[8]Library Journal, March, 1913, p. 135.
[8]Library Journal, March, 1913, p. 135.
This division of labor enables the reference librarian to play the part of hostess, to make the students feel at home, to secure their good will and co-operation, to develop a sense of personal responsibility towards the library and its treasures. Her work as regards the library is
largely general and descriptive; as regards the students it is that of a friend and counselor; as regards the other officers of the college it is that of an ally and co-operator.
It is necessary to emphasize at this point the wide divergence between the work of the reference librarian in the college or the university and that of the reference librarian in the public library however large or small it may be.
In the public library the demand made upon the reference librarian is for definite information for immediate use; the library patron wishes, not training in acquiring information by and for himself, but the information itself; no substitution of deferred dividends will satisfy his insistent demand for immediate cash payment; he cares not at all for method but he cares very particularly for instant results. Moreover, no one intervenes between the reference librarian and the library patron,—he alone is responsible for giving the information desired. And again, the reference librarian has to deal with an irregular, constantly fluctuating clientele. The man who wants to know who first thought the world was round and whether he was a vegetarian or perchance a cannibal may never visit the library again, but the effort must be made to satisfy his curiosity. The reference librarian of the public library must always be more or less of a purveyor of miscellaneous information to an irregular fluctuating public.
But the functions of the college reference librarian are altogether different. It is often his duty not to give, but temporarily to withhold information; not to answer but to ask questions; to answer one question by asking another; to help a student answer his own question for himself, work out his own problems, and find a way out of his difficulties; to show him how to find for himself the material desired; to give training rather than specific information; to be himself a teacher and to co-operate with other instructors in training the students who seek his help. All this is possible for him for he deals with a regular constituency and he can build up each year on the foundations of the previous year. But while progression comes for the students, there is always the solid permanency of subject with which the reference librarian deals. With the regularity of the passing calendar there come the questions of the feudal system and of the frontier, of the renaissance and of how to follow a bill through congress. The personnel of the student body changes, but there is always an unchanging residuum of subject matter. On the side of the regular college work there is therefore practically no demand whatever made on the college reference librarian for the miscellaneous information demanded of the public reference librarian,—he is not the one who writes for the daily papers the description in verse of the daily life of the reference librarian.[9]Just what his work is in the college, from the students' point of view is indicated by a recent experience.
[9]Library Journal, Oct., 1912.Public Libraries, June, 1913.
[9]Library Journal, Oct., 1912.Public Libraries, June, 1913.
A class of seventy in American history was recently asked to what extent the members of it had availed themselves of the services of the reference librarian in that particular course and the replies seem to show that their inquiries had chiefly related to the use of government publications, early periodical literature, material not suggested by the titles of books, out-of-the-way material, source material, and current newspaper material not available through indexes. The many tributes to the help received from the Vassar College reference librarian are perhaps best summed up, so it seems to the teacher, in the statement of one student "she shows you how to go about finding a book better the next time."
If then it must be evident that the work of the college reference librarian differs widely from that of the public reference librarian, it remains to consider specifically what division of the field should be made between the college reference librarian
and the college instructor. Here a clear line of demarcation seems evident. The college instructor must know the student personally and intellectually, as he must know the conditions from which he has come and the conditions to which he presumably is to go. He must help the student relate all the various parts of his college work and help him relate his college work to the general conditions in which he is placed. Hence he cannot separate for the student the bibliography of a subject from the subject itself. Nor can he turn over to the librarian the instruction in bibliographical work. The reference librarian is the only member of the library staff who in the capacity of a teacher comes into direct personal relationship with the student, but his work, as has been seen, is entirely different.
In this division of the field that leaves to the college instructor the actual instruction of students in the use of books, a large unoccupied territory is claimed by the reference librarian as peculiarly his own. This concerns the "extra-collegiate activities" and includes help on material needed in inter-class debates, dramatics, pageants, college publications, Bible classes, mission classes, commencement essays, and all the miscellaneous activities in which the student, not the instructor, takes the initiative. This work corresponds somewhat closely to that of the general reference librarian in a public library and it demands about one-half of the time of the librarian.
Instruction in the use of the library is facilitated by unrestricted access to the shelves and here the students are able to put their knowledge to the test and to work out their own independent methods.
What are the advantages and the disadvantages of unrestricted access to the library shelves? The question was recently asked a class of seventy students and their replies show an almost unanimous opinion that the advantages are overwhelmingly in favor of the open shelves.
Among the educational advantages enumerated are that this fosters independence and self-reliance, through encouraging personal investigation; that it enables students to see books in relation to other books, to make comparisons, and therefore to select those that are the best to use; that it shows the library resources and, to a certain extent, the breadth of the investigation that has been done in specific lines. "The open shelf is an instructor, a great indispensable helper, an education in itself," writes one student, while another states, "It gives an opportunity to form a closer acquaintance with books already known by name, and for casual acquaintance with books one has not time to draw out and read at length."
On the more personal side the students have found the advantages to be the pleasure found in handling books; the appeal made by titles and bindings; the inspiration that comes from the feeling of kinship with books; the opportunity given for wide acquaintance with books and authors; more extensive reading; the saving of time; the satisfaction of being able to find what is wanted, freedom from the limitations of specific references. "We become interested in subjects and in books we should not otherwise have known at all," writes one, while another asked a friend who replied, "Well, I don't know exactly what it means, but I guess it means that I for one use books I never otherwise would have used."
On the side of the library as a whole, many have found advantages in the opportunity it gives of doing general and special bibliographical work and in the knowledge afforded of the general plan of arrangement, classification, and cataloging. "If we had to stay in a reading room, how much idea of library organization should we have?" is the clinching question of one enthusiastic student.
The moral advantages are found to be the feeling of responsibility towards books and the training given in not abusing the privilege.
But it is in the failure of some persons to avail themselves of these opportunitiesfor moral training that students find the disadvantages of the open shelf. There are the periodic complaints that books are lost, misplaced, hidden, and monopolized; that the privilege is abused; and that the social conscience is lacking. "The open shelf is the ideal system but it is designed for an ideal society," feelingly writes one, while another, more philosophical, finds that the open shelf has its annoyances, but no disadvantages, and that these are probably to be charged up to human nature, not to the system.
Only an occasional one sees any other disadvantages. One student finds herself bewildered and lost in irrelevant material, while another brought up in the atmosphere of Harvard, thinks that the closed stack encourages greater precision and carefulness, "for if you have to put in a slip and wait for a book you are more careful about your choice than you are when you can easily drop one found to be unsatisfactory and lay your hands immediately upon another one." "It may be," adds a third, "that we do not get all we might from a book when it is so easy to get others. I find myself often putting aside a book when I do not immediately find what I want."
