Read Ebook: Three Centuries of a City Library an Historical and Descriptive Account of the Norwich Public Library Established in 1608 and the present Public Library opened in 1857 by Stephen Geo A George Arthur

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"A Term by residence means pernoctation within the University for six weeks in Michaelmas or in Hilary Term, and for three weeks in Easter or in Trinity Term."... We felt a little uncertain as to just what time of year Hilary and Act happened. But we were not halting, just now, over technicalities. We wanted to imbibe, hastily, the general spirit and flavour of our new home.... "Every member of the College is required to deposit Caution-money. Commoners deposit ?30, unless they signify in writing their intention to pay their current Battels weekly; in this case they deposit ?10. An undergraduate battling terminally cannot withdraw part of his Caution-money and become a weekly battler without the authority of his parent or guardian." We at once decided that it was best to be a weekly battler. Battling, incidentally, is a word that we believe exists only at Eton and Oxford; dictionaries tell us that it comes from "an obsolete verb meaning to fatten." Sometimes, however, in dispute with the Junior Bursar, it comes near its more usual sense. We wondered, in our young American pride, whether we were a Commoner? We were pleased to note, however, that the alternative classification was not a Lord but a Scholar.

We skimmed along through various other instructions. "A fine of 1s. is charged to the owner of any bicycle not put away before midnight." The owner, or the bicycle, we mused? Never mind--we would soon learn. Coals and faggots, we noted, were variable in price. "The charge for a cold bath is 2d., for a hot 4d., inclusive of bath-towel." The duties of a mysterious person named as the Bedmaker were punctually outlined. But now we found ourself coming to Kitchen, Buttery, and Store-Room Tariffs. This, evidently, was the pulse of the machine. With beating heart we read on, entranced:

Beer, Mild half-pint 1 1/2 Beer, Mixed " 2 Beer, Strong " 2 1/2 Beer, Treble X glass 3 Beer, Lager pint 6 Stout half-pint 2 Cider " 1 1/2

We went on, with enlarging appreciation, to the Store Room and Cellar Tariffs: Syphons, Seltzer or Soda-water, 4 1/2 d. Ginger-beer, per bottle, 2d. Cakes: Genoa, Cambridge, Madeira, Milan, Sandringham, School, each 1/. Foolscap, per quire, 10d. Quill Pens, per bundle, 1/6. Cheroots, Cigars, Tobacco, Cigarettes--and then we found what seemed to be the crown and cream of our education, LIST OF WINES.

Port, 4/ per bottle. Pale Sherry, 3/. Marsala, 2/. Madeira, 4/. Clarets: Bordeaux, 1/6. St. Julien, 2/. Dessert, 4/. Hock or Rhenish Wine: Marcobrunner, 4/. Niersteiner, 3/. Moselle, 2/6. Burgundy, 2/ and 4/. Pale Brandy, 5/. Scotch Whisky, 4/. Irish Whisky, 4/. Gin, 3/. Rum, 4/.

It is really too bad to have to compress into a few paragraphs such a wealth of dreams and memories. We sat there, with our little pamphlet before us, and looked out at that great panorama of spires and towers. We have always believed in falling in with our environment. The first thing we did that afternoon was to go out and buy a corkscrew. We have it still--our symbol of an Oxford education.

SCAPEGOATS

But perhaps Messrs. Strawbridge and Clothier are equally at fault. When I wake up, on my Wanamaker divan, it is usually about 2 A. M. Not too late, even then, for a determined spirit to make incision on its tasks. But I find myself moving towards a very fine white-enamelled icebox which I bought from Strawbridge and Clothier in 1918. With that happy faculty of self-persuasion I convince myself it is only to see whether the pan needs emptying or the doors latching. But by the time I have scalped a blackberry pie and eroded a platter of cold macaroni au gratin, of course work of any sort is out of the question.

So do the Philistines of this world league themselves cruelly against the artist, plotting temptation for his carnal deboshed instincts, joying to see him succumb. Once the habit of yielding is established, Wanamaker, Strawbridge and Clothier have it their own way. Just as surely as robins will be found on a new-mown lawn, as certainly as bonfire smoke veers all round the brush pile to find out the eyes of the suburban leaf burner, so inevitably do the Divan and the Icebox exert their cruel dominion over us when we ought to be pursuing our lovely and impossible dreams. Wanamaker and Strawbridge and Clothier have blueprints of the lines of fissure in our frail velleity. As William Blake might have said:

Let Flesh once get a lead on Spirit, It's hard for Soul to reinherit: When supper's laid upon a plate Mind might as well abdicate.

