and representative assemblies and the doings of the mob, skirmishes,
battles by land and sea, diplomatic intrigues, party combinations,
political and military plots, the characters of the actors in the
historic drama, and the setting of the stage on which they played.
While doing all parts of his task with workmanlike skill, a historian
will be found to excel in this thing or in that. Bancroft’s accounts of
military operations are always clear, energetic, and often extremely
readable. He could not, like Irving, ‘render you a fearful battle in
music,’ but he never made the mistake of supposing that he could. He
had not the graphical power of Parkman, but he had enough for his
purposes.
His character sketches of the men who figured in the struggles for
American independence are among the best parts of his writing. The
patriots and their friends in England and on the Continent are too
uniformly creatures of light, but their opponents are not represented
as necessarily creatures of darkness. If Bancroft could be more than
fair to his own side, he was incapable of being wholly unfair to the
other. His tendency is to regard human character as all of a piece,
fixed rather than fluctuating. Men (politicians included) have been
known to grow in virtue as they grow in years. Bancroft was over
complacent in his attitude towards frenzied impromptu Revolutionary
gatherings whose motives could not always have been so guiltlessly
patriotic and disinterested as he represents them.[18] He was but
little versed in the psychology of mobs.
Forceful at all points, Bancroft was singularly impressive in dealing
with history as it is made in parliaments and conventions, in council
chambers, cabinets, and courts of law. He was born to grapple with
whole state paper offices. He knew the secret of subordinating a vast
amount of detail to his main purpose. An important part of the American
Revolution took place in Europe. Bancroft’s capital merit consists in
his having brought the event into its largest relations. The story
as he told it did not merely concern the uprising of a few petty
quarrelsome colonies, it became an important chapter in the history of
liberty. Not for an instant did he permit himself to lose sight of that
‘idea of continuity which gives vitality to history.’
It is wonderful how through these seven volumes everything bends to
one idea; how it all becomes part of a demonstration, a detail in the
history of that spirit which, acting through discontent, led first to
local outbreak and resistance, then to concerted action and war, and
finally to the birth of a new nation.
The crown of Bancroft’s work is the story of how the states parted with
so much of their individuality as stood in the way of union, and then
united. Two volumes would seem to afford room for full and leisurely
treatment. But in fact the historian only accomplished his task by
enormous compression. Often the substance of a speech had to be given
in a sentence, and the deliberations of days in a few paragraphs.
The marshalling of facts, the grasp of the subject in detail and as
a whole, are extraordinary. Bancroft notes what forces led to union
and what opposed it. He marks the shifting of public sentiment, the
trembling of the balance, but he grants himself few privileges of the
sort called literary. Seldom dramatic or picturesque in this portion of
his narrative, he is at all times logically exact and magisterial.
* * * * *
There is a peculiar fitness in the word ‘monumental’ applied to
Bancroft’s work. It has solidity, strength, durability, a massive and
stately grandeur. It is a book which the modern reader finds it easy
to neglect; but he puts it in his library and never fails to commend
it to his friends, with a hypocritical expression of surprise at their
not being better acquainted with it. The truth is, we are spoiled by
more attractive historians. Macaulay, Froude, and Parkman have made us
indolent, fond of verbal comforts and disinclined to effort. We demand
not only to be instructed but to be vastly entertained at the same
time. Bancroft certainly instructs; it would be difficult to prove that
he also entertains.
His tone of confident eulogy is often condemned. On the whole, this
is a merit rather than a fault. Doubtless he admired too uniformly
and too much. Many writers have taken pleasure in showing that his
admiration was misplaced. And thus a balance is kept. It is a fortunate
thing for American literature that Bancroft’s vast work, destined to
so wide an influence, and the fruit of such immense labor, should
have been conceived and written in a generous and hopeful spirit. The
English reviewer who on the appearance of the first volume praised the
historian because he was ‘so fearlessly honest and impartial’ might
also have praised him because he was so fearlessly optimistic. This too
requires courage.
FOOTNOTES:
[11] Bancroft was twice married. His second wife was Mrs.
Elisabeth (Davis) Bliss.
[12] For an account of the privileges he enjoyed in making his
collections see _Winsor’s Narrative and Critical History of
America_, vol. viii, p. 477.
