PROFESSOR FRED MORROW FLING, OF THE UNIVERSITY OF NEBRASKA.
I have been asked to write an article
explaining “just how a source book is to
be used, its relation to the text-book, the
kind of information and the kind of training
a careful teacher can impart through it
and the advantage it offers over the exclusive
use of secondary material.” Instead of
answering the whole question and treating
of all the uses of the source book, it seemed
wise to treat but one, the most characteristic
use to which the sources could be put,
namely, the critical study of sources as evidence,
for the purpose of training the pupil
in the methods of historical proof. The importance
that I attach to this matter of
method is due to my conception of educational
theory and of the logic of historical
science. About this broader basis upon
which the teaching of history must rest,
it may be well to say a word by way of
preface.
Personally I am in hearty sympathy with
the new educational theory that attributes
more importance to method than to matter.
Professor Lanson, of the University of
Paris, the distinguished historian of French
literature, has given so satisfactory a formulation
of the aims of this theory in its
application to secondary education that I
cannot do better than reproduce his statement.[1]
“Now it is necessary,” he writes, “to
prove that what we need to-day is minds
scientifically trained. Let us understand by
this word (scientifically) that sounds so
ambitious, minds that have the taste or the
sense for the true, that carry into all their
actions a serious desire for clear and exact
knowledge, that are conscious of the difficulties
and dangers that one encounters in
the pursuit of or in the elaboration of
truth, that distrusting everybody, themselves
as well as others, take all the precautions
indicated in each case in order not to
deceive themselves or to be deceived: these
precautions are what we call methods. The
methodical search for truth? There, in a
word, is what the scientific spirit means
and to make it dominate in secondary education
is to subordinate all studies to the
idea that their common end, their convergent
directions ought to be to fashion minds
that all their lives, in all things will know
how to practice the methodical search for
truth.... In every study and exercise,
the aim of the master ought to be to develop
in the minds of his pupils the sense
and the taste for truth, to cause them to
note how in each subject the truth is found
or missed, to put them, finally, in possession
of a certain method or discipline appropriate
to a certain object. It is not a matter
of having them learn a large number
of laws or facts, but, by well-chosen examples,
to learn what a mathematical truth
is and how it is elaborated; likewise a
chemical truth, a physiological truth, an
astronomical truth and a historical truth.
How does each of these truths of different
orders come into existence? By what
means does it separate itself from other
truths? What are the signs by which we
recognize it as truth? There is the knowledge
that ought to be the principal result
of their studies. The young people ought
to leave the high school having learned well
what the principal methods are by which
human knowledge is formed and to what
objects, for what results, each method is
applied. They ought, on leaving school, to
be trained to do nothing without method,
without a method chosen with discernment,
according to the object to be known or the
end to be attained.”
This appeals to me as the application to
education of the best recent thought in
philosophy and logic. Now the interesting
thing is that in this country, where the
mass of the teachers would probably reject
the theory and where supreme emphasis is
being laid on the acquisition of information
as the goal of educational effort, the teachers
of natural science are doing the very
thing the theory demands, namely, teaching
methods or processes by which one can
get at the truth or test what is supposed to
be the truth in natural science, and giving
along with the knowledge of these processes
but a modicum of information. The information
acquired in a laboratory course is not
sufficient to justify the time given to the
course. But it is not necessary to justify
it on any such ground. M. Lanson has
given the theory of which this natural science
laboratory work is the application.
It only remains to become conscious of
what it means, to extend the same method
to other studies and a great revolution has
been wrought in education, perhaps the
greatest in the history of pedagogy.
No subject would be more transformed
in its teaching by the introduction of
method work than history. But what is
history? What are the materials with
which the student works and what the
method by which he arrives at historical
truth? What is proof in historical study?
The teacher of history must be able to give
an answer to these questions, if he would
do his work intelligently and effectively.
What is history? How does it differ in
its aims and methods from natural science,
from political and economic science, from
sociology? According to the new logic, the
differences are fundamental. History concerns
itself with the unique evolution of
man in his activities as a social being. It
deals with human potentialities in their teleological
connections. Out of past social
facts it selects the unique facts that have
a value for the period that is being studied
and groups these facts in complex, evolving
wholes. History does not seek for what
is common to the social facts of the past;
it does not attempt to generalize, to establish
laws. It could not if it would, for it
deals with facts that have occurred but
once, that will not occur again, and a generalization
assumes repetition. The natural
sciences, on the other hand, including economics,
political science and sociology, deal
with substances and causal law. They
select for their syntheses what is common
to a group of facts; they generalize, they
aim to establish laws, to formulate the conditions
under which a thing will repeat
itself. Their ideal is the organization of
reality under the point of view of the general.
