In the Astor Library, over six hundred volumes were discovered to have been mutilated, including art works, Patent office reports, magazines, newspapers, and even encyclopaedias. The books stolen from that library had been many, until several exposures and punishment of thieves inspired a wholesome dread of a similar fate.
At a meeting of the American Library Association, one member inquired whether there was any effectual way to prevent the abstraction of books. He was answered by another librarian (from Cincinnati) who replied that he knew of only one effectual method, and that was to keep a man standing over each book with a club. Of course this was a humorous paradox, not to be taken literally, but it points a moral.
Seriously, however, the evil may be greatly curtailed, (though we may be hopeless of absolute prevention) by adopting the precautions already referred to. In the Library of the British Museum, a great library of reference, from which no book is permitted to be taken under any circumstances, the evil of mutilation was much reduced by prosecuting and posting the offenders publicly. After a few years, the obnoxious practice had so far ceased, that the placards, having an unpleasant aspect, were taken down. But on renewal of such depredations and defacements of books by readers, the placards were renewed, and some of the mutilated books, suitably labelled, were posted in the great reading room before the eyes of all. The authorities of the British Museum are convinced of the salutary effects of such warnings, though books are sometimes stolen or mutilated under the liberal management which leaves several thousand volumes open for reference, without tickets.
The late Dr. Wm. F. Poole, the Chicago librarian, recorded his experience in dealing with some clergymen, who, said he, seem to have as regards books, an imperfect appreciation of the laws of meum and tuum. He had found ministers more remiss in returning books than any other class of men. He would by no means reflect on a noble and sacred profession by charging the derelictions of a few upon the many. But he had had unpleasant experiences with men of that profession, who had absolutely purloined books from the Public Library, removed the book-plates and library stamp, and covered the volumes with paper carefully pasted down inside of the covers.
A librarian in Massachusetts testified that it was common experience that clergymen and professional men gave the most trouble. Second-hand book-dealers in Boston had found a judge of the court purloining rare pamphlets, and ministers making away with pamphlet sermons under their coats. Without insisting here upon any such extenuations of such practices as the prevalence of kleptomania, it has been made abundantly manifest that theft and mutilation of books are sufficiently common to demonstrate the weakness of human nature, and the necessity of every safeguard which public libraries can provide against such abuses of their treasures.
A Boston librarian stated that the thieves or mutilators of books included school-boys, clerks, students, teachers, soldiers, physicians, lawyers, clergymen, etc. In only one case was the crime committed through want or suffering. Yet, though the offenders had been proven guilty in every instance, only two cases were known in which the penalty of the law had been enforced. Does not this bespeak laxity of public morals in Boston in regard to such abuses of library property?
The Union Theological Seminary at New York recorded its experience with ministers and theological students, to the effect that its library had lost more than a thousand volumes, taken and not returned. This of course included what were charged out, but could not be recovered.
A librarian in Auburn, N. Y., returning from vacation, found that the American Architect, an important illustrated weekly, had been mutilated in seven different volumes, and that 130 pages in all had been stolen. Fortunately, she was able to trace the reader who had been using the work, and succeeded in recovering the abstracted plates. The offender was prosecuted to conviction, and had to pay a fine of fifty dollars.
It often happens that books which disappear mysteriously from a public library re-appear quite as mysteriously. Those taking them, finding that the rules do not allow certain books to leave the library, make a law unto themselves, carry off the book wanted, keep it until read, and then return it surreptitiously, by replacing it on some shelf or table, when no one is looking. This is where no intention of stealing the book exists, and the borrower wilfully makes his own convenience override the library regulations, in the belief that he will not be found out. The Buffalo Young Men's Library reported in one year eighteen illustrated works on the fine arts, reserved from being taken out by its by-laws, as disappearing for weeks, but brought back in this underhanded manner. In other cases of such return, it is likely that the purpose was to keep the book, but that conscience or better thoughts, or fear of detection prevailed, and secured its return.
Some instances where leniency has been exercised to save book thieves from penalties may be instructive. One man who had carried off and sold two volumes from the Astor Library was traced and arrested, when he pleaded that absolute want had driven him to the act. He had a wife ill and starving at his home, and this on investigation proving true, he was pardoned and saved further misery.