University of Virginia Library

Fourteenth Annual Report on Historical Collections,
University of Virginia Library,
For the Year 1943-44

WHEN an institution preserves historical records according
to plan, we generally assume that they will be used
sooner or later in research. Their usefulness depends to
a large degree, of course, upon their accessibility. However slightly
some custodians may feel their responsibility on this score,
certain rudimentary controls and procedures can be established
without great difficulty. The system need not be complicated—in
fact, experience in the Rare Books and Manuscripts Division of
the University of Virginia Library has shown that simplicity
of arrangement, along with observance of a few sound archival
principles, makes the records available in good order with a
minimum of delay.[1] Once the records are within the walls of the
library, they are readily susceptible to some control; but what is
to be said about "system" and "control" while they are still outside?

"That reminds me of a story" is the most ready answer to this
question, for the ups and downs, the hither and yon of collecting
historical materials yield more unique "incidents" than general
principles. We might borrow a title from the sociologists who borrowed
it from the natural scientists, and call this essay "How
Field Work is Carried on," but that phrase is almost too scientific
for a treasure hunt, to overstate the case for emphasis. Although
historians and their associates have been engaged in this pursuit
since ancient times, no formal methodology has evolved to
become generally recognized and accepted. While their concern
with such problems as provenance and chronology reaches back
to the very origin of one document or another, its course through
numerous hands to the final place of deposit often cannot be
charted with certainty. If this is true of official records of governments,
it is even more so with regard to personal papers or other
materials in private hands. Thus in the game of collecting, most

of the rules are outweighed by exceptions. How men, and especially
women, will react about their historical papers under certain
circumstances is both predictable and unpredictable. From
his experience the collector develops and modifies his plan of
action; but he must be prepared to scrap it for the sake of expediency.
And so, while his purpose is definite, his method is
highly empirical, his main precept—"Go, travel the road yourself."

For purposes of research, collecting is done by individuals
engaged in their own studies and by institutions through their
agents. It is with the latter that we are concerned here. The
problems of operating in an almost limitless field may be classified
under two headings: first, those involved in the relations between
the institution and the primary sources of supply, viz. the owners
of the materials; second, those involved in relations among collectors
in the same field, both persons and institutions, whether
in cooperation or, more frequently, in competition. This essay
will be restricted to the first of these because it is logically first
and deserves careful consideration. Furthermore, an institution's
policies and practices in the first instance have a direct bearing
upon what it does in the second.

There is much to be said for adopting a broad general basis for
collecting historical materials, without limitation as to date or
subject matter. Geographical limitations, however, in terms of
the state or region in the United States are sound for both historical
and practical reasons. A general program, such as the University
of Virginia's, covering mainly the area of Virginia from
colonial days to the present, need draw no artificial distinctions
as to types of records produced in this area, although some selection
should be made from those available, in terms of historical
value. Church and business records may be found in the same
collection. A project devoted to the sources of business history
might reject the religious materials in its zeal for the economic
and in so doing overlook certain significant inter-relationships
which the collection would reveal in its entirety. The validity of
the social historian's concept of history as all inclusive is well
substantiated when it is applied to the collection of materials by
the research institution. It aids the individual investigator by
serving the interests of scholarship in general and it best assures

the preservation of organic bodies of papers intact, with proper
regard for their internal organization. Although our research
libraries are more and more effective in providing the individual
historian with basic materials, he is a short-sighted scholar who
does not inquire into those sources of his subject still in private
hands. But he becomes a menace to the institutions that serve
him when he goes beyond his note-taking and persuades the owners
to dispose of choice segments of their papers merely for his
personal satisfaction. The best corrective is increasing institutional
activity, along with an appeal for cooperation from both
owners and users of such material.

