Introduction to the study of history
by Charles Victor Langlois · English · Gutenberg #29637 · 624,055 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Introduction to the study of history
Author: Charles Victor Langlois
Charles Seignobos
Author of introduction, etc.: F. York Powell
Translator: George Godfrey Berry
Release date: August 8, 2009 [eBook #29637]
Most recently updated: January 5, 2021
Language: English
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INTRODUCTION
TO THE
STUDY OF HISTORY
BY
CH. V. LANGLOIS & CH. SEIGNOBOS
OF THE SORBONNE
AUTHORIZED TRANSLATION BY G. G. BERRY
WITH A PREFACE BY F. YORK POWELL
NEW YORK
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
1904
TO THE READER
It is a pleasure to recommend this useful and well-written little book
to English readers. It will both interest and help. There are, for
instance, a few pages devoted to the question of evidence that will be
an aid to every one desirous of getting at the truth respecting any
series of facts, as well as to the student of history. No one can read
it without finding out that to the historian history is not merely a
pretty but rather difficult branch of literature, and that a history
book is not necessarily good if it appears to the literary critic
'readable and interesting,' nor bad because it seems to him 'hard or
heavy reading.' The literary critic, in fact, is beginning to find out
that he reads a history as he might read a treatise on mathematics or
linguistics, at his peril, and that he is no judge of its value or lack
of value. Only the expert can judge that. It will probably surprise some
people to find that in the opinion of our authors (who agree with Mr.
Morse Stephens and with the majority of scholars here) the formation and
expression of ethical judgments, the approval or condemnation of Caius
Julius Cæsar, or of Cæsar Borgia, is not a thing within the historian's
province. His business is to find out what can be known about the
characters and situations with which he is engaged, to put what he can
ascertain before his readers in a clear form, and lastly to consider and
attempt to ascertain what scientific use can be made of these facts he
has ascertained. Ethic on its didactic side is outside his business
altogether. In fact MM. Langlois and Seignobos write for those "who
propose to deal with documents [especially written documents] with a
view to preparing or accomplishing historic work in a scientific way."
They have the temerity to view history as a scientific pursuit, and they
are endeavouring to explain to the student who intends to pursue this
branch of anthropologic science the best and safest methods of
observation open to him, hence they modestly term their little book "an
essay on the method of historic sciences." They are bold enough to look
forward to a day, as not far distant, when a sensible or honest man will
no more dare to write history unscientifically than he would to-day be
willing to waste his time and that of others on observing the heavens
unscientifically, and registering as trustworthy his unchecked and
untimed observations.
Whether we like it or not, history has got to be scientifically studied,
and it is not a question of style but of accuracy, of fulness of
observation, and correctness of reasoning, that is before the student.
Huxley and Darwin and Clifford have shown that a book may be good
science and yet good reading. Truth has not always been found repulsive
although she was not bedizened with rhetorical adornments; indeed, the
very pursuit of her has long been recognised as arduous but extremely
fascinating. _Toute trouvaille_, as our authors aptly remark, _procure
une jouissance_.
It will be a positive gain to have the road cleared of a mass of
rubbish, that has hindered the advance of knowledge. History must be
worked at in a scientific spirit, as biology or chemistry is worked at.
As M. Seignobos says, "On ne s'arrête plus guère aujourd'hui à discuter,
sous sa forme théologique la théorie de la Providence dans l'Histoire.
Mais la tendence à expliquer les faits historiques par les causes
transcendantes persiste dans des théories plus modernes où la
metaphysique se déguise sous des formes scientifiques." We should
certainly get rid in time of those curious Hegelianisms "under which in
lay disguise lurks the old theologic theory of final causes"; or the
pseudo-patriotic supposition of the "historic mission (Beruf) attributed
to certain people or persons." The study of historic facts does not even
make for the popular newspaper theory of the continuous and necessary
progress of humanity, it shows only "partial and intermittent advances,
and gives us no reason to attribute them to a permanent cause inherent
in collective humanity rather than to a series of local accidents." But
the historian's path is still like that of Bunyan's hero, bordered by
pitfalls and haunted by hobgoblins, though certain of his giant
adversaries are crippled and one or two slain. He has also his own
faults to master, or at least to check, as MM. Langlois and Seignobos
not infrequently hint, _e.g._ "Nearly all beginners have a vexatious
tendency to go off into superfluous digressions, heaping up reflexion
and information that have no bearing on the main subject. They will
recognise, if they think over it, that the causes of this leaning are
bad taste, a kind of naïve vanity, sometimes a disordered mind." Again:
"The faults of historic works intended for the general public ... are
the results of the insufficient preparation of the bad literary training
of the popularisers." What an admirable criticism there is too of that
peculiarly German shortcoming (one not, however, unknown elsewhere),
which results in men "whose learning is ample, whose monographs destined
for scholars are highly praiseworthy, showing themselves capable, when
they write for the public, of sinning heavily against scientific
methods," so that, in their determination to stir their public, "they
who are so scrupulous and particular when it is a question of dealing
with minutiæ, abandon themselves like the mass of mankind to their
natural inclinations when they come to set forth general questions. They
take sides, they blame, they praise, they colour, they embellish, they
allow themselves to take account of personal, patriotic, ethical, or
metaphysical considerations. Above all, they apply themselves with what
talent has fallen to their lot to the task of creating a work of art,
and, so applying themselves, those of them who lack talent become
ridiculous, and the talent of those who possess it is spoilt by their
anxiety for effect."
On the other hand, while the student is rejoicing at the smart raps
bestowed upon the Teutonic offender, he is warned against the error of
thinking that "provided he can make himself understood, the historian
has the right to use a faulty, low, careless, or clogged style....
Seeing the extreme complexity of the phenomena he must endeavour to
describe, he has not the privilege of writing badly. But he ought
_always_ to write well, and not to bedizen his prose with extra finery
once a week."
Of course much that is said in this book has been said before, but I do
not know any book wherein the student of history will find such an
organised collection of practical and helpful instructions. There are
several points on which one is unable to find oneself in agreement with
MM. Langlois and Seignobos, but these occur mainly where they are
dealing with theory; as far as practical work goes, one finds oneself in
almost perfect concurrence with them. That they know little of the way
in which history is taught and studied in England or Canada or the
United States is not at all an hindrance to the use of their book. The
student may enjoy the pleasure of making his own examples out of English
books to the rules they lay down. He may compare their cautions against
false reasoning and instances of fallacy with those set forth in that
excellent and concise essay of Bentham's, which is apparently unknown to
them. He will not fail to see that we in England have much to learn in
this subject of history from the French. The French archives are not so
fine as ours, but they take care to preserve their local and provincial
documents, as well as their national and central records; they give
their archivists a regular training, they calendar and make accessible
all that time and fate have spared of pre-revolutionary documents. We
have not got farther than the provision of a fine central Record Office
furnished with very inadequate means for calendaring the masses of
documents already stored and monthly accumulating there, though we have
lately set up at Oxford, Cambridge, and London the regular courses of
palæography, diplomatic, and bibliography, that constitute the
preliminary training of the archivist or historical researcher. We want
more: we must have county archives, kept by trained archivists. We must
have more trained archivists at the disposal of the Deputy Keeper of the
Rolls, we must have such means as the _Bibliothèque de l'École des
Chartes_ for full reports of special and minute investigations and
discoveries, for hand-lists and the like, before we can be considered as
doing as much for history as the heavily taxed French nation does
cheerfully, and with a sound confidence that the money it spends wisely
in science is in the truest sense money saved.
For those interested in the teaching of history, this book is one of the
most suggestive helps that has yet appeared. With a blackboard, a text
(such as are now cheap), or a text-book (such as Stubbs or Prothero or
Gardiner), an atlas, and access to a decent public library and an
average local museum, the teacher who has mastered its intent should
never be at a loss for an interesting catechetical lecture or exposition
to a class, whether of adults or of younger folk.
Not the least practical part of the work of MM. Langlois and Seignobos
has been the consideration they have given to such every-day issues as
the teacher is constantly called upon to face. History cannot safely be
neglected in schools, though it is by no means necessary that the
Universities should turn out large bodies of trained historians. It is
possible indeed that the serious study of history might gain were there
fewer external inducements at the Universities to lead to the popularity
of the History Schools. But in this very popularity there lies a great
opportunity for concerted efforts, not only to better the processes of
study, but also to clear off the vast arrears of classification and
examination of the erroneous historic material at our disposition in
this country.
The historian has been (as our authors hint) too much the ally of the
politician; he has used his knowledge as material for preaching
democracy in the United States, absolutism in Prussia, Orleanist
opposition in France, and so on (English readers will easily recall
examples from their own countrymen's work): in the century to come he
will have to ally himself with the students of physical science, with
whose methods his own have so much in common. It is not patriotism, nor
religion, nor art, but the attainment of truth that is and must be the
historian's single aim.
But it is also to be borne in mind that history is an excellent
instrument of culture, for, as our authors point out, "the practice and
method of historic investigation is a pursuit extremely healthful for
the mind, freeing it from the disease of credulity," and fortifying it
in other ways as a discipline, though precisely how to best use history
for this purpose is still in some ways uncertain, and after all it is a
matter which concerns Pædagogic and Ethic more than the student of
history, though it is plain that MM. Langlois and Seignobos have not
neglected to consider it.
One can hardly help thinking, too, that, in schools and places where the
young are trained, something might be gained by treating such books as
Plutarch's Lives not as history (for which they were never intended) but
as text-books of ethic, as examples of conduct, public or private. The
historian very properly furnishes the ethical student with material,
though it is not right to reckon the ethical student's judgment upon the
historian's facts as history in any sense. It is not an historian's
question, for instance, whether Napoleon was right or wrong in his
conduct at Jaffa, or Nelson in his behaviour at Naples; that is a matter
for the student of ethic or the religious dogmatist to decide: all that
the historian has to do is to get what conclusion he can out of the
conflict of evidence, and to decide whether Napoleon or Nelson actually
did that of which their enemies accused them, or, if he cannot arrive at
fact, to state probability, and the reasons that incline him to lean to
the affirmative or negative.
As to the possibility of a "philosophy of history," a real one, not the
mockeries that have long been discredited by scientific students, the
reader will find some pregnant remarks here in the epilogue and the
chapters that precede it. There is an absence of unreasonable optimism
in our authors' views. "It is probable that hereditary differences have
contributed to determine events; so that in part historic evolution is
produced by physiological and anthropologic causes. But history
furnishes no trustworthy process by which it may be possible to
determine the action of those hereditary differences between man and
man," _i.e._ she starts with races 'endowed' each with peculiarities
that make them 'disposed to act' somewhat differently under similar
pressure. "History is only able to grasp the conditions of their
existence." And what M. Seignobos calls the final problem--_Is evolution
produced merely by changed conditions?_--must according to him remain
insoluble by the legitimate processes of history. The student may accept
or reject this view as his notions of evidence prompt him to do. M.
Seignobos has at all events laid down a basis for discussion in
sufficiently clear terms.
As to the composition of the joint work we are told that M. Seignobos
has been especially concerned with the chapters that touch theory, and
M. Langlois with those that deal with practice. Both authors have
already proved their competence--M. Seignobos' labours on Modern History
have been widely appreciated, while M. Langlois' "Hand-book of Historic
Bibliography" is already a standard text-book, and bids fair to remain
so. We are grateful to both of them for the pains they have taken to be
clear and definite, and for their determination to shirk none of the
difficulties that have met them. They have produced a hand-book that
students will use and value in proportion to their use of it, a book
that will save much muddle of thought and much loss of time, a book
written in the right spirit to inspire its readers. We are not bound to
agree with all M. Seignobos' dogmas, and can hardly accept, for
instance, M. Langlois' apology for the brutal methods of controversy
that are an evil legacy from the theologian and the grammarian, and are
apt to darken truth and to cripple the powers of those who engage in
them. For though it is possible that the secondary effect of these
barbarous scuffles may sometimes have been salutary in deterring
impostors from 'taking up' history, I am not aware of any positive
examples to justify this opinion. There is this, however, to be said,
that fully conscious of their own fallibility, M. Langlois and his
excellent collaborator have supplied in their canons of criticism and
maxims the best corrections of any mistakes into which they may have
fallen by the way. Is not the House of Fame, as the poet tells us, a
more wonderful and quaintly wrought habitation than _Domus Dedali_
itself? And may not honest historians be pardoned if they are sometimes
confused for a brief moment by the never-ending noise and marvellous
motion of that deceptive mint and treasury, and fatigued by the
continual trial and examination of the material that issues therefrom?
The student will, at least, learn from MM. Langlois and Seignobos to
have no mercy on his own shortcomings, to spare no pains, to grudge no
expenditure of time or energy in the investigation of a carefully chosen
and important historical problem, to aim at doing the bit of work in
hand so thoroughly that it will not need to be done again.
It would be unjust to omit here to mention Dr. Bernheim's "Exposition of
Historic Method," or _Lehrbuch der historischen Methode_, so justly
praised and used by our authors, but I believe that as an introduction
to the subject, intended for the use of English or North American
students, this little volume will be found the handier and more
practical work. Of its value to English workers I can speak from
experience, and I know many teachers to whom it will be welcome in its
present form.
It would have been easy to 'adapt' this book by altering its examples,
by modifying its excellent plan, by cutting here and carving there to
the supposed convenience of an imaginary public, but the better part has
been chosen of giving English readers this manual precisely as it
appeared in French. And surely one would rather read what M. Langlois,
an experienced teacher and a tried scholar, thought on a moot point,
than be presented with the views of some English 'adaptor' who had read
his book, as to what he would have said had he been an Englishman
lecturing to English students. That the present translator has taken
much pains to faithfully report his authors, I know (though I have not
compared English and French throughout every page), so that I can
commend his honest work to the reader as I have already commended the
excellent matter that he has been concerned in preparing for a wider
public than the French original could command.
F. YORK POWELL.
ORIEL COLLEGE, OXFORD, _July 1898_.
CONTENTS
PAGE
TO THE READER v
AUTHORS' PREFACE
What this work is _not_ meant to be--Works on the Philosophy
of History 1
What it _is_ meant to be 2
Existing works on Historical Methods--Droysen, Freeman,
Daunou, &c. 3
Reasons why the study of method is useful 7
Bernheim's _Lehrbuch_--In what way it leaves room for another
book 10
Need of warning to students 11
The general public 13
Distribution of the work between the two authors 13
BOOK I
PRELIMINARY STUDIES
CHAPTER I
THE SEARCH FOR DOCUMENTS
Documents: their nature, use, necessity 17
Utility of _Heuristic_, or the art of discovering documents 18
The difficulties of Heuristic--Ancient times--H. H. Bancroft--State
of things at the Renaissance 19
Growth of libraries--Collectors--Effects of revolutionary
confiscation in promoting the concentration and the
accessibility of documents 20
Possible future progress--Need for the cataloguing and indexing
of documents 27
Students and bibliographical knowledge--Effect of present
conditions in deterring men from historical work 32
The remedies--Official cataloguing of libraries--Activity of
learned societies--of governments 34
Different kinds of bibliographical works needed by students 37
Different degrees of difficulty of Heuristic in different parts of
History--to be kept in view when choosing a subject of
research 38
CHAPTER II
"AUXILIARY SCIENCES"
Documents are raw material, and need a preliminary elaboration 42
Obsolete views on the historian's apprenticeship--Mably,
Daunou 43
Commonplace and exaggeration on this subject--Freeman--Various
futilities 45
The scientific conception of the historian's
apprenticeship--Palæography--Epigraphy--Philology--Diplomatic 48
History of Literature--Archæology 51
Criticism of phrase "auxiliary sciences"--The subjects not all
_sciences_--None of them auxiliary to the _whole_ of History 52
This scientific conception is of recent growth--The École des
Chartes--Modern manuals of Palæography, Epigraphy,
&c.--List of the chief of them 55
BOOK II
_ANALYTICAL OPERATIONS_
CHAPTER I
GENERAL CONDITIONS OF HISTORICAL KNOWLEDGE
Direct and indirect knowledge of facts 63
History not a science of direct observation--Its data obtained
by chains of reasoning 64
Twofold division of Historical Criticism: _External_, investigating
the transmission and origin of documents and the
statements in them; _Internal_, dealing with the content
of the statements and their probability 66
Complexity of Historical Criticism 67
Necessity of Criticism--The human mind naturally uncritical 68
SECTION I.--EXTERNAL CRITICISM
CHAPTER II
TEXTUAL CRITICISM
Errors in the reproduction of documents: their frequency
under the most favourable conditions--Mistakes of
copyists--"Sound" and "corrupt" texts 71
Necessity of emendation--The method subject to fixed rules 73
Methods of textual criticism: (_a_) original preserved; (_b_) a
single copy preserved, conjectural emendation; (_c_) several
copies preserved, comparison of errors, families of manuscripts 75
Different degrees of difficulty of textual criticism: its results
negative--The "emendation game"--What still remains
to be done 83
CHAPTER III
CRITICAL INVESTIGATION OF AUTHORSHIP
PAGE
Natural tendency to accept indications of authorship--Examples
of false attributions--Necessity of verification--Application
of internal criticism 87
Interpolations and continuations--Evidence of style 92
Plagiarism and borrowings by authors from each other--The
filiation of statements--The investigation of sources 93
Importance of investigations of authorship--The extreme of
distrust to be avoided--Criticism only a means to an end 98
CHAPTER IV
CRITICAL CLASSIFICATION OF SOURCES
Importance of classification--The first impulse wrong--The
note-book system not the best--Nor the ledger-system--Nor
the "system" of trusting the memory 101
The system of slips the best--Its drawbacks--Means of
obviating them--The advantage of good "private librarianship" 103
Methods of work vary according to the object aimed at--The
compiling of _Regesta_ or of a _Corpus_--Classification by
time, place, species, and form 105
Chronological arrangement to be used when possible--Geographical
arrangement best for inscriptions--When these
fail, alphabetical order of "incipit"--Logical order useful
for some special purposes--Not for a _Corpus_ or for _Regesta_ 107
CHAPTER V
CRITICAL SCHOLARSHIP AND SCHOLARS
Different opinions on the importance and dignity of external
criticism--It is justified by its necessity--But is only
preliminary to the higher part of historical work 112
Distinction between "historians" and "critical scholars" [Fr.