There is, of course, but one reality
and natural science and history are simply
two logical methods evolved by the human
mind for the purpose of organizing it that
it may be comprehended. The ends of the
two methods are different, and their methods
of getting at the truth are different.
The student trained in the one method is
not necessarily acquainted with the other.
The natural science method consists of a
direct study of the facts, and, as it is not
concerned with the unique as unique, it
may create situations and conditions, thus
securing abundant data for generalization.
For the historian this is impossible. He
studies not the fact, as the natural scientist
studies plants, animals and chemicals
in the laboratory; he has only the record
of the fact, the fact itself having gone
never to return. His knowledge of the
fact will depend upon the abundance
and value of the records the fact has
left behind it. Such records we call
sources. Sources, then, are the remains of
man’s social activities. They fall naturally
into two groups: remains and tradition.
Remains consist of objects that were parts
of the past event, and have survived the
destructive action of time; tradition embraces
the impressions of the event recorded
by witnesses, and may be oral, written or
pictorial in form. The historical reconstruction,
found in the narrative text, is
based, in a large majority of cases, upon
written tradition.
What is the method employed by the historian
in restoring the past from a study
of the sources? In simple language what
he does is this: he selects a subject for investigation,
searches for all the sources that
can throw any light upon it, criticises these
sources to determine their value and relationship,
compares the affirmations contained
in them to learn what the fact was,
and, finally, groups these facts in a complex
whole. It is only through an acquaintance
with this process, through the practical
application of it, that the pupil really
learns what the grounds for historical belief
are and is able to distinguish between
fact and fiction. No amount of reading,
even of the sources, can ever take the place
of this critical training in the historical
method, just as no amount of text-book
work in natural science can ever take the
place of the knowledge of method obtained
by actual work at the laboratory table. I
am aware that there are well-known teachers
and even very distinguished writers of
history in this country who treat this idea
of training in historical method, even for
undergraduates in colleges, as a matter not
worthy of serious consideration. Notwithstanding
this opposition in high places, I
am of the opinion that the method can be
taught and that it should be taught and
that in teaching it results have been obtained
that are quite as encouraging, it
seems to me, as those obtained in the laboratories
of the natural sciences. Most of
the arguments made against the teaching of
method in the secondary schools are quite
aside from the question. It is not to the
point to emphasize the difficulties of historical
work, the impossibility of obtaining
from young people results that can be obtained
only by trained investigators, or the
unwisdom of investigating subjects that
have never been investigated before,
although, for my part, I can see no serious
objection to this last course. All that the
sensible teacher, who knows what he is
about, expects to accomplish by the critical
study of the sources is to open the
eyes of his students to the meaning of
proof in history, to create an attitude of
healthy scepticism and to put into their
hands an instrument for getting at the
truth that they will have occasion to use
every hour in the day. If it is worth
while to acquaint the student with the
methods of the natural sciences—and I believe
that it is—it is certainly imperatively
important to give him some training in the
use of proof touching the truth of things
that he is constantly concerned with,
namely, the facts of social life. This position
seems so self-evident to me that I can
hardly conceive it possible that a teacher,
who accepts the new theory of education
and realizes the meaning of historical
method, would take any exceptions to it.
It might, however, be objected that, while
the method ought to be taught, it is not
practicable to teach it. It is to this objection
that the rest of the paper will be addressed.
It is well to concede at the outset that
historical method cannot be taught successfully
by a teacher who does not know what
it means or who has never applied the
method, i. e., done some research work. But
perhaps nothing would contribute more to
the development of a poorly-trained history
teacher than to oblige him to teach the
method; he would be forced to learn something
about it! It is because we have not
emphasized the method, because we have
not required our candidates for positions as
teachers of history to know how to investigate—what
would we think of a teacher of
chemistry who could not direct the work in
the laboratory!—that we have so much absolutely
impossible history teaching. The
question is, then, can a teacher who knows
what historical proof means successfully
conduct exercises in historical method in
a high school? I think there can be no
doubt of it. It is being done.
To conduct the work successfully a source
book, differing in some respects from the
majority of source books, is needed. There
are two kinds of historical facts: one class
can be established by a single source, the
other—and this is the more difficult, but at
the same time the more valuable as training—can
be proved to be true only by the
agreement of independent sources or witnesses.