This thought came with renewed emphasis the other day when I was talking to Vachel Lindsay. He was saying that he had lately been rereading Swinburne, for the first time in nearly twenty years, and was grieved to see how the text of the poet had become corrupted in his memory. He had been misquoting Swinburne for years and years, he said, and the errors had been growing more and more firmly into his mind. That led me to think, suppose we had only memory to rely on, how long would the text of anything we loved remain unblurred? Suppose I were on a desert island and yearned to solace myself by spouting some of the sonnets of Shakespeare? How much could I recapture? Honestly, now, and with no resort to the book on the shelf at my elbow, let me try an old friend:

Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love That alters when it alteration finds Or bends with the remover to remove. Oh no, it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken-- Love is the star to every wandering bark Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Then there's something about a sickle, but I can't for the life of me quite get it. Presently I'll look it up in the book and see how near I came.

Before opening the Shakespeare, however, let's have one more try:

And all the rest of that sonnet that I can think of is something about "death's dateless night." A pretty poor showing. Of course, I should do better on a desert island: there would be the wide expanse of shining sand to walk upon, and I could throw myself into it with more passion and fury. The secret of remembering poetry is to get a good barytone start and obliterate the mind of its current freight of trifles. The metronomic prosody of the surf would help me, no doubt, and the placid frondage of the breadfruit trees. But even so, the recension of Shakespeare's sonnets that I would write down upon slips of bark would be a very corrupt and stumbling text. Favourite lines would be scrambled into the wrong sonnets, and the whole thing would be a pitiful miscarriage of memory.

The only sagacious conduct of life is to prepare for every possible emergency. I have taken out life insurance, and fire insurance, and burglary insurance, and automobile insurance. I have always insured myself against losing my job by taking care not to work too hard at it, so I wouldn't miss it too bitterly if it were suddenly jerked from under me. But what have I done in the way of Literary Insurance? Suppose, to-morrow, Adventure should carry me away from these bookshelves? How pleasant to have a little microcosm of them that I could take with me! And yet, unless I can shake off the servitude of those three Philadelphia mandarins, Wanamaker and Strawbridge and Clothier, I shall never have it.

When I think of the plays that I would have written if it weren't for those three rascals.

TO A NEW YORKER A HUNDRED YEARS HENCE

I wonder, old dear, why my mind has lately been going out towards you? I wonder if you will ever read this? They say that wood-pulp paper doesn't last long nowadays. But perhaps some of my grandchildren may, in their years of tottering caducity, come across this scrap of greeting, yellowed with age. With tenderly cynical waggings of their faded polls, perhaps they will think back to the tradition of the quaint vanished creatures who lived and strove in this city in the year of disgrace, 1921. Poor old granfer , I can just remember how he used to prate about the heyday of his youth. He wrote pieces for some paper, didn't he? Comically old-fashioned stuff my governor said; some day I must go to the library and see if they have any record of it.

You seem a long way off, this soft September morning, as I sit here and sneeze and listen to the chime of St. Paul's ring eleven. Just south of St. Paul's brown spire the girders of a great building are going up. Will that building be there when you read this? What will be the Olympian skyline of your city? Will poor old Columbia University be so far downtown that you will be raising money to move it out of the congested slums of Morningside? Will you look up, as I do now, to the great pale shaft of Woolworth; to the golden boy with wings above Fulton Street? What ships with new names will come slowly and grandly up your harbour? What new green spaces will your street children enjoy? But something of the city we now love will still abide, I hope, to link our days with yours. There is little true glory in a city that is always changing. New stones, new steeples are comely things; but the human heart clings to places that hold association and reminiscence. That, I suppose, is the obscure cause of this queer feeling that impels me to send you so perishable a message. It is the precious unity of mankind in all ages, the compassion and love felt by the understanding spirit for those, its resting kinsmen, who once were glad and miserable in these same scenes. It keeps one aware of that marvellous dark river of human life that runs, down and down uncountably, to the unexplored seas of Time.

You seem a long way off, I say--and yet it is but an instant, and you will be here. Do you know that feeling, I wonder that a man has in an elevator bound for the eighteenth floor? He sees 5 and 6 and 7 flit by, and he wonders how he can ever live through the interminable time that must elapse before he will get to his stopping place and be about the task of the moment. It is only a few seconds, but his mind can evolve a whole honeycomb of mysteries in that flash of dragging time. Then the door slides open before him and that instantaneous eternity is gone; he is in a new era. So it is with the race. Even while we try to analyze our present curiosities, they whiff away and disperse. Before we have time to turn three times in our chairs, we shall be the grandparents and you will be smiling at our old-fashioned sentiments.