"_érudite_"]--Expediency, within limits, of the division of
labour in this respect--The exceptional skill acquired by
specialists--Difference of work the corollary of difference
of natural aptitudes 115
The natural aptitudes required for external criticism--Fondness
for the work, which is distasteful to the creative
genius--The puzzle-solving instinct--Accuracy and its
opposite--"Froude's Disease"--Patience, order, perseverance 121
The mental defects produced by devotion to external
criticism--Its paralysing effect on the
over-scrupulous--Hypercriticism--Dilettantism 128
The "organisation of scientific labour" 135
The harshness of judgment attributed to scholars, not always
rightly--Much of it a proper jealousy for historic truth--Bad
work nowadays soon detected 136
SECTION II.--INTERNAL CRITICISM
CHAPTER VI
INTERPRETATIVE CRITICISM (HERMENEUTIC)
Internal criticism deals with the mental operations which
begin with the observation of a fact and end with the
writing of words in a document--It is divided into two
stages: the first concerned with what the author meant,
the second with the value of his statements 141
Necessity of separating the two operations--Danger of reading
opinions into a text 143
The analysis of documents--The method of slips--Completeness
necessary 145
Necessity of linguistic study--General knowledge of a language
not enough--Particular variety of a language as used at a
given time, in a given country, by a given author--The
rule of context 146
Different degrees of difficulty in interpretation 149
Oblique senses: allegory, metaphor, &c.--How to detect them--Former
tendency to find symbolism everywhere--Modern
tendency to find allusion everywhere 151
Results of interpretation--Subjective inquiries 153
CHAPTER VII
THE NEGATIVE INTERNAL CRITICISM OF THE GOOD FAITH
AND ACCURACY OF AUTHORS
Natural tendency to trust documents--Criticism originally due
to contradictions--The rule of methodical doubt--Defective
modes of criticism 155
Documents to be analysed, and the irreducible elements
criticised separately 159
The "accent of sincerity"--No trust to be placed in impressions
produced by the form of statements 161
Criticism examines the conditions affecting (1) the composition
of the document as a whole; (2) the making of each particular
statement--In both cases using a previously made
list of possible reasons for distrust or confidence 162
Reasons for doubting good faith: (1) the author's interest;
(2) the force of circumstances, official reports; (3) sympathy
and antipathy; (4) vanity; (5) deference to public
opinion; (6) literary distortion 166
Reasons for doubting accuracy: (1) the author a bad observer,
hallucinations, illusions, prejudices; (2) the author not
well situated for observing; (3) negligence and indifference;
(4) fact not of nature to be directly observed 172
Cases where the author is not the original observer of the
fact--Tradition, written and oral--Legend--Anecdotes--Anonymous
statements 177
Special reasons without which anonymous statements are not
to be accepted: (1) falsehood improbable because (_a_) the
fact is opposed to interest or vanity of author, (_b_) the fact
was generally known, (_c_) the fact was indifferent to the
author; (2) error improbable because the fact was too big
to mistake; (3) the fact seemed improbable or unintelligible
to the author 185
How critical operations are shortened in practice 189
CHAPTER VIII
THE DETERMINATION OF PARTICULAR FACTS
The conceptions of authors, whether well or ill founded, are
the subject-matter of certain studies--They necessarily
contain elements of truth, which, under certain restrictions,
may sometimes be inferred from them 191
The statements of authors, taken singly, do not rise above
probability--The only _sure_ results of criticism are _negative_--To
establish facts it is necessary to compare different
statements 194
Contradictions between statements, real and apparent 198
Agreement of statements--Necessity of proving them to be
independent--Perfect agreement not so conclusive as
occasional coincidence--Cases where different observations
of the same fact are not independent--General facts
the easiest to prove 199
Different facts, each imperfectly proved, corroborate each
other when they harmonise 204
Disagreement between documents and other sources of
knowledge--Improbable statements--Miracles--When science
and history conflict, history should give way 205
BOOK III
_SYNTHETIC OPERATIONS_
CHAPTER I
GENERAL CONDITIONS OF HISTORICAL CONSTRUCTION
The materials of Historical Construction are isolated facts,
of very different kinds, of very different degrees of
generality, each belonging to a definite time and place,
of different degrees of certainty 211
Subjectivity of History 214
The facts learnt from documents relate to (1) living beings
and material objects; (2) actions, individual and collective;
(3) motives and conceptions 217
The facts of the past must be imagined on the model of those
of the present--Danger of error especially in regard to
mental facts 219
Some of the conditions of human life are permanent--The
study of these provides a framework into which details
taken from documents are to be fitted--For this purpose
systematic lists of questions are to be used, drawn up
beforehand, and relating to the universal conditions of life 224
Outline of Historical Construction--The division of
labour--Historians must use the works of their colleagues and
predecessors, but not without critical precautions 228
CHAPTER II
THE GROUPING OF FACTS
Historical facts may be classified and arranged either according
to their time and place, or according to their nature--Scheme
for the _logical_ classification of general historical
facts 232
The selection of facts for treatment--The history of civilisation
and "battle-history"--Both needed 236
The determination of groups of men--Precautions to be
observed--The notion of "race" 238
The study of institutions--Danger of being misled by metaphors--The
questions which should be asked 241
Evolutions: operations involved in the study of them--The
place of particular facts (events) in evolution--Important
and unimportant facts 244
Periods--How they should be defined 249
CHAPTER III
CONSTRUCTIVE REASONING
Incompleteness of the facts yielded by documents--Cautions
to be observed in filling up the gaps by reasoning 252
The argument from silence--When admissible 254
Positive reasoning based on documents--The general principles
employed must enter into details, and the particular
facts to which they are applied must not be taken in
isolation 256
CHAPTER IV
THE CONSTRUCTION OF GENERAL FORMULÆ
History, like every science, needs formulæ by which the facts
acquired may be condensed into manageable form 262
Descriptive formulæ--Should retain characteristic features--Should
be as concrete as possible 264
Formulæ describing general facts--How constructed--Conventional
forms and realities--Mode of formulating an
evolution 266
Formulæ describing unique facts--Principle of choice--"Character"
of persons--Precautions in formulating
them--Formulæ describing events 270
Quantitative formulæ--Operations by which they may be
obtained: measurement, enumeration, valuation, sampling,
generalisation--Precautions to be observed in generalising 274
Formulæ expressing relations--General conclusions--Estimation
of the extent and value of the knowledge acquired--Imperfection
of data not to be forgotten in construction 279
Groups and their classification 282
The "solidarity" of social phenomena--Necessity of studying
causes--Metaphysical hypothesis--Providence--Conception
of events as "rational"--The Hegelian "ideas"--The
historical "mission"--The theory of the general
progress of humanity 285
The conception of society as an organism--The comparative
method--Statistics--Causes cannot be investigated
directly, as in other sciences--Causation as exhibited in
the sequence of particular events 288
The study of the causes of social evolution must look beyond
abstractions to the concrete, acting and thinking men--The
place of hereditary characteristics in determining
evolution 292
CHAPTER V
EXPOSITION
Former conceptions of history-writing--The ancient and
mediæval ideal--The "history of civilisation"--The
modern historical "manual"--The romantic ideal at the
beginning of the century--History regarded as a branch
of literature up to 1850 296
The modern scientific ideal--Monographs--Right choice of
subject--References--Chronological order--Unambiguous
titles--Economy of erudition 303
General works--_A._ meant for students and specialists--Works
of reference or "repertories" and scientific manuals of
special branches of history--Their form and style--Collaboration
in their production--Scientific general
histories 307
_B._ Works intended for the public--The best kind of
popularisation--The inferior kind--Specialists who lower their
standard when they write for the public--The literary
style suitable for history 311
CONCLUSION
Summary description of the methods of history--The future
of history 316
The utility of history--Not directly applicable to present
conditions--Affords an explanation of the present--Helps
(and is helped by) the social sciences--A means of intellectual
culture 319
APPENDIX I
THE SECONDARY TEACHING OF HISTORY IN FRANCE
Late introduction of history as a subject of secondary
instruction--Defective methods employed up to the end of the
Second Empire 325
The reform movement--Questions involved relating to general
organisation--Choice of subjects--Order of teaching--Methods
of instruction--These questions to be answered
in the way that will make history most useful as a means
of social culture 328
Material aids--Engravings--Books--Methods of teaching 332
APPENDIX II
THE HIGHER TEACHING OF HISTORY IN FRANCE
The different institutions--The Collège de France--The
Faculties of Letters--The École Normale--The École des
Chartes--The École pratique des hautes Études 335
Reform of the Faculties--Preparation for degrees--The
Examination question--Principles on which it is to be
solved--The _Diplôme d'études supérieures_ 340
Influence of the movement on the other institutions--Co-operation
of the institutions 345
INDEX OF PROPER NAMES 347
AUTHORS' PREFACE
The title of this work is clear. However, it is necessary to state
succinctly both what our intention has, and what it has not been; for
under this same title, "Introduction to the Study of History," very
different books have already been published.
It has not been our intention to give, as Mr. W. B. Boyce[1] has done, a
summary of universal history for the use of beginners and readers of
scanty leisure.
Nor has it been our intention to add a new item to the abundant
literature of what is ordinarily called the "Philosophy of History."
Thinkers, for the most part not professed historians, have made history
the subject of their meditations; they have sought for its "analogies"
and its "laws." Some have supposed themselves to have discovered "the
laws which have governed the development of humanity," and thus to have
"raised history to the rank of a positive science."[2] These vast
abstract constructions inspire with an invincible _a priori_ mistrust,
not the general public only, but superior minds as well. Fustel de
Coulanges, as his latest biographer tells us, was severe on the
Philosophy of History; these systems were as repugnant to him as
metaphysics to the positivists. Rightly or wrongly (without doubt
wrongly), the Philosophy of History, not having been cultivated
exclusively by well-informed, cautious men of vigorous and sound
judgment, has fallen into disrepute. The reader will be reassured--or
disappointed, as the case may be--to learn that this subject will find
no place in the present work.[3]
We propose to examine the conditions and the methods, to indicate the
character and the limits, of historical knowledge. How do we ascertain,
in respect of the past, what part of it it is possible, what part of it
it is important, to know? What is a document? How are documents to be
treated with a view to historical work? What are historical facts? How
are they to be grouped to make history? Whoever occupies himself with
history performs, more or less unconsciously, complicated operations of
criticism and construction, of analysis and synthesis. But beginners,
and the majority of those who have never reflected on the principles of
historical methodology, make use, in the performance of these
operations, of instinctive methods which, not being, in general,
rational methods, do not usually lead to scientific truth. It is,
therefore, useful to make known and logically justify the theory of the
truly rational methods--a theory which is now settled in some parts,
though still incomplete in some points of capital importance.
The present "Introduction to the Study of History" is thus intended, not
as a summary of ascertained facts or a system of general ideas on
universal history, but as an essay on the method of the historical
sciences.
We proceed to state the reasons why we have thought such a work
opportune, and to explain the spirit in which we have undertaken to
write it.
I
The books which treat of the methodology of the historical sciences are
scarcely less numerous, and at the same time not in much better favour,
than the books on the Philosophy of History. Specialists despise them. A
widespread opinion is expressed in the words attributed to a certain
scholar: "You wish to write a book on philology; you will do much better
to produce a book with some good philology in it. When I am asked to
define philology, I always answer that it is what I work at."[4] Again,
in reference to J. G. Droysen's _Précis of the Science of History_, a
certain critic expressed an opinion which was meant to be, and was, a
commonplace: "Generally speaking, treatises of this kind are of
necessity both obscure and useless: obscure, because there is nothing
more vague than their object; useless, because it is possible to be an
historian without troubling oneself about the principles of historical
methodology which they claim to exhibit."[5] The arguments used by these
despisers of methodology are strong enough in all appearance. They
reduce to the following. As a matter of fact, there are men who
manifestly follow good methods, and are universally recognised as
scholars or historians of the first order, without having ever studied
the principles of method; conversely, it does not appear that those who
have written on historical method from the logical point of view have in
consequence attained any marked superiority as scholars or historians:
some, indeed, have been known for their incompetence or mediocrity in
these capacities. In this there is nothing that need surprise us. Who
would think of postponing original research in chemistry, mathematics,
the sciences proper, until he had studied the methods employed in those
sciences? Historical criticism! Yes, but the best way to learn it is to
apply it; practice teaches all that is wanted.[6] Take, too, the extant
works on historical method, even the most recent of them, those of J. G.
Droysen, E. A. Freeman, A. Tardif, U. Chevalier, and others; the utmost
diligence will extract from them nothing in the way of clear ideas
beyond the most obvious and commonplace truisms.[7]
We willingly recognise that this manner of thinking is not entirely
wrong. The great majority of works on the method of pursuing historical
investigations and of writing history--what is called _Historic_ in
Germany and England--are superficial, insipid, unreadable, sometimes
ridiculous.[8] To begin with, those prior to the nineteenth century, a
full analysis of which is given by P. C. F. Daunou in the seventh volume
of his _Cours d'études historiques_,[9] are nearly all of them mere
treatises on rhetoric, in which the rhetoric is antiquated, and the
problems discussed are the oddest imaginable.[10] Daunou makes merry
over them, but he himself has shown good sense and nothing more in his
monumental work, which at the present time seems little better, and
certainly not more useful, than the earlier treatises.[11] As to the
modern ones, it is true that not all have been able to escape the two
dangers to which works of this character are exposed--that of being
obscure on the one hand, or commonplace on the other. J. G. Droysen's
_Grundriss der Historik_ is heavy, pedantic, and confused beyond all
imagination.[12] Freeman, Tardif, and Chevalier tell us nothing but what
is elementary and obvious. Their followers may still be observed
discussing at interminable length idle questions, such as: whether
history is a science or an art; what are the duties of history; what is
the use of history; and so on. On the other hand, there is incontestable
truth in the remark that nearly all the specialists and historians of
to-day are, as far as method goes, self-taught, with no training except
what they have gained by practice, or by imitating and associating with
the older masters of the craft.
But though many works on the principles of method justify the distrust
with which such works are generally regarded, and though most professed
historians have been able, apparently with no ill results, to dispense
with reflection upon historical method, it would, in our opinion, be a
strained inference to conclude that specialists and historians
(especially those of the future) have no need to make themselves
acquainted with the processes of historical work. The literature of
methodology is, in fact, not without its value: gradually there has been
formed a treasury of subtle observations and precise rules, suggested by
experience, which are something more than mere common sense.[13] And,
admitting the existence of those who, without having ever learnt to
reason, always reason well, by a gift of nature, it would be easy to set
against these exceptions innumerable cases in which ignorance of logic,
the use of irrational methods, want of reflection on the conditions of
historical analysis and synthesis, have robbed the work of specialists
and historians of much of its value.
The truth is, that, of all branches of study, history is without a doubt
the one in which it is most necessary for students to have a clear
consciousness of the methods they use. The reason is, that in history
instinctive methods are, as we cannot too often repeat, irrational
methods; some preparation is therefore required to counteract the first
impulse. Besides, the rational methods of obtaining historical knowledge
differ so widely from the methods of all other sciences, that some
perception of their distinctive features is necessary to avoid the
temptation of applying to history the methods of those sciences which
have already been systematised. This explains why mathematicians and
chemists can, more easily than historians, dispense with an
"introduction" to their subject. There is no need to insist at greater
length on the utility of historical methodology, for there is evidently
nothing very serious in the attacks which have been made on it. But it
behooves us to explain the reasons which have led to the composition of
the present work. For the last fifty years a great number of intelligent
and open-minded men have meditated on the methods of the historical
sciences. Naturally we find among them many historians, university
professors, whose position enables them to understand better than others
the intellectual needs of the young; but at the same time professed
logicians, and even novelists. In this connection, Fustel de Coulanges
left a tradition behind him at the University of Paris. "He
endeavoured," we are told,[14] "to reduce the rules of method to very
precise formulæ ...; in his view no task was more urgent than that of
teaching students how to attain truth." Among these men, some, like
Renan,[15] have been content to insert scattered observations in their
general works or their occasional writings;[16] others, as Fustel de
Coulanges, Freeman, Droysen, Laurence, Stubbs, De Smedt, Von
Pflugk-Harttung, and so on, have taken the trouble to express their
thoughts on the subject in special treatises. There are many books,
"inaugural lectures," "academic orations," and review-articles,
published in all countries, but especially in France, Germany, England,
the United States, and Italy, both on the whole subject of methodology
and on the different parts of it. It will occur to the reader that it
would be a far from useless labour to collect and arrange the
observations which are scattered, and, one might say, lost, in these
numerous books and minor writings. But it is too late to undertake this
pleasant task; it has been recently performed, and in the most
painstaking manner. Professor Ernst Bernheim, of the University of
Greifswald, has worked through nearly all the modern works on historical
method, and the fruit of his labours is an arrangement under appropriate
headings, most of them invented by himself, of a great number of
reflections and selected references. His _Lehrbuch der historischen
Methode_[17] (Leipzig, 1894, 8vo) condenses, in the manner of German
_Lehrbücher_, the special literature of the subject of which it treats.
It is not our intention to do over again what has already been done so
well. But we are of opinion that even after this laborious and
well-planned compilation something still remains to be said. In the
first place, Professor Bernheim deals largely with metaphysical problems
which we consider devoid of interest; while, conversely, he entirely
ignores certain considerations which appear to us to be, both
theoretically and practically, of the greatest importance. In the second
place, the teaching of the _Lehrbuch_ is sound enough, but lacks vigour
and originality. Lastly, the _Lehrbuch_ is not addressed to the general
public; both the language in which it is written and the form in which
it is composed render it inaccessible to the great majority of French
readers. This is enough to justify our undertaking to write a book of
our own, instead of simply recommending the book of Professor
Bernheim.[18]
II
This "Introduction to the Study of History" does not claim, like the
_Lehrbuch der historischen Methode_, to be a treatise on historical
methodology.[19] It is a sketch in outline. We undertook its
composition, at the beginning of the scholastic year 1896-97, in order
that the new students at the Sorbonne might be warned what the study of
history is and ought to be.
Long experience has taught us the necessity of such warnings. The
greater part of those who enter upon a career of historical study do so,
as a matter of fact, without knowing why, without having ever asked
themselves whether they are fitted for historical work, of the true
nature of which they are often ignorant. Generally their motives for
choosing an historical career are of the most futile character. One has
been successful in history at college;[20] another feels himself drawn
towards the past by the same kind of romantic attraction which, we are
told, determined the vocation of Augustin Thierry; some are misled by
the fancy that history is a comparatively easy subject. It is certainly
important that these irrational votaries should be enlightened and put
to the test as soon as possible.
Having given a course of lectures, to novices, by way of "Introduction
to the Study of History," we thought that, with a little revision, these
lectures might be made useful to others besides novices. Scholars and
professed historians will doubtless have nothing to learn from this
work; but if they should find in it a stimulus to personal reflection on
the craft which some of them practise in a mechanical fashion, that
would be something gained. As for the public, which reads the works of
historians, is it not desirable that it should know how these works are
produced, in order to be able to judge them better?
