Our literary gentleman, at all events, found his task very engaging, though as a cataloguer he was much perplexed by the extraordinary informality, in one respect, of formal public papers, a curious provinciality, as he could but take it to be, of municipalities. A very common neglect, he found, in such publications is to make any mention anywhere of the relation to geography of the community chronicling its history.
He would read, for instance, that the pamphlet in his hand was the "Auditor's Report of Receipts and Expenditures for the Financial Year Ending February 10, 1875, for the Town of Andover." Where, he asked, with absolute certainty, was the town of Andover here referred to? He examined the printer's imprint, which was explicit—personally: "Printed by Warren F. Draper, 1875." There was something very friendly about this. Printers of public documents seem to be an amiable, neighbourly lot: "Printed at the Enterprise Office," one mentions casually in a large, warm-hearted fashion. Another imprint reads, "Auburn, Printed by Charles Ferris, Daily Advertiser Office, 1848," Mr. Ferris, in his lifetime, was evidently a very pleasant man, but a little careless of what to him, no doubt, were inessential details. He was thoughtless of the dark ignorance in places remote from Auburn of the Daily Advertiser. Another prominent Auburnian of the same craft, one W. S. Morse, it may be learned from some of the products of his press, flourished in 1886. But, the puzzled cataloguer inquires, was Mr. Morse successor to Mr. Ferris, or was he official printer to the Government of Auburn, Maine, far from the scene of Mr. Ferris's public services, possibly in Auburn, New York? To these picayune points the breezy gentlemen make no reference.
The worker with public documents turns from the title pages to search the documents themselves. Are these the "Proceedings of the Board of Chosen Freeholders" of the City of Albany, Missouri, or of Albany, New Hampshire? (A cataloguer has a faint impression that there is an Albany, too, somewhere in the State of New York.) Is this a "Copy of Warrant for Annual Town Meeting" of Lancaster, Massachusetts, or New Hampshire, or Pennsylvania? Impossible, he thinks, that there should be no internal evidence.
He reads on and on. He notes the intimate nature of an Article 19: "To see if the town will accept a gift from Hannah E. Bigelow, with conditions." He peruses "Selectman's Accounts" of expenditures, how there was "Paid on account of Grammar School" such or such an amount; he learns the cost of "Hay Scales," the expenses of "Fire Dep't, Cemetery, Street Lamps." He peers behind the official scenes at Decoration Day: monies paid out of the public treasury for "Brass Band, Address ($20.00), flowers, flags, tuning piano." He goes over appropriations for "Repairs at Almshouse." He sits with the "Trustees of Memorial Hall," and informs himself concerning conditions at the "Lunatic Hospital." He follows with feeling municipal accessions, "purchase of a Road-scraper, which we find a very useful machine, and probably money judiciously expended." But more and more amazed at the circumstance as he continues he is left totally in the dark as to where he is all the while.
Sometimes the mention, made necessary in connection with plans for some public improvement, of a well-known river, say, revealed the town's location. Occasionally the comparative antiquity of the civilisation supplied inspiration for a good guess as to its situation—that it was the town of that name in New England rather than the one in Oklahoma. Multiplied clues of identity, again, built up a case: "Official Ballot" (ran the title) "for Precinct W. Attleburough, Tuesday. Nov. 3, 1896." The name "Wm. M. Olin" was given as that of the "Secretary of the Commonwealth." Of the first page that was all. In heaven's name! exclaimed the cataloguer, what commonwealth? A study of the list of candidates on this ballot, giving their places of residence, however, fortified one's natural supposition—"of Worcester, of Lynn, of Haverhill, of Amherst, of Pittsfield" (ah!), "of Boston." It is a reasonable surmise that this Ballot pertains to the commonwealth of Massachusetts.
It is not here stated that the name of its native State is never discovered in the whole of any American municipal document. Often, in some indirect allusion, somewhere in the text it may be found. Frequently, too, it is true, the State seal is printed upon the title page or cover of the volume. And in instances the name of the State stands out clearly enough upon the page of title. But in case after case, in the occupation giving rise to this paper, the only expedient was recourse to a file of city directories, collating names of streets in these with those mentioned in the documents.
Another curious idiosyncrasy of one branch of public document—which informs the labour of cataloguing them with something of the alluring fascination of putting together jig-saw picture puzzles ("spoke," in the words of Artemas Ward, "sarcastic") is the extraordinary variety of names that can be found by municipalities to entitle the Mayor's annual eloquence. This versatile character may deliver himself of an Annual Address, Message, Communication, Statement, or of "Remarks."
A cataloguer was surprised to discover, in "An Act to Incorporate and Vest Certain Powers in the Freeholders and Inhabitants of the village of Brooklyn, in the County of Kings," the prophetic enlightenment of the Inhabitants of that village in the year 1816. The voice of Andrew Carnegie, Colonel Roosevelt, and Prof. Brander Matthews speaks in the following passage: "That the section of the town of Brooklyn, commonly known as 'The Fire District,' and contained within the following bounds, viz.: Beginning at the public landing south of Pierpont's distillery, formerly the property of Philip Livingston, deceased, on the East River, thence running along the public road leading from said landing to its intersection with Redhook lane, thence along Redhook lane to where it intersects Jamaica turnpike road, thence a North East course to the head of the Wallabaght mill-pond, thence thro the centre of said mill pond to the East river, and thence down the East river to the place of beginning, shall continue to be known and distinguished by the Name of the Village of Brooklyn." "Thro" certainly is phonetic spelling.
It was the sterling character of these villagers that then laid the foundation for the better half of a mighty city to come. The "act" concludes: "And then and there proceed to elect Five discreet freeholders, resident within said village, to be trustees thereof." So witness is borne to this vernacular quality of discretion in the twilight of Brooklyn history.
The aesthetic consideration of municipal documents has not received much attention. The format of a municipal document, however, is in itself a delightful essay in unconscious self-characterisation. Those of the United States express a plain democratic people. They have, in fact, all the commonness of the job printer. "Printed at the Journal Office," is, indeed, their physical character.