But we ask you to look kindly on this our city of wonder, the city of amazing beauties which is also an actual hell of haste, din, and dishevelment. Perhaps you by this time will have brought back something of that serenity, that reverence for thoughtful things, which our generation lost--and hardly knew it had lost. But even Hell, you must admit, has always had its patriots. There is nothing that hasn't--which is one of the most charming oddities of the race.

And how we loved this strange, mad city of ours, which we knew in our hearts was, to the clear eye of reason and the pure, sane vision of poetry, a bedlam of magical impertinence, a blind byway of monstrous wretchedness. And yet the blacker it seemed to the lamp of the spirit, the more we loved it with the troubled eye of flesh. For humanity, immortal only in misery and mockery, loves the very tangles in which it has enmeshed itself: with good reason, for they are the mark and sign of its being. So you will fail, as we have; and you will laugh, as we have--but not so heartily, we insist; no one has ever laughed the way your tremulous granfers did, old chap! And you will go on about your business, as we did, and be just as certain that you and your concerns are the very climax of human gravity and worth. And will it be any pleasure to you to know that on a soft September morning a hundred years ago your affectionate great-grandsire looked cheerfully out of his lofty kennel window, blew a whiff of smoke, smiled a trifle gravely upon the familiar panorama, knew a hawk from a handsaw, and then went out to lunch?

But who will write me the book about New York that I desire? The more I think about it, the more astonished I am that no one attempts it. I don't mean a novel. I would not admit any plot or woven tissue of story to come between the reader aot result in improving the management of the Library:

"For some few years it has been a Lending Library and some persons have had books two or three years together contrary to an order to the contrary. Here is no salary given by the city for anyone to take care and the charge of the books upon him only the keys thereof are left at the house of the Clark of St. Andrews Parish, and any man may be admitted that will but give him twelve-pence a quarter, but unless the Corporation would be at the expence of a salary for any sober discreet person to take the charge of the said books upon himself and have the sole custody of them, and pecuniary mulcts inflicted upon such as break the orders already made, there is little hopes of keeping the books there, or in any good order long together, besides this is also made use of upon the account of the trustees for the Charity Schools who frequently meet here, notwithstanding there are so many more convenient rooms in the said hall. Especially that in which the Grand Jury meet in at every Assizes. Persons may borrow two books out of this Library at a time but ought not to keep them above one month without giving notice to the Library keeper."

Mackerell's remarks, and the fact that the Minute Book was not filled, seem to indicate that the Library was neglected for some years. On September 21st, 1801, the Assembly complied with the request of the Committee of a subscription library, with the misnomer "Public Library" by granting them leave "to have the use of the books in the City Library, to be kept under the care of their Librarian apart from other books, the President giving a receipt for the safe return of the same on demand." The City Committee reported to the Assembly in 1805 "that the books in the City Library have not of late been carefully preserved, that some valuable works have been mutilated and others lost or mislaid." The Assembly thereupon rescinded the order of September 21st, 1801, requested the President and Committee of the "Public Library" to "make good all losses and injuries," and committed the custody of the City Library to the Steward. In 1815 the City Library was again entrusted to the "Public Library." Ten years afterwards, the "Public Library," which still housed the City Library, was removed to a building in St. Andrew's Street. The admission fee to this Library in 1825, as stated in the Catalogue of the Library of that date, was five guineas, and the annual subscription was one guinea. This Catalogue contains the following rules regarding the City Library:

In the same catalogue it was stated that the City Library was under the particular inspection of the Mayor and seven members of the Council who constituted the Library Committee of the Corporation. "The Right Worshipful the Mayor of Norwich, for the time being, is an Honorary Member of the Public Library; and the Members of the Library Committee of the Corporation, together with the Speaker of the Commons, the Town Clerk, and the Chamberlain, if not already Members of the Society, have the privilege of constant access to the Library Rooms during their continuance of office." These rules were in force in 1847, and were reprinted in a new edition of the Catalogue printed in that year. The members of the rival subscription library, called "The Norfolk and Norwich Literary Institution," which was established in 1822, were also allowed to borrow books from the City Library, by an order from the Chamberlain of the City. In 1835 the "Public Library" with the City Library was removed to a new building opposite the north door of the Guildhall, on the site of the present Norfolk and Norwich Subscription Library.