We do not, therefore, like Professor Bernheim, write exclusively for
present and future specialists, but also for the public interested in
history. We thus lay ourselves under an obligation to be as concise, as
clear, and as little technical as possible. But to be concise and clear
on subjects of this kind often means to appear superficial. Commonplace
on the one hand, obscurity on the other: these, as we have already seen,
are the evils between which we have the sorry privilege of choosing. We
admit the difficulty. But we do not think it insurmountable, and our
endeavour has been to say what we had to say in the clearest possible
manner.
The first half of the book has been written by M. Langlois, the second
by M. Seignobos; but the two collaborators have constantly aided,
consulted, and checked each other.[21]
PARIS, _August 1897_.
INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF HISTORY
BOOK I
PRELIMINARY STUDIES
CHAPTER I
THE SEARCH FOR DOCUMENTS (HEURISTIC)
The historian works with documents. Documents are the traces which have
been left by the thoughts and actions of men of former times. Of these
thoughts and actions, however, very few leave any visible traces, and
these traces, when there are any, are seldom durable; an accident is
enough to efface them. Now every thought and every action that has left
no visible traces, or none but what have since disappeared, is lost for
history; is as though it had never been. For want of documents the
history of immense periods in the past of humanity is destined to remain
for ever unknown. For there is no substitute for documents: no
documents, no history.
In order to draw legitimate inferences from a document to the fact of
which it is the trace, numerous precautions are requisite which will be
indicated in the sequel. But it is clear that, prior to any critical
examination or interpretation of documents, the question presents itself
whether there are any documents at all, how many there are, and where
they are. If I undertake to deal with a point of history,[22] of
whatever nature, my first step will be to ascertain the place or places
where the documents necessary for its treatment, if any such exist, are
to be found. The search for and the collection of documents is thus a
part, logically the first and most important part, of the historian's
craft. In Germany it has received the convenient, because short, name of
_Heuristik_. Is there any need to prove the capital importance of
Heuristic? Assuredly not. It is obvious that if it is neglected, if the
student does not, before he sets to work on a point of history, place
himself in a position to command all accessible sources of information,
his risk (no small one at the best) of working upon insufficient data is
quite unnecessarily increased: works of erudition or history constructed
in accordance with the rules of the most exact method have been
vitiated, or even rendered worthless, by the accidental circumstance
that the author was unacquainted with the documents by which those which
he had within reach, and with which he was content, might have been
illustrated, supplemented, or discredited. The scholars and historians
of to-day, standing, as they do, in other respects on an equality with
their predecessors of the last few centuries, are only enabled to
surpass them by their possession of more abundant means of
information.[23] Heuristic is, in fact, easier to-day than it used to
be, although the honest Wagner has still good grounds for saying:
"Wie schwer sind nicht die Mittel zu erwerben,
Durch die man zu den Quellen steigt!"[24]
Let us endeavour to explain why the collection of documents, once so
laborious, is still no easy matter, in spite of the progress made in the
last century; and how this essential operation may, in the course of
continued progress, be still further simplified.
I. Those who first endeavoured to write history from the sources found
themselves in an embarrassing situation. Were the events they proposed
to relate recent, so that all the witnesses of them were not yet dead?
They had the resource of interviewing the witnesses who survived.
Thucydides, Froissart, and many others have followed this procedure.
When Mr. H. H. Bancroft, the historian of the Pacific Coast of
California, resolved to collect materials for the history of events many
of the actors in which were still alive, he mobilised a whole army of
reporters charged to extract conversations from them.[25] But when the
events to be related were ancient, so that no man then living could have
witnessed them, and no account of them had been preserved by oral
tradition, what then? Nothing was left but to collect documents of every
kind, principally written ones, relating to the distant past which was
to be studied. This was a difficult task at a time when libraries were
rare, archives secret, and documents scattered. About the year 1860, Mr.
Bancroft, in California, was in a situation analogous to that of the
earlier researchers in our part of the world. His plan was as follows:
He was rich; he cleared the market of all documents, printed or
manuscript; he negotiated with financially embarrassed families and
corporations for the purchase of their archives, or the permission to
have them copied by his paid agents. This done, he housed his collection
in premises built for the purpose, and classified it. Theoretically
there could not be a more rational procedure. But this rapid, American
method has only once been employed with sufficient resources and
sufficient consistency to ensure its success; at any other time, and in
any other place, it would have been out of the question. Nowhere else
have the circumstances been so favourable for it.
At the epoch of the Renaissance the documents of ancient and modern
history were scattered in innumerable private libraries and in
innumerable depositories of archives, almost all of them inaccessible,
not to mention those which lay hidden beneath the soil, their very
existence as yet unsuspected. It was at that time a physical
impossibility to procure a list of all the documents serving for the
elucidation of a question (for example, a list of all the manuscripts
still preserved of an ancient work); and if, by a miracle, such a list
was to be had, it was another impossibility to consult all these
documents except at the cost of journeys, expenses, and negotiations
without end. Consequences easy to foresee did, as a matter of fact,
ensue. Firstly, the difficulties of Heuristic being insurmountable, the
earliest scholars and historians--employing, as they did, not all the
documents, nor the best documents, but those documents on which they
could lay their hands--were nearly always ill-informed; and their works
are now without interest except so far as they are founded on documents
which have since been lost. Secondly, the first scholars and historians
to be relatively well-informed were those who, in virtue of their
profession, had access to rich storehouses of documents--librarians,
keepers of archives, monks, magistrates, whose order or whose
corporation possessed libraries or archives of considerable extent.[26]
It is true that collectors soon arose who, by money payments, or by more
questionable expedients, such as theft, formed, with more or less regard
for the interests of scientific study, "cabinets" of collections of
original documents, and of copies. But these European collectors, of
whom there has been a great number since the fifteenth century, differ
very noticeably from Mr. Bancroft. The Californian, in fact, only
collected documents relating to a particular subject (the history of
certain Pacific states), and his ambition was to make his collection
complete; most European collectors have acquired waifs and strays and
fragments of every description, forming, when combined, totals which
appear insignificant by the side of the huge mass of historical
documents which existed at the time. Besides, it was not, in general,
with any purpose of making them generally accessible that collectors
like Peiresc, Gaignières, Clairambault, Colbert, and many others,
withdrew from circulation documents which were in danger of being lost;
they were content (and it was creditable to do as much as this) to share
them, more or less freely, with their friends. But collectors (and their
heirs) are fickle people, and sometimes eccentric in their notions.
Certainly it is better that documents should be preserved in private
collections, than that they should be entirely unprotected and
absolutely inaccessible to the scientific worker; but in order that
Heuristic should be made really easier, the first condition is that all
collections of documents should be _public_.[27]
Now the finest private collections of documents--libraries and museums
combined--were naturally, in the Europe of the Renaissance, those
possessed by kings. And while other private collections were often
dispersed upon the death of their founders, these, on the contrary,
never ceased to grow; they were enriched, indeed, by the wreckage of all
the others. The _Cabinet des manuscrits de France_, for example, formed
by the French kings, and by them thrown open to the public, had, at the
end of the eighteenth century, absorbed the best part of the collections
which had been the personal work of the amateurs and scholars of the two
preceding centuries.[28] Similarly in other countries. The concentration
of a great number of historical documents in vast public (or
semi-public) establishments was the fortunate result of this spontaneous
evolution.
The arbitrary proceedings of the Revolution were still more favourable,
and still more effective in securing the amelioration of the material
conditions of historical research. The Revolution of 1789 in France,
analogous movements in other countries, led to the violent confiscation,
for the profit of the state (that is, of everybody), of a host of
private archives and collections--the archives, libraries, and museums
of the crown, the archives and libraries of monasteries and suppressed
corporations, and so on. In France, in 1790, the Constituent Assembly
thus placed the state in possession of a great number of depositories of
historical documents, previously scattered, and guarded more or less
jealously from the curiosity of scholars; these treasures have since
been divided among four different national institutions. The same
phenomenon has been more recently observed, on a smaller scale, in
Germany, Spain, and Italy.
The confiscations of the revolutionary period, as well as the
collections of the period which preceded it, have both been productive
of serious damage. The collector is, or rather often was, a barbarian
who did not hesitate, when he saw a chance of adding to his collection
of specimens and rare remains, to mutilate monuments, to dissect
manuscripts, to break up whole archives, in order to possess himself of
the fragments. On this score many acts of vandalism were perpetrated
before the Revolution. Naturally, the revolutionary procedure of
confiscation and transference was also productive of lamentable
consequences; besides the destruction which was the result of negligence
and that which was due to the mere pleasure of destroying, the
unfortunate idea arose that collections might be systematically
_weeded_, those documents only to be preserved which were "interesting"
or "useful," the rest to be got rid of. The task of weeding was
entrusted to well-meaning but incompetent and overworked men, who were
thus led to commit irreparable havoc in our ancient archives. At the
present day there are workers engaged in the task, one requiring an
extraordinary amount of time, patience, and care, of restoring the
dismembered collections, and replacing the fragments which were then
isolated in so brutal a manner by these zealous but unreflecting
manipulators of historical documents. It must be recognised, moreover,
that the mutilations due to revolutionary activity and the
pre-revolutionary collectors are insignificant in comparison with those
which are the result of accident and the destructive work of time. But
had they been ten times as serious, they would have been amply
compensated by two advantages of the first importance, on which we
cannot lay too much stress: (1) the concentration, in a relatively small
number of depositories, of documents which were formerly scattered, and,
as it were, lost, in a hundred different places; (2) the opening of
these depositories to the public. The remnant of historical documents
which has survived the destructive effects of accident and vandalism is
now at last safely housed, classified, made accessible, and treated as
public property.
Ancient historical documents are now, as we have seen, collected and
preserved chiefly in those public institutions which are called
archives, libraries, and museums. It is true that this does not apply to
_all_ existing documents; in spite of the unceasing acquisitions by
purchase and gift which archives, libraries, and museums all over the
world have been making every year for a long time past, there still
exist private collections, dealers who supply them, and documents in
circulation. But the exceptions, which in this case are negligeable, do
not affect the general rule. Besides, all the ancient documents which,
in limited quantity, still range at large, are destined sooner or later
to find their way into the state institutions, whose doors are always
open to let in, but never to let out.[29]
It is to be desired, as a matter of principle, that the depositories of
documents (archives, libraries, and museums) should not be too numerous;
and we have pointed out that, fortunately, they are now beyond
comparison less numerous than they were a hundred years ago. Could not
the centralisation of documents, with its evident advantages for
researchers, be carried still further? Are there not still collections
of documents of which it would be hard to justify the separate
existence? Perhaps;[30] but the problem of the centralisation of
documents is no longer urgent, now that the processes of reproduction
have been perfected, especially as the inconveniences arising from a
multitude of depositories are met by the expedient, now in general use,
of allowing the documents to travel: it is now possible for the student
to consult, without expense, in the public library of the city where he
resides, documents belonging, say, to the libraries of St. Petersburg,
Brussels, and Florence; we now rarely meet with institutions like the
Archives Nationales at Paris, the British Museum at London, and the
Méjanes Library at Aix-en-Provence, whose statutes absolutely prohibit
all lending-out of their contents.[31]
II. It being granted that the majority of historical documents are now
preserved in public institutions (archives, libraries, and museums),
Heuristic would be very easy if only good descriptive catalogues had
been drawn up of all the existing collections of documents, if these
catalogues were furnished with indexes, or if general repertories
(alphabetical, systematic, &c.) had been made relating to them; lastly,
if there were some place where it was possible to consult the complete
collection of all these catalogues and their indexes. But Heuristic is
still difficult, because these conditions are, unfortunately, still very
far from being adequately realised.
Firstly, there are depositories of documents (archives, libraries, and
museums) whose contents have never been even partially catalogued, so
that no one knows what is in them. The depositories of which we possess
complete descriptive catalogues are rare; there are many collections
preserved in celebrated institutions which have only been catalogued in
part, and the bulk of which still remains to be described.[32] In the
second place, what a variety there is among existing catalogues! There
are some old ones which do not now correspond to the present
classification of documents, and which cannot be used without
reference-tables; there are new ones which are equally based on obsolete
systems, too detailed or too summary; some are printed, others in
manuscript, on registers or slips; some are carefully executed and
clear, many are scamped, inadequate, and provisional. Taking printed
catalogues alone, it requires a whole apprenticeship to learn to
distinguish, in this enormous mass of confusion, between what is
trustworthy and what is not; in other words, to make any use of them at
all. Lastly, where are the existing catalogues to be consulted? Most of
the great libraries only possess incomplete collections of them; there
is no general guide to them anywhere.
This is a deplorable state of things. In fact, the documents contained
in uncatalogued depositories and collections are practically
non-existent for researchers who have no leisure to work through the
whole of their contents for themselves. We have said before: no
documents, no history. But to have no good descriptive catalogues of
collections of documents means, in practice, to be unable to ascertain
the existence of documents otherwise than by chance. We infer that the
progress of history depends in great measure on the progress of the
general catalogue of historical documents which is still fragmentary and
imperfect. On this point there is general agreement. Père Bernard de
Montfaucon considered his _Bibliotheca bibliothecarum manuscriptarum
nova_, a collection of library catalogues, as "the most useful and most
interesting work he had produced in his whole life."[33] "In the present
state of science," wrote Renan in 1848,[34] "nothing is wanted more
urgently than a critical catalogue of the manuscripts in the different
libraries ... a humble task to all appearance; ... and yet the
researches of scholars are hampered and incomplete pending its
definitive completion." "We should have better books on our ancient
literature," says M. P. Meyer,[35] "if the predecessors of M. Delisle
[in his capacity of administrator of the Bibliothèque Nationale at
Paris] had applied themselves with equal ardour and diligence to the
cataloguing of the treasures committed to their care."
It will be well to indicate briefly the causes and state the exact
consequences of a state of things which has been deplored as long as
scholars have existed, and which is improving, though slowly. "I assure
you," said Renan,[36] "that the few hundred thousand francs a Minister
of Public Instruction might apply to the purpose [of preparing
catalogues] would be better employed than three-quarters of the sum now
devoted to literature." It is rare to find a minister, in France or
elsewhere, convinced of this truth, and resolute enough to act
accordingly. Besides, it has not always been true that, in order to
obtain good catalogues, it is sufficient, as well as necessary, to make
a pecuniary sacrifice: it is only recently that the best methods of
describing documents have been authoritatively fixed; the task of
recruiting competent workers--no great difficulty nowadays--would have
been neither easy nor free from anxiety at an epoch when competent
workers were rarer than they are now. So much for the material
obstacles--want of money and want of men. A cause of another kind has
not been without its influence. The functionaries charged with the
administration of depositories of documents have not always displayed
the zeal which they now display for making their collections accessible
by means of accurate catalogues. To prepare a catalogue (in the exact
and at the same time summary form which is now used) is a laborious
task, a task without joy and without reward. It has often happened that
such a functionary, living, in virtue of his office, in the midst of
documents which he is at liberty to consult at any moment, and placed in
a much more favourable position than the general public for utilising
the collection without the aid of a catalogue, and making discoveries in
the process, has preferred to work for himself rather than for others,
and made the tedious construction of a catalogue a secondary matter
compared with his personal researches.
Who are the persons that in our own day have discovered, published, and
annotated the greatest number of documents? The functionaries attached
to the depositories of documents. Without a doubt this circumstance has
retarded the progress of the general catalogue of historical documents.
The situation has been this: the persons who were the best able to
dispense with catalogues were precisely the persons whose duty it was to
make them.
The imperfection of descriptive catalogues has consequences which
deserve our attention. On the one hand, we can never be sure that we
have exhausted all the sources of information; who knows what may be
held in reserve by the uncatalogued collections?[37] On the other hand,
in order to obtain the maximum amount of information, it is necessary to
be thoroughly acquainted with the resources furnished by the existing
literature of Heuristic, and to devote a great deal of time to
preliminary researches. In point of fact, every one who proposes to
collect documents for the treatment of a point of history begins by
consulting indexes and catalogues.[38] Novices set about this important
operation so slowly, with so little skill, and with so much effort, as
to move more experienced workers to mirth or pity, according to their
disposition. Those who find amusement in watching novices stumble and
strain and waste their time in the labyrinth of catalogues, neglecting
those which are valuable, and thoroughly exploring those which are
useless, remember that they also have passed through similar
experiences: let every one have his turn. Those who observe with regret
this waste of time and strength consider that, while inevitable up to a
certain point, it serves no good purpose; they ask whether something
might not be done to mitigate the severity of this apprenticeship to
Heuristic, which at one time cost them so dear. Besides, is not
research, in the present condition of its material aids, difficult
enough whatever the experience of the researcher? There are scholars and
historians who devote the best part of their powers to material
searches. Certain branches of historical work, relating chiefly to
mediæval and modern subjects (the documents of ancient history are
fewer, have been more studied, and are better catalogued than the
others), imply not merely the assiduous use of catalogues, not all
furnished with indexes, but also the personal inspection of the whole
contents of immense collections which are either badly catalogued or not
catalogued at all. Experience proves beyond a doubt that the prospect of
these long searches, which must be performed before the more
intellectual part of the work can be begun, has deterred, and continues
to deter, men of excellent abilities from undertaking historical work.
They are, in fact, confronted with a dilemma: either they must work on a
supply of documents which is in all probability incomplete, or they must
spend themselves in unlimited searches, often fruitless, the results of
which seldom appear worth the time they have cost. It goes against the
grain to spend a great part of one's life in turning over catalogues
without indexes, or in passing under review, one after another, all the
items which go to form accumulations of uncatalogued _miscellanea_, in
order to obtain information (positive or negative) which might have been
obtained easily and instantaneously if the collections had been
catalogued and if the catalogues had been indexed. The most serious
consequence of the present imperfection of the material aids to
Heuristic is the discouragement which is sure to be felt by many able
men who know their worth, and have some sense of the due proportion of
effort and reward.[39]
If it lay in the nature of things that the search for historical
documents, in public depositories, must necessarily be as laborious as
it still is, we might resign ourselves to the inconvenience: no one
thinks of regretting the inevitable expenditure of time and labour which
is demanded by archæological research, whatever the results may prove to
be. But the imperfection of the modern instruments of Heuristic is quite
unnecessary. The state of things which existed for some centuries has
now been reformed indifferently; there is no valid reason why it should
not some day be reformed altogether. We are thus led, after treating of
the causes and the effects, to say a few words about the remedies.