In view of the intensified collecting activity by numerous institutions
during the past two decades the question is occasionally
raised, "Are there many historical records left to be gathered?"
Considering the fact that history and its records are continuously
in the making, this may seem to be a foolish question, but anyone
involved in the work of collecting learns that he must take into
account the commonly accepted meaning of history as memorable
events and records of the more distant past, and that in the
South especially, the year 1865 is still widely regarded as the end
of the historical past. But even if one were to accept such a
limited view of historical processes, the answer to this query
would still be in the affirmative. Records in private possession
are widely dispersed. Man's indifference and wilful destruction,
fires and floods, and other elements reduce the volume of records
willy-nilly year after year, and wars usually bring more
widespread destruction in their wake. Nevertheless, in spite of
these hazards, many imprints and manuscripts survive. Migration
of population, its concentration in cities, and the transformation
of agricultural into industrial regions hasten the destruction
of older materials while new records are simultaneously created.
The dominant rural character of Virginia life throughout the history
of the colony and state has undoubtedly served to safeguard
numerous private records untouched for generations. Personal
traits also enter into consideration. Where life goes on at the same
easy pace for long periods, the inclination to let things accumulate
becomes a habit and the forces of nature seem to be the only
active agent of destruction. As the abandoned tobacco shed in
Virgnia, instead of being torn down, leans to leeward until it

eventually meets the earth, so many a collection of family papers
has grown by slow accretion, layer upon layer, in old trunks
under the eaves or in outhouses, until in the course of time it
is by chance rescued for careful preservation or destroyed.

Because of the present-day historian's broad interpretation of
what is historical, the supply of the raw materials of history is
greater than what would have been estimated a generation ago,
and the continual discovery of such materials is proof that the
mine is not worked out. How are they found and where does the
search begin? Does the collector know what he is looking for? Is
some reasoning required in the quest or is it mainly a matter of
chance? What method worthy of the name is preferred?

Let us make a few warranted assumptions at the start to simplify
the procedure that is suggested. Within a geographical area of
operations the collector of historical materials as the agent of a
research library should take that world as his parish. (Incidentally,
he may find himself becoming a sort of historical missionary
as he sees and hears directly how our knowledge of the
past is thwarted by those who neglect the sources in their custody.)
He should be familiar with the history of the region, not
only to evaluate with expert judgment what he finds but also to
probe for what theoretically should be discovered in a certain
place. He will set up no artificial barriers as to date or subject
matter nor show any unfounded preference for manuscript over
printed material. The work of the past eight years in early
American imprints throughout the nation, inspired by the late
Douglas C. McMurtrie, has developed a new appreciation of these
sources and their intimate relation to manuscript records in many
instances.

On the trail the collector must develop a new sense of time,
accommodated always to the quest and the quarry, and least to
his own convenience. "White collar" hours from nine to five will
have to be abandoned for a more flexible working day usually
off schedule. There may be time for lunch but often there is no
lunch available. The white collar will soon turn grey and be discarded
for another with a more serviceable color. Only figuratively
speaking can this sleuth have clean hands. Dust, dirt,
and vermin he must be prepared to face. He may even welcome
the dust and dirt on occasion, with the expectation that the depth

of the covering may bear a direct relation to the age of the papers
and their satisfactory condition in the original order of arrangement.
As for vermin, even here some distinction may be drawn.
I recall a newspaper publisher in northern Virginia who encouraged
some mice to make their abode in his storeroom by
enticing them with a pot of glue that suited their taste. My long
afternoon's work among the papers was considerably eased by
the capers of those mice, young and old, completely unconcerned
about my presence. And perhaps the superior flavor of the glue
served to safeguard the newspapers from attack.

From these rather general comments on preparation for the
search for historical materials we may turn to some specific matters
regarding physical equipment and financial resources. A list
of the former need be no longer than that of James H. Breasted
during his first field work in Egypt in the latter 1890's. Years
afterward he recalled how he "rode up and stood for the first
time under the shadow of the vast temple of Medinet Habu
opposite Luxor—a building with its enormous wall-surfaces covered
with uncopied and unstudied historical records. . . . An inventory
of my equipment for meeting this situation was as follows:

           

transportation	1	donkey on hire for the day, browsing near by;
stationery	1	pocket note-book;
photography	1	tiny Kodak hand-camera;
supplies	1	basket lunch and 2 bottles of water;
time	three-quarters of a day;
family resources	1	wife newly acquired, also browing near by."[2]

Our modern equipment would include one light motorcar with
good mileage per gallon of gasoline and ample space to carry
the materials acquired; a note-book, or preferably note cards for
convenience of filling; a Leica camera for microfilming; supplies
consisting of old clothes or coveralls, gauze to protect the lungs
from dust, and a minimum of food and drink in this land of roadside
lunch counters and Coca-Cola stands; and time enough to
travel far from the home base and concentrate upon the work in
the selected locality. The wife, if newly acquired, will doubtless
enjoy "browsing near by"—but she may prefer the comforts of
home after such trips have ceased to be a novelty.