With an occasional plaint about the increased noise and that the open shelf really takes more time since it is easier to ask for an authority on a specified subject than it is to look it up for one's self, the case for and against the open shelf, from the side of the student, seems closed, with the verdict overwhelmingly in favor of unrestricted access to the library shelves.
I cannot forbear suggesting two directions in which it seems to me the library work could be extended to the advantage of both library and academic force.
The first is the desirability of having connected with every college library an instructor in the department of history who gives instruction in one or more courses in history and who is at the same time definitely responsible for the development of the bibliographical side of the history work.
The work of the history librarian on the library side would be to serve as a consulting expert on all questions that arise in cataloging books that are on the border lines between history and other subjects. Such perplexing questions are constantly arising and valuable aid might be given in such cases by an expert in history.
Another part of the work of the history librarian from the side of the library would be to keep the librarian and the history department constantly informed of opportunities to purchase at advantage works on history that are available only through the second-hand dealers. It now usually devolves on some member of the library staff to study the catalogs of second-hand books and report "finds" to some officer of the history department. Could facilities be provided for making it possible to have the initiative come from the history side it would seem a distinct gain.
The work of the history librarian would also include the responsibility for the classification, arrangement and care of the mass of apparently miscellaneous material that accumulates in every library but does not slip naturally into a predestined place. All is grist that comes to the history mill, yet it is difficult to know how it can best be cared for. Miss Hasse in her well-remembered articleOn the Classification of Numismatics[10]has shown that the utmost diversity has prevailed in regard to the classification of coins and the literary material dealing with them. This is but one illustration of the uncertainty, confusion, and diversity that prevails in classifying much of the material that seems miscellaneous in character, and that yet should be classified as historical material.
[10]Library Journal, September, 1904.
[10]Library Journal, September, 1904.
The work of the history librarian on the side of the students would be concerned during the first semester particularly with the freshmen and the sophomores. The bibliographical and reference work now done could be greatly enlarged and extended. It would be possible to explain still more fully the possibilities of assistance from the card catalog; to help students
locate the more special histories that might seem to be luxuries rather than the necessities of their work; to make them acquainted with histories as histories, rather than with histories as furnishing specific material; to develop their critical appreciation of books and their judgment in regard to the varying degrees of authoritativeness of well known old and recent histories. Encouragement would be given the students to begin historical libraries for themselves, advice could be given in making reasonable selections of books, and help in starting a catalog. Interest in suitable book-plates for historical collections might be roused as well as interest in suitable bindings, and thus through these luxurious accessories the student be led on to friendship with the books themselves and with their author.
During the second semester the work of the history librarian would be largely with the seniors and would be more constructive in its nature. The seniors are looking forward to taking an active part in the life of their home communities and they will be interested in the public schools, in the public library, in social work, in church work, in history and literary clubs, in historical pageants, fêtes and excursions, in historical museums, in the celebration of historic days, and in innumerable other civic activities, many of which are intimately connected with the subject of history. The history librarian would be able to give invaluable aid to the seniors in preparing lists of histories suitable for public libraries in communities where suggestions may prove welcome; in suggesting histories adapted to all these demands made by personal, co-operative, and civic activities. This constructive work of the history librarian would be capable of infinite extension and variation and its good results would be far-reaching and of growing momentum.
May I suggest one further possible direction in which the activities of the library staff would lend interest to the general work of the college. Every institution needs luxuries and the members of the library staff have it in their power to offer courses of lectures open to all members of the college and also to citizens of the community who are interested in educational questions. Such courses would include lectures on the history of libraries; on the great libraries of Europe and America; on the great libraries of the world; on great editors like Benjamin F. Stevens; on rare books; on books famous for the number of copies sold, of editions, of translations, of migrations through auction rooms; on the famous manuscripts of the world. The possibilities of such courses are limitless.
There are also the courses of lectures that we are all eager to hear on the plain necessities that are of even greater interest than are those that deal with the luxuries. The college wants to hear about the administration of a library and its general problems; about the special questions of cataloging, interlibrary loans, the special collections of the library as well as its general resources. From the standpoint of special departments, lectures might be given by representatives of these departments on the treasures of the library as they concern their special fields.
Joint department meetings of the members of the library staff and the officers of the departments of English and of history for the discussion of questions of mutual interest have at Vassar College proved stimulating and contributed much to a mutual understanding of each other's ideals and to a sympathetic appreciation of the difficulties attending their realization.
"Why cannot all this work with and about books be explained by the librarians,—" college authorities sometimes ask. "That is their business; it is the business of the teacher to teach."
The answer is simple. The good teacher must individualize the student, the good librarian must individualize the book; and both teacher and librarian must co-operate in helping the college student get the utmost possible from his college course in order that in his turn he may help the community in which he lives in its efforts to realize its ideals. The endless chain extends to the farthermost confines of heaven!
Discussion of the paper was led by Mr. J. T. Gerould, librarian of the University of Minnesota. He believed that most college teachers had neither the knowledge nor the enthusiasm necessary to give systematic bibliographic instruction. Training in the use of the library should, he thought be given by a member of the library staff, from a general point of view, introducing the student to reference books not simply in one field, but in all. The time had come for the university libraries to define their position as a distinct educational integer, not a mere adjunct to the academic departments. Of course, to take such a position, the library staff must be thoroughly equipped, and must include trained bibliographers in adequate number.
Dr. E. C. Richardson, librarian of Princeton University, called attention to the fact that the principle of unrestricted access to the shelves required hearty co-operation between the college public and the library staff. It should be recognized that the librarian is not responsible for the correct placing of every book on an "open shelf."
Mr. John D. Wolcott, librarian of the Bureau of Education, Washington, D. C., spoke of the questionnaire on the subject under discussion sent out in October, 1912, by the A. L. A. to two hundred colleges and universities. A summary of the results were included in the chapter entitled "Recent aspects of library development" by John D. Wolcott, which forms a part of the Report of the U. S. Commissioner of Education for the year ended June 30, 1912. Reprints may be obtained from the Commissioner.
Mr. H. C. Prince, librarian of the Maine state library, called attention to the courses in legal bibliography which were being given at various law schools. Those at the University of Chicago, though without credit, were eagerly attended by law students.
Mr. Goodrich reiterated his belief that the libraries should take a definite stand in insisting that college students must be taught how to use library resources to the full. They must learn the many "tricks of the trade," which in his opinion, were better known at present to the librarian than to the teacher. Miss Salmon replied that she thought it less a question of learning the "tricks of the trade" than of adapting the desired knowledge to the individual need and capacity of the student; hence her belief in the teacher as the proper medium of instruction. The discussion could not be pursued for lack of time.