The instruments of Heuristic are being continually perfected, before our
eyes, in two ways. Every year witnesses an increase in the number of
descriptive catalogues of archives, libraries, and museums, prepared by
the functionaries attached to these institutions. In addition to this,
powerful learned societies employ experts to pass from one depository
to another cataloguing the documents there, in order to pick out all the
documents of a particular class, or relating to a special subject: thus
the society of Bollandists caused a general catalogue of hagiographical
documents to be prepared by its emissaries, and the Imperial Academy of
Vienna catalogued in a similar manner the monuments of patristic
literature. The society of the _Monumenta Germanioe Historica_ has for
a long time been conducting vast searches of the same kind; and it was
by the same process of exploring the museums and libraries of the whole
of Europe that the construction of the _Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum_
was lately rendered possible. Lastly, several governments have taken the
initiative in sending abroad persons charged to catalogue, on their
behalf, documents in which they are interested: thus England, the
Netherlands, Switzerland, the United States, and other governments,
grant regular subsidies to agents of theirs occupied in cataloguing and
transcribing, in the great depositories of Europe, the documents which
relate to the history of England, the Netherlands, Switzerland, the
United States, and the rest.[40] With what rapidity and with what
perfection these useful labours can be conducted, provided that a
competent staff, suitably directed, can be had as well as the money to
pay it, is shown by the history of the _general catalogue of the
manuscripts in the public libraries of France_. This excellent
descriptive catalogue was begun in 1885, and now, in 1897, it extends to
nearly fifty volumes, and will soon be completed. The _Corpus
Inscriptionum Latinarum_ will have been produced in less than fifty
years. The results obtained by the Bollandists and the Imperial Academy
of Vienna are not less conclusive. Assuredly nothing is now lacking,
except funds, to secure the speedy endowment of historical study with
the indispensable instruments of research. The methods employed in the
construction of these instruments are now permanently fixed, and it is
an easy matter to recruit a trained staff. Such a staff must evidently
be largely composed of keepers of archives and professional librarians,
but it would also contain unattached workers with a decided vocation for
the construction of catalogues and indexes. Such workers are more
numerous than one would at first be inclined to think. Not that
cataloguing is easy: it requires patience, the most scrupulous
attention, and the most varied learning; but many minds are attracted by
tasks which, like this, are at once determinate, capable of being
definitely completed, and of manifest utility. In the large and
heterogeneous family of those who labour to promote the progress of
historical study, the makers of descriptive catalogues and indexes form
a section to themselves. When they devote themselves exclusively to
their art they acquire by practice, as one might expect, a high degree
of dexterity.
While waiting for the fact to be clearly recognised that the time is
opportune for pushing vigorously in every country the construction of a
general catalogue of historical documents, we may indicate a palliative:
it is important that scholars and historians, especially novices, should
be accurately informed of the state of the instruments of research which
are at their disposal, and be regularly apprised of any improvements
that from time to time may be made in them. Experience and accident have
been for a long time trusted to supply this information; but empirical
knowledge, besides being costly, as we have already pointed out, is
almost always imperfect. Recently the task has been undertaken of
constructing catalogues of catalogues--critical and systematic lists of
all the catalogues in existence. There can be no doubt that few
bibliographical enterprises have possessed, in so great a degree, the
character of general utility.
But scholars and historians often need, in respect of documents,
information not usually supplied by descriptive catalogues; they wish,
for example, to know whether such and such a document is known or not,
whether it has already been critically dealt with, annotated, or
utilised.[41] This information can only be found in the works of former
scholars and historians. In order to become acquainted with these
works, recourse must be had to those "bibliographical repertories,"
properly so called, of all kinds, compiled from very different points of
view, which have already been published. Among the indispensable
instruments of Heuristic must thus be reckoned bibliographical
repertories of historical literature, as well as repertories of
catalogues of original documents.
To supply the classified list of all those repertories (repertories of
catalogues, bibliographical repertories, properly so called), together
with other appropriate information, in order to save students from
mistakes and waste of time, is the object of what we are at liberty to
call the "science of repertories," or "historical bibliography."
Professor Bernheim has published a preliminary sketch[42] of it, which
we have endeavoured to expand.[43] The expanded sketch bears date April
1896: numerous additions, not to speak of revision, would already be
necessary, for the bibliographical apparatus of the historical sciences
is being renewed, at the present time, with astonishing rapidity. A book
on the repertories for the use of scholars and historians is, as a
general rule, out of date the day after it has been completed.
III. The knowledge of repertories is useful to all; the preliminary
search for documents is laborious to all; but not in the same degree.
Certain parts of history, which have been long cultivated, now enjoy
the advantage of having all their documents described, collected, and
classified in large publications devoted to the purpose, so that, in
dealing with these subjects, the historian can do all that need be done
at his desk. The study of local history does not generally require more
than local search. Some important monographs are based on a small number
of documents, all belonging to the same collection, and of such a nature
that it would be superfluous to look for others elsewhere. On the other
hand, a humble piece of work, such as a modest edition of a text of
which the ancient copies are not rare, and are to be found scattered in
several libraries of Europe, may have involved inquiries, negotiations,
and journeys without end. Since the majority of the documents of
mediæval and modern history are still unedited, or badly edited, it may
be laid down as a general principle that, in order to write a really new
chapter of mediæval or modern history, it is necessary to have long
haunted the great depositories of original documents, and to have, if we
may use the expression, worried their catalogues.
It is thus incumbent on every one to choose the subject of his labours
with the greatest care, instead of leaving it to be determined by pure
chance. There are some subjects which, in the present state of the
instruments of research, cannot be treated except at the cost of
enormous searches in which life and intellect are consumed without
profit. These subjects are not necessarily more interesting than others,
and some day, perhaps to-morrow, improvements in the aids to research
will make them easily manageable. It is necessary for the student
consciously and deliberately to make his choice between different
historical subjects depend on the existence or non-existence of
particular catalogues of documents and bibliographical repertories; on
his relative inclination for desk work on the one hand, and the labour
of exploring depositories on the other; even on the facilities he has
for making use of particular collections. "Is it possible to do work in
the provinces?" Renan asked at the congress of learned societies at the
Sorbonne in 1889; and gave a very good answer to his own question: "At
least half one's scientific work can be done at one's own desk ... Take
comparative philology, for example: with an initial outlay of some
thousands of francs, and subscriptions to three or four special
publications, a student would command all the tools of his trade ... The
same applies to universal philosophy ... Many branches of study can thus
be prosecuted quite privately, and in the closest retirement."[44]
Doubtless, but there are "rarities, specialities, researches which
require the aid of powerful machinery." One half of historical work may
now be done in private, with limited resources, but only half; the other
half still presupposes the employment of such resources, in the way of
repertories and documents, as can only be found in the great centres of
study; often, indeed, it is necessary to visit several of these centres
in succession. In short, the case stands with history much as it does
with geography: in respect of some portions of the globe, we possess
documents published in manageable form sufficiently complete and
sufficiently well classified to enable us to reason about them to good
purpose without leaving our fireside; while in the case of an unexplored
or badly explored region, the slightest monograph implies a considerable
expenditure of time and physical strength. It is dangerous to choose a
subject of study, as many do, without having first realised the nature
and extent of the preliminary researches which it demands; there are
instances of men struggling for years with such researches, who might
have been occupied to better advantage in work of another character. As
precautions against this danger, which is the more formidable to novices
the more active and zealous they are, an examination of the present
conditions of Heuristic in general, and positive notions of Historical
Bibliography, are certainly to be warmly recommended.
CHAPTER II
"AUXILIARY SCIENCES"
Let us suppose that the preliminary searches, treated of in the
preceding chapter, have been made methodically and successfully; the
greater part, if not the whole, of the documents bearing on a given
subject have been discovered and made available. Of two things one:
either these documents have been already subjected to critical
elaboration, or they are in the condition of raw material; this is a
point which must be settled by "bibliographical" researches, which also,
as we have already observed, form part of the inquiries which precede
the logical part of the work. In the first case, where the documents
have already gone through a process of elaboration, it is necessary to
be in a position to verify the accuracy of the critical work; in the
second case, where the documents are still raw material, the student
must do the critical work himself. In both cases certain antecedent and
auxiliary knowledge of a positive kind, _Vor-und Hülfskenntnisse_, as
they are called, are every whit as indispensable as the habit of
accurate reasoning; for if, in the course of critical work, it is
possible to go wrong through reasoning badly, it is also possible to go
wrong out of pure ignorance. The profession of a scholar or historian
is, moreover, similar in this respect to all other professions; it is
impossible to follow it without possessing a certain equipment of
technical notions, whose absence neither natural aptitude nor even
method can make good. In what, then, does the technical _apprenticeship_
of the scholar or the historian consist? Or, to employ language which,
though inappropriate, as we shall endeavour to show, is in more common
use: what, in addition to the knowledge of repertories, are the
"auxiliary sciences" of history?
Daunou, in his _Cours d'études historiques_,[45] has proposed a question
of the same kind. "What studies," says he, "will the intending historian
need to have gone through, what kinds of knowledge ought he to have
acquired, in order to begin writing a work with any hope of success?"
Before him, Mably, in his _Traité de l'étude de l'histoire_, had also
recognised that "there are preparatory studies with which no historian
can dispense." But on this subject Mably and Daunou entertained views
which nowadays seem singular enough. It is instructive to mark the exact
distance which separates their point of view from ours. "First of all,"
said Mably, "study the law of nature, public law, moral and political
science." Daunou, a man of great judgment, permanent secretary to the
Academy of Inscriptions and Belles-Lettres, writing about 1820, divides
the studies which, in his opinion, constitute "the apprenticeship of the
historian," into three classes--literary, philosophical, historical. On
the "literary" studies he expatiates at great length: to begin with,
the historian must "have read with attention the great models." Which
great models? Daunou "does not hesitate" to place in the front rank "the
masterpieces of epic poetry;" for "it is the poets who have created the
art of narrative, and whoever has not learnt it from them cannot have
more than an imperfect knowledge of it." He further recommends the
reading of modern novels; "they will teach the method of giving an
artistic pose to persons and events, of distributing details, of
skilfully carrying on the thread of the narrative, of interrupting it,
of resuming it, of sustaining the attention and provoking the curiosity
of the reader." Finally, good historical works should be read:
"Herodotus, Thucydides, Xenophon, Polybius, and Plutarch among the
Greeks; Cæsar, Sallust, Livy, and Tacitus among the Latins; and among
the moderns, Macchiavelli, Guicciardini, Giannone, Hume, Robertson,
Gibbon, the Cardinal de Retz, Vertot, Voltaire, Raynal, and Rulhière.
Not that I would exclude the others, but these will suffice to provide
all the styles which are suitable for history; for a great diversity of
form is to be met with in the works of these writers." In the second
place come philosophical studies; a thorough mastery of "ideology,
morals, and politics" is required. "As to the works from which knowledge
of this kind is to be obtained, Daguesseau has instanced Aristotle,
Cicero, Grotius: I should add the best ancient and modern moralists,
treatises on political economy published since the middle of the last
century, the writings on political science in general, and on its
details and application, of Macchiavelli, Bodin, Locke, Montesquieu,
Rousseau, Mably, and the most enlightened of their disciples and
commentators." In the third place, before writing history, "it is
evidently necessary to know it." "A writer will not give the world new
information on a subject like this unless he begins by making himself
master of what is already known of it." The future historian has already
made the acquaintance of the best historical works, and studied them as
models of style; "it will be to his advantage to read them a second
time, but endeavouring more particularly to grasp all the facts which
they contain, and to let them make so deep an impression on his mind
that they may be permanently fixed in his memory."
These are the "positive" notions which, eighty years ago, were
considered indispensable to the general historian. At the same time
there was a confused idea that "in order to acquire a profound knowledge
of particular subjects" there were yet other useful branches of study.
"The subjects of which historians treat," says Daunou, "the details
which they occasionally light upon, require very extensive and varied
attainments." He goes on to particularise, observe in what terms: "very
often a knowledge of several languages, sometimes too some notion of
physics and mathematics." And he adds: "On these subjects, however, the
general education which we may assume to be common to all men of letters
is sufficient for the writer who devotes himself to historical
composition...."
All the authors who, like Daunou, have attempted to enumerate the
preliminary attainments, as well as the moral or intellectual aptitudes,
necessary for "writing history," have either fallen into commonplace or
pitched their requirements ridiculously high. According to Freeman, the
historian ought to know everything--philosophy, law, finance,
ethnography, geography, anthropology, natural science, and what not; is
not an historian, in point of fact, likely enough in the course of his
study of the past to meet with questions of philosophy, law, finance,
and the rest of the series? And if financial science, for example, is
necessary to a writer who treats of contemporary finance, is it less so
to the writer who claims to express an opinion on the financial
questions of the past? "The historian," Freeman declares, "may have
incidentally to deal with any subject whatever, and the more branches of
knowledge he is master of, the better prepared he is for his own work."
True, all branches of human knowledge are not equally useful; some of
them are only serviceable on rare occasions, and accidentally: "We could
hardly make it even a counsel of perfection to the historian to make
himself an accomplished chemist, on the chance of an occasion in which
chemistry might be of use to him in his study;" but other special
subjects are more closely related to history: "for example, geology and
a whole group of sciences which have a close connection with geology....
The historian will clearly do his own regular work better for being
master of them...."[46] The question has also been asked whether
"history is one of those studies anciently called _umbratiles_, for
which all that is wanted is a quiet mind and habits of industry," or
whether it is a good thing for the historian to have mingled in the
turmoil of active life, and to have helped to make the history of his
own time before sitting down to write that of the past. Indeed, what
questions have not been asked? Floods of ink have been poured out over
these uninteresting and unanswerable questions, the long and fruitless
debating of which has done not a little to discredit works on
methodology. Our opinion is that nothing relevant can be added to the
dictates of mere common sense on the subject of the apprenticeship to
the "art of writing history," unless perhaps that this apprenticeship
should consist, above everything, in the study, hitherto so generally
neglected, of the principles of historical method.
Besides, it is not the "literary historian," the moralising and
quill-driving "historians," as conceived by Daunou and his school, that
we have had in view; we are here only concerned with those scholars and
historians who intend to deal with documents in order to facilitate or
actually perform the scientific work of history. These stand in need of
a _technical apprenticeship_. What meaning are we to attach to this
term?
Let us suppose we have before us a written document. What use can we
make of it if we cannot read it? Up to the time of François Champollion,
Egyptian documents, being written in hieroglyphics, were, without
metaphor, a dead-letter. It will be readily admitted that in order to
deal with ancient Assyrian history it is necessary to have learnt to
decipher cuneiform inscriptions. Similarly, whoever desires to do
original work from the sources, in ancient or mediæval history, will, if
he is prudent, learn to decipher inscriptions and manuscripts. We thus
see why Greek and Latin epigraphy and mediæval palæography--that is, the
sum of the various kinds of knowledge required for the deciphering of
ancient and mediæval manuscripts and inscriptions--are considered as
"auxiliary sciences" to history, or rather, the historical study of
antiquity and the middle ages. It is evident that mediæval Latin
palæography forms part of the necessary outfit of the mediævalist, just
as the palæography of hieroglyphics is essential to the Egyptologist.
There is, however, a difference to be observed. No one will ever think
of devoting himself to Egyptology without having first studied the
appropriate palæography. On the other hand, it is not very rare for a
man to undertake the study of local documents of the middle ages without
having learnt to date their forms approximately, and to decipher their
abbreviations correctly. The resemblance which most mediæval writing
bears to modern writing is sufficiently close to foster the illusion
that ingenuity and practice will be enough to carry him through. This
illusion is dangerous. Scholars who have received no regular
palæographical initiation can almost always be recognised by the gross
errors which they commit from time to time in deciphering--errors which
are sometimes enough to completely ruin the subsequent operations of
criticism and interpretation. As for the self-taught experts who acquire
their skill by dint of practice, the orthodox palæographic initiation
which they have missed would at least have saved them much groping in
the dark, long hours of labour, and many a disappointment.
Suppose a document has been deciphered. How is it to be turned to
account, unless it be first understood? Inscriptions in Etruscan and the
ancient language of Cambodia have been read, but no one understands
them. As long as this is the case they must remain useless. It is clear
that in order to deal with Greek history it is necessary to consult
documents in the Greek language, and therefore necessary to know Greek.
Rank truism, the reader will say. Yes, but many proceed as if it had
never occurred to them. Young students attack ancient history with only
a superficial tincture of Greek and Latin. Many who have never studied
mediæval French and Latin think they know them because they understand
classical Latin and modern French, and they attempt the interpretation
of texts whose literal meaning escapes them, or appears to be obscure
when in reality perfectly plain. Innumerable historical errors owe their
origin to false or inexact interpretations of quite straightforward
texts, perpetrated by men who were insufficiently acquainted with the
grammar, the vocabulary, or the niceties of ancient languages. Solid
philological study ought logically to precede historical research in
every instance where the documents to be employed are not to be had in a
modern language, and in a form in which they can be easily understood.
Suppose a document is intelligible. It would not be legitimate to take
it into consideration without having verified its authenticity, if its
authenticity has not been already settled beyond a doubt. Now in order
to verify the authenticity or ascertain the origin of a document two
things are required--reasoning power and knowledge. In other words, it
is necessary to reason from certain positive data which represent the
condensed results of previous research, which cannot be improvised, and
must, therefore, be learnt. To distinguish a genuine from a spurious
charter would, in fact, be often an impossible task for the best trained
logician, if he were unacquainted with the practice of such and such a
chancery, at such and such a date, or with the features common to all
the admittedly genuine charters of a particular class. He would be
obliged to do what the first scholars did--ascertain for himself, by the
comparison of a great number of similar documents, what features
distinguish the admittedly genuine documents from the others, before
allowing himself to pronounce judgment in any special instance. Will not
his task be enormously simplified if there is in existence a body of
doctrine, a treasury of accumulated observations, a system of results
obtained by workers who have already made, repeated, and checked the
minute comparisons he would otherwise have been obliged to make for
himself? This body of doctrines, observations, and results, calculated
to assist the criticism of diplomas and charters, does exist; it is
called Diplomatic. We shall, therefore, assign to Diplomatic, along with
Epigraphy, Palæography, and Philology, the character of a subject
auxiliary to historical research.
Epigraphy and Palæography, Philology, and Diplomatic with its adjuncts
(technical Chronology and Sphragistic) are not the only subjects of
study which subserve historical research. It would be extremely
injudicious to undertake to deal critically with literary documents on
which no critical work has as yet been done without making oneself
familiar with the results obtained by those who have already dealt
critically with documents of the same class: the sum of these results
forms a department to itself, which has a name--the History of
Literature.[47] The critical treatment of illustrative documents, such
as the productions of architecture, sculpture, and painting, objects of
all kinds (arms, dress, utensils, coins, medals, armorial bearings, and
so forth), presupposes a thorough acquaintance with the rules and
observations which constitute Archæology properly so called and its
detached branches--Numismatic and Heraldry.
