What is an index?

In Short

This book serves as both a historical survey and a practical manual regarding the essential task of indexing. It traces the development of the index from Roman times to the Victorian era, examining how these tools provide a "key" to the contents of books. Through anecdotes of literary blunders and successful systems, the author argues that indexing is not mere mechanical drudgery, but a sophisticated intellectual labor that requires judgment and precision. It remains a foundational text for anyone interested in the structure of information and the history of bibliography.

The Story

The narrative begins by elevating the indexer to a position of high esteem, comparing the work of organizing a book’s contents to the anatomical discovery of the body’s nerves and arteries. The author establishes that the "index" has a long history, appearing under various names like "tables" or "pyes" before settling into its modern identity. The historical account serves as a cautionary tale: indexing is powerful, and in the hands of political enemies or the careless, it can be malicious or laughably inaccurate. Prynne, for instance, famously became a martyr to his own index in Histrio-mastix; because his index effectively summarized his controversial arguments against stage plays, it provided the prosecution with the very evidence needed to secure his conviction.

As the story moves from history to the "practice of index-making," the focus shifts to the intellectual demands of the task. The author grapples with the tension between the "fire and vivacity of imagination" required to write a book and the patience required to index it. He shares stories of disastrous entries—such as a cataloger misreading a title-page phrase as the name of an author or a compiler failing to distinguish between two men of the same name. These anecdotes illustrate the dangers of treating indexing as a mindless, rote activity. Instead, the author champions the idea that an index is the "soul of a book" and that authors themselves should often participate in the process to ensure accuracy.

The arc of the book culminates in a call to professionalize this vital service. The author details the failed attempts of various societies to create a "General Literary Index" and celebrates the formation of the Index Society, which aims to provide a systematic, collaborative approach to mapping the world’s information. The narrative concludes with a comprehensive, almost exhaustive list of existing indexes and concordances, demonstrating the breadth of what has been achieved and the massive amount of work yet to be done. The final pages shift into a technical, instructional mode, setting out clear rules for the arrangement of names, the handling of surnames with prefixes, and the proper use of cross-references and marks of repetition. The journey ends with the reader fully equipped to view the humble index not as a dry list, but as a dynamic, living tool that prevents the modern world from sinking into a mire of forgotten knowledge.

How It Unfolds

The anatomy of a book The author establishes the index as the "nerves and arteries" of literature. He explains the evolution of terms like "pye" and "tables" that preceded the modern index.

A history of index-martyrs and fools The narrative examines the political power of an index, citing Prynne’s legal troubles as the primary example. It also highlights the humorous and dangerous errors made by those who lacked the judgment to separate facts from opinions.

The call for systematic order The text details the recurring, often frustrated efforts to create a formal society for indexing. It emphasizes the need for a national or public endeavor to catalog the vast amounts of information that remain "closed against inquiry."

The mechanics of the craft The final section provides granular instruction on how to actually build an index. It covers the treatment of surnames, the use of sub-headings, and the careful application of punctuation to avoid the absurdities seen in previous, poorly executed catalogues.

The People

The book features a cast of figures who represent the spectrum of the indexer’s experience. Prynne appears as the archetypal "martyr," whose conscientious, thorough index to his massive Histrio-mastix inadvertently provided the weapons for his own trial. Dr. William King stands in stark contrast as the "malicious" indexer who used his position to settle political scores. Bayle and Leigh Hunt serve as the voices of wisdom, acknowledging that while indexing is often considered the driest of tasks, it requires a "soul of humour" and immense patience. Sir Henry Thring represents the legal perspective, arguing that indexing the statutes is not drudgery but a critical step toward the grander goal of national codification. Finally, the author himself, Henry B. Wheatley, acts as the patient, authoritative guide who synthesizes these disparate experiences into a set of practical, professional rules for the next generation of indexers.

In Its Own Voice

“I for my part venerate the inventor of Indexes; and I know not to whom to yield the preference, either to Hippocrates, who was the first great anatomiser of the human body, or to that unknown labourer in literature who first laid open the nerves and arteries of a book.”

The author uses this opening quotation from Isaac Disraeli to establish the high value he places on the craft of indexing.

“As there ‘is a soul of goodness in things evil,’ so there is a soul of humour in things dry, and in things dry by profession.”

In this reflection on the work of Leigh Hunt, the author defends the index against accusations that it is inherently boring or uninteresting.

What It's Really About

At its core, this work is an argument for the intellectual dignity of bibliographic organization. It explores the tension between the chaotic, sprawling nature of human knowledge and the strict, alphabetical order required to make that knowledge accessible. The book treats the act of indexing as a fundamental duty of civilization: to preserve the work of the past so that it may serve the future. It posits that an index is more than a list; it is an interpretation of a book's arguments and a map of its contents. The underlying question is one of responsibility—who bears the burden of ensuring that information remains discoverable, and what happens to a society that forgets how to retrieve its own history?

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate the history of books, the craft of libraries, or the quiet satisfaction of a well-organized system will find this volume deeply rewarding. It offers a fascinating, behind-the-scenes look at the Victorian obsession with data and order, providing a sense of comfort for anyone who has ever felt overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information. The prose is warm and scholarly, though the reader should be prepared for the specificities of late 19th-century bibliographic standards, which may feel antiquated. The book’s value lies in its earnest, unhurried pace; it asks the reader to slow down and consider the "nerves and arteries" of the texts they consume. It is a work for those who want to understand the architecture of knowledge, and it leaves the reader with a newfound, almost militant respect for the unsung heroes who draft the indexes that keep our shelves from collapsing into silence. While some of the technical advice is tied to the print technologies of the 1870s, the principles—accuracy, consistency, and judgment—remain as vital today as they were when the Index Society was first formed.