Mr. H. E. BLISS, librarian of the College of the City of New York, read a paper on
The letter inviting me to take part in this conference echoes to me now across the busy field of the past month with notes something like this: "Come, if you will, and talk to us and with us, butpleasebepractical." Perhaps I have elsewhere in-adroitly given the impression that I believe classification for libraries should be a matter of science or of philosophy. I did indeed say in print, some months ago, that "To be practical today and tomorrow, man must be scientific." Upon science, that is verified and organized knowledge, practical common sense is becoming more and more dependent. To be practical without knowledge is in most matters to be ineffectively practical. How practical should we be in classification for libraries, and how should we be practical effectually?
Those who have had to do with classification only in small collections of books for popular use may regard it as a comparatively simple and unimportant thing. They do not see why there should be so much trouble and fuss about it. This we may term the naïve view, to borrow a phrase from recent philosophical literature. But some of those who have undertaken to maintain a classification for a large university or reference library know that it is one of the most difficult and complicated of our problems. They apprehend furthermore that it has not yet been solved satisfactorily. This may be termed thecriticalview. It may vary from moderation to extremes optimistic or pessimistic.
Not a toy librarians want but atool, as we say. The mechanism of a library, however, is not operated by merely mechanical hands. There should be somewhat in library service beyond mere statistical and technical economies. Our arrangement of books should not be inconsistent with the organization of knowledge, lest we fail in aninestimableservice to the seekers and disseminators of knowledge.
Is it feasible economically to adapt this instrument, classification, to that higher service? There are three answers to this question. There is the pessimistic negative. Books are wanted in all possible and impossible arrangements. You cannot make a classification that, even with the customary transfers of charging-systems, will serve all these ever-varying needs. This argument leads to the virtual negation of the veryprincipleof classification. If this were wholly true, it were futile to provide a place for bacteriology, for the books would be wanted now under botany, now under pathology, or sanitation, and again perhaps under agricultural science.
Shall we separate such branches or not? The pessimist says: "Whichever you do, classification fails." The optimist answers: "Good classification serves the average or prevailing demand." To more special subjects the pessimist then turns, such as crystallography, eugenics, child-psychology. These he says are claimed in their entirety by two or three different sciences. These arguments, launched against so-called "scientific classifications," are no less hostile to the worthy undertaking of a practical system in such conformity to the consensus of modern science as the conditions permit. But most librarians have not accepted this pessimistic negative. They continue to classify books for average demands, and the interest in the problem increases.
Contrasted is the more prevalent optimistic view. We have good classification. The Decimal Classification is an admirable, successful, at least serviceable system; it is the established, the familiar, the most practical. With all its faults, we love it still. Is not thatnaïve? Then, a consistent, scientific system is an impossibility. The relations and interests in science are ever changing, always complex. The thing would not continue for a decade to be satisfactory.
Another outcome of the naïve optimistic view, as realizing the complexity of scientific specialization, is the doctrine that a simple, practical system may be kept abreast of scientific progress by the addition of new details. This elaboration of schedules is compatible with what we term "expansion." Expansibility is essential to the very life of a notation, but it may be overworked. Certain systems have, I fear, expanded beyond the capacity of their safety valves to save them from explosion. Thousands of the details of those inflated schedules are practically useless even in the largest library. Such abnormal distension of the bibliographical body, or hypertrophy of its special parts, is not now for the first time called a disease of the bibliothecal system. That the subjects and topics are innumerable and of intricate complexity has led to the misconception that a classification for libraries should embody an infinity of captions in infinite complication. An alphabetical subject-index is believed to be all that is requisite to operate this maze of entangled details. This view may be termed thesubject-index illusion.
Classification for libraries is to be distinguished on the one hand from notation and on the other hand from an arrangement of bibliographical subjects indexed. Notation and index are but correlative to classification, and, however requisite to a practical system, are in truth of minor importance. They are the fingers and the feet of the body and brain that organizethe materials of knowledge. Yet it is these fingers and feet that have chiefly occupied the attention of most classifiers.
In the theory of classification subjects are to be distinguished from classes as contents from containers. The subject is that which is denoted by its definition; the class is the aggregate of particular things—books, or other things—that are comprised by the definition. A class may be comprehensive of many subjects or aspects of subjects. Such need not appear in the schedules of the classification, but they should be in its subject-index. Thus, Botany is a subject, to which Botanical Books is the corresponding class; Plant Physiology, a less general subject, has a less comprehensive class of books. Geotropism is a specific subject in the physiology of plants. The question arises, is there a class of books and pamphlets treating especially of this subject, the tendency of plants to respond to gravitation, as a stimulus? "Have you in your library," I might ask individually of the majority, "have you an aggregation of books on this subject?" The A. L. A. List comes nearest in the sub-headings under Plants, where with Movements appears Heliotropism, a kindred subject. This caption Movements is for a veritable class of subjects, and it might indeed comprise Geotropism. That is just what the Library of Congress schedule does, subordinating under QK 771 "Movements, Irritability in plants, (general)", the caption of 776, "Miscellaneous induced movements: Geotropism, Heliotropism, etc." In my own classification, the mark GCM goes with the caption, "Movements, Heliotropism, Geotropism, etc." It seems well thus to provide for a future group of monographs. If I criticise the Library of Congress classification today, or elsewhere, be it remembered that I recognize its correct treatment of this and thousands of other subjects. But is the E. C. justified in reaching into the dim future for subdivisions of specialization such as its NESGD, Diatropism, and NESGL, "Lateral Geotropism?" That is where we must open the safety valve or burst.
The body of the D. C. is congested with thousands of names of persons, places, and events which may be subjects, but hardly for classes of books. Systematic schedules might provide for most of these, reduce the bulk of the system, and make for economy and convenience. The L. C. schedules suffer from similar but more astounding expansion. Class H, Sociology and Economics, is needlessly immense, having 551 p., of which but 51 are index. According to the principle laid down a moment ago, the number of subjects in the index should by muchexceedthose in the schedules.
The "Expansive" Seventh expansion expanded so much with its own specialistic tissue that it could afford to omit such bulk of proper and place names. For instance Aves (Birds), covers 8 pages of fine print; there are all the taxonomic terms, for example, PGSLPI is for Phalacrocoracidæ, some family related to the pelicans; but there appears besides only the single subject Oology (eggs), at the end as PGZ. No place under Birds for their structure, their habits, for the popular bird-books, and for such interesting subjects as their migration, flight, etc., about which therearebooks! However much there is to interest, to commend, and to admire in this great undertaking, it must be admitted that this is not practical classification for libraries. It is the province of the subject-catalog to bring together topics and titles which are too special for classification to bring into collocation.
