The Relation of Literature to History

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By Lewis Einstein

CIENCE, which struck the prevailing chord in the intellectual achievements of the nineteenth century, broke down by its victory many barriers which previously had impeded its march. Especially was this true in that great borderland between itself and the broader domains of art. All realms of thought and speculation lying between the two could not but feel the allpervading influence of new habits of research and investigation. Most important of all, History swerved in its allegiance, and from having been an art, now enrolled itself under the banner of science. This was, in part, both a necessary and a healthy reaction against the fancifulness of previous historical interpretation. The lives of kings, the descriptions of courts, and the chronicles of wars, repeated by one writer after another, who accepted blindly what his predecessors had handed down to him, could scarcely reveal more than a shadow of the life experience of a nation. Perhaps, realizing this insufficiency, the historian of old endeavored by the perfection of literary art to atone for his other shortcomings. Fact was sacrificed to fancy, and

style became the great goal of desire. But the scientific victory of the nineteenth century effected as great an upheaval in the world of thought as did the French Revolution in that of action. The search for truth became of paramount importance, to attain which all else was sacrificed, and the literary grace of ages swept ruthlessly to one side. History had to be written afresh from acts and charters, and thus a new historical school based and founded on the study of documentary evidence first saw the light.

It would be idle to regret what has been done, or to wish for a return to former conditions. That the good accomplished has far outweighed the evil none but the enemies of truth can deny. To-day, for the first time, history takes definite rank as a science. Yet it is not wholly without regret that one misses certain of the qualities of former historians. Literary grace has its charm, the lack of which is painfully evident in the too dreary pages of history written in our time. Many a writer, whose industry and perseverance would otherwise recommend him to fame, suffers from this want of style. Nor can it properly be said that the two qualities of matter and form, of substance and expression, are incompatible. Their union has disproved the contrary in some of the greatest writers of history. It is rather that the habit of literary style is no longer formed in the mind of modern historians who are barely conscious of what they lack. The problem is, therefore, how to bring history back to literature without forfeiting the advantages gained by a century of scientific research; to preserve the essential

duality of its nature, and make of it at the same time an art and a science, a science in its substance, an art in its expression.

The reading of literature as a necessary preliminary to history would, perhaps, more than anything else, act as a remedy for existing conditions. But a difficulty will, perhaps, be urged in convincing the Teutonic school of historians and their American followers, of the necessity, let alone the desirability, of such study; so profoundly is even gold distrusted by those who seek only to mine the quartz without separating it from the precious metal.

Fortunately, in the study of literature a reward is ready after their own heart, a bait, which, perhaps, by its very extent, has passed almost unnoticed by those to whom it should properly make an appeal. Although the essential value of letters as a key to history lies in its representing the civilization of a period and giving expression to its aspirations and ideals, yet in voicing that civilization it offers material of great documentary value to the historian. Especially does this hold true, when considered from what might be called the Morellian point of view. The cardinal idea, herein, which in another field has revolutionized the study of art connoisseurship, is that the writer betrays himself far more in what he does unconsciously than in his conscious expression. In other words, where the Morellians in art endeavor to find the authorship of a picture in certain characteristics of feature or drapery peculiar to the painter's brush when off his guard, those anxious to apply a similar test to the literary document in its

relation to history would seek it not so much in works written avowedly with a purpose as in writings where the political bias or intention of the author unconsciously betrays him. Corneille, in his dramas, gives full expression to the new spirit of the French monarchy, while from the Canterbury Tales the social structure of feudalism might be found anew ; even in Shakespeare's plays the topical allusions have been passed over by all save Shakesperian scholars. When this is true of the greatest it is evident that minor men will suffer. It will happen in many instances that while certain writers are of such significance that they are universally known, others will pass unnoticed though of far greater importance to the historian, who has here relied too much on the judgment of the literary critic. An example of this is offered by Skelton the poet-laureate of Henry the Eighth. Although his dulness and lack of art have doomed him almost to oblivion, his works teem in contemporary allusions of the greatest interest. The corruption of the clergy, the rise of a middle class, the economic evils of the times, the feudal ideal clashing with the modern movement, all find expression in his uncouth verse, as also in the even rougher lines of his nameless imitators; yet neither Froude nor Green mentions him from this point of view, while even in Traill he is alluded to only as a poet. Skelton, however, offers only a single instance where a hundred might easily be found. A careful study of the literature of any age would thus cast fresh light on history, by illumining a new range of ideas. Yet, so far, only a beginning has been made

in this field, which the Germans have called Culturgeschichte. Among its more distinguished representatives, Burckhardt, whose knowledge of Italy was unsurpassed, remained strangely unliterary in his treatment, while Boissier, who has interpreted Roman history by its literature, has been satisfied with fragmentary glimpses of his subject. The very few who have attempted such treatment, have, as a rule, been overwhelmed and dominated by the facts amassed.

To the historian of the future, dissatisfied with what has been done in the past, it will be left to interpret the mind of a nation and of an age, and, to arrive at this, he cannot remain content with externals. The vital importance of historical study lies in its lessons to humanity; all other benefits spring as corollaries from this. But to profit from such lessons the inner spirit of an age has to be reached and the individual studied in his civic and domestic relations and in such of his actions as are the expression of his ideals—as a citizen and as a father, in peace as in war. The growth and evolution of his ideals must thus be traced; his noblest aspirations and worst excesses must be weighed. Individually and collectively he must be studied, and then and then only will the historian's ideas be classified and his ripened judgment begin to form. The aids to such a study as this will be found scattered broadcast; not alone in the dusty pages of history, though the acts of convocations and the charters of cities will yield such material; not only in letters and memoirs will help be found, but the great body of literature will offer assistance. Nor will aid from such a source be a