For this last kind of work more
than two sources treating of the same event
are necessary. As the most of the source
books are only intended to supply collateral
reading, they contain little material that
could be used for critical exercises. My
source book on Greek history contains some
such exercises, and it would be a matter of
no great difficulty to supplement the sources
in any of the books by two or three extracts
dealing with the same topic.
Two exercises a week would be enough
for intensive critical work. The sources
should, of course, be in the hands of the
pupils and the attention of the class
should never be allowed to stray
from the evidence in the text. It is not
necessary that the work should be systematic
at the outset or that it should
be forced. It might be introduced in
a very simple and natural way by an
attempt to settle the truth of some point
upon which two school texts disagree. It
is a common practice, in schools where several
narratives are used, to assign different
texts to different pupils and in the recitation
hour, to compare the statements of the
writers. Suppose they disagree? I once
asked a teacher who employs this method
what she did in such a case. She answered
that they discussed the matter, and, if they
could reach no agreement as to which statement
was correct, they dropped it. A more
pernicious practice could hardly be imagined.
The class was run into a blind alley
and left there! The escape was easy
enough, if the teacher had been master of
the situation. It offered an excellent point
of departure for the introduction of the
study of historical method.
The problem should have been selected
by the teacher, as one easy of solution, the
trap laid and the class led into it. The
texts disagree; which states the truth?
Who wrote the texts? Suppose the event
treated is from the French Revolution.
How did the writers know anything about
it? What were their sources? How could
we find out what actually happened a century
ago? Evidently through the records
made by witnesses of the events. Have we
any such on this topic and who are they?
This question may be answered by the
teacher, who might put the sources into
the hands of the pupils, or a simple problem
in bibliography might be set the class and
the exercise postponed until the next meeting.
Let the pupils bring into the class the
statement of at least one man who, they
assume, knew something about this event.
Take up these sources in turn. How do the
pupils know that this account was really
written by this man? (Genuineness.) How
do they know that the man really knew
anything about the event? (Localization.)
How do they know that he made a correct
record of what he saw? (Value of the
source, based on perception and memory.)
Even if the man is a good witness, does his
unsupported statement (affirmation) prove
the fact? Dwell on the possibilities of
error; show that even if he wishes to tell
the truth, no man can be certain that his
uncontrolled memory is not playing him
false or that he saw the thing correctly in
the first place. Will the agreement of two
witnesses be sufficient to give us certainty?
Show that this is true only when the witnesses
are independent of each other. In
the problem taken up by the class, are
there two or more independent witnesses?
Is the fact upon which the school texts disagree
settled by the agreement of two independent
witnesses? If so, why do the
texts disagree? It may be due to the fact
that each writer used but one source, and
that the statement in that source was incorrect,
or the witnesses may disagree and
one writer may have accepted one statement,
the other another. If the conclusions
are not equally probable, try to show on
which side the weight of probability lies.
Point out, further, in conclusion, that where
we are not certain as to what happened—where
the witnesses disagree—we have only
probability, not certainty, and the secondary
text ought to make this clear.
The work may be continued in this way,
the secondary text supplying the weekly
problem, or the teacher may cut loose from
the text and supply graded problems that
increase in difficulty. In the latter case,
the class should be supplied with the problem,
the sources (two or three) and such
biographical data as will enable the pupils
to criticise the sources. Take each source
up in turn and require written answers,
with citation of proof, to the following
questionnaire: 1. Is this source genuine?
2. Who wrote it and when and where was
it written? 3. How much of it is first-hand
evidence and how much second-hand, i. e.,
how much did the witness see and hear
himself and how much did he get from some
other person? 4. What is the value of the
source as a whole, judged by the character
of the source (speech, letter, newspaper,
pamphlet, song, poem, etc.), the personality
of the witness (intellectually and morally)
and the time and place of making the records.
5. Make a note of what the witness
affirms concerning the event (interpretation.)
Let the independent criticism of the
sources be followed by a comparison of
them to learn whether or not they are independent.
Finally, request the pupils to
bring together under one head the affirmations
of the different witnesses on the point
under investigation and endeavor to determine
by a comparison of their statements
what the truth is. The result should be
formulated in writing in the shape of a
definite assertion, if the agreement of the
independent witnesses justify us in regarding
the fact as certain; otherwise it should
be represented simply as probable.