The cost of this kind of travel is relatively high. Railroad or bus
transportation is impracticable for most of these journeys; the
automobile alone has made such work possible on a comprehensive
scale. An allowance of $1,000 per year for travel would be a
bare minimum for intermittent trips, on a basis of five cents per
mile (whch is not adequate to cover depreciation and overhead on
the car) plus food and lodging. An allowance of $1,500 to $2,000
would produce better results by providing a margin for extra or
emergency travel, when the opportunity to acquire important material
suddenly appears and action must not be delayed. When
funds are meager, trips must be limited in time and distance; yet
a long trip will often prove to be more economical in its net results.
Something is gained in the low rates of board and room in
rural areas and in the ability of the collector to live both economically
and comfortably within his resources. I am writing, of
course, in terms of prewar conditions. Within a decade these remarks
may have become only a curious record of a bygone age.

Among the equipment mentioned above is a notebook. Memoranda
will be recorded during the expedition, but it is not a blank
book when the journey begins. The intelligent collector has
prepared the way somewhat by advanced information about his
destination. He consults printed historical and descriptive accounts
of the town or county for data concerning its notable persons and
families, institutions and organizations, leading events and activities.
Notes jotted down from these printed works provide the first
step toward a goal clearly defined or only vaguely surmised. Correspondence
with certain individuals in the community may supply
additional leads, including the exact whereabouts of valuable
books and papers. Thus evidence is accumulated and clues are
found to prepare the way for actual investigation in the locality.
Some previous knowledge of kinships may be helpful in negotiating
for personal and family manuscripts. Since the economic and
social life of a community may have changed radically within
two or three generations, present-day conditions are likely to be
misleading with regard to valuable records of the past worth
searching for. Thus the collector approaches the scene of his labor
with a small portion of specific information, a generous amount of
speculation about what will be revealed, and a healthy skepticism
concerning some of his early clues.

Among the prerequisites for writing sound and illuminating
history is an understanding of human nature. The collector of
materials must possess this quality too, or develop it steadily as
he makes his way about the locality. If he lacks an introduction to
any particular person, he can doubtless secure valuable preliminary
advice from the clerk of the local court, the newspaper
editor, or an old-time lawyer frequenting the court house. Assistance
will be forthcoming from some residents because of their
interest in historical matters, from others because of ties with
the institution which the collector represents. Already he begins
to get a glimpse of the community from the inside as he becomes
the recipient of their hospitality. He will learn to say grace before
meat without surprise or trepidation and to adapt his share of the
conversation to subjects of local interest. His education will
be advanced more rapidly by engaging a room with a private
family than by staying at a hotel. Some of these acquaintanceships
will ripen into enduring friendships. As old travel routes are
crossed and recrossed by new ones in subsequent years, these
friends can always be relied upon for their continuing interest
and assistance.

To the collector temporarily residing in the community come
new bits of information, substantiating or contradicting earlier
ones and providing clues to other materials hitherto unknown to
him. He will find most owners of materials quite willing to
show him what they have. Some of the clues, of course, have been
based only upon rumor and so come to naught, but even those
founded on "fact" may produce some disappointment merely because
of differences in terminology. Although "historical papers"
may mean manuscripts to the historian, they may designate printed
materials in various forms to the layman. The latter often
fails to distinguish between written (or published) history and
the raw materials basic for historical writing. The historian as
collector must frequently define his terms. Yet he may find it desirable
to be vague or all inclusive in his language when he does
not know what the owner has in his possession. If it is books and
pamphlets of historical value, the collector would regret to have
expressed an interest only in old letters and account books.

