Few, however, of those who read and study history ever come into contact
with the primary, or firsthand sources; they get their information
at second hand. It is much more convenient to read what the modern historian
Edward Gibbon says of Constantine than to refer to Eusebius, Eutropius
and other ancient writers from whom he gained knowledge. Moreover, Gibbon
carefully studied and compared all the primary sources, and it may be urged
that he has given a truer, fuller, and more attractive account of the period
than can be found in any one of them. His Decline and Fall of the Roman
Empire is certainly a work of the highest rank; but, nevertheless,
it is only report of others' reports. It is therefore not a primary
but a secondary source.
It is well known that the more often a report passes from mouth to mouth the less trustworthy and accurate it becomes. Unimportant details that appeal to the imagination will be magnified, while fundamental considerations are easily forgotten, if they happen be prosaic and commonplace. Historians, like other people, are sometimes fond of good stories and may be led astray by some false rumor which, once started into circulation, gets farther and farther from the truth with each repetition.
For example, a distinguished historian of the Church, Cardinal Baronius,
writing about 1600, made the statement, upon very insufficient evidence,
that, as the year 1000 approached, the people of Europe generally believed
that the world was about to come to an end. Robertson, a very popular Scotch
historian of the eighteenth century, repeated the statement and went on
to describe the terrible panic that seized sinful men as the awful year
drew on. Succeeding writers, including some very distinguished ones, accepted
and even elaborated Robertson's account. About thirty years ago, however,
a French scholar pointed out that there was really no adequate basis for
this strange tale. To the chroniclers of the time the year 1000 was clearly
no more portentous than 997 or 1003. This story of the panic, which
passed as historical fact for some three hundred years, offers an excellent
illustration of the danger of relying upon secondary sources.
For example, a little book or essay on Charlemagne might be written
after reading Hodgkin's Charles the Great, West's Alcuin,
and one or two other easily accessible books on the subject. On the other
hand, the writer might turn to the great French and German treatises of
Charlemagne's reign and become acquainted with all articles which have
appeared on the subject in historical journals or in the transactions of
learned societies. Every conscientious historian would wish, however, to
go still farther and directly see the evidence and draw personal conclusions.
A good historian would turn to the sources themselves and carefully read
the Annals of the Monastery of Lorsch, the life of Charlemagne
by his secretary, Einhard, and the socalled Annals of Einhard.
Such a research would also scrutinize all the numerous laws passed in Charlemagne's
reign and consult all the writers of the time who refer to the emperor
or to public events. In this way mastery would be gained of all that the
past has handed down to us on this subject and all that is to be known
about the matter. The most reliable historians, therefore, are ones who
examines the sources for themselves, but who at the same time take advantage
of the suggestions, criticisms, and explanations which have been made by
other scholars who have also studied the original documents.
This term may perhaps call up in the minds of some the vision of a solitary stoopshouldered, spectacled enthusiast, engaged in painfully deciphering obscure Latin abbreviations on yellow parchment. But it is a mistake to conclude that the primary sources are always difficult to get at, dull, and hard to read. On the contrary, they are sometimes ready to hand, and are often more vivid and entertaining than even the most striking descriptions by the pen of gifted writers like Gibbon or Macaulay.
The best secondary authorities stand to the sources somewhat as the description of a work of art or of a masterpiece of literature stands to the original. Just as we cannot afford to ignore the picture itself, or the great poem or drama, and confine ourselves to some one else's account of it, so in our historical work we ought to grasp every opportunity of examining for ourselves the foundations upon which history rests.
It may, of course, be urged that the trained historians, after acquainting themselves with the people and the circumstances of a particular period, can make better use of the sources than any relatively unskilled student. But, admitting the force of this argument, there is, nevertheless, so much to be learned from a study of the original accounts that cannot be reproduced by the most skilled hand, that no earnest student or reader should be content with secondhand descriptions when primary sources are available.
The sources are unconsciously molded by the spirit of the time in which
they were written. Every line gives some hint of the period in which the
author lived and makes an impression upon us which volumes of secondhand
accounts can never produce. The mere information, too, comes to us in a
form which we do not easily forget. The facts sink into our memory. One
who actually talked with Attila, or who witnessed the capture of Jerusalem
by the crusaders, is clearly more likely to excite our interest than a
writer of our own day, however much the modern writer may know of the king
of the Huns or of the first crusade. It makes no great impression upon
us to be told that the scholars of Dante's time had begun to be interested
once more in the ancient learning of the Greeks and Romans; but no one
can forget Dante's own poetic account of his kindly reception in the lower
regions by the august representatives of pagan literature, Homer, Horace,
Ovid, and Lucan, people "with eyes slow and grave, of great authority in
their looks," who "spake seldom and with soft voices." . . .
But all this is changed. Scholars may now sit at a convenient desk in a comfortable, welllighted library; they have clearly printed books before them, the texts of which have been established by a comparison of all the known manuscripts of the work in question. These have been collated by an expert; errors have been eliminated, and difficult passages annotated. The work has been carefully analyzed and supplied with an index, so that one may discover in a few moments just those paragraphs that have to do with the subject at hand.
The task of rendering the sources available has been a long and painful one, and has been going on for three or four hundred years. As early as the sixteenth century scholars began to bring together the medieval chronicles and print them in convenient collections. In the time of King Louis XIV of France a group of Benedictine monks in France won new distinction for their ancient order by publishing several admirable series and by preparing treatises to facilitate historical research.
The nineteenth century witnessed a development of the critical scientific
spirit which has made it necessary to reprint many sources that had appeared
previously in a defective form. Moreover, thousands of volumes of precious
material hitherto available only in manuscript have been added to our resources.
. . .
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© Paul Halsall January 1998
halsall@murray.fordham.edu