As a specific illustration, take the extracts
on the battle of Salamis given in
my “Source Book of Greek History” (pp.
118-127). Here are three sources, Æschylus’
“Persians,” Herodotus’ “History” and
Plutarch’s “Life of Themistocles,” containing
almost all the information we possess
upon the portion of the battle dealt with in
the source book. The extracts are accompanied
by the following questions that
should be answered in writing by the pupils
and form the foundation of the classroom
exercise: “1. Compare the three accounts
of the battle of Salamis given by Æschylus,
Herodotus and Plutarch, noting in what
they agree and in what they disagree. Are
they independent? 2. Which account is the
most valuable, and why? 3. Point out the
myths in these accounts, i. e., things that
could not have happened. 4. Make an outline
of the battle, using the sources, and
write a brief narrative, citing the sources.
Where they disagree, explain why you follow
one source rather than another.”
The answer to the first question should
be given in the form of three parallel columns
containing all the single affirmations
found in the different sources, references to
similar details appearing on the same
line in the different columns, thus facilitating
comparison. These columns should be
followed by (1) a column containing the
common details found in all the sources,
(2) a second column of details referred to
by two sources, and (3) other columns containing
details given by but one source. In
going through this operation all the pupils
will have noticed that Plutarch made use of
the “Persians,” and, consequently is not independent
of Æschylus. Before the questions
concerning the independence and value
of the sources can be answered, the sources
must be localized. Æschylus probably fought
in the battle of Salamis and was thus an
eyewitness. Note, however, the character
of this source; a play performed before the
Athenian people and presented some seven
years after the event. A play does not
offer a good opportunity to describe a battle
in detail; the dramatist would be influenced
by his desire to produce a work of art and
to impress his audience; he would have forgotten
much in the years that had passed
since the battle. Although the record of
an eyewitness, we cannot look upon this
play as the best kind of evidence.
Herodotus was an infant, playing in the
streets of Halicarnassus, when the battle
of Salamis was fought. He wrote his account
nearly fifty years later, basing it
largely, almost wholly, upon oral tradition,
although it is highly probable that he
was acquainted with the “Persians” when
he wrote. Nothing that Herodotus tells us
here came from personal observation, nor
do we know where he obtained his information,
i. e., whether it was simply common
report that he gathered up, or whether he
talked with the most reliable witnesses of
the battle. His account is less valuable
than that of Æschylus as a second-hand
record, but its form—a direct, detailed prose
narrative—is more favorable to truth.
Plutarch lived five hundred years after
the battle and obtained his information
about it as a reader to-day would obtain
information about the voyages of Columbus,
namely, by reading what later writers
had to say about them. He was not a critical
historian—neither was Herodotus—and
often based his narrative upon the poorest
kind of evidence. He refers in this extract
to four of the men of whose writings he has
made use, and one of them is Æschylus.
The evidence is not, as a whole, of a
satisfactory kind; the one witness says little,
and that in an unfortunate form, written
seven years after the battle; the second
writer depends upon oral tradition, reproduced
when it was so old that it had become
unreliable; the third writer is five
centuries removed from the event and an
uncritical compiler. How much certainty
can we reach about the battle of Salamis
from such evidence as this? Possibly only
the fact that the battle took place, for it is
not even certain that the Greeks won the
sweeping victory that is claimed in the
“Persians.” The details of the battle are
only probable, and the degree of probability
is decidedly low. This will become very
clear when the outline is made and it is
realized how much of our information
comes from Herodotus’ late oral tradition.
The only safe basis of historical certainty,
the agreement of independent witnesses, is
lacking here.
After the class has written a narrative
of the battle, let them compare it with the
narrative in two or three of the best school
histories. They will be somewhat surprised
to learn that these accounts contain no suggestion
of the uncertainty that surrounds
the history of the battle, but describe it
with all the confidence that might be displayed
by a historian of events established
by a cloud of witnesses.
It may be objected that this sort of
source work will raise very serious doubts
in the pupils’ minds as to whether we know
anything with certainty about the history
of the early centuries. But what if it does?
What harm has been done, if the impression
is a correct one? Is not much of our
knowledge concerning the history of the
Greeks and the Romans of the most fragile
character? Why attempt to conceal it?
Should not the pupils be taught by this
kind of critical study that much of what
is repeated with confidence as history has
hardly a shred of valuable evidence to rest
on? It is the first step toward the attainment
of the ideal that M. Lanson has so
clearly and convincingly set before us.