Most clues, however, have some factual basis, and the anticipated
thrill of uncovering historical treasures long forgotten or

unappreciated is not infrequently heightened by the richness of
the content. Indeed, the thrill may be all the greater by discovering
entirely unknown sources. A personal experience in Halifax
County, Virginia, a decade ago will illustrate this point. Word
had reached me indirectly that a large mercantile firm had been
in operation at the county seat for many years before the Civil
War, carrying on an extensive business with the planters of the
surrounding countryside. Easley & Willingham was the firm
and the Easley Family was still in residence. The grandson of
the merchant-planter received me hospitably. When I explained
the purpose of my call, he assured me that there were still some
old ledgers in an outhouse near by. As he swung open the door
of the frame shed, the dim light disclosed a grey-brown mass of
books in deep disorderly piles. Eagerly I picked up one, then
another, and opened them at random. They were the store accounts
for the period reported. But before the examination had
proceeded very far, another type of record was uncovered. Here
were accounts of land warrants in Illinois and Missouri along
with letters received from agents in Wisconsin, Iowa, Nebraska,
and neighboring states on land transactions in the 1850's and
especially during the quarter century after the Civil War. This
collection of over 100 volumes and numerous loose documents,
after being inventoried, revealed in unusual detail how profits in
country merchandising had been invested in western lands before
1860 and disposed of through agents on a commission basis during
the latter phases of the westward movement.[3] Prof. Paul W.
Gates, whose research on the disposal of the public lands is well
known, has called the Easley Papers one of the finest collections
on this subject. It was coincidental that about three weeks after
these papers had been removed to the University of Virginia
Library, Dr. Gates was trying to locate them from information he
had found in the Land Office records in Washington. His trail
through Virginia ended in Charlottesville.

In meeting the owner of historical materials face to face, the
collector needs to sense or detect the former's viewpoint and
opinion regarding them in order to develop the conversation tactically

to the best advantage. Most owners have come into
possession of their materials more or less by accident, by inheritance
or by discovery of an accumulation of papers long since forgotten
or abandoned. Owners of collections assembled because of
special personal interests are relatively few. They are not likely
to be moved by an appeal from an institution, except under circumstances
that touch them in some peculiar way. They "speak
the language" of the professional and should be encouraged to
continue on their own, for the ultimate benefit of some appropriate
research institution. In considering further the owner who discovers
the historical materials in his possession quite by chance,
it is well to note that he is usually not devoid of definite opinions
about them. Although in law or medicine he would defer to the
specialist, he will hardly be expected to have such an attitude toward
the historian and so withhold judgment on historical
sources.

Let us consider some of these prevailing attitudes and the collector's
problems deriving from them. Taking for granted certain
natural and accidental forces of destruction over which little
control can be established, we may say that the collector is continually
running a race against ignorance of historical values in
relation to records. The owner who does not know that such values
exist may save a few imprints or manuscripts from those at hand
as curiosities; his indifference may accidentally result in his
ignoring all of the papers until he becomes enlightened. Yet in
many instances the collector arrives too late. To him the loss
sometimes seems more of a disappointment when he has missed
saving them by a narrow margin of time. To him the person who
lets his papers accumulate by steady accretion throughout the
years is a man after his own heart, because they may be found
untouched in their original condition. At the opposite pole is the
person whose best intentions are concerned with clearing out all
so-called "trash," as determined by his sole judgment, or lack of
it. Under these circumstances housecleaning becomes a grave
meance and spring is the worst time of year.

In passing judgment on materials in his possession, many a
person supposes that only those pertaining to historic persons
and events are really historical. Although papers of this kind
always have a certain pre-eminence because of their association

value as well as their content, our written history would be narrowly
limited if based only upon records of the famous and the
unusual. Historians of the twentieth century have sought increasingly
for information revealing the "norm" or the "average" in
any period, on all aspects of society, through a variety of individuals
and institutions. This is the viewpoint of the social historian
who strives to recapture the past in its entirety. He maintains that
famous men and events must be judged in the light of their times
and the exceptional appraised in relative terms. Thus the records
of the unimportant person, unknown beyond his immediate locality—records
by and about the common man—may have historical
importance. This is well illustrated by the change in availability
and use of agricultural sources on the ante bellum South. Prof.
Ulrich B. Phillips's research during the first quarter of the present
century was done mainly in the records of large plantations of
which numerous collections had been preserved and made accessible.
Today more attention is given by scholars to the small
farm and its relation to the plantation, as depicted through writings
of obscure men and through official census and tax records
of the whole population or of a considerable proportion thereof.