But let us return to the main question of the feasibility ofbetterclassification. There are three answers, I said. Two we have considered, the naïve, and the pessimistic, also their offspring, the subject-index illusion, but we have not yet completely answered the pessimistic. This we may now proceed to do in connection with the third answer, which is optimistic and constructive, while at the same time critical. This affirms that better classification is feasible, that it may be sufficiently flexible and durable, that changes and adjustments may be provided for inalternative and reserved locations, that the notation may be quite simple, and that the index may be as full and specific as comports with convenience.
The purpose of library classification is to group books and tocollocate groupsfor the convenience of readers and students in theiraverage wants. It is not so much for those who want a book, whose author and subject are known, or any good book on a particular subject; for such, the author and subject-catalogs may suffice. But classification is for those who want books, in the plural, directly, without preliminary handling of cards. Three types of such wants are to be distinguished.
(1) To all libraries come (the prevalent type) those who wish a few good books on the subject, or a few facts to be found in the standard books. They do not care to fuss over the card-catalog. The reference librarian, the selective lists, may serve such wants, but close classification usually does so most economically and most satisfactorily. For very specific subjects, however, the subject-catalog in the large library may often best serve this type and may make it less dependent upon free access and close classification.
(2) The second type wants all the good books treating of the subject especially. From these the user himself is to make selection according to his purpose or point of view. Free access and classification are here requisite. A bibliography, if there be one, would be most likely anembarras de richesse.
(3) The third type is that of exhaustive research: all the available literature is wanted, not only the books and pamphlets treating especially of the subject, but also those on related subjects and those of broader scope. Subject-catalogs and bibliographies are needed preliminaries, but access, continued access to the books, is the desideratum. It is for this type that the most carefully guarded libraries give access to their precious collections. Classification, not merely any old kind of subject, or close classification, but good, scientific, close classification, based upon good, consistent, broad classification, is here of paramount importance. The test comes when the student turns from the special to the more general and the related subjects, which are mostly in related branches of science. The tendency to organization in science is rapidly and surely growing. The more consistent with the consensus, to which studies on the average are adapted, however original and divergent their aim, the more convenient will be the classification. It is in subordination of the specific to the broader subject or class and in collocation of related subjects and subdivisions of classes that most systems fail; and here that most classifiers fail to understand either the fault or the remedy.
The difficulties emphasized by the pessimist, the overlapping of studies and the rival claims, arise chiefly from improper subordination. The material is common to the several sciences because these are portions differentiated from larger fields. Child-psychology is part of Psychology. The science and art of education are mainly concerned with the mental. They are related to Physiology and to Sociology as Psychology is related. But to place Education under Sociology, as is done by the D. C. and the E. C. is to answer the relation of second, not of first dependence, and is as false as it were to put psychology under sociology, to put the cart before the horse. Education and Psychology are working together, and their books should be contiguous. How shall we arrange these practically? Well, scientifically, in the order of generality, thus:
I Anthropology.ID to IG Human physiology.J Psychology.JN Social psychology.JO Child-psychology.JP Education.JQ Educational psychology.K Sociology and Ethnology.KA Sociology.KE Ethnology.L History.
The principles of consistent subordination and practical collocation should guide the maker of a system, and his notes should guide the classifier of books. Here indeed should be a "code for classifiers" more intimately articulated than in a separate book. But herein lies the practical art of classification, so to dispose classes, divisions, and subdivisions, that they shall produce a relative minimum of inconvenience under the average conditions of demand and a relative maximum of collocation not only of special classes but of general, as well as a degree of consistency as high as practical conditions permit, and ultimately, as an ideal, a consistency not only with the pedagogic but with the philosophic organization of knowledge. This ideal, I believe, is not beyond approximate realization.
This critical but optimistic view ascribes the failure of library classifications to the dispersion of related material under subject, or close classification, without proper subordination and collocation. The subject-index, however useful to classifiers, is of little value to students. I approve close classification, but find it the more unsatisfactory and baffling as it is the less consistently adapted to good broad classification, with good articulation of related subjects according to predominating interests, and with alternative locations for flexibility to changes and for durability in the progress of science.
Having answered the main question of feasibility, we may now take up some minor practical questions, first Notation. It is not likely that reason shall soon remove all traces of prejudice and controversy in this matter. A few propositions, however, are so reasonable that I think they will be accepted. Notation should be brief and simple. Its simplicity depends upon its brevity, though also upon the familiarity and homogeneity of its elements. Letters give brevity. The capacity of three-letter notation, allowing for omission of all objectionable combinations, is about 15,000. Using letters and figures together increases this capacity to about 25,000, omitting confusing mixtures such as K7G and 8B4. Since somewhat more than 10,000 subdivisions seem requisite, the question reduces to this form: "Which is simpler, notation of three letters, or of five figures?" But figures, it is argued, are more familiar. They may be so to bookkeepers, but to the keepers of books! Familiar here means familiar with the numbers of the D. C. Then, are unmeaning combinations like DAL or GWK really more meaningless than numbers like 13859? On the other hand, isn't RAG easier to see and to remember? But the argument, so far as it is not merely prejudiced, is childish. Such combinations as A1, 3B, C42, and CF6, are hardly objectionable, and may prove convenient and economical in class-notation as they do in the author numbers, with which librarians are so friendly. Since they are come to stay, what is the use of arguing for homogeneous notation?
Notation is the more systematic and economical where it reduces in part to schedules applicable to the subdivision of many classes or divisions. This feature appeared to a minor extent in the "form signs" of the D. C., but was carried out extensively and complexly in the E. C. It is apparent also in the L. C., but there is more conspicuous by its absence through hundreds of pages of names of countries, places, and persons. Time does not permit me to describe here the six schedules that economize the system I have worked out: Schedule 1, Mnemonic numerals, constant throughout; Schedule 2, for subdivision by countries, applicable under subjects, where-ever desired; Schedule 3, for subdivisions under countries and localities; Schedule 4, for subjects under any language, except the chief literary languages; Schedule 5, for the chief literary languages; and Schedule 6, for arranging the material under any prominent author.
Some who admit the feasibility of better classification object that a classification modern for the present will be out ofdate in a generation. This in new guise is the familiar argument that it is useless to clean the house today, for it will need again to be cleaned next week—which all good housewives say is an unreasonable argument. It would be a pity to have fair librarianship called a slouch.
