But we did not smoke. We spoke instead of history. [Former Civil War General, current member of the U.S. House of Representatives and Future President James] Garfield is a devoted reader of the classics. [Fictional ambassador] Baron Jacobi has read the classics but is not devoted to them as history -- “only as literature. Who, after all, believes a word that Julius Caeser wrote? His little ‘history’ was simply a sort of leg up for his political career.”
“But if we can’t believe those classical writers whose works have come down to us, then how can we ever know any history?” Garfield is passionate on the subject.
“I think, General, the answer to that is very simple. We cannot know any history, truly. I suppose somewhere, in Heaven perhaps, there is a Platonic history of the world, a precise true record. But what we think to be history is nothing but fiction. Isn’t that so, Mr. Schuyler? I appeal to you, perversely, since you are a historian.”
“And therefore a novelist?”
“Malgré vous.”
“I agree, Baron. There is no absolute record. When I was trying to write about the Communards in Paris -- and I was there at the time -- I could seldom find out just who was killed by whom.”
“But surely, gentlemen, there is a winnowing process. History is distilled from many conflicting witnesses. We do know that President Lincoln was murdered, that General Grant commanded the Union army.”
“But no one knows the name Achilles took when he hid himself among the ladies or the lyrics of those songs the sirens sang. If Mr. Schuyler will forgive me I prefer fiction to history, particularly if the narrative involves people that once lived, like Alexander the Great.”
“I must disagree,” I said, thinking of those dreadful novels by Dumas. “I always want to know what is true, if anyone knows it.”
“But no one does except the subject, and he -- like Caesar -- is more apt than not to lie.”
“But,” said Garfield, “we now have letters, diaries, newspaper cuttings--”
“Dear General, is there a newspaper in the United States -- other than The New York Times -- whose reports you believe?”
Garfield saw the humour. He laughed. “Well, if future historians will only read the Times--”
“They will think that the Grant Administration was absolutely superb -- as does the minister from Servia,” added the Baron quickly, “and entirely free of corruption. As for letters, journals, who ever writes the truth about himself?”
“You are too cynical for me, Baron,” said Garfield, himself every bit as cynical but in the agreeably open American way.
“I would make a bonfire of all historians, except Mr. Schuyler, and the early fabulists like Livy…”
“But how then would you learn about the past?”
“From Dante, Shakespeare, Scott -- all fiction writers.”
“But Shakespeare’s history is always wrong.”
“But his characters are always right. Anyway if you want to know what Julius Caesar or James G. Blaine or our own delicious James Garfield is really like, then look into a mirror and study with perfect attention what is reflected there.”
There, of course, is truth in fiction -- the best fiction often revealing some of the mist universal of truths -- but to think that fiction is the best way to know history? That’s got to be taken with a grain of salt from someone decidedly trying to sell the reader fiction as history. At least Vidal puts those words in the mouth of Baron Jacobi, not our intrepid -- and wholly historical -- narrator!
+ + +
This post first appeared on Eric Lanke's blog, an association executive and author. You can follow him on Twitter @ericlanke or contact him at eric.lanke@gmail.com.
No comments:
Post a Comment