Originally published in Pearson's Weekly (C. Arthur Pearson Ltd.) vol.1 #5 (23 Aug 1890).
The history of "Mudie's" is soon told. Mr. Mudie, when a lad, was an omnivorous reader, his special favourites being works of history, travel, and philosophy. He says "In 1840 the circulating libraries doing a flourishing trade. But dingy places they were, and the trash they supplied were well suited to the tastes of the Lydia Languishes and Lady Slattern Loungers of the day. Seldom could I get a book that I wished for, and I was fain to buy what I wanted. The idea suddenly struck me that many other young men were in similar case with myself. I had by this time accumulated a number of books, so I determined to launch out a library on my own lines."
Mudie then placed his collection, modest as it was, in the window of a small shop in Bloomsbury Square, now Southampton Row, and called his modest establishment "Mudie's Select Library." Mr. Mudie had, before this, made a few friends who moved in literary circles, and one by one spread the knowledge of the good work that he was doing. Gradually his library became known, and the shrewdness and sagacity which Mr. Mudie showed in his selection of books were soon appreciated, and the small shop developed itself rapidly. In a few years the business attained such dimensions that its founder had to seek new quarters for his books and himself. He looked about, and settled on the now famous house in Oxford Street.
Every subscriber has a card, upon which are entered all the books issued to him. As each one is filled up, it goes to the hidden depths below, there to sleep out its quiet existence. In an iron safe are kept the records of a nation's reading. Since its foundation Mudie's Library has for the use of its subscribers some six million volumes. The number of volumes issued and reissued during the busy season exceeds a hundred thousand a week.
The following figures supplied by Mr. Mudie may prove interesting. In December, 1865, there were put into circulation 2,500 of Macauley's History--Vols. III. and IV.; over 3,000 copies of Livingstone's "Travels in Africa;" a thousand copies of "Idylls of the King;" 8,000 of McClintock's "Voyage in Search of Sir John Franklin." Of another famous book, "Essays and Reviews," Mr. Mudie took no fewer than 2,000 copies. There was, of course, an enormous demand for George Eliot's novels, and of "Silas Mariner" some 8,000 copies were taken, and still more of the "Mill on the Floss." There is always a demand for the best novels, such as those of Scott, Dickens, and Thackeray, each of whom is as popular as ever. Kingsley is another popular author, "Westward Ho!" being the work most asked for. Trollope, too, is much in demand, and of his Autobiography 1,500 copies were in circulation at one time. 0f "Endymion," some 8,000 copies were bought, and of "John Inglesant," 1,600. Mr. Mudie took 2,000 copies of the Queen's last book. Lady Brassey's "Voyage of the Sunbeam." was in great vogue, the numbers at the library reaching 2,700.
The principle upon which books are divided is simple, and proves effective. The novels are kept in the vaults below. Every other book finds a place on the main floor, either in the shelves running round the hall, or in neighbouring rooms and passages. A gallery runs round round the hall, and when tho assistants below require a volume beyond a certain height they use the whistle which communicates' with the assistant above. Trucks carry the books from one place to another, whilst a lift is constantly disgorging its contents from the vaults on to the counter.
Beneath the great hall and its adjacent rooms are stored hundreds of thousands of volumes, a vast-honey-comb, each cell of which is packed with books. In one of these vaults are stacked up in a series of bins some 160,000 volumes of novels alone, all lettered and indexed, and each with a place of its own. When a novel is asked for upstairs the assistant comes down and finds what he wants in a few seconds. Once a book is misplaced, it is as good as lost.
As the novels cease to be asked for, they are gradually weeded out, and every few months the paper-maker comes, and takes a few tons as fresh grist to his mill. As one walks along these underground passages he notices great stacks of neatly packed parcels here, there, and everywhere. They are the works of authors who are likely to publish again some day, when experience teaches that their former works will once more be asked for. Besides these are the magazines, and many works in French, German, Italian, and other languages.
The subscriptions vary from one guinea a year—for which three volumes may be taken at a time—to five hundred guineas. The latter sum, of course, is seldom paid, but many well-known families subscribe largely for themselves and for their servants. Then many institutions, provincial libraries, and villages, take thousands of volumes during the year.
Some idea of the quantity of reading which may be had for two hundred guineas may be formed from the fact that one public office in London takes for this amount over 20,000 volumes. To the country subscribers some 700 boxes of varying sizes are sent out every week, besides a number of parcels, while at the counter some 2,000 exchanges are made daily. For the 170 suburban districts there is a service of carts, each one of which gets over a vast expanse of ground, one, perhaps, covering forty miles in a day's work.
Three times a day volumes returned are cleared, sorted, and replaced. The sharp eye and well-practised touch of the sorting clerks detect in a moment dogs' ears, and woe to the subscriber with "observing thumbs" and a fondness for marginal notes! Destruction, too, is often wrought on valuable books by the children of the family. A fond mother, perhaps, takes her nice book of travels to the nursery, and gives the baby the "pretty pictures" just to look at. The "pretty pictures" are naturally torn out, and the book returned in anything but its pristine state. Then Mr. Mudie
comes down for damages.
In one corner is the export department. In fact, Mudie's have subscribers in all quarters of the world, from lonely bachelors to the libraries in our colonies, and wherever the English congregate. One room is devoted specially to the reception of books fresh from the publisher, and these are constantly coming in. A card is kept for each book, containing a fall account of the numbers taken. In the binding department alone some sixty or seventy pairs of hands are employed, from the skilful and accomplished foreman to the humble little stitcher.
Cartloads of novels are turned into the libraries and into the bookshops every week, forming in a few months a vast heap of rubbish, which quickly finds its way to the butterman. Of course, there are a number of notable exceptions. Novels, in spite of the tons he is compelled to take, do not pay Mr. Mudie. They occupy a great space, are bulky and expensive. To use his words, "They are the fuel that drives the engine. They become ashes too soon."
The literature proper—belles lettres, history, philosophy, biography, essay, travel—constitute the solid basis of a business that shows a balance. Novels are the gaudy butterflies of the trade, which live but a short day and perish. Mr. Mudie wonders that some ingenious inventor has not devised an instrument on the principle of the sausage-machine for the manufacture of novels. The evil would at least be lessened if the three volumes could be compressed into one, and one ridiculous farce of the day abolished for ever.
Any one who takes up three volumes of a novel, on looking at its big type, the broad margins, the wide spaces, the thick paper and the gorgeous cover, will see for himself that it is the paper maker, the printer, the ink manufacturer, the binder, and last, but not least, the publisher, who support the system.
Livingstone was well known to Mr. Mudie, and consulted him frequently about the publication of his famous volume of travels. "Print thousands," said he, much to Livingstone's astonishment. "Travels in Central Africa" soon proved how accurately its value had been gauged. On another occasion much doubt was felt by Kingsley and his publishers as to the fate of "Alton Locks." It was thought that its Socialistic tendencies might prove prejudicial to its success. In spite of this, Mudie's bought largely, and at once put a great number into reading.