Is it conceivable that your books shall remain forever classified as they are at present? Are there to be no changes, merely additions of new captions? Conservatism is not strange, considering the cost of changing notation; but that cost is small compared with the cost of new building or new collections, and is justified by the service to be rendered. The longer postponed, the larger the cost, the larger the burden. Some libraries are changing now—to what? That change may indeed have to be changed again in a decade or two. But how long, then, should a classification endure—or rather, be endurable? One who would not prophesy may nevertheless give an opinion. I believe that a good classification should last a century—with some minor alterations. I believe that a good library should be willing to reclassify, if necessary, at least some of its collections two or three times in a century. I think that library economy should have been developed with better regard to this problem. It is not practical to arrange books inconsistently with the scientific and pedagogic organization of knowledge. Organization based on consensus is one of the marked tendencies of modern thought and purpose, and is not likely to be overcome by dissenting or disintegrating philosophical counter-tendencies. This organization is more stable than the theories on which it rests, and these are more stable than the popular press would lead us to suppose. New theories, new statements, are assimilated to the established body of knowledge without much dislocation of members. Durability in a system would depend not only upon present consistency with the organization of knowledge, but upon flexibility through reserved and alternative locations, judiciously chosen with regard to tendencies in science. There might be flaws and errors, but all practice, in whatever profession is thus imperfect and tentative.
That the D. C. is antiquated is not because of any change in science, but because it did not conform to the science of its generation. The welcome accorded to it in the pioneer days was in keeping with the earlier view that classification is a simple thing, as it indeed was for the small popular libraries. That acceptance has mellowed now into an affectionate companionship with a familiar and comfortable conveyance that has proved serviceable so far. Now the thing is said to need repair. But that it cannot economically be reconstructed has been recently demonstrated. It evidently must go on till its thousand pieces fall in a heap together, like the "wonderful one-hoss shay." Loading it with more and more scientific luggage may for a time increase its service, but the rattling of its parts grows all the more distressing to those who ride.
I reserve my opinion of the Expansive Classification and of that of the Library of Congress. It is to the point to say, however, that they are as unsatisfactory in the major principles of practical and scientific classification for libraries as they are valuable and admirable in the details which they have elaborated. They should help to solve the ultimate problem; but, if consistency with science and economy with convenience are feasible and requisite, neither of these systems is fit, nor is either, I think, likely to endure in general use in the future.
The simpler, the more systematic, and the more consistent with the organization of knowledge a classification and notation is, the more economical and the less vexatious will be the operation of classifying books. The subject, scope, treatment, purpose of the book—if that could be stated beforehand—and why not?—by author and publisher, and confirmed by the copyright office or the national library, then the class-notation could in most cases be quickly found through subject-index. That information might be printed in the bookand more readily found there than through centralized cataloging and service of cards. Centralized or co-operative classifying however, or assigning of subjects and of the class-marks of an elaborately classified central or national library, would be a service of high value and of very considerable economy.Butit should be distinguished from standardized classification. As libraries differ and differentiate, so should their classifications. At best a system may serve for libraries of a type, but not for all types. A university need not adopt an unfit classification as more than one has done of recent years. It may translate the centrally assigned subjects and class-marks into its own system, through its own index. Some general conformity, or conformity in special parts, may indeed prove economical and convenient, but standardization of an elaborate system is progress in the wrong direction.
This outline of a large, complex, and unsolved problem of paramount importance is very inadequate. I would propose that a committee be constituted, to articulate with the present committee on a code for classifying, to set to work upon a fuller investigation of this great question of the feasibility of better and more economical classification and notation. If librarians do not provide better classification for libraries, then the users of libraries will very likely in the not remote future provide for better librarians.
In the subsequent discussion, opened by Dr. Richardson and by a paper written by Mr. W. S. Merrill, chief classifier of the Newberry library, Chicago, exception was taken to many of Mr. Bliss' criticisms of present classifications. It was pointed out that the D. C., with all its faults, was yet eminently practical, as evidenced by its widespread use. Mr. Cutter stated that the E. C. classification for zoology, which Mr. Bliss had specially criticised, had been made in just the way Mr. Bliss himself regarded as the soundest, i. e., it had been condensed from material furnished by an eminent scientist; as to its being over minute, it was expanded only half as much as the scientist had proposed. Mr. Charles Martel, chief of the catalog division in the Library of Congress, Dr. Andrews, librarian of the John Crerar library, Chicago, and others also expressed their belief in close classification as a safeguard against confusion and unscientific grouping.
Only a few minutes remained for a paper on "Art in the college library," by Mr. FRANK WEITENKAMPF, chief of the art department, New York public library.
The problem of art in schools has been frequently discussed. The matter of art in colleges, apparently, has not been so much considered. The cases, however, seem to be dissimilar only in degree, not in kind. In fact, not a little of the material that has been suggested for schoolroom decoration would be equally in place in the college. For instance, names such as those of Gozzoli or Luca della Robbia, on theCraftsman'slist for schools could just as well be suggested for the college. Also, the average student is probably first to be reached best by recognition of the fact that there are other interests beside the purely aesthetic. In other words, good use can be made of the subject picture, the best possible being chosen. Dr. W. D. Johnston, librarian of Columbia University, where exhibitions "have always been an important auxiliary of lectures" and have included exhibitions of graphic arts, states that these last "are selected and displayed less with a view to artistic than pictorial value." But he adds that more and more attention is given to artistic value, and that in his belief the most valuable exhibits of an artistic nature are those "displayed permanently on the walls of halls, seminar rooms and lecture rooms. On the other hand, those which are exhibited temporarily should, if well selected, and well announced, do much to broaden taste."
The permanent display of pictures which illustrate with distinction certain broad principles of taste, is of undoubted necessity. But the use of the temporary show must not be lost sight of. The oft seeneasily becomes the oft unheeded; familiarity breeds contempt. Periodical changes therefore seem advisable, as evidence that there is "something doing." Loans of good prints from private sources, if advisable, might be utilized to excellent effect. For instance, if the library happens to own, or can borrow, a copy of such a publication of color reproductions as the Medici prints, or "Meister der Farbe" or "Alte Meister" (the latter two issued by Seemann of Leipzig), a number of plates from the same might be placed on exhibition for, say, three months. This might be followed by a six-weeks' black-and-white show of good etchings from a private collection, or from the stock of the nearest museum or print dealer. After that, perhaps, a show of Greek art. The guiding principles should be: Keep the exhibit within reasonable bounds as to numbers, make selection with as much discrimination as circumstances will permit, and see that what you offer is made palatable. Dr. E. C. Richardson of the Princeton University library tells me that there a large collection of art photographs is drawn upon for permanent exhibition, the latter rearranged "every now and then" in order to exhibit fresh material, and that there have been a number of special exhibitions. (Incidentally, this university has a great variety of undergraduate courses in art.)