Ostensibly the City Library was adequately cared for by the "Public Library," but in reality it was greatly neglected. At a meeting of the Council on July 10th, 1856, the Town Clerk read a report from the City Library Committee, stating that they had inspected the books of the City Library, and "considered them in a very disorderly and dirty condition, that they could not be compared with the catalogue till they were re-arranged. They recommended that a grant of 25 pounds should be made for the rearrangement of the books, and that Mr. Langton be employed for that purpose." In the discussion that ensued Mr. Ling said some of the books "were lying on the floor, damaged by dust and cobwebs, and an extremely valuable manuscript of Wickliffe's Bible was in a bad state." Mr. Brightwell suggested that the City Library would be a capital foundation for the Free Library, and the matter was referred back for the consideration of the City Library Committee. Those interested in the "Public Library" strove hard to retain the City Library, and on November 20th, 1856, the following memorial signed by the President was presented to the Council and discussed:--

To the Mayor, Aldermen, and Citizens of Norwich, in Council assembled. The Memorial of the Committee of the Norwich Public Library

Sheweth,--That at a quarterly assembly of the Corporation, held June 19th, 1815, a certain Report of the Library Committee was agreed to, and consent given for the city books to be taken to the Public Library under the direction of the same Committee.

That your memorialists have learned with deep regret that it is contemplated to apply to the Council for power to remove the city books to the Free Library.

That upon the faith of their tenure of these books, as long as the conditions imposed were satisfactorily complied with, various sums of money, to a considerable amount, have from time to time been expended by your memorialists from the funds of the Public Library in their preservation.

That the books of the City Library have been embodied in the catalogues of 1825 and 1847, under the same scientific arrangement as the books which are the property of the Public Library, distinguishing those which are the property of the Corporation by a prominent and appropriate designation; and that therefore by the removal of the City Library, the catalogue, to which your memorialists have recently published the first appendix, will be rendered quite useless and an expense, otherwise unnecessary, will be incurred.

That although the books of the City Library were recently found in a very dusty condition; yet that during the 40 years they have been in the custody of your memorialists, they have suffered no deterioration from damp, loss, or otherwise.

That the contiguity of the Public Library to the Guildhall affords the greatest convenience of application to the Town Clerk for permission to take out books from the City Library, and of the access of the Library Committee of the Corporation to inspect their property.

That it is in contemplation to place a fire in the room appropriated to the City Library, and further to improve it by the insertion of a large bay-window, which will make it a light and cheerful place for all who need reference to these ancient and valuable books.

That your memorialists venture to point out the entire unsuitableness, in their judgment, of works in learned languages, on abstruse subjects or in black letter, to the objects of the Free Library.

And your memorialists therefore pray that the books of the City Library be allowed to remain, as heretofore, in their keeping.

Signed on behalf of the Public Library Committee.

Norwich, Nov. 10th, 1856.

G. W. W. FIRTH, President.

The Council on the 17th March, 1868, agreed to the recommendation of the City Committee "that the Wyckliffe Bible and other books be committed as a loan into the custody of the trustees of the Museum, proper provision to be made for the exhibition and preservation thereof." Several manuscripts and printed books were sent to the Museum, and Mr. J. J. Colman, the Mayor in that year, presented to the city a glass case for the exhibition of the books.

In 1872 the Norfolk and Norwich Law Library, which had just been established, applied for the loan of between 30 and 40 legal works in the City Library, and the Council acceded to its request on condition that any person not a member of the Law Library should have access to the books, and that the books should be returned to the City Library on request. A list of the books lent was printed in the Catalogue of the Law Library published in 1874. The books were returned during the year ending March, 1900.

The Catalogue of 1883 stated that the following was the rule for the use of the City books: "A loan of these books may be obtained at the Free Library, from 11 to 4 on any day of the week excepting Thursday, by application to the Town Clesy to go round to call on Dr. Copeland, the Health Commissioner, and ask him to have her more specifically enrolled)--I admit it would be very helpful if she were to turn to and lend a hand in paying the coal bill by having some verses written about herself. I have looked at her with admiration every day for these thirteen months, trying, as one might say, to get some angle on her that would lead to a poem. She does not seem very angular.

I insist that my not having written a poem about her is really very creditable. Titania seems to think that it implies my having become, in some sense, blas? about children. Again, not so, not so at all. I must confess that in my enthusiasm I rather made use of the two older urchins as copy. But H., droll infant that she is, is too subtle for me. I'll come to that in a minute.

This applies to older children; after they gain the use of their limbs and minds. But H. has not reached that harrowing stage. Placable, wise, serene, she sits in her crib. She has four teeth . To hear her cry is so rare that I hardly know what her voice of sorrow sounds like. Sometimes, for an instant, she looks a little frightened. Then I like her best, for I know she is human, and has in her the general capsule of frailty.

You may be quite sure of one thing, I shall never print that poem unless I feel that it comes somewhere near doing her justice.

HAIL, KINSPRIT!

That shows you it could be used as an adjective as well. Come, now, if we all pull together very likely we can get Messrs. Merriam to put it in the next edition of Webster:

We are consumed with curiosity to know more about Y. 1926--where he was going in that taxi, and what the colour diagrams were and what are his general comments on life?

ROUND MANHATTAN ISLAND

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