All the Memory in the World (1956)

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Because he has a short memory

man accumulates countless aide-m?moires.

Confronted with these bulging repositories,

man is assailed by a fear of being

engulfed by this mass of words.

To assure his liberty,

he builds fortresses.

In Paris words are imprisoned

in the Biblioth?que Nationale.

Everything printed in France

can be found here.

Every mark set down by man's hand

is represented here

in the richest department of all:

Manuscripts.

The Periodicals reading room

bears witness to the ever-changing world.

Most of the world's newspapers

can be consulted here.

In the Etching room,

every picture is stored,

be it an engraving,

a lithograph or a photograph.

This is a museum.

Another museum is the Medals room.

Louis XIV was the first

to gather together such treasures.

Stars, satellites and meteors,

capitals and their suburbs can all be found

in the Maps section.

Built at a time when little was printed,

the Biblioth?que Nationale now houses

another 3 million volumes each century.

To avoid bursting, it is continously

burrowing deeper underground

and reaching up higher into the sky.

PRINTS

ETCHINGS

MEDALS AND ANTIQUES

PERIODICALS

MAPS AND PLANS

MANUSCRIPTS

To make it possible

to consult this gigantic memory,

those in charge of the treasures

it contains catalogue them.

They sort them, analyze them,

classify them and number them methodically.

It has taken centuries

to inventory the six million books

and five million prints

held at the library.

This is vital work. With no catalogue,

this fortress would be a maze.

It has been necessary

to develop classifications

which, over time, have become law.

To catalogue all this knowledge,

we have had to resort to key words.

Eventually, the mighty catalogue

of printed matter was born,

a catalogue which will

forever be a work in progress.

The library is a model memory, a store

for everything printed in France.

The periodicals section alone has

to digest 200kg of paper every day:

newspapers, reviews, magazines,

bulletins, yearbooks and almanacs.

If a collection is incomplete,

it loses its value,

so the smallest mistake must be avoided.

If an issue is missing,

it will be requested.

Even though an edition may

be consulted only once,

everything must be kept. That's the rule.

Among these collections,

Rimbaud's first writings were found,

published in an obscure journal

in the Ardennes.

Who knows what else may

come to light among these pages?

Who knows what will be the most

reliable testament to our civilization?

There are four ways in which

the collection may be expanded,

through gifts, purchases, exchanges

and - the main source - legal deposit.

Instituted in the 16th century,

ths obliges publishers and printers

to deliver several copies of each work

they publish to the library.

To mark a volume

as having entered the library,

never again to leave it, it is stamped.

The book which has been deposited

is entered in the catalogue

of all the publishers in France.

Then is registered as a new entry.

Its identification card is drawn up.

After which, a prisoner,

it awaits the day of classification.

Once a week the books are sorted

and distributed to different sections

of the catalogue service.

Some, like this one, are entered

in a catalogue of collections.

The book is placed.

It is determined which field it relates to.

It is identified. It is indexed.

Its particulars are circulated

electronically.

Twenty identification cards

are placed in different files

among the millions of other cards,

which make this catalogue room

the brain of the Biblioth?que Nationale.

Once labeled, the book

cannot escape any search.

A letter and number specify the place

it will ocuppy in one of the stores.

Once catalogued, the book will go

to the exact spot assigned to it

in the maze of shelves

which is more that 60 miles long.

Here is the book in its setting.

This ancient store will soon be gone.

For 20 years, successive transformations

have been turning this library

into the most modern in the world.

A silent stronghold,

the Biblioth?que Nationale

harbours many treasures.

There is plenty worthy of attention -

more that enough to fill 100 films.

For who is to say what is the noblest,

the finest, the rarest?

It is the still unpublished

"Journal of the Gouncourts" manuscript?

The "Peresianus Codex",

which nobody knows how to decipher?

These Harry Dickson memoirs

unobtainable today?

These personal notebooks

to be opened only in 1974?

The manuscript of Pascal's "Pens?es"?

Or the collected works of Emile Zola?

"The stone of Baghdad"

and the jewels that surround it?

Villard de Honnecourt's sketchbook?

Or perhaps...

...this collection of royal medals?

These huge Victor Hugo manuscripts?

Cabot's "mappa mundi"?

This binding bearing the arms of Henri II?

This, the first book printed in Paris?

Charlemagne's "Evangelarium"?

"The Revelation of St. Severus"?

This Mantegna?

This D?rer?

This Redon?

These treasures need to be preserved,

so the atmosphere is controlled.

Machinery resembling that of Captain Nemo

keeps a constant temperature suitable

for paper, leather and parchment.

Night and day, checks are made.

Whatever the cost,

destruction must be avoided at all costs.

Ointment preserves the bindings.

Ancient writings are restored.

The borings of insects are stopped up.

Loose pages are glued back in.

The books are innoculated.

Covered.

Maps are separated with plastic shields.

To stop wearing out,

portofolios are stored on rollers.

Newspapers, the paper of which

quickly disintegrates, are microfilmed.

Once captured on film,

these pictures will perpetuate

the memory of perishable documents.

While this slow battle against death

goes on, calls go out.

Messages are endlessly spat forth

across the labyrinth of stores.

Once the book has been found

a slip of paper takes its place.

This is its shadow.

A final verification checks the identity

of the book against its ticket.

And now the book marches on

towards a notional line,

a boundary more significant for it

than going through the looking glass.

It is no longer the same book.

It used to be a part of an abstract,

universal, indiferent memory.

There, all books were equal,

all enjoyed attention as tender

as that shown by God towards man.

Here it is selected, preferred,

indispensable to its reader,

torn from its world to feed

these paper-crunching pseudo-insects,

irremediably different from true insects

in that each is bound

to its own distinct business.

Astrophysics, physiology, theology,

taxonomy, philology, cosmology,

mechanics, logic, poetics, technology...

Here we catch a glimpse of a future

in which all mysteries are resolved.

A time when we are handed

the keys to this and other universes.

And this will come about

because these readers,

each working on his slice

of universal memory,

will lay the fragments

of a single secret end to end,

a secret with a beautiful name,

a secret called happiness.