Abstract

1. A recent writer, who would have it that Biblical history is not so much an impartial or purely factual account of events as a series of edifying proclamations, protests that the objective writing of history is never feasible, since the historian who testifies to some event invariably reflects his own particular standpoint; the further away he is from the event, and the more personally interested he and his generation are in the issue, the more subjective his account is apt to be. This attempt to gather dogmatic figs off skeptical thistles rests upon the mistaken idea that what is called historical knowledge is a residual awareness of once present doings, growing ever fainter and more garbled as the transmission lengthens. Actually it is an acquired awareness of past doings. The historian’s task is not the clerkly compilation of pieces of tradition, i.e., reminiscences of outstanding events handed down orally, and excerpts from memoirs, i.e., an author’s written recollections of his own actions and experiences, of people whom he met, and of affairs to which he was close, if not a party. The historian treats tradition and memoirs not as history but as evidence of history, evidence being anything lying to hand from which the past can be reconstructed. Historiography was set on the path of a systematic and critical study when Herodotus of Halicarnassus made bold to scout some traditional tale and ended his own account of the affair with the words “These, then, are the facts as they appear to me.” If the historian could only serve up, spiced or unspiced, reports that had reached him, his fare would indeed be suspect, and even the agreement of historians would not wash away the taint of fabrication, but, as Napoleon Buonaparte suggested, would merely render history a fable convenue. The past which the critical historian unfolds, however, is what he has come to think for himself really happened.