We are now in a position to examine to some purpose the hazy notion
expressed by the phrase, "the sciences auxiliary to history." We also
read of "ancillary sciences," and, in French, "sciences satellites."
None of these expressions is really satisfactory.
First of all, the so-called "auxiliary sciences" are not all of them
_sciences_. Diplomatic, for example, and the History of Literature are
only systematised accumulations of facts, acquired by criticism, which
are of a nature to facilitate the application of critical methods to
documents hitherto untouched. On the other hand, Philology is an
organised science, and has its own laws.
In the second place, among the branches of knowledge auxiliary--properly
speaking, not to history, but to historical research--we must
distinguish between those which every worker in the field ought to
master, and those in respect of which he needs only to know where to
look when he has occasion to make use of them; between knowledge which
ought to become part of a man's self, and information which he may be
content to possess only in potentiality. A mediævalist should _know_ how
to read and understand mediæval texts; he would gain no advantage by
accumulating in his memory the mass of particular facts pertaining to
the History of Literature and Diplomatic which are to be found, in their
proper place, in well-constructed works of reference.
Lastly, there are no branches of knowledge which are auxiliary to
History (or even historical research) in general--that is, which are
useful to all students irrespectively of the particular part of history
on which they are engaged.[48] It appears, then, that there is no
general answer possible to the question raised at the beginning of this
chapter: in what should the technical apprenticeship of the scholar or
historian consist? In what does it consist? That depends. It depends on
the part of history he proposes to study. A knowledge of palæography is
quite useless for the purpose of investigating the history of the
French Revolution, and a knowledge of Greek is equally useless for the
treatment of a question in mediæval French history.[49] But we may go so
far as to say that the preliminary outfit of every one who wishes to do
original work in history should consist (in addition to the "common
education," that is, general culture, of which Daunou writes) in the
knowledge calculated to aid in the discovery, the understanding, and
the criticism of documents. The exact nature of this knowledge varies
from case to case according as the student specialises in one or another
part of universal history. The technical apprenticeship is relatively
short and easy for those who occupy themselves with modern or
contemporary history, long and laborious for those who occupy themselves
with ancient and mediæval history.
This reform of the historian's technical apprenticeship which consists
in substituting the acquisition of positive knowledge, truly auxiliary
to historical research, for the study of the "great models," literary
and philosophical, is of quite recent date. In France, for the greater
part of the present century, students of history received none but a
literary education, after Daunou's pattern. Almost all of them were
contented with such a preparation, and did not look beyond it; some few
perceived and regretted, when it was too late for a remedy, the
insufficiency of their early training; with a few illustrious
exceptions, the best of them never rose to be more than distinguished
men of letters, incapable of scientific work. There was at that time no
organisation for teaching the "auxiliary sciences" and the technique of
research except in the case of French mediæval history, and that in a
special school, the École des chartes. This simple fact, moreover,
secured for this school during a period of fifty years a marked
superiority over all the other French (or even foreign) institutions of
higher education; excellent workers were there trained who contributed
many new results, while elsewhere people were idly discussing
problems.[50] To-day it is still at the École des chartes that the
mediævalist has the opportunity of going through his technical
apprenticeship in the best and most complete manner, thanks to the
combined and progressive three-years courses of Romance philology,
palæography, archæology, historiography, and mediæval law. But the
"auxiliary sciences" are now taught everywhere more or less adequately;
they have been introduced into the university curricula. On the other
hand, students' handbooks of epigraphy, palæography, diplomatic, and so
forth, have multiplied during the last twenty-five years. Twenty-five
years ago it would have been vain to look for a good book which should
supply the want of oral instruction on these subjects; since the
establishment of professorships "manuals" have appeared[51] which would
almost make them superfluous were it not that oral instruction, based on
practical exercises, has here an exceptional value. Whether a student
does or does not enjoy the advantage of a regular drilling in an
institution for higher education, he has henceforth no excuse for
remaining in ignorance of those things which he ought to know before
entering upon historical work. There is, in fact, less of this kind of
neglect than there used to be. On this head, the success of the
above-mentioned "manuals," with their rapid succession of editions, is
very significant.[52]
Here, then, we have the future historian armed with the preliminary
knowledge, the neglect of which would have condemned him to
powerlessness or to continual mistakes. We suppose him protected from
the errors without number which have their origin in an imperfect
knowledge of the writing and the language of documents, in ignorance of
previous work and the results obtained by textual criticism; he has an
irreproachable _cognitio cogniti et cognoscendi_. A very optimistic
supposition, by the way, as we are bound to admit. We know but too well
that to have gone through a regular course of "auxiliary sciences," or
to have read attentively the best treatises on bibliography,
palæography, philology, and so on, or even to have acquired some
personal experience by practical exercises, is not enough to ensure that
a man shall always be well informed, still less to make him infallible.
In the first place, those who have for a long time studied documents of
a given class or of a given period possess, in regard to these,
incommunicable knowledge in virtue of which they are able to deal better
than others with new documents which they may meet with of the same
class or period; nothing can replace the "special erudition" which is
the specialist's reward for hard work.[53] And secondly, specialists
themselves make mistakes: palæographers must be perpetually on their
guard not to decipher falsely; is there a philologist who has not some
faults of construing on his conscience? Scholars usually well informed
have printed as unedited texts which had already been published, and
have neglected documents it was their business to know. Scholars spend
their lives in incessantly perfecting their "auxiliary" knowledge, which
they rightly regard as never perfect. But all this does not prevent us
from maintaining our hypothesis. Only let it be understood that in
practice we do not postpone work upon documents till we shall have
gained a serene and absolute mastery over all the "auxiliary branches of
knowledge:" we should never dare to begin.
It remains to know how to treat documents supposing one has successfully
passed through the preliminary apprenticeship.
BOOK II
ANALYTICAL OPERATIONS
CHAPTER I
GENERAL CONDITIONS OF HISTORICAL KNOWLEDGE
We have already stated that history is studied from documents, and that
documents are the traces of past events.[54] This is the place to
indicate the consequences involved in this statement and this
definition.
Events can be empirically known in two ways only: by direct observation
while they are in progress; and indirectly, by the study of the traces
which they leave behind them. Take an earthquake, for example. I have a
direct knowledge of it if I am present when the phenomenon occurs; an
indirect knowledge if, without having been thus present, I observe its
physical effects (crevices, ruins), or if, after these effects have
disappeared, I read a description written by some one who has himself
witnessed the phenomenon or its effects. Now, the peculiarity of
"historical facts"[55] is this, that they are only known indirectly by
the help of their traces. Historical knowledge is essentially indirect
knowledge. The methods of historical science ought, therefore, to be
radically different from those of the direct sciences; that is to say,
of all the other sciences, except geology, which are founded on direct
observation. Historical science, whatever may be said,[56] is not a
science of observation at all.
The facts of the past are only known to us by the traces of them which
have been preserved. These traces, it is true, are directly observed by
the historian, but, after that, he has nothing more to observe; what
remains is the work of reasoning, in which he endeavours to infer, with
the greatest possible exactness, the facts from the traces. The document
is his starting-point, the fact his goal.[57] Between this
starting-point and this goal he has to pass through a complicated series
of inferences, closely interwoven with each other, in which there are
innumerable chances of error; while the least error, whether committed
at the beginning, middle, or end of the work, may vitiate all his
conclusions. The "historical," or indirect, method is thus obviously
inferior to the method of direct observation; but historians have no
choice: it is the _only_ method of arriving at past facts, and we shall
see later on[58] how, in spite of these disadvantages, it is possible
for this method to lead to scientific knowledge.
The detailed analysis of the reasonings which lead from the inspection
of documents to the knowledge of facts is one of the chief parts of
Historical Methodology. It is the domain of criticism. The seven
following chapters will be devoted to it. We shall endeavour, first of
all, to give a very summary sketch of the general lines and main
divisions of the subject.
I. We may distinguish two species of documents. Sometimes the past event
has left a material trace (a monument, a fabricated article). Sometimes,
and more commonly, the trace is of the psychological order--a written
description or narrative. The first case is much simpler than the
second. For there is a fixed relation between certain physical
appearances and the causes which produced them; and this relation,
governed by physical laws, is known to us.[59] But a psychological
trace, on the other hand, is purely symbolic: it is not the fact itself;
it is not even the immediate impression made by the fact upon the
witness's mind, but only a conventional symbol of that impression.
Written documents, then, are not, as material documents are, valuable
by themselves; they are only valuable as signs of psychological
operations, which are often complicated and hard to unravel. The immense
majority of the documents which furnish the historian with
starting-points for his reasonings are nothing else than traces of
psychological operations.
This granted, in order to conclude from a written document to the fact
which was its remote cause--that is, in order to ascertain the relation
which connects the document with the fact--it is necessary to reproduce
the whole series of intermediate causes which have given rise to the
document. It is necessary to revive in imagination the whole of that
series of acts performed by the author of the document which begins with
the fact observed by him and ends with the manuscript (or printed
volume), in order to arrive at the original event. Such is the aim and
such the process of critical analysis.[60]
First of all we observe the document. Is it now in the same state as
when it was produced? Has it deteriorated since? We endeavour to find
out how it was made in order to restore it, if need be, to its original
form, and to ascertain its origin. The first group of preliminary
investigations, bearing upon the writing, the language, the form, the
source, constitutes the special domain of EXTERNAL CRITICISM, or
critical scholarship. Next comes INTERNAL CRITICISM: it endeavours, by
the help of analogies mostly borrowed from general psychology, to
reproduce the mental states through which the author of the document
passed. Knowing what the author of the document has said, we ask (1)
What did he mean? (2) Did he believe what he said? (3) Was he justified
in believing whatever he did believe? This last step brings the document
to a point where it resembles the data of the objective sciences: it
becomes an observation; it only remains to treat it by the methods of
the objective sciences. Every document is valuable precisely to the
extent to which, by the study of its origin, it has been reduced to a
well-made observation.
II. Two conclusions may be drawn from what we have just said: the
extreme complexity and the absolute necessity of Historical Criticism.
Compared with other students the historian is in a very disagreeable
situation. It is not merely that he cannot, as the chemist does, observe
his facts directly; it very rarely happens that the documents which he
is obliged to use represent precise observations. He has at his disposal
none of those systematic records of observations which, in the
established sciences, can and do replace direct observation. He is in
the situation of a chemist who should know a series of experiments only
from the report of his laboratory-boy. The historian is compelled to
turn to account rough and ready reports, such as no man of science
would be content with.[61] All the more necessary are the precautions to
be taken in utilising these documents, the only materials of historical
science. It is evidently most important to eliminate those which are
worthless, and to ascertain the amount of correct observation
represented by those which are left.
All the more necessary, too, are cautions on this subject, because the
natural inclination of the human mind is to take no precautions at all,
and to treat these matters, which really demand the utmost obtainable
precision, with careless laxity. It is true that every one admits the
utility of criticism in theory; but this is just one of those principles
which are more easily admitted than put into practice. Many centuries
and whole eras of brilliant civilisation had to pass away before the
first dawn of criticism was visible among the most intellectual peoples
in the world. Neither the orientals nor the middle ages ever formed a
definite conception of it.[62] Up to our own day there have been
enlightened men who, in employing documents for the purpose of writing
history, have neglected the most elementary precautions, and
unconsciously assumed false generalisations. Even now most young
students would, if left to themselves, fall into the old errors. For
criticism is antagonistic to the normal bent of the mind. The
spontaneous tendency of man is to yield assent to affirmations, and to
reproduce them, without even clearly distinguishing them from the
results of his own observation. In every-day life do we not accept
indiscriminately, without any kind of verification, hearsay reports,
anonymous and unguaranteed statements, "documents" of indifferent or
inferior authority? It takes a special reason to induce us to take the
trouble to examine into the origin and value of a document on the
history of yesterday; otherwise, if there is no outrageous improbability
in it, and as long as it is not contradicted, we swallow it whole, we
pin our faith to it, we hawk it about, and, if need be, embellish it in
the process. Every candid man must admit that it requires a violent
effort to shake off _ignavia critica_, that common form of intellectual
sloth, that this effort must be continually repeated, and is often
accompanied by real pain.
The natural instinct of a man in the water is to do precisely that which
will infallibly cause him to be drowned; learning to swim means
acquiring the habit of suppressing spontaneous movements and performing
others instead. Similarly, criticism is not a natural habit; it must be
inculcated, and only becomes organic by dint of continued practice.
Historical work is, then, pre-eminently critical; whoever enters upon it
without having first been put on his guard against his instinct is sure
to be drowned in it. In order to appreciate the danger it is well to
examine one's conscience and analyse the causes of that _ignavia_ which
must be fought against till it is replaced by a critical attitude of
mind.[63] It is also very salutary to familiarise oneself with the
principles of historical method, and to analyse the theory of them, one
by one, as we propose to do in the present volume. "History, like every
other study, is chiefly subject to errors of fact arising from
inattention, but it is more exposed than any other study to errors due
to that mental confusion which produces incomplete analyses and
fallacious reasonings.... Historians would advance fewer affirmations
without proof if they had to analyse each one of their affirmations;
they would commit themselves to fewer false principles if they made it a
rule to formulate all their principles; they would be guilty of fewer
fallacies if they were obliged to set out all their arguments in logical
form."[64]
_SECTION I.--EXTERNAL CRITICISM_
CHAPTER II
TEXTUAL CRITICISM
Let us suppose that an author of our own day has written a book: he
sends his manuscript to the printer; with his own hand he corrects the
proofs, and marks them "Press." A book which is printed under these
conditions comes into our hands in what is, for a document, a very good
condition. Whoever the author may be, and whatever his sentiments and
intentions, we can be certain--and this is the only point that concerns
us at present--that we have before us a fairly accurate reproduction of
the text which he wrote. We are obliged to say "fairly accurate," for if
the author has corrected his proofs badly, or if the printers have not
paid proper attention to his corrections, the reproduction of the
original text is imperfect, even in this specially favourable case.
Printers not unfrequently make a man say something which he never meant
to say, and which he does not notice till too late.
Sometimes it is required to reproduce a work the author of which is
dead, and the autograph manuscript of which cannot be sent to the
printer. This was the case with the _Mémoires d'outre-tombe_ of
Chateaubriand, for example; it is of daily occurrence in regard to the
familiar correspondence of well-known persons which is printed in haste
to satisfy the curiosity of the public, and of which the original
manuscript is very fragile. First the text is copied; it is then set up
by the compositor from the copy, which comes to the same thing as
copying it again; this second copy is lastly, or ought to be, collated
(in the proofs) with the first copy, or, better still, with the
original, by some one who takes the place of the deceased author. The
guarantees of accuracy are fewer in this case than in the first; for
between the original and the ultimate reproduction there is one
intermediary the more (the manuscript copy), and it may be that the
original is hard for anybody but the author to decipher. And, in fact,
the text of memoirs and posthumous correspondence is often disfigured by
errors of transcription and punctuation occurring in editions which at
first sight give the impression of having been carefully executed.[65]
Turning now to ancient documents, let us ask in what state they have
been preserved. In nearly every case the originals have been lost, and
we have nothing but copies. Have these copies been made directly from
the originals? No; they are copies of copies. The scribes who executed
them were not by any means all of them capable and conscientious men;
they often transcribed texts which they did not understand at all, or
which they understood incorrectly, and it was not always the fashion, as
it was in the time of the Carlovingian Renaissance, to compare the
copies with the originals.[66]
If our printed books, after the successive revisions of author and
printer's reader, are still but imperfect reproductions, it is only to
be expected that ancient documents, copied and recopied as they have
been for centuries with very little care, and exposed at every fresh
transcription to new risk of alteration, should have reached us full of
inaccuracies.
There is thus an obvious precaution to be taken. Before using a document
we must find out whether its text is "sound"--that is, in as close
agreement as possible with the original manuscript of the author; and
when the text is "corrupt" we must emend it. In using a text which has
been corrupted in transmission, we run the risk of attributing to the
author what really comes from the copyists. There are actual cases of
theories which were based on passages falsified in transmission, and
which collapsed as soon as the true readings were discovered or
restored. Printers' errors and mistakes in copying are not always
innocuous or merely diverting; they are sometimes insidious and capable
of misleading the reader.[67]
One would naturally suppose that historians of repute would always make
it a rule to procure "sound" texts, properly emended and restored, of
the texts they have to consult. That is a mistake. For a long time
historians simply used the texts which they had within easy reach,
without verifying their accuracy. And, what is more, the very scholars
whose business it is to edit texts did not discover the art of restoring
them all at once; not so very long ago, documents were commonly edited
from the first copies, good or bad, that came to hand, combined and
corrected at random. Editions of ancient texts are nowadays mostly
"critical;" but it is not yet thirty years since the publication of the
first "critical editions" of the great works of the middle ages, and the
critical text of some ancient classics (Pausanias, for example) has
still to be constructed.
Not all historical documents have as yet been published in a form
calculated to give historians the security they need, and some
historians still act as if they had not realised that an unsettled text,
as such, requires cautious handling. Still, considerable progress has
been made. From the experience accumulated by several generations of
scholars there has been evolved a recognised method of purifying and
restoring texts. No part of historical method has a more solid
foundation, or is more generally known. It is clearly explained in
several works of popular philology.[68] For this reason we shall here be
content to give a general view of its essential principles, and to
indicate its results.
I. We will suppose a document has not been edited in conformity with
critical rules. How are we to proceed in order to construct the best
possible text? Three cases present themselves.
(_a_) The most simple case is that in which we possess the original, the
author's autograph itself. There is then nothing to do but to reproduce
the text of it with absolute fidelity.[69] Theoretically nothing can be
easier; in practice this elementary operation demands a sustained
attention of which not every one is capable. If any one doubts it, let
him try. Copyists who never make mistakes and never allow their
attention to be distracted are rare even among scholars.
(_b_) Second case. The original has been lost; only a single copy of it
is known. It is necessary to be cautious, for the probability is that
this copy contains errors.
Texts degenerate in accordance with certain laws. A great deal of pains
has been taken to discover and classify the causes and the ordinary
forms of the differences which are observed between originals and
copies; and hence rules have been deduced which may be applied to the
conjectural restoration of those passages in a unique copy of a lost
original which are certainly corrupt (because unintelligible), or are so
in all probability.
Alterations of an original occurring in a copy--"traditional variants,"
as they are called--are due either to fraud or to error. Some copyists
have deliberately modified or suppressed passages.[70] Nearly all
copyists have committed errors of judgment or accidental errors. Errors
of judgment when half-educated and not wholly intelligent copyists have
thought it their duty to correct passages and words in the original
which they could not understand.[71] Accidental errors when they misread
while copying, or misheard while writing from dictation, or when they
involuntarily made slips of the pen.