It is clear, therefore, that the collector of historical materials
needs to convince the owner of the broad meaning of the word
"historical." The owner may have to be persuaded on several
other related points also. Why, he asks, should his papers be of
interest to anyone else, or certainly to anyone outside his family?
They are purely "personal papers" and could not have any research
value. He remarks casually that he has given a few items
to friends and relatives as curiosities because their forebears were
mentioned in the content. Some of the records are of such recent
date—perhaps of fifty years ago—that they are surely not historical,
are they? Well, the task of enlightenment is somewhat easier
if he asks the question. But the collector may find difficulty in
convincing the owner that the historical past is not necessarily
far removed from the present or that the personal element in
letters is not a sound criterion for excluding them from a historical
collection. At any rate, "personal" is so indeterminate in
meaning that a clarification of terms may work to the mutual
advantage of both parties in the disposal or retention of the
papers.

Some types of records have been especially neglected and destroyed
for lack of historical appreciation. Materials of an economic
nature were overlooked as long as the historian's interest
was restricted to political and military events within a narrow
framework of governmental acts and armies on the march. When
the economic historian appeared, he found very few collections
of sources on specific manufactures or individual firms, on merchandising
enterprises, banks, or other businesses. These records,
in the form of loose papers and account books, usually have least
chance of survival because they are largely arithmetical and impersonal
to the casual observer. Their historical use requires more
explanation to the layman than a letter on politics. When the
records of a business firm have been preserved intact, their bulk
presents a serious problem to both owner and collector. Perhaps
the records have survived because they were too massive for easy
disposal until finally the space they occupied was urgently needed
for other purposes. In these circumstances, if the collector comes
along at the right time, he may have the records for the asking.
However, he too has to reckon with the problem of space and safeguard
his institution against any restrictions on accessioning the
material whereby the bulk cannot be reduced for research purposes.
Business records were the first to force archivists and other
custodians to develop criteria of selection. In their selection and
use the economic historian can apply certain research techniques
developed scientifically by the economist; but the social historian
urges the economic historian to seek additional sources beyond
the organic records of business so that he will not repeat the
earlier shortcomings of the political historian.

In a predominantly rural region such as Virginia the most
widely dispersed economic materials are the account books of
the general country store. Although usually owned and operated
by an individual or by partners, it was in a very real sense a local
institution of great significance before the days of improved highways.
Many a store was run by members of the same family for
three or four generations in the same building. Ledgers, journals,
and daybooks were accumulated steadily on the shelf behind the
cash box and then removed to the garret by a sort of automatic
process rather than for any conscious purpose of preservation.
The more ancient and unkept the store building, the more imposing

I have found its records to be. Not infrequently, when the
storekeeper learned of their historical value, he took pleasure in
giving them to the library for research purposes. It so happened
that the collecting of such records during the past twenty years
occurred at a critical time when the chain store forced many a
country merchant to reorganize his business or dispose of it. The
Southern Country Store, which Prof. Thomas D. Clark has so
graphically described for the period 1865-1915 in his recent book
with this sub-title,[4] is literally reborn from the records. He has
made the old account books come to life in a fashion that should
convince the most indifferent merchant of the historical value of
his records.

Other types of materials might be mentioned to illustrate
further the advantage of a comprehensive program of collecting.
Such a program does not set up artificial lines of demarcation
between what ought to be accepted and rejected. Certainly the
lines are often difficult to draw as to historical period and still
more so as to subject matter; furthermore, this kind of discrimination
vitiates research work when it breaks up collections or
related papers and destroys their organic unity. This does not
mean that the collector throws discretion to the winds and gathers
up everything available in sight. He must be familiar with both
the broad needs and the specific wants of his library, and develop
intelligent discrimination in the course of his experience. His
sense of values becomes considerably modified as more and
more materials pass through his hands. He is half prepared for
the unexpected to turn up and for the argument appropriate to
the occasion to assure preservation, first by the owner, eventually
by transfer to the library. Sometimes quick action is advisable
while the owner is in a favorable mood—"while the iron is hot."
I am reminded of my quest for a certain collection of manuscripts
which I knew from authentic information were in an old residence
near Lynchburg. Since the only sure access to the papers, I learned,
was through the good offices of several relatives involved in
the matter, the road to my destination was round-about through
many counties, intermittently during the course of a year or more.
With the proper groundwork laid, I enjoyed a cordial reception