The matter of proper presentation is important. Not what is seen, but what is digested, counts. Good labels are a necessity; summary, with as little dryness as possible, informative, so that the student may see at a glance why a given picture was shown, and what are its good points. If relation to studies can be brought out in these exhibits, all the better. That naturally suggests the possibility of an occasional display of pictures illustrating a given period or personality in a given country. In the recently-printed little volume, "Art museums and schools," containing four lectures by Stockton Oxson, Kenyon Cox, Stanley Hall and Oliver S. Tonks, the significance of the museum to teachers of English, art, history and the classics is considered, and the documentary value of art is properly emphasized. "In order to teach the classics," says Prof. Tonks, "you must know more of ancient life than is to be gleaned from the literature by itself." Viewed in this light, the old Greek vases and other art objects take on a new significance. But the ultimate object of all this must not be lost to sight, the cultural influence sought, the promotion of interest in art as a matter not apart from, but a part of, our daily life, a contribution to general culture. It is well to make it clear that a certain amount of appreciation of art can become as much a matter of course as certain elementary rules of good breeding. "Art," says Croly, in his "Promise of American life,"—"art cannot become a power in a community unless many of its members are possessed of a native and innocent love of beautiful things." These considerations, again, suggest the occasional exhibiting of plates illustrating decorative and applied art, say color plates such as those in Wenzel's "Modern decorative art," or "Dekorative Vorbilder," or similar books, if procurable, or black-and-white plates from books or art magazines. A judicious use of the library's books is advisable, not through lengthy lists in which the bibliographical instincts of the librarian might find vent. Reference to two or three books on a subject—whetting the appetite by displaying them at the same time as the plates exhibited—may lead to an occasional reading at spare moments. It may help also to show the fallacy of the "I don't know anything of art, but I know just what I like" attitude. You can not understand anything worth understanding without some trouble, any more than you can play football or bridge without some practice.
The matter of hanging must depend, naturally, on local conditions: amount and distribution and shape and location of available wall space or other space, financial resources, character of student body, etc. The simplest method is, of course, to suspend the pictures by clips from horizontal wires, but it is not under all circumstances the safest. Pictures may be fastened to a wooden background (usually covered with burlap or other textile) on the wall. In that case, care must of course be taken that thumb-tacks do not pass through the print. The shank of the tack passes close to the picture upon the outermost margin of which its head will then press. Mr. E. R. Smith of the Avery library at Columbia University, lays strips of bristol board over the spaces between the pictures, and overlapping the margins of the same; the tacks pass through these strips. Pictures fastened to the wall may be covered by sheets of glass held in place by strong tacks, or perhaps the brass-headed upholsterers' nails. Where prints are shown unprotected it may prove well to mount them, unless they are printed on thick and strong paper. (At the Newark library they use mounting board bound at the edge with buckram and further strengthened by pigskin corners; this is for prints which circulate among teachers.) Where frames are used with the intention of periodical or occasional change of exhibits, the back can be held by the familiar "button" device which can be easily swung aside so as to admit of changing the picture without extracting nails. Mr. Paul Brockett of the Smithsonian Institution, tells me that there the glass doors of bookcases have been used for exhibiting pictures. At the same place, wing frames—that space-saving device of a dozen frames with glass centered on a standard, and having a certain swing in either direction—have been used. Moreover, these frames were units which could be hung on the standard or placed against the wall. In some of the New York public library's branches, such frames radiate directly from the wall, to save space. A similar device is seen in a certain type of display fixtures, in which the swinging frames reach to the floor, and which may be seen in operation in the lithographic exhibition of Fuchs & Lang, Warren St., New York City. There is no protecting glass here, however, and I presume that the use of this contrivance would be safe only in exceptional cases. Hints to exhibitors may be found in articles such as the one on "Mounting, framing and hanging pictures," by Miss Mabel J. Chase, assistant supervisor of drawing, Newark, N. J., in theSchool Arts Magazinefor December, 1912, or in one on "Planning and mounting an exhibit" in the number for March, 1913, by George W. Eggers, who lays stress on the fact that "Every exhibit should definitely tell something." Still continuing the examination of this magazine, one notes in the issue of April, 1913, an article on the "Decoration of an assembly hall in R. C. Ingraham Grammar school, New Bedford, Mass." That relates to a permanent exhibit, and describes the distribution of pictures and other objects in such a manner as to make a harmonious arrangement of the whole room. But there are other periodicals, and there are readers' guides and other indexes and bibliographical aids, and this is not the place for lists.
Now, as to the material to be used for the exhibition. Outside of the resources offered by the library's own collection and the loan possibilities indicated, there are various dealers and other agencies to be taken into account. In the state of New York for instance, the division of Visual Instruction of the Education department has a circulating collection of pictures furnishing ample material for educational extension lectures and for study clubs. This consists of "Braun, Elson, Hanfstängel and Hegger carbons, Copley prints and bromides and Berlin photogravures." These wall-pictures are lent to schools and libraries, framed without glass, for a fee of 50 cents each per year. In other states, I presume state library commissions could give advice. There are the artistic lithographic drawings in color issued by B. G. Teubner of Leipzig at five and six marks apiece, the plates of Seemann's "Meister der Farbe" can be purchased separately, and dealers such as the Berlin Photographic Co., George Busse, the Detroit Publishing Co., Braun Clement & Co. and others could no doubt give lists and advice.Importing book-dealers, French and German, must be considered. Not all of the material furnished by these concerns is equally cheap, but a certain amount of the higher-priced sort will serve for permanent exhibit.
Part 6, devoted to the art department, in John Cotton Dana's "Modern American library economy," is a very useful guide, not only in its record of accomplishment at Newark, but also in its hints as to sources, its list of addresses. Miss Ethelred Abbot's "List of photograph dealers" (Massachusetts Library Club, 1907) is properly emphasized for its usefulness, as is also the "Bibliotheca pædagogica."
