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What History Will They Read, If Any?
As I sit here pouring over an account of Elihu Washburne — the onetime friend and confidant of Presidents Lincoln and Grant, and ambassador to France during a time of tremendous tumult and drama in the streets of Paris — I find myself marveling at how unaware we are of what is an undeniably riveting story of American honor and personal sacrifice, embodied in the valiant actions of a dutiful public servant in a hotbed of chaos and disorder.
If I had ever even heard of Elihu Washburne in my youth, I have long since forgotten it. Yet here I am in my mid-40s, and had I not encountered the story in the chapters of David McCullough’s The Greater Journey: Americans in Paris and my current reading of Michael Hill’s biography of Mr. Washburne (taken much from the latter’s own diary and dispatches during the Parisian tumult of the 1870’s), I would still know nothing of this remarkable piece of American history.
Mr. Washburne is most notable for his heroic actions to aid and protect American citizens and other foreign nationals in Paris during the Franco-Prussian war of 1870-71 and the civil strife and political disorder shortly thereafter. Interestingly, the impact Mr. Washburne had on American history may be even more consequential, for it was Elihu Washburne who first befriended and advanced the career of a certain Ulysses S. Grant on the eve of the American Civil War. It was Congressman Washburne who, as a close confidant of President Lincoln, convinced the Commander-in-Chief to promote Grant to the rank of brigadier general, leading to the eventual rise of Grant to the command of the entire Union Army. It is a fascinating plot line, and to think that until a couple of months ago, Mr. Washburne was a complete unknown to me.
I am fortunate, I suppose, in that, I had a teacher who instilled in me a love of history and the stories it has to tell. While the practical world holds me in bondage, relegating my passion for history to a mere hobby or pastime, I continue to adhere to the advice of that beloved teacher: if something interests you, go find a book about it and read, and then find another and read more, until your curiosity is sated.
I’m not inclined to rail against the trends of public (and private) education in this regard, although it is a vitally important topic. History is but a collection of accounts centered around people and events in time and the unique perceptions and perspectives of what occurred and why. I have long thought that a proper study of history’s figures and events require not a view from a single vantage point, but an overlapping panoramic from a great many such points. I have no major qualms about the selection of topics and stories to be taught, provided that care is taken to ensure that students are presented with the opportunity to explore the different perspectives and accounts of those people and events. All stories have a bias; only the degree varies. At the very least, the history that is taught should serve not as an end to knowledge, but a gateway to further exploration and discovery of what we have collectively forgotten about our own heritage and civilization.
No, my greater question is more abstract than simply developing a list of what should / should not be taught, or identifying what is “essential”. I find myself pondering not just “What history should they read?” but perhaps more importantly, “What history will they read?”. What stories of the past will prompt the next generation to put down their phones and pick up a book? Will they even pick up a book, or wait for someone to produce a movie or an original series on Netflix? What does it take to create a genuine thirst for knowledge that goes far beyond the base need for entertainment and sensory stimulation?
I have no answers, only concerns. Meanwhile, I have left the brave Mr. Washburne on the cusp of the great siege of Paris at the hands of the relentless Prussian army. It is quite a tale, and in his own words, no less. See you on the flip side.
Published in History
With an opening sentence like that I picture you with a pipe, and you’re wearing a smoking jacket, and there’s a snifter of fine brandy at your side.
When I was still in school, the SJW types had only just begun to suck all the good that the US has done out of the curriculum.
I ignored them.
Teach it all — the warts and the triumphs both. The reason that the kids don’t know any history is because they are only getting half of it, and it’s the dreary half to boot.