by the owner and was taken without much delay to the attic of
the old farmhouse. A hasty glance convinced me that the contents,
by their casual appearance and thick coating of dust, were
an accumulation of many decades. The manuscripts in question
were easily found in an old trunk and proved to be well worth
the prolonged efforts to secure them. While we were making a
cursory examination of them, I saw near by several piles of old
newspapers. Knowing that the Library had no files of papers
published in this vicinity, I suggested that they would be of service
at the University. He was agreeable to the suggestion. When
I repeated it with reference to a stack of magazines and pamphlets
I also coveted, he acquiesced again, adding that I would make a
good forager for an army. I am not sure he meant the remark as
a compliment, although I passed it off as such. When I left for
home my car was filled to capacity, with a greater variety of
material than I had anticipated and perhaps with better results
because they were accomplished at one time under most favorable
circumstances.

From whatever angle the subject of collecting historical materials
is discussed, it is evident that personal factors play a large
part. The owner's appreciation of or indifference towards his
records, his mere sense of possession, family pride and loyalty,
financial needs or desires—any one of these factors, if not a
combination of them, may bear most weight in the conversations
and final results. Patience is one of the greatest virtues
of the collector. As we have seen, he may have many obstacles to
surmount before a meeting of minds is effected. Proper timing
is essential. Where a whole family is involved, several minds will
have to be reconciled or the dominant will in the situation discovered.
I still regret the loss of one collection because I became
accidentally allied with the weaker faction against the stronger
by being over-anxious before the time was ripe. With what proved
to be insufficient authority to acquire the papers from the unoccupied
country house, one load was secured when the blow fell.
Some of the material was reclaimed by the opposition, but the
old house burned some time afterward and the bulk of the
records was undoubtedly destroyed. I wondered whether the
family felt worse than I did.

In the course of conversation that leads by devious indirection
to the object of one's visit, I can testify that love, religion, and
the weather are still universal subjects. In speaking of the South,
where the art of conversation has survived our high-speed
mechanized world, I would add a fourth subject—"the War."
Certainly until the present world conflict "the War" required no
identification. Records of 1861-65 still in private hands are numerous
and events and incidents of those memorable years are perpetuated
in folk lore as well as in history. It is inevitable that the
quest for historical materials should lead to recollections of stories
about Yankees and Confederates. As a northerner I have been impressed
by the reality of that war which still prevails, and yet by
the willingness to discuss the pros and cons without bitterness,
except on the part of a few.

The historian, in the course of his collecting for the institution
he represents, finds much to stimulate his own research. He understands
more fully than the armchair scholar where and how to
look for the sources which have not yet come under library control.
His first-hand knowledge of their variety and the conditions
under which they have survived opens the way for the
use of materials which may remain indefinitely in private hands.
But in addition to these exceptional opportunities to develop expert
knowledge and to apply it to original research in the records,
there are certain intangible values that work to the same end.
These derive from acquaintance with people in many walks of
life—the descendants of the men and women whose records the
historian seeks to preserve. His interpretation of those records is
enhanced by a better understanding of ideas and ideals, of customs
and philosophies of life which are inherited and expressed
by the present generation in casual conversation, in opinions on
current issues, and in subconscious reflections upon day by day
personal and social relations. Although economic and social conditions
in a region may have become vastly different in the course
of a half century, the historian can recreate the living past more
truly and realistically when he understands the living present and
its relation to the past. Thus it may be said that the collector-historian's
contacts with the sources reach beyond written records
and historical objects into the realm of unwritten evidence. If
he is aware of this opportunity, he ought to keep a diary or some

kind of informal record of his experiences and impressions. I fear,
however, that historians seldom produce primary sources of their
own like those of previous generations they hope to find.

