THE LONDON LIBRARY.
ME use of the London Library, that is, of a great Library
which charges an annual fee, but does not seek a profit, 'ers considerably from that of the Library of the British seam, or that of a Free Library, or that of Mudie's sense establishment. Mudie's, of course, is intet-ied to tribute books, and especially new books, among those who not buy them, and its managers do not care to fill their lees with volumes which no customer will ask for once in or twenty years. A rate-supported Library, again, is ended, as we maintain, first of all to enable the small Lion of the poor who love reading to indulge that taste, t is amply justified if once in a quinquennium it sends the world a well-equipped thinker who but for its aid ild have been a dangerous ignoramus. The British seam Library, on the other hand, is first and foremost a rehouse of books, a contrivance intended to prevent the al loss of any depositary of men's knowledge, or experience, intelligence. Such losses are presumed to be uncommon, as regards total losses probably in our day are uncommon, nobody reads at all extensively, particularly on any ry" subject, without knowing that books, often of import- T, become unattainable in the most marvellous way. Just anybody who doubts it sit down to write an essay on a ,jest like " Origines Americanae," or " Navigators without aipasses "—a topic which greatly needs investigation— Asiatic Travellers," and see how quickly he is driven )the Reading-room of the Museum, and how greatly his ienee will be tried even there. The collection is intended help research, and for that purpose it is invaluable ; but men of research are comparatively few. The ordinary der who reads for knowledge' sake needs something else, [especially needs the power of taking his books away with
This is supplied by the London Library, which is ly the storehouse of books for the cultivated class who t to make their information more complete. A man of t kind constantly gets interested in a subject of which he a that he knows something, but not much, his mind, as a holding nothing persistently which is not connected r with his work or his profession. He needs books to up the lacy au in his knowledge, and where is he to them ? He cannot afford the time to go to the British um, nor does he love the unavoidable waiting there, or the sity of reading in a crowd, and at a moment when he is ps indisposed to read. He will do it if it is hie duty, or if paid for it, but he will not do it willingly, and he looks nd for some other source of supply. The ordinary circu- g libraries he knows will not do, and he sets aside the of buying the books as one to which his wife will object, ly, as a costly extravagance, and secondly, because she 8 farther incursions upon very limited "book-space." ears of the London Library, and finds that it is precisely the wants, a really large collection—it might be larger greater advantage, though it exceeds already one hundred sixty thousand volumes—of books upon almost all sub- which he can turn over at his leisure, which he can on the spot as comfortably as at his club, or which
take home to read whenever he has the time. He fires for the books he wants, finding everybody ready elp him, and often perfectly able to do it—the know-
of a good library clerk is a thing absolutely per se, log, like that of a numismatist or of a bank cashier, to nd upon a memory which can retain disjointed facts as men's memories retain facts that are connected—be them away, and in a few weeks he has really begun to the subject about which he had previously only some e thoughts, most of them inaccurate. The writer being one of proving that Cleopatra was a pure Greek, once ed up her pedigree in the Library, and was astonished to how efficient as well as good-humoured was the assist- offered by the sub-librarians. It seems to ns that to de such means of education for a couple of thousand who, being cultivated men before, know how to appreciate se their new knowledge, is thoroughly good work ; and he Committee of the London Library has for nearly two tons successfully performed. Originally guided by Car- d afterwards by a series of literary men, they made no 'hey asked noone for any help till their books outgrew their e room, but went on receiving from those who read a at revenue, and spending their surplus steadily on books, until at present they are able to say, and do say with some pride, that they control the largest establishment of its kind in the world. The number of books has always grown larger, the number of readers has steadily increased, and the com- plaints of bad management have been singularly few, being, in fact, confined to a certain stinginess in buying novels, as to which the Committee are in the right, and the remon- strating section of subscribers in the wrong. The Library was intended for the cultivated who want to be educated, not for the public which wants to be amused.
We wish the Library to grow ranch larger, and with that view would venture to offer a suggestion. It is too late for the present to question the decision of the Committee as to their building operations, though we entirely fail to see the sense of spending a great sum on a house which stands on one of the most valuable sites in Europe, and, though large, is cramped by buildings on at least two sides. Surely a house might have been obtained on a site less costly, but still central, where the Library might have bad four sides open to expansion when necessary, and have been free from the danger of being burnt down through the carelessness of people not connected with itself. It is nonsense to talk about materials. Everything will barn except an Egyptian pyramid, and an insurance office would want ordinary rates for that. There is no protection against fire except carefulness, and no possibility of being perfectly careful unless you own everything that touches your own house. It is too late, however, to raise that question ; but have not the Committee, who have managed their resources so well, been a little inattentive to the increase of their revenue ? Would a modest increase to the annual fee—now lower than Mudie's in proportion to the books lent—to be spent on books alone, not be borne ? We know quite well the inexplicable penuriousness of the British public about litera- ture, the way in which rich men will borrow magazines, and the extraordinary tenuity of the sales of books which have to be paid for in gold ; but are not the subscribers to the London Library rather a separate public ? We fear the Committee will shake their heads, and say they must consider poor scholars—which would be a good reason for admitting a few of them rent free— but is an entrance-fee quite hopeless P At all events, it is not hopeless to abolish fresh life-interests, which must be most injurious to the Library. Book-lovers are like annuitants, and have a trick of living. This present writer, for instance, ought during his residence in London to have paid £120, and did pay £20 once for all, surely a transaction more profitable to him than to the institution. We should propose to abolish life-interests altogether, or rather, if that is too revolutionary, to raise the price to £50, with the avowed object of making the number of future "lifers" as small as possible. And, finally, we would print on every account and every label the statement that the Committee hoped to raise the number of their hooka to a quarter of a million, and that any legacies they received would be spent exclusively upon books. The subscription for the building showed that the Library was an object of great interest to its constituents, and if they were only reminded, the number of small legacies it would receive would soon be quite appreciable. After all, though we have kept that side of the question out of view, the pleasure a reading mak. obtains from a good library where he has not to wait half- hours for a book is one of the keenest and most lasting pleasures he is at all likely to enjoy. Nothing combines occupation, distraction, and rest like a book which you want to read upon a subject of which you have already some slight, knowledge.
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