Grant himself, specifically his historic reputation in the quarter century after leaving office and the version largely “recognized” today through the lens of the cynical re-writing of the early twentieth century, is an excellent case study in just how so much can be “collectively forgotten about our own heritage and civilization”. Powerline has addressed this case of the “influence of the intellectual snobs and the leftists” at least twice in recent times:
Unfortunately, overreliance on the Cliffs Notes version of the “popular” history of Grant often leads to rather embarrassing commentary in even some of the most intellectual corners of the internet. More importantly, given the abundance of “intellectual snobs and the leftists” in the field of creating the available material today and the obvious lack of “genuine thirst for knowledge” in the consumers of important history, old and new alike, I am not optimistic…
So glad you mentioned this ^ I’ve had it on my Kindle and just haven’t read it yet. Thank you :)
Heh. I won’t disillusion you with reality. But there’s a hefty amount of coffee involved.
Exactly. In some other essay a while back, I wrote: “For even our greats are flawed, compromised morally, and that frequently. It is this truth that makes their accomplishments all the more noteworthy, even and especially despite the sometimes unsavory qualities and disastrous consequences that lace their narratives. Yet the least of our least, too, have stories that leave their indelible mark, moments of honor, even if fleeting. Should we not celebrate all and the fullness thereof, or must we obscure the undesired in favor of summary judgment, good or ill?”
Sometimes, I think I try to get too fancy with the words. But in essence, it is your point.
I’m not optimistic either, but that doesn’t mean that better sources can’t be found. But it takes effort, like chasing down books that are out of print, or deeper research. But those with only a casual interest will not likely make such effort, leaving themselves at the mercy of contemporary revisionism, in some cases. Too many of us are conditioned to look for singular “comprehensive” resources – I think the more resources the better.
I’m a sucker for a good McCullough book. :-) It’s a good one.
In my humble opinion, one problem is not so much looking for comprehensive sources but focusing only on new (newly written) sources by popular names everyone recognizes. I have found that used book stores can be a goldmine for leading to older sources that (may) provide important perspective to what we “know” today. With respect to my topic of choice here, Bruce Catton’s The Army of the Potomac Trilogy (1951-53) and the Captain Sam Grant (1950)/Grant Moves South (1960)/Grant Takes Command (1969) trilogy (by Lloyd Lewis and Bruce Catton) are good examples that have provided wonderful readings of this history. A more recent example from my reading list, on a completely different subject and also an example of going back to contemporary sources, is the writing of Victor Serge. More wonderful stuff.
I certainly understand that and agree. While I fully enjoy McCullough and the manner in which he makes the people and events of history accessible to the layman, I have often used what I’ve read in his books as a launching point to go search for other sources on topics of interest, Elihu Washburne being an example. Reading Brave Companions, for instance, introduced me to Frederic Remington, another fascinating character to me.
But again, many don’t make the effort to search out more than the minimum.
Elihu Washburn’s complete diary and letters written during the siege of Paris including the Commune was published in 2012 by Simon and Schuster. The diary and letters are annotated by historian Michael Hill and the book contains a forward by David McCullough. It is a riveting read and I heartily recommend it for anyone interested in this slice of American/French history.
Happy to be the one who got you on the Rec’ced feed. History buffs like you have a world of information to offer us.
I read them in college along with Grant’s Memoirs. The new Chernow biography of “Grant” is excellent although the account of his presidency is depressing. He was far too trusting of his friends. Washburne was a stalwart, however.
I have found that audio books are a good source for history. My wife and I listened to Robert Caro’s biography of Lyndon Johnson. I listened to it on my commute from Tucson to Phoenix twice a week. Then she heard part of it and wanted to start all over. We listened on a trip from Tucson to Orange County and back. The audio version of the four volumes is 80 hours. We have been listening to the Lewandowski and Bossie book, “Let Trump Be Trump.” I have been listening to Tom Holland’s “In the Shadow of the Sword,”</a> a history of Islam that has gotten him credible death threats. We will listen to that, from the beginning, on the way back to Tucson after Christmas. I have been a Civil War buff for 60 years and maps require hard cover books. Listening to audio books is a good way to learn the rest.