For permanent exhibits the reproductions of certain examples in architecture, painting and sculpture which have become classical, are of obvious value. And here, too, the reason for inclusion may well be emphasized to the student, not only by proper labels but also by reference at the proper time in the classroom and lecture hall. Such classics in art will not infrequently be found reproduced better in black-and-white than in color. Should the library decide to procure color work by modern artists, such as the Teubner prints referred to, or the similar ones issued by Voigtländer or by the Künstlerbund of Karlsruhe, care must be taken to select such as are of general, and not merely local, interest. Say for example, the well known "Field of grain" by Volkmann. Such modern work also has the advantage of emphasizing the fact that there is work worth while being done today. It likewise shows the healthy tendency to enlarge acquaintance with home production, home scenery, home customs. We find that, for instance, in Germany, in Sweden, to a certain extent in England, and elsewhere. Much of the foreign endeavor in this direction has found its use in schools, but it involves some big principles in point of view which make a certain amount of its results of use in the college as well. But we should similarly pay attention to the best American work. Noteworthy attempts by American artists to interpret American life and the beauties of our scenery deserve support. One notes with interest the attempt made by the American Federation of Arts' Committee on Art in the Public Schools to call attention to American examples in the fine arts by calling for an expression of opinion as to the best works produced by our artists. T. W. Stevens reported that the Chicago Institution, furthering the utilization of students' work in the decoration of public school walls, "encouraged the adoption of subject pictures for decoration; especially subjects in American history."
The help of the art department, where the college has one, may well be enlisted. (Parenthetically let me state that E. Baldwin Smith in his recent report on "The study of the history of art in the colleges and universities of the United States," Princeton, 1911, summarizes his statistics in the statement that of 1,000,000 students, 163,000 have any art courses at all offered them.) Not only have we such rich collections as those of the Avery Architectural library at Columbia, the Fogg Museum at Harvard, or Yale University, but collections of casts, photographs and books will be found at the disposal of the art departments of a number of other colleges. Such resources might be drawn upon so that some modicum, at least, of art influence may be extended to the rest of the institution. If the direct co-operation of the art department is secured it must necessarily be adapted to the needs of the case with a clear understanding of the fact that general students, and not art students, are to be served. The statement of Dr. Leigh H. Hunt, associate professor of art at the College of the City of New York is of interest here. His 6,000 boys, says he, would like to begin with the human face. They do not necessarily lean to the saccharine, but perceive human interest shown without the aid of the direct anecdote. They stand Memling and Ghirlandajo. "The boys love color," he continues, "and are easily led to love refined color. They admire the early English water colorists—Cox, DeWint; also, Japaneseprints." After becoming interested in such refined color, they get a liking for monochromes—delft blue landscapes, sanguines and sepia drawings.
Efforts such as those I have indicated seem particularly called for where the college is away from art influences. But they should not be put aside even where the college is located in a larger center with an art life. Rather should the resources near at hand be turned to advantage. I have seen the statement that over 30 per cent of our museums are connected with educational institutions. Also, in a large city, there are numerous art exhibitions, most varied in character. But the very extent of all these opportunities may serve to keep away the student who has so many other duties and attractions. And, as Prof. Hunt points out, boys living at one end of a large city not only whirl past all such possibilities on their way to college, but in New York, using the subway, they pass under it and not through it. What is wanted is the direct, unavoidable presentation of art to those who are not yet sufficiently interested to seek art for themselves.
In the whole matter the ever-necessary exercise of common sense is commendable. Enthusiasm for the cause must be moderated and adapted to the point of view of the student. The didactic element should be unobtrusive. The student should be interested rather than admonished. Above all he should be led to see that a certain love and appreciation of art is not a "highbrow" affair but a proper, necessary and pleasure-giving part of the equipment of the cultured man. As proper and a matter of course as the avoidance of a necktie of shrieking colors, or as the use of the table knife for cutting only. Farther discussion of this subject, as well as decision as to the practicability of the ideas advanced, must be left to those who have a more intimate acquaintance with the problems, conditions and difficulties involved than can be had by one who has to deal with the readers in a large public library.
Mr. Goodrich called attention to the library of the University of Michigan as one place where ideas like those of the paper had been carried out, made a plea for color prints as against the everlasting black and brown, and suggested the possibilities of pottery and textiles in the way of giving life and cheer to the delivery hall. He referred by way of example to the beautiful drapery curtains in the John Hay library reading room—a vast relief from the ordinary roller shade and just as effectual.
At the end of the session, the nominating committee brought in the name of Mr. W. N. C. Carlton, librarian of the Newberry library, to succeed Mr. Keogh on the committee on arrangements; Mr. Carlton was unanimously elected. His term will be three years; the other members of the committee, Miss Askew and Mr. Goodrich, remain the same as this year. The session then adjourned until Friday night.
The round table for college librarians was held on Friday evening, June 27th. F. C. Hicks, of Columbia university, presiding.
Miss JOSEPHINE A. RATHBONE, of the Pratt Institute school of library science gave a talk on
In a recent lecture on administrative problems of the college library given to the students of the Pratt Institute library school the lecturer pictured the ideal college library of the future, with a staff consisting of specialists, each with a knowledge of his subject equal to that of instructors or professors plus a library school training, whose recompense should be on the same scale as that for the teaching of those subjects. I remarked afterward that before that vision could come to pass the college librarians should have to act as feeders for the library schools, turningtoward librarianship promising material from which the library schools could make the college library specialist of tomorrow. Hence this paper.
There has been a good deal of discussion in the Professional Training section about specialization in library schools—the desirability of having special courses to prepare librarians for technical libraries, for professional libraries, for legislative reference libraries, etc., etc., but I am convinced—and my conviction deepens with my increasing experience—that the time for specialization is before the library school course and not during it. Theoretically it does not seem possible that the same library course should be able to fit students for such different lines as children's work, municipal reference work, cataloging, branch library work, the scientific department of a university library, a botanical garden library, and the librarianship of a town library, but actually that is just what happens; recent graduates of our school are filling just such positions and each one found that her library training plus her previous education, experience and temperament enabled her to fill the special position satisfactorily.
Now what the college librarian can do for the library school and hence for the library profession, is, it seems to me, to make it known among college students that there are opportunities for the specialist in library work—to disabuse the mind of the man or woman who wants to pursue economics or sociology or some branch of science of the idea—almost a fixed idea it would seem—that a specialist in order to continue in his specialty must necessarily teach it, that teaching offers the only pied a terre, the only means of support for the student. Students of sociology and government are beginning to find their way into organized welfare work, it is true, but library work should be presented to them as a means of social service, of at least equal importance with settlement work or organized charity. That it could be so presented I am confident, and by whom if not by or through the agency of the college librarian?
Schools and colleges are devoting an increasing amount of attention to vocational guidance. Will not college librarians make a point of seeing that the possibilities and diversified opportunities of librarianship are presented to the students each year? If they do not care to do this themselves, librarians or members of library school faculties might be found in the vicinity who would be glad to do it.
