In the Library is a perfect copy of Eliot’s Indian Bible, published in Cambridge in 1661, the last copy of which brought $1,000. Here, too, may be found the works of Cotton and Increase Mather (1671 to 1735), and leading journals, all publications of our country from 1735 to 1800. Bound volumes of many of them can also be found here. The first edition of the Mormon Bible, published in 1830, and printed at Palmyra, New York; Archbishop Cramer’s version of the Bible, 1553; Martin Luther’s Bible; and the Catholic version of the New Testament, 1582, are among the rare volumes in the Library of Congress.
An extract from a copy of the Washington Post of 1897 well describes the official test of the device for sending books to and from the Capitol:
An official test of the device for transporting books between the Capitol and the new Congressional Library was made yesterday afternoon. Mr. John Russell Young, the Librarian; Chief Assistant Librarian Spofford, and Superintendent Bernard R. Green assembled in the small receiving-room, just off Statuary Hall, about 2 o’clock. Mr. Young had prepared for the test a list of books known only to himself until they were ordered from the Library.
The first volume sent for was William Winter’s poems. Mr. Young gave out the name and Mr. Green wrote it on a slip of paper. This was placed in the pneumatic tube, which flashed it to Mr. David Hutcheson, who is in charge of the reading-room of the new Library. The book was ordered by Mr. Hutcheson from the shelf-clerk and sent to the desk in the center of the reading-room by the Library carrier. It was then taken to the big carrier in the basement and started on its journey to the Capitol. The time consumed from the moment of sending the order by pneumatic tube until the leather case containing the desired volume deposited its cargo before Mr. Young was exactly ten minutes.
Mr. Young then sent for a copy of “Faust” in German, Hugo’s “Les Châtiments,” and Hildreth’s “History of the United States,” vol. i., all on one order, and for the London Times of 1815, the year of the battle of Waterloo, on a separate order. The “Faust” and the history arrived in eight minutes and “Les Châtiments” on the next carrier. The order for the London Times was an extreme test, as the volume is so large that the carriers in the Library connecting with the shelves would not accommodate it, and a messenger had to be sent from the main desk to the top deck of the south stack, where the newspaper files are shelved. When the messenger returned he just missed the carrier, which had been sent off with one of the other volumes ordered, and he had to wait the four minutes consumed by the transit of the carriers before he could start the Times on its journey. It arrived at the Capitol just thirteen minutes after the order for it was sent.
The carrier consists of an endless cable, with two metal baskets at an equal distance from each other. These work on the cable, the power for which is furnished by the Library dynamo. The books are carried through the tunnel, and when they reach the wheels which change the direction, the speed is automatically slackened, so that the delivery is made gently and without the possibility of damage. Smaller books are first placed in a large sole-leather case. The carriers are taken through the tunnel at the rate of six hundred feet per minute. Should any trouble occur, the mechanism can be instantly stopped by an electric button, one at each end. The machinery of the carriers and its instalment was largely the work of Superintendent Green.
All who witnessed the test were surprised at the ease and swiftness with which the books could be sent for, taken from the shelves, and transported a distance of about a quarter of a mile. Librarian Young was very much gratified. He characterized the system as remarkable. The test also demonstrated that the arrangement of the books in their new quarters is perfect, as those sent for were selected at random and were readily picked out from the enormous collection by those in charge of the shelves.
In this labyrinth of beauty, known as the Library of Congress, I believe a man would see no fault. But women, except as allegorical characters, such as imaginary figures of history, science, pomology, art, etc., have no share in the scheme of ornamentation. But men of all ages, of all branches of art, science, commerce, and literature, are memorialized in painting, sculpture, writing, or suggestion of some kind, either concrete or abstract. It is true, Sappho (whom I suppose the artist thought was a man), grown dim in the long vista of years, is a lone woman among the world’s élite. No George Eliot, nor George Sand, nor Harriet Hosmer, nor Rosa Bonheur, nor Mrs. Browning, nor Mrs. Stowe now stands near Holmes, Whittier, Longfellow, Byron, or Landseer. This omission is not like our gallant American men.
I remember once at a table in London some distinguished English women were complimenting the achievements of American women. I replied, “I have met the college women of almost every European country. I do not find American women in any way mentally superior to the women of Europe. But American women accomplish much more than their sisters east of the Atlantic simply because of our men. Now here in England your husband and brothers insist on silence, but with us if a woman sings or talks well it is the hand of her husband or father that leads her to the front, and it is the kindness of our men that starts us on our public life, helps us at hard places, and encourages us everywhere. No, it is not our women who are superior, it is our men, our gracious, helpful men.”
Whatever women in the United States have accomplished beyond their sisters in foreign lands has been done because of the friendly, cordial, helpful encouragement of their husbands, brothers, and fathers; so in this Library the womanhood of the world is slighted in the house of her friends.