I have a very special request in with the gang at the North Pole…just hoping I have managed to stay off the naughty list this year. Maybe I’ll score the Chernow book as well…?
Washington Square (View Comment):
Elihu Washburn’s complete diary and letters written during the siege of Paris including the Commune was published in 2012 by Simon and Schuster. The diary and letters are annotated by historian Michael Hill and the book contains a forward by David McCullough. It is a riveting read and I heartily recommend it for anyone interested in this slice of American/French history.
From the book:
I chuckled out loud at that last, evidence of the man’s dry wit. Cannot help but to like this guy.
I have yet to really dig into Grant, although it sounds like perhaps I should. I tend to find myself more intrigued by stories of supporting cast, rather than well-known leads, as it were. Still, good references here, thanks.
He’s an unknown to me, and I’m interested in learning more. I do remember Chernow being questioned by Brian Lamb about him during an interview about Chernow’s latest biography.
That being said, there are a lot of people that have had an affect on history, and were happy to remain mostly anonymous. Harry Truman said that, “It is amazing what you can accomplish if you do not care who gets the credit.”
Given that Truman fell into the presidency, and was happy as an obscure U.S. Senator from Missouri working behind the scenes, he kind of lived that maxim. [Disclaimer: I’m an admirer of Truman the man, but not Truman’s policies].
It sounds like Elihu Washburne was the same.
I teach history, and I try very hard to instill that same intellectual curiosity that your former teacher did in you. (God bless her/him.)
But when they get to my class, they often have no foundation at all. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had a student write on a pre-test that Robert E Lee burned down Atlanta or Jefferson Davis was the president of the Union. (No. I’m not making that up for effect.)
With Some, I see how this changes. They get sucked into the general narrative and will end up like you: exploring forever. They often start out skeptical but become eager to learn. I love these students.
Others? Perhaps they write Grant burned down Atlanta because they mix him up with Sherman and are only memorizing names they’ll forget in an instant.
I try to change their minds, but I can only do so much when their minds are closed. I find these students tedious.
I don’t worry too much though.
There is that first group….
@lois-lane, thank you for what you do! So much of what you said very directly reminds me of Mrs. R, and a particular conversation I had with her my junior year of high school. I wrote down that remembrance years ago, and itself might be worthy of a separate post. I’m really tempted in fact. But to summarize, she agonized over the general lethargy with which her students approached the subject. During class discussions, she would at times propose wild counterfactuals just to try to provoke any kind of intellectual response. She opened up to me at one point, itself an unusual moment I have never forgotten:
She was “that one teacher”, for me.
I’d be good friends with Mrs. R.
You should find her—not hard to do with the internet—and send a letter to *her.*
I don’t still do Facebook, but I can’t relay how much it meant to me when old students would find me and make me feel as if what I had done with them mattered. She would love knowing you are still stumbling on new pieces in the grand history puzzle. I promise.
Indeed, I reconnected with Mrs R several years ago, and have shared much of this with her. We still stay in touch, periodically.
Walt Disney popularized nature documentaries for television. He did so while insisting that they entertain first, educate second. So many decades later, millions of people miss the good ole days when nature shows were fun and informative without complaint.
Walt also loved history. His films about Davy Crockett and wagons out west excited young boys about the American frontier. Other Disney films got us thinking about pirates, Spanish California, space travel, knights and kings, untamed Africa, daring inventors, and so much else.
With the internet, so much information is at our fingertips; so many sounds and images ready to invoke. A thirst for knowledge begins not with facts but with stories. The joy is in the telling.
The past is always compressed to fit in history books. As more and more Past accumulates, but neither human lives nor school years lengthen, we are always reduced to first analysis, then summary, then precis, and finally (if we’re lucky) a sentence on entire epochs. I remember my own student-teaching experience where I had to cover the Roman Empire. The textbook intended that it be covered in merely a week. A week? To cover 1000 years of the single-most formative and influential government of Western Civilization? It hardly seemed fair.