Evening star., 1925-04-05

quently discovered the historian gong
to school to the novelist. promising
sight it is, too. 1t may reasonably be
assumed, however, that this Is not an
altogether free-will act on the part or
the savant For learning in each of
it's aspects has ever been partial TO
it's trappings and impedimenta, more
than little in love as well with It's
reputation--of immemorial sanction
a superior and exclusive caste.
But in these modern days democracy
has come to town, and republicanism
Moreover, the great material world
has been drawn together in a close
neighborhood of ready contacts anG
easy communication. These. working
together, have clearly played the devil
with exclusions and castles, with every
mandarinic implication whatsoever
These, working together have served
also to change the texture of govern
ment itself, lifting the average man
singly and in bulk-to an enormous
and still growing influence in the
vital affairs of peoples.
Such new and widely difused re-
sponsibility implies an, equally diff
fused general knowledge. 1t is at
this point that the scholar-the
scholar pure and simple-is called to-
a practical accounting. For. in the
face of this growing democracy, all
manner of useful learning is COM
manded to come down out of the
clouds, to emerge from the crypts
where il has so long and so jealousy
hidden itself Among the wise men
so summoned. none is more promptly
responding than the writer of his
tory. He knows, none better. that in
this new world of liberty, where Tom
and Dick and Harry are free, under
'fnalienable right" to lay helmsmen's
hands upon even the ship of state, it
behooves some seawise mariner to
chart the wide and unknown waters
upon which they are so buoyantly
setting out. This is the historians
immediate job. Men, as men, have not
changed in a million years. They'll
Tot change in another million. That
which. by and large, they have been
doing in this long past they are cer
"a in to be doins still in that equally
long future. E,Gs truth. under the
present spread and speed of Every
mans rise to social and political in
fuence, ceases to be merely a philo-
sophie abstraction of only academic
concern. 1t is now time to set aside
wings as the exclusive medium of
progress. Il is time to take on feet
IS well-feet set firmly to the ground,
body four square to the new situa-
zion. directing the actual present by
way of a no less actual past, pointing
The future by way of both.
x x
And so TO meet his novel task the
historian-a little sadly, maybe-is
beginning to discard much of the
'ryptic insignia OF his mighty lore.
He is doing more than this, q $ he
must do-he is barring this cumbrous
bulk of learning down to the naked
body of collective mans behaviors,
not only in the greatly significant
moments of history but in the years
and eras of its quiet. unspectacular
development as well. Having thus
stripped his subject, what to do next?
Clearly a problem. this. quite outside
his own familiar domain of collect
ing, proving. organizing and tabulat-
.nG bodies of authentic fact concern
ing this people or that one. A good
deal distraught-it is easy to be-
'eve-the practical historian in his
dilemma turns to the so successful
novelist for help. just possibly in the
familiar plant of the moment. "Oh,
what'll / do?" Give il TO 'em as
story" is the easy answer. To be
sure, Why had he not thought of
this himself? For even the thor
oughly dried scholar is able. under
pressure. to recall that Tell me
story" is the age-old and universal
petition whose response has created
Celtic bard, medieval minstrel and
minnesinger. and Mother Goose, and
Grimm, and Andersen. and James
Barrie and all the others, with host
yet 10 come-the whole multitudinous
family that through song and story
has fed the dreams and winged the
visions of generally inarticulate man
*
Just now, then. along with the nov
elist and the playwright, many of the
writers of history are turning to
drama itself as the only adequate
medium of that direct and general
appeal that constitutes the control
ling purpose and prime objective of
all history. Drama. in its essence, is
life itself. Its goal, to evoke living
men and women who act and react
in fundamental accord with the uni
versal laws of human nature. These
men and women, to meet the imme-
diate purpose of novelist and play
wright and the new writer of history,
are circumscribed by particular situa-
tion and definite problem. upon which
play the inevitable potencies of hered-
ity and environment Drama is the
medium that gives bodily resurrec-
tion to the past. reseting the pag-
eantry of ancient peoples. spreading
the spectacle of all men in all times
interlaced in the never-ending strug-
gle of human existence. 1t does more
than to re-embody the past-it identi-
fies it with the present in every one
of it's human implications. A guide,
Therefore, monitor as well. Drama
is also the ignition spark of interest,
giving light and glamour and conta-
gion to theme. Without the fame of
IL
place or pursuit.
over the novelist the new writer
of history has one distinct advantage.
His theme is buttressed in ready
made facts, to which he is bound in
full and complete allegiance.
Whereas it is the task of the novelist
to create fiction in the similitude of
fact. In other respects they hold
equal chance for the honors of dra
matte power and appeal.
Here is a little group of this new
sort of history writers. Their work
illustrates capably the practical pur-
pose of the subject embodied in a
form admirably calculated to fulfill
that purpose.
THE MARITIME HISTORY OF MAS
SACHUSETTS. By Samuel Eliot
Morrison. Boston: Houghton Miff1in
Company.
In the new hall of Representatives
in Massachusetts, over a door just
ouposite the Speakers desk, there
hangs a wooden Goldfish, which, by
solemn official announcement. is
placed there as a memorial of the
Importance of the cod fishery to the
welfare of this commonwealth" A
fine touch of noblesse oblige. this,
since the history of maritime Massa-
chusetts is, in it's chief substance, the