You may protest that the collector is always asking for something.
What does he have to offer in return, on behalf of his institution?
It can be answered that, because he feels historical
research to be an essential part of the advancement of learning,
whereby the intellectual level and general welfare of society as a
whole are improved, therefore he offers the facilities of his library
for the care and preservation of materials which will increase
the cultural resources of the state and nation. He may be frankly
utilitarian about the whole matter; yet he can point out that the
owner of materials has an opportunity to promote scholarship in
a personal sort of way. If the latter already has direct ties with
the institution, both the appeal and the personal satisfaction will
be all the stronger. A collection of books and papers may serve as
a lasting memorial to an individual or family whose deeds have
been closely associated with the life and culture of the region;
and the research library provides the most appropriate and effective
means of carrying out this purpose. In numerous cases, papers
accumulated through several generations cannot be rightfully
claimed by any particular member of the family. The most
obvious solution of the difficulty, which may have produced friction
among the kinfolk, is to divide the papers into equal lots; but
this is the worst possible solution, short of destruction, from the
standpoint of their historical value. In such an impasse the collector
may perform a real service by persuading all parties concerned
jointly to transfer the materials to the custody of the library.
Once their consent has been given, this end can easily be achieved,
providing the collection has not been tampered with. If some
division has already occurred, the task of reassembling it for
preservation is generally long and arduous. The University of
Virginia has a very interesting travel diary in four volumes
which had been apportioned among four direct descendants of
the diarist without alleviating the hard feelings in the family over
an ownership which no one was justified in asserting. As the
manuscript was well worth a special effort to secure, I found myself
becoming the mediator among the members of the family.
Diplomatic conversations, with gestures of good will conveyed by

the emissary over the highways and byways of the Commonwealth
of Virginia, finally brought agreement to the proposal that
the University Library could provide the answer to the vexing
question, To whom does the diary belong? Signatures were
obtained and the four volumes at length reached what I hope
is their permanent repository.

In the transfer of materials from individual or joint ownership
to the institution, several alternative proposals can be considered.
The first is an outright gift to the institution; the second is deposit
for safe-keeping and availabilty for use under terms whereby the
depositor retains ownership and the right to withdraw the material.
It is generally best to restrict the second possibility to
manuscripts, since most imprints have to go through the expensive
process of cataloguing in order to be made accessible, and
this is inadvisable for material not the property of the library.
The third alternative is temporary loan for photographing, or
gift of the originals provided the donor is supplied with photographic
copies. The fourth is purchase by the institution. In the
course of its relations with donors and depositors the library may
offer some repair services, information on relative values of certain
items, and advice on the care of records retained by the
owners.

Although we have not been concerned primarily with sale and
purchase of materials in the foregoing discussion, we would not
deny that money talks with most effect under given conditions. I
think, however, that it is important to draw a sharp line between
what must be a financial transaction and what will be quite
otherwise. It should not be too difficult to determine the attitude
of the owner by the trend of his remarks. If the material must
be purchased and it is worth having on that basis, let a fair price
be agreed upon and the deal made. Surely the institution needs
available funds for such situations. On the other hand, an offer to
buy without knowledge of the owner's point of view reveals
poor strategy. The personal element involved in many an individual's
attitude toward the books and manuscripts belonging to his
family preclude any thought of a money transaction. He may not
appreciate their historical value, but at any rate he will not measure
it in dollars and cents. Because historicial and association
values are more subtle than monetary, the historian-collector is

not trying to strike a bargain, but rather to cultivate an appreciation
of what History is made of, in the records of Everyman,
great and small.

The results that accrue from an organized program of tracking
down historical records to their source are slow in materializing at
first, but after the third or fourth year the increase in returns
becomes more noticeable. Although publicity in the press and by
radio will be helpful, the work throughout the region begins
to advertise itself by word of mouth and by voluntary support
which a few local enthusiasts provide. Some persons bring their
treasures to the library of their own accord. A large-scale correspondence
will develop but it should supplement, not supplant,
the work in the field. There is no adequate substitute for widespread
personal contacts which, occasionally renewed, maintain
local interest in the undertaking and open up new leads to historical
resources in the community. Some of the fields of early
efforts may lie fallow for years and then yield returns long after
the initial work has been forgotten.

The postwar period of twenty-five years ago witnessed notable
expansion in the collection of historical and other research materials.
Forecasts of another postwar era just ahead stress the
complex problems already in the making. Historical records will
provide much of the basis for the essential research that must
be done. Our task of collecting them has just begun.