Modifications arising from fraud or errors of judgment are often very
difficult to rectify, or even to discover. Some accidental errors (the
omission of several lines, for example) are irreparable in the case we
are considering, that of a unique copy. But most accidental errors can
be detected by any one who knows the ordinary forms: confusions of
sense, letters, and words, transpositions of words, letters, and
syllables, dittography (unmeaning repetition of letters or syllables),
haplography (syllables or words written once only where they should have
been written twice), false divisions between words, badly punctuated
sentences, and other mistakes of the same kind. Errors of these various
types have been made by the scribes of every country and every age,
irrespectively of the handwriting and language of the originals. But
some confusions of letters occur frequently in copies of uncial
originals, and others in copies of minuscule originals. Confusions of
sense and of words are explained by analogies of vocabulary or
pronunciation, which naturally vary from language to language and from
epoch to epoch. The general theory of conjectural emendation reduces to
the sketch we have just given; there is no general apprenticeship to the
art. What a man learns is not to restore any text that may be put before
him, but Greek texts, Latin texts, French texts, and so on, as the case
may be; for the conjectural emendation of a text presupposes, besides
general notions on the processes by which texts degenerate, a profound
knowledge of (1) a special language; (2) a special handwriting; (3) _the
confusions (of sense, letters, and words) which were habitual to those
who copied texts of that language written in that style of handwriting_.
To aid in the apprenticeship to the conjectural emendation of Greek and
Latin texts, tabulated lists (alphabetical and systematic) of various
readings, frequent confusions, and probable corrections, have been
drawn up.[72] It is true that they cannot take the place of practical
work, done under the guidance of experts, but they are of very great use
to the experts themselves.[73]
It would be easy to give a list of happy emendations. The most
satisfactory are those whose correctness is obvious palæographically, as
is the case with the classical emendation by Madvig of the text of
Seneca's Letters (89, 4). The old reading was: "Philosophia unde dicta
sit, apparet; ipso enim nomine fatetur. Quidam et sapientiam ita quidam
finierunt, ut dicerent divinorum et humanorum sapientiam ..."--which
does not make sense. It used to be supposed that words had dropped out
between _ita_ and _quidam_. Madvig pictured to himself the text of the
lost archetype, which was written in capitals, and in which, as was
usual before the eighth century, the words were not separated (_scriptio
continua_), nor the sentences punctuated; he asked himself whether the
copyist, with such an archetype before him, had not divided the words at
random, and he had no difficulty in reading: "...ipso enim nomine
fatetur quid amet. Sapientiam ita quidam finierunt...." Blass, Reinach,
and Lindsay, in the works referred to in the note, mention several other
masterly and elegant emendations. Nor have the Hellenists and Latinists
any monopoly; equally brilliant emendations might be culled from the
works of Orientalists, Romancists, and Germanists, now that texts of
Oriental, Romance, and Germanic languages have been subjected to verbal
criticism. We have already stated that scholarly corrections are
possible even in the text of quite modern documents, reproduced
typographically under the most favourable conditions.
Perhaps no one, in our day, has equalled Madvig in the art of
conjectural emendation. But Madvig himself had no high opinion of the
work of modern scholarship. He thought that the humanists of the
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries were, in this respect, better
trained than modern scholars. The conjectural emendation of Greek and
Latin texts is, in fact, a branch of sport, success in which is
proportionate not only to a man's ingenuity and palæographical instinct,
but also to the correctness, rapidity, and delicacy of his appreciation
of the niceties of the classical languages. Now, the early scholars were
undoubtedly too bold, but they were more intimately familiar with the
classical languages than our modern scholars are.
However that may be, there can be no doubt that numerous texts which
have been preserved, in corrupt form, in unique copies, have resisted,
and will continue to resist, the efforts of criticism. Very often
criticism ascertains the fact of the text having been altered, states
what the sense requires, and then prudently stops, every trace of the
original reading having been obscured by a confused tangle of successive
corrections and errors which it is hopeless to attempt to unravel. The
scholars who devote themselves to the fascinating pursuit of conjectural
criticism are liable, in their ardour, to suspect perfectly innocent
readings, and, in desperate passages, to propose adventurous hypotheses.
They are well aware of this, and therefore make it a rule to draw a very
clear distinction, in their editions, between readings found in
manuscripts and their own restorations of the text.
(_c_) Third case. We possess several copies, which differ from each
other, of a document whose original is lost. Here modern scholars have a
marked advantage over their predecessors: besides being better informed,
they set about the comparison of copies more methodically. The object
is, as in the preceding case, to reconstruct the archetype as exactly as
possible.
The scholars of earlier days had to struggle, as novices have to
struggle now, in a case of this kind, against a very natural and a very
reprehensible impulse--to use the first copy that comes to hand,
whatever its character may happen to be. The second impulse is not much
better--to use the oldest copy out of several of different date. In
theory, and very often in practice, the relative age of the copies is of
no importance; a sixteenth-century manuscript which reproduces a good
lost copy of the eleventh century is much more valuable than a faulty
and retouched copy made in the twelfth or thirteenth century. The third
impulse is still far from being good; it is to count the attested
readings and decide by the majority. Suppose there are twenty copies of
a text; the reading A is attested eighteen times, the reading B twice.
To make this a reason for choosing A is to make the gratuitous
assumption that all the manuscripts have the same authority. This is an
error of judgment; for if seventeen of the eighteen manuscripts which
give the reading A have been copied from the eighteenth, the reading A
is in reality attested only once; and the only question is whether it is
intrinsically better or worse than the reading B.
It has been recognised that the only rational procedure is to begin by
determining in what relation the copies stand to each other. For this
purpose we adopt as our starting-point the incontrovertible axiom that
all the copies which contain the same mistakes in the same passages must
have been either copied from each other or all derived from a copy
containing those mistakes. It is inconceivable that several copyists,
independently reproducing an original free from errors, should all
introduce exactly the same errors; identity of errors attests community
of origin. We shall cast aside without scruple all the copies derived
from a single manuscript which has been preserved. Evidently they can
have no value beyond what is possessed by their common source; if they
differ from it, it can only be in virtue of new errors; it would be
waste of time to study their variations. Having eliminated these, we
have before us none but independent copies, which have been made
directly from the archetype, or secondary copies whose source (a copy
taken directly from the archetype) has been lost. In order to group the
secondary copies into _families_, each of which shall represent what is
substantially the same tradition, we again have recourse to the
comparison of errors. By this method we can generally draw up without
too much trouble a complete genealogical table (_stemma codicum_) of the
preserved copies, which will bring out very clearly their relative
importance. This is not the place to discuss the difficult cases where,
in consequence of too great a number of intermediaries having been lost,
or from ancient copyists having arbitrarily blended the texts of
different traditions, the operation becomes extremely laborious or
impracticable. Besides, in these extreme cases there is no new method
involved: the comparison of corresponding passages is a powerful
instrument, but it is the only one which criticism has at its disposal
for this task.
When the genealogical tree of the manuscripts has been drawn up, we
endeavour to restore the text of the archetype by comparing the
different traditions. If these agree and give a satisfactory text, there
is no difficulty. If they differ, we decide between them. If they
accidentally agree in giving a defective text, we have recourse to
conjectural emendation, as if there were only one copy.
It is, theoretically, much more advantageous to have several independent
copies of a lost original than to have only one, for the mere mechanical
comparison of the different readings is often enough to remove
obscurities which the uncertain light of conjectural criticism would
never have illuminated. However, an abundance of manuscripts is an
embarrassment rather than a help when the work of grouping them has been
left undone or done badly; nothing can be more unsatisfactory than the
arbitrary and hybrid restorations which are founded on copies whose
relations to each other and to the archetype have not been ascertained
beforehand. On the other hand, the application of rational methods
requires, in some cases, a formidable expenditure of time and labour.
Some works are preserved in hundreds of copies all differing from each
other; sometimes (as in the case of the Gospels) the variants of a text
of quite moderate extent are to be counted by thousands; several years
of assiduous labour are necessary for the preparation of a critical
edition of some mediæval romances. And after all this labour, all these
collations and comparisons, can we be sure that the text of the romance
is sensibly better than it would have been if there had been only two or
three manuscripts to work upon? No. Some critical editions, owing to the
apparent wealth of material applicable to the work, demand a mechanical
effort which is altogether out of proportion to the positive results
which are its reward.
"Critical editions" founded on several copies of a lost original ought
to supply the public with the means of verifying the "_stemma codicum_"
which the editor has drawn up, and should give the rejected variants in
the notes. By this means competent readers are, at the worst, put in
possession, if not of the best possible text, at least of the materials
for constructing it.[74]
II. The results of textual criticism--a kind of cleaning and
mending--are purely negative. By the aid of conjecture, or by the aid of
conjecture and comparison combined, we are enabled to construct, not
necessarily a good text, but the best text possible, of documents whose
original is lost. What we thus effect is the elimination of corrupt and
adventitious readings likely to cause error, and the recognition of
suspected passages as such. But it is obvious that no new information is
supplied by this process. The text of a document which has been restored
at the cost of infinite pains is not worth more than that of a document
whose original has been preserved; on the contrary, it is worth less. If
the autograph manuscript of the Æneid had not been destroyed, centuries
of collation and conjecture would have been saved, and the text of the
Æneid would have been better than it is. This is intended for those who
excel at the "emendation game,"[75] who are in consequence fond of it,
and would really be sorry to have no occasion to play it.
III. There will, however, be abundant scope for textual criticism as
long as we do not possess the exact text of every historical document.
In the present state of science few labours are more useful than those
which bring new texts to light or improve texts already known. It is a
real service to the study of history to publish unedited or badly edited
texts in a manner conformable to the rules of criticism. In every
country learned societies without number are devoting the greater part
of their resources and activity to this important work. But the immense
number of the texts to be criticised,[76] and the minute care required
by the operations of verbal criticism,[77] prevent the work of
publication and restoration from advancing at any but a slow pace.
Before all the texts which are of interest for mediæval and modern
history shall have been edited or re-edited _secundum artem_, a long
period must elapse, even supposing that the relatively rapid pace of the
last few years should be still further accelerated.[78]
CHAPTER III
CRITICAL INVESTIGATION OF AUTHORSHIP
It would be absurd to look for information about a fact in the papers of
some one who knew nothing, and could know nothing, about it. The first
questions, then, which we ask when we are confronted with a document is:
Where does it come from? who is the author of it? what is its date? A
document in respect of which we necessarily are in total ignorance of
the author, the place, and the date is good for nothing.
This truth, which seems elementary, has only been adequately recognised
in our own day. Such is the natural [Greek: hakrishia] of man, that those
who were the first to make a habit of inquiring into the authorship of
documents prided themselves, and justly, on the advance they had made.
Most modern documents contain a precise indication of their authorship:
in our days, books, newspaper articles, official papers, and even
private writings, are, in general, dated and signed. Many ancient
documents, on the other hand, are anonymous, without date, and have no
sufficient indication of their place of origin.
The spontaneous tendency of the human mind is to place confidence in the
indications of authorship, when there are any. On the cover and in the
preface of the _Châtiments_, Victor Hugo is named as the author;
therefore Victor Hugo is the author of the _Châtiments_. In such and
such a picture gallery we see an unsigned picture whose frame has been
furnished by the management with a tablet bearing the name of Leonardo
da Vinci; therefore Leonardo da Vinci painted this picture. A poem with
the title _Philomena_ is found under the name of Saint Bonaventura in M.
Clément's _Extraits des poètes chrétiens_, in most editions of Saint
Bonaventura's "works," and in a great number of mediæval manuscripts;
therefore _Philomena_ was written by Saint Bonaventura, and "we may
gather thence much precious knowledge of the very soul" of this holy
man.[79] Vrain-Lucas offered to M. Chasles autographs of Vercingetorix,
Cleopatra, and Saint Mary Magdalene, duly signed, and with the
flourishes complete:[80] here, thought M. Chasles, are autographs of
Vercingetorix, Cleopatra, and Saint Mary Magdalene. This is one of the
most universal, and at the same time indestructible, forms of public
credulity.
Experience and reflection have shown the necessity of methodically
checking these instinctive impulses of confiding trust. The autographs
of Vercingetorix, Cleopatra, and Mary Magdalene had been manufactured by
Vrain-Lucas. The _Philomena_, attributed by mediæval scribes now to
Saint Bonaventura, now to Louis of Granada, now to John Hoveden, now to
John Peckham, is perhaps by none of these authors, and certainly not by
the first-named. Paintings in which there is not the least gleam of
talent have, in the most celebrated galleries of Italy, been tricked
out, without the least shadow of proof, with the glorious name of
Leonardo. On the other hand, it is perfectly true that Victor Hugo is
the author of the _Châtiments_. The conclusion is, that the most precise
indications of authorship are never sufficient _by themselves_. They
only afford a presumption, strong or weak--very strong, in general,
where modern documents are concerned, often very weak in the case of
ancient documents. False indications of authorship exist, some foisted
upon insignificant works in order to enhance their value, some appended
to works of merit in order to serve the reputation of a particular
person, or to mystify posterity; and there are a hundred other motives
which may easily be imagined, and of which a list has been drawn up:[81]
the "pseudepigraphic" literature of antiquity and the middle ages is
enormous. There are, in addition, documents which are forged from
beginning to end; the forgers have naturally furnished them with very
precise indications of their alleged authorship. Verification is
therefore necessary. But how is it to be had? When the apparent
authorship of a document is suspected, we use for its verification the
same method which serves to fix, as far as possible, the origin of
documents which are furnished with no indications at all on this head.
As the procedure is the same in both cases, it is not necessary to
distinguish further between them.
I. The chief instrument used in the investigation of authorship is the
_internal analysis_ of the document under consideration, performed with
a view to bring out any indications it may contain of a nature to supply
information about the author, and the time and place in which he lived.
First of all we examine the handwriting of the document. Saint
Bonaventura was born in 1221; if poems attributed to him are contained
in manuscripts executed in the eleventh century, we have in this
circumstance an excellent proof that the attribution is ill-founded: no
document of which there exists a copy in eleventh-century handwriting
can be posterior in date to the eleventh century. Then we examine the
language. It is known that certain forms have only been used in certain
places and at certain dates. Most forgers have betrayed themselves by
ignorance of facts of this kind; they let slip modern words or phrases.
It has been possible to establish the fact that certain Phoenician
inscriptions, found in South America, were earlier than a certain German
dissertation on a point of Phoenician syntax. In the case of official
instruments we examine the formulæ. If a document which purports to be a
Merovingian charter does not exhibit the ordinary formulæ of genuine
Merovingian charters it must be spurious. Lastly, we note all the
positive data which occur in the document--the facts which are mentioned
or alluded to. When these facts are otherwise known, from sources which
a forger could not have had at his disposal, the _bonâ fides_ of the
document is established, and the date fixed approximately between the
most recent event of which the author shows knowledge, and the next
following event which he does not mention but would have done if he had
known of it. Arguments may also be founded on the circumstance that
particular facts are mentioned with approval, or particular opinions
expressed, and help us to make a conjectural estimate of the status, the
environment, and the character of the author.
When the internal analysis of a document is carefully performed, it
generally gives us a tolerably accurate notion of its authorship. By
means of a methodical comparison, instituted between the various
elements of the documents analysed and the corresponding elements of
similar documents whose authorship was known with certainty, the
detection of many a forgery[82] has been rendered possible, and
additional information acquired about the circumstances under which most
genuine documents have been produced.
The results obtained by internal analysis are supplemented and verified
by collecting all the external evidence relative to the document under
criticism which can be found scattered over the documents of the same or
later epochs--quotations, biographical details about the author, and so
on. Sometimes there is a significant absence of any such information:
the fact that an alleged Merovingian charter has not been quoted by
anybody before the seventeenth century, and has only been seen by a
seventeenth-century scholar who has been convicted of fraud, suggests
the thought that it is modern.
II. Hitherto we have considered only the simplest case, in which the
document under examination is the work of a single author. But many
documents have, at different times, received additions which it is
important to distinguish from the original text, in order that we may
not attribute to X, the author of the text, what really belongs to Y or
Z, his unforeseen collaborators.[83] There are two kinds of
additions--interpolations and continuations. To interpolate is to insert
into the text words or sentences which were not in the author's
manuscript.[84] Usually interpolations are accidental, due to the
negligence of the copyist, and explicable as the introduction into the
text of interlinear glosses or marginal notes; but there are cases where
some one has deliberately added to (or substituted for) the author's
text words or sentences out of his own head, for the sake of
completeness, ornament, or emphasis. If we had before us the manuscript
in which the deliberate interpolation was made, the appearance of the
added matter and the traces of erasure would make the case clear at
once. But the first interpolated copy has nearly always been lost, and
in the copies derived from it every trace of addition or substitution
has disappeared. There is no need to define "continuations." It is well
known that many chronicles of the middle ages have been "continued" by
various writers, none of whom took the trouble to indicate where his own
work began or ended.
Sometimes interpolations and continuations can be very readily
distinguished in the course of the operations for restoring a text of
which there are several copies, when it so happens that some of these
copies reproduce the primitive text as it was before any addition was
made to it. But if all the copies are founded on previous copies which
already contained the interpolations or continuations, recourse must be
had to internal analysis. Is the style uniform throughout the document?
Does the book breathe one and the same spirit from cover to cover? Are
there no contradictions, no gaps in the sequence of ideas? In practice,
when the continuators or interpolators have been men of well-marked
personality and decided views, analysis will separate the original from
the additions as cleanly as a pair of scissors. When the whole is
written in a level, colourless style, the lines of division are not so
easy to see; it is then better to confess the fact than to multiply
hypotheses.
III. The critical investigation of authorship is not finished as soon as
a document has been accurately or approximately localised in space and
time, and as much information as possible obtained about the author or
authors.[85] Here is a book: we wish to ascertain the origin of the
information contained in it, that is, to be in a position to appreciate
its value; is it enough to know that it was written in 1890, at Paris,
by So-and-so? Perhaps So-and-so copied slavishly, without mentioning the
fact, an earlier work, written in 1850. The responsible guarantor of the
borrowed parts is not So-and-so, but the author of 1850. Plagiarism, it
is true, is now rare, forbidden by the law, and considered
dishonourable; formerly it was common, tolerated, and unpunished. Many
historical documents, with every appearance of originality, are nothing
but unavowed repetitions of earlier documents, and historians
occasionally experience, in this connection, remarkable disillusions.
Certain passages in Eginhard, a ninth-century chronicler, are borrowed
from Suetonius: they have nothing to do with the history of the ninth
century; how if the fact had not been discovered? An event is attested
three times, by three chroniclers; but these three attestations, which
agree so admirably, are really only one if it is ascertained that two of
the three chroniclers copied the third, or that the three parallel
accounts have been drawn from one and the same source. Pontifical
letters and Imperial charters of the middle ages contain eloquent
passages which must not be taken seriously; they are part of the
official style, and were copied word for word from chancery formularies.
