To some, however, a free library will make up for the lack of a liberal education. More than that. It will furnish such an education every jot and tittle of it, and that, in some sense, better than was ever bestowed in a college, because acquired in the face of greater difficulties. Libraries have often vouchsafed this priceless boon. That in Salem did to Bowditch, the mathematician, in the last century, and to Whipple, the essayist, in this. The Edinburgh library made Hume an historian. Another was inspiration to Cobbett. So was that of the Erfurt convent to Luther. “It had purchased,” says his biographer, “at heavy cost, several Latin Bibles just printed for the first time in the neighboring city of Mainz. When he first opened one of these tomes his eyes fell on the story of Hannah and Samuel. “O, God,” he murmured, “could I have one of these books I would seek no other worldly treasure.” A great revolution then took place in his soul. His happiest hours were in the library. Concerning such a scholar—
“We cannot say: ‘'Tis pity
He lacks instructions,’ for he seems a master
To most that teach.”
The influence of ancient Libraries on classical writers is manifest from their quotations. Plutarch's have been traced to 250 authors. Pliny's to 2,000 works. Classical Libraries preserved in Constantinople, so long as studied, made there a Goshen of light in the Dark Ages, and when carried to Italy proved a Promethean spark to kindle occidental culture anew. It is well known that inventions are oftenest struck out in the Patent Office, the grand store-house of inventions. In the world of mind, as well as of matter, new ideas are suggested where old ideas most congregate, or are most communed with. According to Chaucer,
“Out of old fields, as man saith,
Cometh all the new corn from year to year,
And out of old books, in good faith,
Cometh all the new science that men lear.”
The idea of writing the “Life of Columbus” first darted into the mind of Irving, when, in Madrid, he found himself surrounded by an unrivaled magazine of materials made ready to his hand, and for which the world had been ransacked. Thus the sight of means to make good books makes good books made.
Not only those volumes which compose the body of literature, but those finer essences which form its soul,—the literature of power,—stamped in Nature's mint of ecstasy—are marked all over with proofs of familiarity with the best that had been achieved,—each in its own department. Nobody has hesitated thus to affirm concerning Virgil, Dante, Tasso, Milton. But it is commonly said that Shakespeare was ignorant. The truth is that no ignorant man, no ordinary, scholar can understand his allusions, historical, romantic, classical, or those to art, science, nationalities, customs—or even his words. He could get more from a Library in a day than most men in a life-time, but he needed it still.
In speaking of Shakespeare, I mean the man who wrote the Plays reputed his, no matter whether that author was Bacon, or John Smith, or even our townsman George B.
We ought to say that Shakespeare was a universal man,—because he was heir of all ages,—and his was universal knowledge, a knowledge which neither can we fathom nor could he find without a library.
His peculiarity was ability to discern the immortal part of books, or to stamp what were otherwise perishable with his own immortality. Whoever can do much without tools, can do more with them. Accordingly men do their broken weapons rather use than their bare hands. Whoever can do much without a library, can do more with a library. David did much with a sling, but more with better arms, and builded an armory on which there hung a thousand bucklers, all shields of mighty men.