up a small well to the top floor, where they turn and descend.

The cable carries eighteen trays, distributed at regular intervals. Each tray is capable of carrying a volume the size of the ordinary quarto, (say eleven inches by ten, and four inches thick), or its equivalent in smaller volumes. Larger books must be carried by hand down the elevator with which each stack is provided. The tray is of brass, made in the form of a hooked comb, the ends of the teeth being left free. The terminal cabinet and all the stack stories are provided with toothed slides, the teeth of which engage with those of the trays, and rake off or deliver the books, as the case may be. If one bends and slightly opens the fingers of both hands, and then draws the fingers of one through those of the other, the general principle of the arrangement will immediately be seen. The tray, however, can receive books only when going up, and can deliver them only when coming down. When a book is received by a slide it falls into a padded basket, ready to be taken to its place on the shelves or delivered to the reader. When the attendant desires to deliver a book to the Rotunda, he places it on the slide, and sets the latter so that it will be ready to meet the first tray which arrives. In returning books, the officer at the Distributing Desk must set a little lever on a dial at the number of the stack for which the book is intended. When the tray approaches the proper floor, the slide is automatically pushed out to receive the load.

FULTON.
BY EDWARD C. POTTER.

Connection with the Capitol.—It is calculated that, by means of the pneumatic tubes and the book-carrying apparatus, it will require no more than six or seven minutes to bring a book from the stacks, from the time it is first called for. Valuable, however, as is the use of machinery in connecting widely distant portions of the Library, it is even more important as a factor in bringing together the Library itself and the Capitol, where hardly an hour passes, during a session of Congress, but some member desires to draw books for immediate use in debate or committee work. The distance between the two buildings is about a quarter of a mile (twelve hundred and seventy-five feet). This is covered by a tunnel having at one end a terminus in the basement almost immediately beneath the Distributing Desk, and at the other end in a room in the Capitol about midway between the Senate and House of Representatives. The tunnel is built of brick, is perfectly dry, and about six feet high and four feet wide, or just large enough for a man to enter and make any needed repairs. An endless cable, kept moving by a similar force to that which supplies the apparatus connecting with the stacks, carries two trays back and forth between the terminals, receiving and delivering books by the same arrangement of teeth as has just been described. The trays are much larger, however, than the others, and are capable of containing the largest volumes, such as bound volumes of newspapers. The speed at which the cable runs is about six hundred feet a minute, delivering a book at the Capitol within three minutes after it has left the Library. In addition to the book-carrier, the tunnel contains the pneumatic tube already spoken of, and the wires of private telephones connecting the two Houses of Congress with the Distributing Desk. So quickly can a message be sent and a book returned, that it is said that a Congressman can get the volumes he desires in less time than it would have taken him when the Library occupied its old quarters in the Capitol itself.