It belongs to the investigation of authorship to discover, as far as
possible, the _sources_ utilised by the authors of documents.
The problem thus presented to us has some resemblance to that of the
restoration of texts of which we have already spoken. In both cases we
proceed on the assumption that identical readings have a common source:
a number of different scribes, in transcribing a text, will not make
exactly the same mistakes in exactly the same places; a number of
different writers, relating the same facts, will not have viewed them
from exactly the same standpoint, nor will they say the same things in
exactly the same language. The great complexity of historical events
makes it extremely improbable that two independent observers should
narrate them in the same manner. We endeavour to group the documents
into families in the same way as we make families of manuscripts.
Similarly, we are enabled in the result to draw up genealogical tables.
The examiners who correct the compositions of candidates for the
bachelor's degree sometimes notice that the papers of two candidates who
sat next each other bear a family likeness. If they have a mind to find
out which is derived from the other, they have no difficulty in doing
so, in spite of the petty artifices (slight modifications, expansions,
abstracts, additions, suppressions, transpositions) which the plagiarist
multiplies in order to throw suspicion off the scent The two guilty ones
are sufficiently betrayed by their common errors; the more culpable of
the two is detected by the slips he will have made, and especially by
the errors in his own papers which are due to peculiarities in those of
his accommodating friend. Similarly when two ancient documents are in
question: when the author of one has copied directly from the other, the
filiation is generally easy to establish; the plagiarist, whether he
abridges or expands, nearly always betrays himself sooner or later.[86]
When there are three documents in a family their mutual relationships
are sometimes harder to specify. Let A, B, and C be the documents.
Suppose A is the common source: perhaps B and C copied it independently;
perhaps C only knew A through the medium of B, or B knew it only through
C. If B and C have abridged the common source in different ways, they
are evidently independent. When B depends on C, or _vice versâ_, we have
the simplest case, treated in the preceding paragraph. But suppose the
author of C combined A and B, while B had already used A: the genealogy
begins to get complicated. It is more complicated still when there are
four, five, or more documents in a family, for the number of possible
combinations increases with great rapidity. However, if too many
intermediate links have not been lost, criticism succeeds in
disentangling the relationships by persistent and ingenious applications
of the method of repeated comparisons. Modern scholars (Krusch, for
example, who has made a speciality of Merovingian hagiography) have
recently constructed, by the use of this method, precise genealogies of
the utmost solidity.[87] The results of the critical investigation of
authorship, as applied to the filiation of documents, are of two kinds.
Firstly, lost documents are reconstructed. Suppose two chroniclers, B
and C, have used, each in his own way, a common source X, which has now
disappeared. We may form an idea of X by piecing together the fragments
of it which occur imbedded in B and C, just as we form an idea of a lost
manuscript by comparing the partial copies of it which have been
preserved. On the other hand, criticism destroys the authority of a host
of "authentic" documents--that is, documents which no one suspects of
having been falsified--by showing that they are derivative, that they
are worth whatever their sources may be worth, and that, when they
embellish their sources with imaginary details and rhetorical
flourishes, they are worth just nothing at all. In Germany and England
editors of documents have introduced the excellent system of printing
borrowed passages in small characters, and original passages whose
source is unknown in larger characters. Thanks to this system it is
possible to see at a glance that celebrated chronicles, which are often
(very wrongly) quoted, are mere compilations, of no value in themselves:
thus the _Flores historiarum_ of the self-styled Matthew of Westminster,
perhaps the most popular of the English mediæval chronicles, are almost
entirely taken from original works by Wendover and Matthew of Paris.[88]
IV. The critical investigation of authorship saves historians from huge
blunders. Its results are striking. By eliminating spurious documents,
by detecting false ascriptions, by determining the conditions of
production of documents which had been defaced by time, and by
connecting them with their sources,[89] it has rendered services of such
magnitude that to-day it is regarded as having a special right to the
name of "criticism." It is usual to say of an historian that he "fails
in criticism" when he neglects to distinguish between documents, when he
never mistrusts traditional ascriptions, and when he accepts, as if
afraid to lose a single one, all the pieces of information, ancient or
modern, good or bad, which come to him, from whatever quarter.[90]
This view is perfectly just. We must not, however, be satisfied with
this form of criticism, and we must not abuse it.
We must not abuse it. The extreme of distrust, in these matters, is
almost as mischievous as the extreme of credulity. Père Hardouin, who
attributed the works of Vergil and Horace to mediæval monks, was every
whit as ridiculous as the victim of Vrain-Lucas. It is an abuse of the
methods of this species of criticism to apply them, as has been done,
indiscriminately, for the mere pleasure of it. The bunglers who have
used this species of criticism to brand as spurious perfectly genuine
documents, such as the writings of Hroswitha, the _Ligurinus_, and the
bull _Unam Sanctam_,[91] or to establish imaginary filiations between
certain annals, on the strength of superficial indications, would have
discredited criticism before now if that had been possible. It is
praiseworthy, certainly, to react against those who never raise a doubt
about the authorship of a document; but it is carrying the reaction too
far to take an exclusive interest in periods of history which depend on
documents of uncertain authorship. The only reason why the documents of
modern and contemporary history are found less interesting than those of
antiquity and the early middle ages, is that the identity which nearly
always obtains between their apparent and their real authorship leaves
no room for those knotty problems of attribution in which the _virtuosi_
of criticism are accustomed to display their skill.[92]
Nor must we be content with it. The critical investigation of
authorship, like textual criticism, is preparatory, and its results
negative. Its final aim and crowning achievement is to get rid of
documents which are not documents, and which would have misled us; that
is all. "It teaches us not to use bad documents; it does not teach us
how to turn good ones to account."[93] It is not the whole of
"historical criticism;" it is only one stone in the edifice.[94]
CHAPTER IV
CRITICAL CLASSIFICATION OF SOURCES
By the help of the preceding operations the documents, all the
documents, let us suppose, of a given class, or relating to a given
subject, have been found. We know where they are; the text of each has
been restored, if necessary, and each has been critically examined in
respect of authorship. We know where they have come from. It remains to
combine and classify the materials thus verified. This is the last of
the operations which may be called preparatory to the work of higher (or
internal) criticism and construction.
Whoever studies a point of history is obliged, first of all, to classify
his sources. To arrange, in a rational and convenient manner, the
verified materials before making use of them, is an apparently humble,
but really very important, part of the historian's profession. Those who
have learnt how to do it possess, on that account alone, a marked
advantage: they give themselves less trouble, and they obtain better
results; the others waste their time and labour; they are smothered
sometimes under the disorderly mass of notes, extracts, copies, scraps,
which they themselves have accumulated. Who was it spoke of those busy
people who spend their lives lifting building-stones without knowing
where to place them, raising as they do so clouds of blinding dust?
I. Here, again, we have to confess that the first, the natural impulse,
is not the right one. The first impulse of most men who have to utilise
a number of texts is to make notes from them, one after another, in the
order in which they study them. Many of the early scholars (whose papers
we possess) worked on this system, and so do most beginners who are not
warned beforehand; the latter keep, as the former kept, note-books,
which they fill continuously and progressively with notes on the texts
they are interested in. This method is utterly wrong. The materials
collected must be classified sooner or later; otherwise it would be
necessary, when occasion arose, to deal separately with the materials
bearing on a given point, to read right through the whole series of
note-books, and this laborious process would have to be repeated every
time a new detail was wanted. If this method seems attractive at first,
it is because it appears to save time. But this is false economy; the
ultimate result is, an enormous addition to the labour of search, and
great difficulty in combining the materials.
Others, well understanding the advantages of systematic classification,
have proposed to fit their materials, as fast as collected, into their
appropriate places in a prearranged scheme. For this purpose they use
note-books of which every page has first been provided with a heading.
Thus all the entries of the same kind are close to one another. This
system leaves something to be desired; for additions will not always
fit without inconvenience into their proper place; and the scheme of
classification, once adopted, is rigid, and can only be modified with
difficulty. Many librarians used to draw up their catalogues on this
plan, which is now universally condemned.
There is a still more barbarous method, which need not receive more than
passing mention. This is simply to register documents in the memory
without taking written notes. This method has been used. Historians
endowed with excellent memories, and lazy to boot, have indulged this
whim, with the result that their quotations and references are mostly
inexact. The human memory is a delicate piece of registering apparatus,
but it is so little an instrument of precision that such presumption is
inexcusable.
Every one admits nowadays that it is advisable to collect materials on
separate cards or slips of paper. The notes from each document are
entered upon a loose leaf furnished with the precisest possible
indications of origin. The advantages of this artifice are obvious: the
detachability of the slips enables us to group them at will in a host of
different combinations; if necessary, to change their places: it is easy
to bring texts of the same kind together, and to incorporate additions,
as they are acquired, in the interior of the groups to which they
belong. As for documents which are interesting from several points of
view, and which ought to appear in several groups, it is sufficient to
enter them several times over on different slips; or they may be
represented, as often as may be required, on reference-slips. Moreover,
the method of slips is the only one mechanically possible for the
purpose of forming, classifying, and utilising a collection of documents
of any great extent. Statisticians, financiers, and men of letters who
observe, have now discovered this as well as scholars.
The method of slips is not without its drawbacks. Each slip ought to be
furnished with precise references to the source from which its contents
have been derived; consequently, if a document has been analysed upon
fifty different slips, the same references must be repeated fifty times.
Hence a slight increase in the amount of writing to be done. It is
certainly on account of this trivial complication that some obstinately
cling to the inferior note-book system. Again, in virtue of their very
detachability, the slips, or loose leaves, are liable to go astray; and
when a slip is lost how is it to be replaced? To begin with, its
disappearance is not perceived, and, if it were, the only remedy would
be to go right through all the work already done from beginning to end.
But the truth is, experience has suggested a variety of very simple
precautions, which we need not here explain in detail, by which the
drawbacks of the system are reduced to a minimum. It is recommended to
use slips of uniform size and tough material, and to arrange them at the
earliest opportunity in covers or drawers or otherwise. Every one is
free to form his own habits in these matters. But it is well to realise
beforehand that these habits, according as they are more or less
rational and practical, have a direct influence on the results of
scientific work. Renan speaks of "these points of private librarianship
which make up the half of scientific work."[95] This is not too strong.
One scholar will owe a good part of his well-deserved reputation to his
method of collecting, while another will be, so to speak, paralysed by
his clumsiness in that particular.[96]
After having collected the documents, whether copied _in extenso_ or
abridged, on slips or loose leaves, we classify them. On what scheme? In
what order? Clearly different cases must be treated differently, and it
would not be reasonable to lay down precise formulæ to govern them all.
However, we may give a few general considerations.
II. We distinguish between the historian who classifies verified
documents for the purposes of historical work, and the scholar who
compiles "_Regesta_." By the words "_Regesta_" and "_Corpus_" we
understand methodically classified collections of historical documents.
In a "_Corpus_" documents are reproduced _in extenso_; in "_Regesta_"
they are analysed and described.
The use of these compilations is to assist researchers in collecting
documents. Scholars set themselves to perform, once for all, tasks of
search and classification from which, thanks to them, the public will
henceforth be free.
Documents may be grouped according to their date, according to their
place of origin, according to their contents, according to their
form.[97] Here we have the four categories of time, place, species, and
form; by superposing, then, we obtain divisions of smaller extent. We
may undertake, for example, to make a group of all the documents having
a given form, of a given country, and lying between two given dates
(French royal charters of the reign of Philip Augustus); or of all the
documents of a given form (Latin inscriptions); or of a given species
(Latin hymns); of a given epoch (antiquity, the middle ages). We may
recall, by way of illustration, the existence of a _Corpus Inscriptionum
Græcarum_, of a _Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum_, of a _Corpus
Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum_, the _Regesta Imperii_ of J. F.
Böhmer and his continuators, the _Regesta Pontificum Romanorum_ of P.
Jaffé and A. Potthast.
Whatever the division chosen, there are two alternatives: either the
documents to be placed in this division are dated or they are not.
If they are dated, as is the case, for example, with the charters issued
from the chancery of a prince, care will have been taken to place at the
head of each slip the date (expressed in modern reckoning) of the
document entered upon it. Nothing is then easier than to group in
chronological order all the slips, that is, all the documents, which
have been collected. The rule is to use chronological classification
whenever possible. There is only one difficulty, and that is of a
practical order. Even in the most favourable circumstances some of the
documents will have accidentally lost their dates; these dates the
compiler is bound to restore, or at least to attempt to restore; long
and patient research is necessary for the purpose.
If the documents are not dated, a choice must be made between the
alphabetical, the geographical, and the systematic order. The history of
the _Corpus_ of Latin inscriptions bears witness to the difficulty of
this choice. "The arrangement according to date was impossible, seeing
that most of the inscriptions are not dated. From the time of Smetius it
was usual to divide them into classes, that is, a distinction was made,
resting solely on the contents of the inscription, and having no regard
to their place of origin, between religious, sepulchral, military, and
poetical inscriptions, those which have a public character, and those
which only concern private persons, and so on. Boeckh, although he had
preferred the geographical arrangement for his _Corpus Inscriptionum
Græcarum_, was of opinion that the arrangement by subjects, which had
been hitherto employed, was the only possible one for a Latin
_Corpus_...." [Even those who, in France, proposed the geographical
arrangement] "wished to make an exception of texts relating to the
general history of a country, certainly, at any rate, in the case of the
Empire; in 1845 Zumpt defended a very complicated eclectic system of
this kind. In 1847 Mommsen still rejected the geographical arrangement
except for municipal inscriptions, and in 1852, when he published the
Inscriptions of the Kingdom of Naples, he had not entirely changed his
opinion. It was only on being charged by the Academy of Berlin with the
publication of the _Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum_, that, grown wise by
experience, he rejected even the exceptions proposed by Egger in the
case of the general history of a province, and thought it his duty to
keep to the geographical arrangement pure and simple."[98] And yet,
considering the nature of epigraphic documents, the arrangement
according to place was the only rational one. This has been amply
demonstrated for more than fifty years; but collectors of inscriptions
did not come to an agreement on the subject till after two centuries of
tentative efforts in different directions. For two centuries collections
of Latin inscriptions have been made without any perception of the fact
that "to group inscriptions according to their subjects is much the same
thing as to publish an edition of Cicero in which his speeches,
treatises, and letters should be cut up and the fragments arranged
according to their subject-matter;" that "epigraphic monuments belonging
to the same territory mutually explain each other when placed side by
side;" and, lastly, that "while it is all but impossible to range in
order of subject-matter a hundred thousand inscriptions nearly all of
which belong to several categories; on the other hand, each monument has
but one place, and a very definite place, in the geographical
order."[99]
The alphabetical arrangement is very convenient when the chronological
and geographical arrangements are unsuitable. There are documents, such
as the sermons, the hymns, and the secular songs of the middle ages,
which are not precisely dated or localised. They are arranged in the
alphabetical order of their _incipit_--that is, the words with which
they begin.[100]
The systematic order, or arrangement by subjects, is not to be
recommended for the compilation of a _Corpus_ or of _regesta_. It is
always arbitrary, and leads to inevitable repetition and confusion.
Besides, given collections arranged in chronological, geographical, or
alphabetical order, nothing more than the addition of a good table of
contents is needed to make them available for all the purposes which
would be served by a systematic arrangement. One of the chief rules of
the art of _Corpus_ and _regesta_-making, that great art which has been
carried to such perfection in the second half of the nineteenth
century,[101] is to provide these collections, whatever the grouping
adopted, with a variety of tables and indexes of a kind to facilitate
the use of them: _incipit_ tables in chronological _regesta_ which lend
themselves to such treatment, indexes of names and dates in _regesta_
arranged by order of _incipit_, and so on.
_Corpus_ and _regesta_-makers collect and classify for the use of others
documents in which, at any rate in _all_ of which, they have no direct
interest, and are absorbed in this labour. Ordinary workers, on the
other hand, only collect and classify materials useful for their
individual studies. Hence certain differences arise. For example, the
arrangement by subjects, on a predetermined system, which is so little
to be recommended for great collections, often provides those who are
composing monographs on their own account with a scheme of
classification preferable to any other. But it will always be well to
cultivate the mechanical habits of which professional compilers have
learnt the value by experience: to write at the head of every slip its
date, if there is occasion for it, and a heading[102] in any case; to
multiply cross-references and indices; to keep a record, on a separate
set of slips, of all the sources utilised, in order to avoid the danger
of having to work a second time through materials already dealt with.
The regular observance of these maxims goes a great way towards making
scientific historical work easier and more solid. The possession of a
well-arranged, though incomplete, collection of slips has enabled M. B.
Hauréau to exhibit to the end of his life an undeniable mastery over the
very special class of historical problems which he studied.[103]
CHAPTER V
CRITICAL SCHOLARSHIP AND SCHOLARS
The sum of the operations described in the preceding chapters
(restoration of texts, investigation of authorship, collection and
classification of verified documents) constitutes the vast domain of
external criticism, or critical scholarship.
The public at large, with its vulgar and superficial standards, has
nothing but disdain for the whole of critical scholarship. Some of its
votaries, on the other hand, are inclined to exalt it unduly. But there
is a happy medium between these extremes of over-appreciation and
contempt.
The crude opinion of those who pity and despise the minute analysis of
external criticism hardly deserves refutation. There is only one
argument for the legitimacy and honourable character of the obscure
labours of erudition, but it is a decisive argument: it rests on their
indispensability. No erudition, no history. "_Non sunt contemnenda quasi
parva_," says St. Jerome, "_sine quibus magna constare non
possunt_."[104]
On the other hand, scholars by profession, in their zeal to justify
their pride in their work, are not content with maintaining its
necessity; they allow themselves to be carried away into an exaggeration
of its merit and importance. It has been said that the sure methods of
external criticism have raised history to the dignity of a science, "of
an exact science;" that critical investigations of authorship "enable
us, better than any other study, to gain a profound insight into past
ages;" that the habit of criticising texts refines or even confers the
"historical sense." It has been tacitly assumed that external criticism
is the whole of historical criticism, and that beyond the purgation,
emendation, and classification of documents there is nothing left to do.
