Now the mechanism consists of certain apparatus necessarily independent with each library—administrative records, charging systems, etc.; but also of classification, catalog and bibliography. All of these may be standardized,—but the opportunity for a co-operation which may save expense occurs chiefly in the three last named. The extravagance, the needless extravagance, of an absence of it represented by the old conditions was little apparent to the general public or to boards of control. It becomes obvious when one considers that thousands of libraries receiving hundreds of identical books,—and hundreds of libraries receiving thousands of identical books—were each undertaking independently the expense of cataloging and classifying these: thus multiplying by exactly their number the total cost of the community. As against this, the economy of a system under which a particular book shall be cataloged—and perhaps classified—at some central point once for all, and the result made available in multiple form to all libraries receiving copies of it—needs only to be stated to be convincing. A condition of it is, in the case of classification, identity in the basic scheme and notation, in the case of catalog identity in the form, and uniformity in the practice. The general availability of bibliographic lists does not depend upon either, though convenienced by both.
Identity in classification seems still remote, nor does the undoubted vogue of the Decimal scheme assure it: for this is chiefly among the smaller libraries. In the larger, the Decimal scheme, where adopted, is apt to be accompanied by variations of detail, which mean a variation in the place and symbol assigned to a particular book, and thus bar the general adoption of a decision in the classification of it made at any central bureau. So far as this variance affects the direct administration of a particular library it may be unimportant: for the arrangement of its own books upon its own shelves—provided this is based on a subject scheme, consistently carried out—may be sufficiently effective for its own purposes, even though purely individual with itself. What it implies, however, in multiplication of an expense that might be avoided by the adoption of an identical scheme, is of an import very serious. The construction of a scheme which should suit equally all libraries and all librarians is not to be expected. The best that can be hoped for is a scheme sound in its fundaments and upon which the concessions of individual preference necessary will be only as to detail. The reluctance—of librarians—to make such concessions is due, I think, to an exaggerated estimate of the importance of classification as such—that is to say, of the precise location of a particular book in a given collection; a failure to realize—what experience should have taught—that in many groups no location can be absolutely permanent, owing to changes in the literary output and in the subject relation of that group to the rest. This reluctance is, I fear, one of the conservatisms least creditable to the profession. It induces tenacity in adhesion to systems adopted, and it leads to the adoption of new systems devised to accord with supposed idiosyncrasies of a particular collection—or pursuant to the ingenious inventiveness of a particular librarian. I can express myself the more frankly because in this latter respect the Library of Congress has itself been a sinner;—and one not yet come to repentance. For at the outset of its problem it found the Decimal classification in considerable vogue, the Expansive in considerable favor. And it adopted neither, but proceeded to devise a scheme of its own. It did this out of declared necessity, with regard to its supposed interests; and considering those interests alone the results have seemed a justification. They are even being utilized in certain other institutions, and though not proffered as a model for general adoption, they render even now a general service in proving the economy of centralizing the process of classification, as well as that of cataloging, at some central point or points from which the decisions may radiate.
The general availability of a catalog entry depends of course upon uniformity in cataloging practice as well as identity in size and form of the card itself,—if the result takes the form of a card. Agreement in this has fortunately been rapid, and we have now in English speaking American a set of decisions, embodied in a code of rules—substantially accepted among our own libraries and even substantially acceptable to the libraries of Great Britain. Between continental practice and our own variances still exist, and bar the complete interchange of results. One cannot doubt, however, that time will eradicate, or adjust these also.
Between bibliography as distinguished from classification and cataloging, there exist, however, no such impediments; and the centralization of bibliographic work—co-operation in it—is progressing apace.
The prospect is, therefore, fairly cheerful that librarians will be able in the near future to free themselves and their funds from undue attention to the mere mechanism of their craft, and more completely to devote their resources and personal service to the book as literature, and the reader as a human being.
The spirit for this is ardent. It is manifest in our two countries as nowhere else in like degree. As regards the reader it calls itself proudly "the missionary spirit"; it seeks him, appraises him, sympathizes with him, counsels him. It does not doubt its duty in this to be an affirmative one. But as regards the book itself it is not yet so decisive. For in the selection of what it is to offer it still concedes much to what is called the "popular taste"—which means the popular fancy of the moment, ignoring in doing so its prerogative as an "educational" institution to assert standards, and to abide by them. Its hope is to improve the taste itself; and the need of this—its appropriateness as a function of the library, and the means of effecting it—are to be a main feature of the program of this conference. They are justly so,—even though they are matters of concern chiefly for that type of library which is engaged in serving the public at large. It is, however, precisely that type of library with which also the duty should lie of representing the standards established by time, and the taste represented by the more refined rather than by the average instincts of the community. And as the temptation—to make concessions is also peculiarly theirs—the responsibility is particularly upon them, their librarians, their trustees, and the conservative in public opinion—to assert this duty and to conform to it. The assertion of it may cause resentment; but this will prove merely individual; it is not likely to organize into formidable resistance. And in time it will become merely sporadic. It will tend to diminish in proportion as associations such as this, in conferences such as this, declare solidly for the authority of the library in such decisions—while clearly distinguishing it from any censorship of literature as such.
The temptation to court "popularity"—natural in institutions maintained at the public expense and therefore dependent upon the favor of city councils—has another phase which I hope may prove but transitory. It is in the exploitation of the service done by the books which are the "tools of trade" as against those making for general information, or general culture. The supposition is that the service of the first named is one which will convince certain important opinion as a "practical" service, and particularly that it will appeal to those who are just now insistent upon vocational studies as the studies to be given right of way in the education of youth. The temptation is the greater because the service of a book of this sort is a service whose results are readily demonstrable, it is concrete and objective;—while that of general literature is but subjective.
Its importance cannot be questioned, nor the duty of the library to perform it, nor the success of our public libraries in the actual performance of it. The only criticism might be lest in the emphasis upon it, our libraries may seem to underestimate, if not to disparage, that other service which in its ulterior benefit to the community may prove of even greater importance; that service which reminds the public that livelihood is not the main purpose of life, nor the present, the local and the particular, the only era, the only place, the only thing worthy of consideration and regard. The books which achieve this may have their greatest value in offsetting the tendencies of mere industry. This is not to say, however, that they may not advance industry itself; for though they may not improve the mere dexterity of a particular individual in a profession, art or trade, they may aid to that sense of proportion, that larger view of a worldwide relation which will advance the art itself; and they cultivate the imagination which is the essential of modern industry in its larger relations.
As, therefore, our colleges still stand for the utility of the general studies even in a career looking to vocation, so our libraries may well stand for the utility of the general literature. Particularly is this duty upon them since the opportunity—in its relation to the community at large—is uniquely theirs: for no other agency—not even the museum, or the art gallery, or the theatre, the opera house, or the concert hall—potent as may be the influence of these—matches the book in power and availability in this service of quickening the sensibilities, refining the taste, enlarging the understanding, diversifying the experience, warming the heart and clarifying the soul.
And this service—understood everywhere—is nowhere—save perhaps in England—quite so completely followed into its consequences as in Canada and the United States. The conviction of it grounds our libraries upon a public opinion assuring permanent support; and inspires among individuals enthusiasm for gift and endowment. The greater, therefore, the responsibility of librarians and trustees to see to it that this conviction, this enthusiasm and the resources which they provide shall be so utilized as to effect not merely the most showy but the most substantial results.