Once the subject of librarianship is presented to the student and the desirability of entering upon the work through the gateway of library school training is pointed out (I assume that no time need be spent arguing this point—but if I am wrong I shall be glad to discuss the matter with any dissenters later), the college librarian can further the cause by being prepared to advise students as to their choice of a library school. The college librarian should supply himself with the circulars of the several schools and should inform himself concerning the reputation, advantages, requirements, and specialties of the different schools. We all agree that there is no one best library school (except our own), but that each of them offer special opportunities that make them adapted to the particular needs of different students. To direct the inquirer to that school that will best fit him for the particular kind of work he inclines toward would be to serve the profession, the schools, the colleges, and the individual student. Will not the college librarian take this function upon himself and enrich the profession not only with the quiet bookish student who will develop into the old-fashioned librarian for whom there is still room, but with the specialist, the executive, the vigorous and enthusiastic altruist who wants to serve the world by positive, constructive, social work?
The following paper, prepared by Mr. ROBERT S. FLETCHER, librarian of Amherst College, was read by Mr. N. L. Goodrich, of Dartmouth:
There was published in 1912 a "Union List of Collections on European History in American Libraries, compiled for the Committee on Bibliography of the American Historical Association by E. C. Richardson, Chairman."
In the preface to this exceedingly valuable work occurs the following extract from the Report of the Committee, December, 1911:
"It is clear from this situation that no library is self-sufficient—even Harvard lacking 930 sets, and all but 12 lacking on the average of 2,153 out of 2,197 works. Even as good colleges as Amherst and Williams, having but 26 and 17 respectively, lack 2,171 and 2,180 respectively out of 2,197, while probably 700 of the 786 institutions doing work of college grade in the United States are worse off than these."
I need hardly say that this is merely a statement of fact and in no sense a criticism or arraignment of any library mentioned or implied. Furthermore, it is undoubtedly true that analysis and reflection will render this statement much less startling than it appears at first glance. Whether we can explain and account for it to our entire satisfaction is a question which seems to me rather doubtful. Let me quote a little more from this same source:
"The most significant fact of the statistics of last year remains, however, substantially unchanged—the fact that only ten or a dozen libraries have as many as 10 per cent of the collections, and that out of 786 institutions which profess to do work of college grade, only about fifty libraries have as much as 1 per cent. The actual situation is even much worse than appears from the figures, since two or three inexpensive volumes of illustrative source books for classroom use are in the list through inadvertence, and undoubtedly swell the record of the minor institutions. It is safe to say that a majority even of the institutions included in the Babcock list have less than one-tenth of 1 per cent of these sets, and yet these are titles which have been gathered from actual references and are the books which are liable to meet any men engaged in historical research at every turn."
If we assume that research work belongs only to the university—that it has no place in the college—we may dismiss these figures as possessing no significance for us, save as they throw some light on the inferior quality of the collections built up by most of our American libraries. If on the other hand we believe that the smaller institution should encourage its teachers to do research work, and should, so far as its resources allow, provide the facilities for such work, then I believe that a study of the conditions responsible for the situation set forth in the Committee's report cannot fail to be of some value. And while I hold no brief for the research worker I am strongly of the opinion that the college which does encourage original research can not but gain a higher quality of teaching, and at the same time acquire a collection of books which, if not notable, shall be at least thoroughly good.
It may be claimed, and in that case must be granted, that such a question as this is practically an academic one, and so pretty largely outside of the librarian's province. That is true, however, only so long as you leave the question unanswered—or answer it in the negative. An affirmative answer would bring the matter home directly to every college librarian in the country. The college which believes in research and encourages its faculty to do it, must have a librarian not only in sympathy with the movement, but one skillful in finding ways and means to make it a success, since in most cases the funds at our disposal for the purchase of books would seem to preclude the possibility of such a thing.
Before going further into the discussion of this phase of the question, let me return for a moment to the report from which I quoted. One or two conclusions may justly be drawn from the figurestherein presented. In the first place I think we may safely infer that the situation as regards History, so strikingly set forth, is repeated, and probably in an even worse form, in all the other departments of knowledge. Certainly we should not expect a library which was so weak in the research material of History, to be any stronger in Philology or the Sciences, or in Philosophy and Economics.
The second conclusion follows naturally from this, that the average college library—for it is with the college library that this paper concerns itself—has built up its collection with practically no emphasis on the acquisition of such material.
To say that this general condition exists solely because of the lack of funds is to my mind neither a real explanation, nor a real excuse. It exists primarily because there has never been any pressure from members of the faculty to bring about a different condition.
If we seek a reason for it we shall find it in the fact that research work has by tacit consent been left almost entirely to the university. Its place there—its vital importance in the university scheme of work—has never been questioned. Making all allowance for the difference in conditions I still cannot see why a thing that is confessedly of so much benefit to the university should not also be of help to the college. At the risk of getting a little off the track, and for the sake of making what I mean as plain as possible, it seems necessary to devote some space to a definition of the term research work. I am writing, of course, from the standpoint of an outsider, who expresses a purely personal opinion on a subject which interests him. There can be no hard and fast definition of such a term as this—at least not from a librarian.
I shall suppose then, that research work is of two kinds, both important, but one of them much more important than the other. The first and most common kind is that ordinarily done by the graduate student in the university. It is the gathering of material—the collection of information on some particular phase of some particular subject—and is not only of value in itself, but when taken together with the work done by other students along related lines becomes part of the structure on which scholarship is built. We may call it analytical research work. The other kind is that done by the man of clear vision and wide outlook, mature enough to see that the analytical work is merely material for a bigger thing—call it what you will—the man who can take the information others have collected and impart it in the form of culture. This is synthetic research work. Now the university has much of the former, some of the latter. The college has need only of the synthetic. If its place in the educational world is to be permanent, its contribution to education must be cultural. The type of teacher it needs, and I believe must have, is the man who has done, or is capable of doing, synthetic research work. In his hands teaching takes on a vitality, a spontaneity, a genuineness that no one else can give it. That the book collection of the average college would be sufficient for the needs of men like this is out of the question. There would inevitably arise a demand for the purchase of works of an entirely different kind—a demand that would have to be at least partially met. This demand would be for research material, by which I mean the results of research work, and the problem of such a college library would become a problem in discrimination—the decision as to what of this material it should try to obtain.
It ought not to be difficult to draw a clear distinction between analytical and synthetic research material. Illustrations of the first will readily occur to you, one as good as any being the usual thesis submitted for the doctor's degree. All "source" material is necessarily analytical—is the result of a careful, painstaking, often laborious search for information: information that may illuminate some dark corner of the field of knowledge. But it is never itself illumined by the spark of genius, nor wrought by the loving hand of theartist. It is merely the wood and the stone out of which a complete structure may some day arise.