This illusion, common enough among specialists, is too crude to need
express refutation; the fact is, that it is the psychological criticism
which deals with interpretation and examines into the good faith and
accuracy of authors that has, better than any other study, enabled us to
gain a profound insight into past ages, not external criticism.[105] An
historian who should be fortunate enough to find all the documents
bearing on his studies already edited correctly, classified, and
critically examined as to authorship, would be in just as good a
position to use them for writing history as if he had performed all the
preliminary operations himself. It is quite possible, whatever may be
said, to have the historical sense in full measure without having ever,
both literally and figuratively, wiped away the dust from original
documents--that is, without having discovered and restored them for
oneself. We need not interpret in the Jewish or etymological sense the
dictum of Renan: "I do not think it possible for any one to acquire a
clear notion of history, its limits, and the amount of confidence to be
placed in the different categories of historical investigation, unless
he is in the habit of _handling_ original documents."[106] This is to be
understood as simply referring to the habit of going direct to the
sources, and treating definite problems.[107] Without doubt a day will
come when all the documents relating to the history of classical
antiquity shall have been edited and treated critically. There will then
be no more room, in this department of study, for textual criticism or
the investigation of sources; but, for all that, the conditions for the
treatment of general ancient history, or special parts of it, will be
then eminently favourable. External criticism, as we cannot too often
repeat, is entirely preparatory; it is a means, not an end; the ideal
state of things would be that it should have been already sufficiently
practised that we might dispense with it for the future; it is only a
temporary necessity. Theoretically, not only is it unnecessary for those
who wish to make historical syntheses to do for themselves the
preparatory work on the materials which they use, but we have a right to
ask, as has been often asked, whether there is any advantage in their
doing it.[108] Would it not be preferable that workers in the field of
history should specialise? On the one class--the specialists--would
devolve the absorbing tasks of external or erudite criticism; the
others, relieved of the weight of these tasks, would have greater
liberty to devote themselves to the work of higher criticism, of
combination and construction. Such was the opinion of Mark Pattison, who
said, _History cannot be written from manuscripts_, which is as much as
to say: "It is impossible for a man to write history from documents
which he is obliged to put for himself into a condition in which they
can be used."
Formerly the professions of "critical scholar" and "historian" were, in
fact, clearly distinguished. The "historians" cultivated the empty and
pompous species of literature which then was known as "history," without
considering themselves bound to keep in touch with the work of the
scholars. The latter, for their part, determined by their critical
researches the conditions under which history must be written, but were
at no pains to write it themselves. Content to collect, emend, and
classify historical documents, they took no interest in history, and
understood the past no better than did the mass of their contemporaries.
The scholars acted as though erudition were an end in itself, and the
historians as if they had been able to reconstruct vanished realities by
the mere force of reflection and ingenuity applied to the inferior
documents, which were common property. So complete a divorce between
erudition and history seems to-day almost inexplicable, and it was in
truth mischievous enough. We need not say that the present advocates of
the division of labour in history have nothing of the kind in view. It
is admittedly necessary that close relations should obtain between the
world of historians and that of critical scholars, for the work of the
latter has no reason for existence beyond its utility to the former. All
that is meant is, that certain analytical and all synthetic operations
are not necessarily better performed when they are performed by the same
person; that though the characters of historian and scholar may be
combined, there is nothing illegitimate in their separation; and that
perhaps this separation is desirable in theory, as, in practice, it is
often a necessity.
In practice, what happens is as follows. Whatever part of history a man
undertakes to study, there are only three possible cases. In the first
the sources have already been emended and classified; in the second the
preliminary work on the sources, which has been only partially done, or
not at all, offers no great difficulty; in the third the sources are in
a very bad state, and require a great deal of labour to fit them for
use. We may observe, in passing, that there is naturally no proportion
between the intrinsic importance of the subject and the amount of
preliminary work which must be done before it can be treated: there are
some subjects of the highest interest, for example the history of the
origin and early development of Christianity, which could not be
properly attacked till after the completion of investigations which
occupied several generations of scholars; but the material criticism of
the sources of the history of the French Revolution, another subject of
the first rank, gave much less trouble; and there are comparatively
unimportant problems in mediæval history which will not be solved till
after an immense amount of external criticism shall have been performed.
In the two first cases the expediency of a division of labour does not
come in question. But take the third case. A man of ability discovers
that the documents which are necessary for the treatment of a point of
history are in a very bad condition; they are scattered, corrupt, and
untrustworthy. He must take his choice; either he must abandon the
subject, having no taste for the mechanical operations which he knows to
be necessary, but which, as he foresees, would absorb the whole of his
energy; or else he resolves to enter upon the preparatory critical work,
without concealing from himself that in all probability he will never
have time to utilise the materials he has verified, and that he will
therefore be working for those who will come after him. If he adopts the
second alternative he becomes a critical scholar by profession, as it
were in spite of himself. _A priori_, it is true, there is nothing to
prevent those who make great collections of texts and publish critical
editions from using their own compilations and editions for the writing
of history; and we see, as a matter of fact, that several men have
divided themselves between the preparatory tasks of external criticism
and the more exalted labours of historical construction: it is enough to
mention the names of Waitz, Mommsen, and Hauréau. But this combination
is very rare, for several reasons. The first is the shortness of life;
there are catalogues, editions, _regesta_ on a great scale, the
construction of which entails so much mechanical labour as to exhaust
the strength of the most zealous worker. The second is the fact that,
for many persons, the tasks of critical scholarship are not without
their charm; nearly every one finds in them a singular satisfaction in
the long run; and some have confined themselves to these tasks who
might, strictly speaking, have aspired to higher things.
Is it a good thing in itself that some workers should, voluntarily or
not, confine themselves to the researches of critical scholarship? Yes,
without a doubt. In the study of history, the results of the division of
labour are the same as in the industrial arts, and highly
satisfactory--more abundant, more successful, better regulated
production. Critics who have been long habituated to the restoration of
texts restore them with incomparable dexterity and sureness; those who
devote themselves exclusively to investigations of authorship and
sources have intuitions which would not occur to others less versed in
this difficult and highly specialised branch; those who have spent
their lives in the construction of catalogues and the compilation of
_regesta_ construct and compile them more easily, more quickly, and
better than the man in the street. Thus, not only is there no special
reason for requiring every "historian" to be at the same time an active
worker in the field of critical scholarship, but even those scholars who
are engaged in the operations of external criticism come under different
categories. Similarly, in a stoneyard there is no point in the architect
being at the same time a workman, nor have all the workmen the same
functions. Although most critical scholars have not rigorously
specialised so far, and although they vary their pleasures by
voluntarily executing different kinds of critical work, it would be easy
to name some who are specialists in descriptive catalogues and indexes
(archivists, librarians, and the like), others who are more particularly
"critics" (purifiers, restorers, and editors of texts), and others who
are pre-eminently compilers of _regesta_. "The moment it is admitted
that erudition is only valuable for the sake of its results, it becomes
impossible to carry the division of scientific labour too far;"[109] and
the progress of the historical sciences corresponds to the narrower and
narrower specialisation of the workers. It was possible, not very long
ago, for the same man to devote himself successively to all the
operations of historical inquiry, but that was because he appealed to a
not very exacting public: nowadays we require of those who criticise
documents a minute accuracy and an absolute perfection which presuppose
real professional skill. The historical sciences have now reached a
stage in their evolution at which the main lines have been traced, the
great discoveries made, and nothing remains but a more precise treatment
of details. We feel instinctively that any further advance must be by
dint of investigations of such extent, and analyses of such depth, as
none but specialists are capable of.
But the best justification of the division of workers into "scholars"
and "historians" (and of the distribution of the former among the
various branches of external criticism) is to be found in the fact that
different persons have a natural vocation for different tasks. One of
the chief justifications of the institution of higher historical
teaching is, in our opinion, the opportunity afforded the teachers
(presumably men of experience) of discerning in the students, in the
course of their university career, either the germ of a vocation for
critical scholarship, or fundamental unfitness for critical work, as the
case may be.[110] _Criticus non fit, sed nascitur._ For one who is not
endowed by nature with certain aptitudes, a career of technical
erudition has nothing but disappointments in store: the greatest service
that can be rendered to young men hesitating whether to adopt such a
career or not is to warn them of the fact. Those who hitherto have
devoted themselves to the preparatory tasks of criticism have either
chosen them in preference to others because they had a taste for them,
or else have submitted to them because they knew they were necessary;
those who engaged in them by choice have less merit, from the ethical
point of view, than those who submitted to them, but, for all that, they
have mostly obtained better results, because they have worked, not as a
matter of duty, but joyfully and whole-heartedly. It is important that
every one should realise the situation, and, in his own as well as the
general interest, embrace the special work which suits him best.
We now propose to examine the natural aptitudes which fit, and the truly
prohibitory defects which disqualify, for the labours of external
criticism. We shall, then, devote a few words to the effects produced on
the character by professional habituation to the labours of critical
scholarship.
The chief condition of success in these labours is to like them. Those
who are exceptionally gifted as poets or thinkers--that is, those who
are endowed with creative power--have much difficulty in adapting
themselves to the technical drudgery of preparatory criticism: they are
far from despising it; on the contrary, they hold it in honour, if they
are clear-sighted; but they shrink from devoting themselves to it, for
fear of using a razor, as is said, to cut stones. "I have no mind,"
wrote Leibnitz to Basnage, who had exhorted him to compile an immense
_Corpus_ of unpublished and printed documents relating to the history of
the law of nations; "I have no mind to turn transcriber.... Does it not
occur to you that the advice you give me resembles that of a man who
should wish to marry his friend to a shrew? For to engage a man in a
lifelong work is much the same as to find him a wife."[111] And Renan,
speaking of those immense preliminary labours "which have rendered
possible the researches of the higher criticism" and attempts at
historical construction, says: "The man who, with livelier intellectual
needs [than those of the men who performed these labours], should now
accomplish such an act of abnegation, would be a hero...."[112] Although
Renan directed the publication of the _Corpus Inscriptionum
Semiticarum_, and Leibnitz was the editor of the _Scriptores rerum
Brunsvicensium_, neither Leibnitz, nor Renan, nor their peers have,
fortunately, had the heroism to sacrifice their higher faculties to
purely critical learning.
Outside the class of superior men (and the infinitely more numerous
class of those who wrongly think themselves such), nearly every one, as
we have already said, finds in the long run a kind of satisfaction in
the minutiæ of preparatory criticism. The reason is, that the practice
of this criticism appeals to and develops two very widespread
tastes--the taste for collecting and the taste for puzzles. The pleasure
of collecting is one which is felt not by children only, but by adults
as well, no matter whether the collection be one of various readings or
of postage-stamps. The deciphering of rebuses, the solution of small
problems of strictly definite scope, are occupations which attract many
able minds. Every find brings pleasure, and in the field of erudition
there are innumerable finds--some lying exposed and obvious, some
guarded by all but impenetrable barriers--to reward both those who do
and those who do not delight in surmounting difficulties. All the
scholars of any distinction have possessed in an eminent degree the
instincts of the collector and the puzzle-solver, and some of them have
been quite conscious of the fact. "The more difficulties we encountered
in our chosen path," says M. Hauréau, "the more the enterprise pleased
us. This species of labour, which is called bibliography [investigations
of authorship, principally from the point of view of pseudepigraphy],
could not aspire to the homage of the public, but it has a great
attraction for those who devote themselves to it. Yes, it is doubtless a
humble study, but how many others are there which so often compensate
the trouble they give by affording us opportunity to cry Eureka."[113]
Julien Havet, when he was "already known to the learned men of Europe,"
used to divert himself "by apparently frivolous amusements, such as
guessing square words or deciphering cryptograms."[114] Profound
instincts, and, for all the childish or ridiculous perversions which
they may exhibit in certain individuals, of the highest utility! After
all, these are forms, the most rudimentary forms, of the scientific
spirit. Those who are devoid of them have no place in the world of
critical scholarship. But those who aspire to be critical scholars will
always be numerous; for the labours of interpretation, construction, and
exposition require the rarest gifts: all those whom chance has thrown
into the study of history, who desire to do useful work in that
department, but are wanting in psychological tact, or find composition
irksome, will always allow themselves to be fascinated by the simple and
calm pleasures of the preliminary tasks.
But in order to succeed in critical labours it is not enough to like
them. It is necessary to possess qualifications "for which zeal is no
substitute." What qualifications? Those who have asked this question
have answered vaguely: "Qualifications of the moral rather than the
intellectual order, patience, intellectual honesty...." Is it not
possible to be more precise?
There are young students with no _a priori_ repugnance for the labours
of external criticism, who perhaps are even disposed to like them, who
yet are--experience has shown it--totally incapable of performing them.
There would be nothing perplexing in this if these persons were
intellectually feeble; this incapacity would then be but one
manifestation of their general weakness; nor yet if they had gone
through no technical apprenticeship. But we are concerned with men of
education and intelligence, sometimes of exceptional ability, who do not
labour under the above disadvantages. These are the people of whom we
hear: "He works badly, he has the genius of inaccuracy." Their
catalogues, their editions, their _regesta_, their monographs swarm with
imperfections, and never inspire confidence; try as they may, they
never attain, I do not say absolute accuracy, but any decent degree of
accuracy. They are subject to "chronic inaccuracy," a disease of which
the English historian Froude is a typical and celebrated case. Froude
was a gifted writer, but destined never to advance any statement that
was not disfigured by error; it has been said of him that he was
constitutionally inaccurate. For example, he had visited the city of
Adelaide in Australia: "We saw," says he, "below us, in a basin with a
river winding through it, a city of 150,000 inhabitants, none of whom
has ever known or will ever know one moment's anxiety as to the
recurring regularity of his three meals a day." Thus Froude, now for the
facts: Adelaide is built on an eminence; no river runs through it; when
Froude visited it the population did not exceed 75,000, and it was
suffering from a famine at the time. And more of the same kind.[115]
Froude was perfectly aware of the utility of criticism, and he was even
one of the first in England to base the study of history on that of
original documents, as well unpublished as published; but his mental
conformation rendered him altogether unfit for the emendation of texts;
indeed, he murdered them, unintentionally, whenever he touched them.
Just as Daltonism (an affection of the organs of sight which prevents a
man from distinguishing correctly between red and green signals)
incapacitates for employment on a railway, so chronic inaccuracy, or
"Froude's Disease" (a malady not very difficult to diagnose) ought to be
regarded as incompatible with the professional practice of critical
scholarship.
Froude's Disease does not appear to have ever been studied by the
psychologists, nor, indeed, is it to be considered as a separate
pathological entity. Every one makes mistakes "out of carelessness,"
"through inadvertence," and in many other ways. What is abnormal is to
make many mistakes, to be always making them, in spite of the most
persevering efforts to be exact. Probably this phenomenon is connected
with weakness of the attention and excessive activity of the involuntary
(or subconscious) imagination which the will of the patient, lacking
strength and stability, is unable sufficiently to control. The
involuntary imagination intrudes upon intellectual operations only to
vitiate them; its part is to fill up the gaps of memory by conjecture,
to magnify and attenuate realities, and to confuse them with the
products of pure invention. Most children distort everything by
inexactitude of this kind, and it is only after a hard struggle that
they ever attain to a scrupulous accuracy--that is, learn to master
their imagination. Many men remain children, in this respect, the whole
of their lives.
But, let the psychological causes of Froude's Disease be what they may,
another point claims our attention. The man of the sanest and
best-balanced mind is liable to bungle the simplest kinds of critical
work if he does not allow them the necessary time. In these matters
precipitancy is the source of innumerable errors. It is rightly said
that patience is the cardinal virtue of the scholar. Do not work too
fast, act as if there were always something to be gained by waiting,
leave work undone rather than spoil it: these are maxims easy enough to
pronounce, but not to be followed in practice by any but persons of
calm temperament. There are nervous, excitable persons, who are always
in a hurry to get to the end, always seeking variety in their
occupations, and always anxious to dazzle and astonish: these may
possibly find honourable employment in other careers; but if they
embrace erudition, they are doomed to pile up a mass of provisional
work, which is likely to do more harm than good, and is sure in the long
run to cause them many a vexation. The true scholar is cool, reserved,
circumspect. In the midst of the turmoil of life, which flows past him
like a torrent, he never hurries. Why should he hurry? The important
thing is, that the work he does should be solid, definitive,
imperishable. Better "spend weeks polishing a masterpiece of a score of
pages" in order to convince two or three among the scholars of Europe
that a particular charter is spurious, or take ten years to construct
the best possible text of a corrupt document, than give to the press in
the same interval volumes of moderately accurate _anecdota_ which future
scholars will some day have to put through the mill again from beginning
to end.
Whatever special branch of critical scholarship a man may choose, he
ought to be gifted with prudence, an exceptionally powerful attention
and will, and, moreover, to combine a speculative turn of mind with
complete disinterestedness and little taste for action; for he must make
up his mind to work for distant and uncertain results, and, in nearly
every case, for the benefit of others. For textual criticism and the
investigation of sources, it is, moreover, very useful to have the
puzzle-solving instinct--that is, a nimble, ingenious mind, fertile in
hypotheses, prompt to seize and even to guess the relations of things.
For tasks of description and compilation (the preparation of inventories
and catalogues, _corpus_ and _regesta_-making) it is absolutely
necessary to possess the collector's instinct, together with an
exceptional appetite for work, and the qualities of order, industry, and
perseverance.[116] These are the aptitudes required. The labours of
external criticism are so distasteful to those who lack these aptitudes,
and the results obtained are, in their case, so small in comparison with
the time expended, that it is impossible for a man to make too sure of
his vocation before entering upon a career of critical scholarship. It
is pitiful to see those who, for want of a wise word spoken in due
season, lose their way and vainly exhaust themselves in such a career,
especially when they have good reason for believing that they might have
employed their talents to better advantage in other directions.[117]
II. As critical and preparatory tasks are remarkably well suited to the
temperament of a very large number of Germans, and as the activity of
German erudition during the present century has been enormous, it is to
Germany that we must go for the best cases of those mental deformations
which are produced, in the long run, by the habitual practice of
external criticism. Hardly a year passes but complaints are heard, in
and about the German universities, of the ill effects produced on
scholars by the tasks of criticism.
In 1890, Herr Philippi, as Rector of the University of Giessen, forcibly
deplored the chasm which, as he said, is opening between preparatory
criticism and general culture: textual criticism loses itself in
insignificant minutiæ; scholars collate for the mere pleasure of
collating; infinite precautions are employed in the restoration of
worthless documents; it is thus evident that "more importance is
attached to the materials of study than to its intellectual results."
The Rector of Giessen sees in the diffuse style of German scholars and
in the bitterness of their polemical writings an effect of the habit
they have contracted of "excessive preoccupation with little
things."[118] In the same year the same note was sounded, at the
University of Bâle, by Herr J. v. Pflugk-Harttung. "The highest branches
of historical science are despised," says this author in his
_Geschichtsbetrachtungen_[119]: "all that is valued is microscopic
observations and absolute accuracy in unimportant details. The criticism
of texts and sources has become a branch of sport: the least breach of
the rules of the game is considered unpardonable, while conformity to
them is en
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