The Library and Society: Reprints of Papers and Addresses. Various
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at Ames, Athens County. The latter, which was formed as early as 1802, had a curious origin. It was popularly known as the “Coon-skin Library.” The hardy pioneers of that township of Ames met together, it seems, to consider the subject of roads; and, having considered it, they proceeded to consider also the subject of books—a fine illustration, I think, of the blending of the practical and the ideal in the American character and in American civilization. Here were these sturdy pioneers projecting a public library even before they had got their public roads cut out and put in order. What is called money hardly existed among them; but they knew how to shoot bears and to catch coons and to take their skins, and these skins could be sent to Boston and sold for cash, and the money invested in books. This accordingly was done. The noted politician, Thomas Ewing, then a boy at Ames, gives this account of the affair: “All my accumulated wealth, ten coon-skins, went into the fund,” the total amount of which proved to be about $100. “Squire Sam Brown, of Sunday Creek, who was going to Boston, was charged with the purchase. After an absence of many weeks, he brought the books to Capt. Ben Brown's, in a sack on a pack-horse. I was present at the untying of the sack and pouring out of the treasures. There were about 60 volumes, I think, and well selected; the library of the Vatican was nothing to it, and there never was a library better read. This, with occasional additions, furnished me with reading while I remained at home.”
That is the stuff of which strong men are made, and strong communities, and mighty nations. And what was done at Marietta, and at Cincinnati, and at Ames, was done in a multitude of other towns all over the north-west. At Vincennes, Indiana, a library was started by similar means in 1807; and one of the founders was Gen. Wm. Henry Harrison, the hero of Tippecanoe and hard cider. That was the first public library established in Indiana.
So, too, in Michigan, far back in its territorial days, similar libraries were formed, especially that of the Young Men's Society of Detroit. But in Michigan, by far the greatest service in this direction has been rendered more recently by the ladies, whose admirable library associations in such towns as Ann Arbor, Flint, and Kalamazoo have done much, especially during the past twenty years, for the literary improvement and enjoyment of the people.
But this third stage of library evolution, good and useful as it has been during the past 150 years, has this defect: it does not offer books freely to all who would like books; it is limited to those who participate in its privileges by paying for them.
Therefore society pushed forward into a fourth stage of evolution—one still nearer to the grand object to be reached—the complete popularization of books. This fourth stage was reached chiefly through a new idea entering into the case, namely, the duty of the state to help in providing books for the people who compose the state. The principle is already admitted that the state must educate its citizens, and for that purpose must sustain schools. For the same purpose, and on the same principle, it must sustain libraries; for these are but an annex to schools, and the books in them are only a part of the necessary apparatus for public education.
In this way was started the fourth plan, that of “district school libraries,” a plan which for a while was hailed with delight as a real contribution to human progress and happiness; which was eagerly adopted in this state and in many others; but which has, upon the whole, resulted in failure.
The State of New York has the honor of having started this plan, which was first publicly advocated by Governor De Witt Clinton, in his message for 1826. In 1838 General John A. Dix, then secretary of state, was “charged with the execution of the law giving to the school districts $55,000 a year to buy books for their libraries, and requiring them to raise by taxation an equal amount for same purpose.” The system was received throughout the state with enthusiastic favor. In 1841 the school libraries of the state reported the possession of 422,459 volumes; in the following year, 200,000 volumes more; and in 1853 they had reached the enormous number of 1,604,210 volumes.
The plan as advocated in New York soon passed over into Massachusetts, where it was taken up and advocated by Horace Mann, that noble-minded and eloquent champion of popular enlightenment. Through his influence the necessary law was passed in 1837, but the operation of the plan was never very successful in that state, and after twelve years had resulted in the accumulation of only 42,707 volumes.
Michigan appears to have been abreast of Massachusetts in the adoption of the plan of district school libraries, incorporating it into its school law of 1837.
After New York, Massachusetts, and Michigan, the several other states which adopted this plan did so in the following order: Connecticut in 1839; Rhode Island and Iowa in 1840; Indiana in 1841; Maine in 1844; Ohio in 1847; Wisconsin in 1848; Missouri in 1853; California and Oregon in 1854; Illinois in 1855; Kansas and Virginia in 1870; New Jersey in 1871; Kentucky and Minnesota in 1873; and Colorado in 1876.
These data will give you some idea of the wide extension of this fourth stage in library evolution. Its merits are very great. Perhaps its greatest merit is that it recognizes the true function of the public library as a part of the system of public education, and therefore as entitled to a share in public taxation. Moreover, it has undoubtedly done a vast amount of good in placing the means of intellectual improvement within the reach of millions of people of all ages; it has stimulated the love of books and diffused knowledge and happiness. And yet with all these merits, it has been a failure; and this is largely due to just three defects in administration:
1. Lack of care and wisdom in the selection of the books, resulting in the acquisition of many volumes of trash and of profligacy.
2. Lack of care as to the distribution and return of the books, resulting in their rapid dispersion and disappearance.
3. Lack of care in the preservation of the books that were not strayed and stolen, resulting in their rapid deterioration.
You have got to apply business principles to the handling of books, as well as of any other material possessions. Libraries as well as sawmills need to be dealt with according to common-sense and with efficiency. Now upon the general failure of these libraries, let me quote for you a little testimony. The superintendent of schools in New York State, in 1875, says: “The system has not worked well in this state.... The libraries have fallen into disuse, and have become practically valueless.” [1 Pub. lib. of U.S., i. 41.]
The superintendent for 1861 says that in “nearly every quarter of the state,” the libraries are “almost totally unused and rapidly deteriorating.” [2 Pub. Lib. of U.S. i. 40.] For 1862, the superintendent gives a more detailed picture of the condition of the school libraries. He finds them “mainly represented by a motley collection of books, ranging from ‘Headley's sacred mountains‘to the ‘Pirate's own book,’ numbering in the aggregate a million and a half of volumes, scattered among the various families, constituting a part of the family library, or serving as toys for children in the nursery; ... crowded into cupboards, thrown into cellars, stowed away in lofts, exposed to the action of water, the sun, and of fire, or more frequently locked away into darkness unrelieved and silence unbroken.” [2 Pub. Lib. of U.S. i. 40.]
This graphic picture of the failure of the system in New York is perhaps matched by a similar picture of its failure in Michigan, as drawn by our superintendent of education in 1869:
“The books were distributed to the districts by the town clerk to be returned by the directors every third month for exchange. This would now require more than 60,000 miles' travel per annum, at a positive expense to the directors, certainly, of $100,000, to say nothing of more than 10,000 days' time. This was like putting two locomotives ahead of each other to draw a hand-car. The result was the books were generally hidden away in the clerks' offices, like monks in their cloister, and valueless to the world. And what kind of books were they? Some good ones, doubtless; but generally it was better to sow oats in the dust that covered those books than to give them to the young to read. Every year, soon after the taxes were collected, the state swarmed with pedlers, with all the unsalable books of Eastern houses—the sensational novels of all ages, tales of piracies, murders, and love intrigues—the yellow-covered literature of the world.”
Finally, the superintendent for 1873 says: “The