[13] W. M. Sloane.
[14] T. W. Higginson in ‘The Nation,’ January, 1891.
[15] Bancroft’s characteristics as a young man are admirably
brought out in the recently printed selection from his
letters and journals, edited by M. A. DeWolfe Howe.
‘Scribner’s Magazine,’ September and October, 1905.
[16] Two volumes of the original edition correspond to one volume
of the ‘author’s last revision,’ 1883–85.
[17] In the ‘last revision’ Epoch Four is divided into unequal
parts and the titles are reworded: Epoch first, ‘Britain
overthrows the European colonial system,’ 1748–63; Epoch
second, ‘Britain estranges America,’ 1763–74; Epoch third,
‘America takes up arms for self-defence and arrives at
independence,’ 1774–76; Epoch fourth, ‘America in alliance
with France,’ 1776--80; Epoch fifth, ‘The People of America
take their equal station among the powers of the earth,’ 1780
to December, 1782.
[18] J. F. Jameson speaks of Bancroft’s ‘tendency to
conventionalize, to compose his American populations of
highly virtuous Noah’s-ark men.’ _History of Historical
Writing in America_, 1891, p. 108.
V
_William Hickling Prescott_
REFERENCES:
=George Ticknor=: _Life of William Hickling Prescott_, 1864.
=Rollo Ogden=: _William Hickling Prescott_, ‘American Men of
Letters,’ 1904.
=H. T. Peck=: _William Hickling Prescott_, ‘English Men of
Letters,’ 1905.
I
HIS LIFE
The Prescotts are an ancient family as antiquity is reckoned in the
United States. The first Anglo-American of that name, John Prescott,
an old Cromwellian soldier, took up residence in this country about
1640, and after living awhile at Watertown, Massachusetts, made a
permanent home for himself at Lancaster, then a frontier settlement.
When thieving Indians plundered him, it is said that he used to put on
helmet, gorget, and cuirass, and start in pursuit. Being a powerful man
and stern of countenance, his terrific appearance in his armor had a
salutary effect on the red men.
Jonas Prescott, a son of the old warrior, settled at Groton,
Massachusetts, and there the family history centres for more than a
hundred years. They were a vigorous race, useful and conspicuous in
the military and civil affairs of the colony.
William Hickling Prescott, the historian, was born in Salem,
Massachusetts, on May 4, 1796. His father, Judge William Prescott, was
a man of eminent abilities, esteemed for his great legal acquirements
and beloved for his personal worth. His mother, Catharine Hickling, a
daughter of Thomas Hickling of Boston, was distinguished for energy
and benevolence, as well as for a certain gayety of temperament, a
trait which she transmitted to her famous son. The grandfather of
the historian was Colonel William Prescott, founder of the town of
Pepperell, who, on the night of June 16, 1775, with his force of a
thousand men, threw up a redoubt on Bunker (Breed’s) Hill, and on the
following day defended it until defence was no longer possible.
Prescott was drilled in the classics by one of old Parr’s pupils, the
Reverend Doctor John Gardiner, rector of Trinity Church, Boston. He
was an insatiable reader of books; but it were idle to assume that his
interest in Spanish history and literature took its first impulse, as
has been asserted, from the reading of Southey’s translation of _Amadis
of Gaul_.
He entered Harvard College in the Sophomore year and was graduated in
1814. A misfortune befell him early in his course which changed his
whole life and made enormous demands on his philosophy and courage.
In one of the frolics attending the breaking up of commons, when small
missiles were flying about the room, Prescott was struck full in the
left eye with a hard crust of bread. The sight was instantly destroyed,
and he lived for years in apprehension of what, fortunately, never
overtook him, total blindness.
He began the study of law, but illness and consequent weakening of the
power of vision put an end to it. In search of health and diversion he
went abroad. After spending some months in the Azores, in the family of
his maternal grandfather, Thomas Hickling, then United States consul
at St. Michael’s, he visited Italy, France, and England. In London he
consulted eminent oculists, who were able, however, to give him but
little encouragement.
Shortly after his return home he married Miss Susan Amory of Boston,
whose maternal grandfather, Captain Linzee, was in command of a British
sloop of war at the outbreak of the Revolution, and had cannonaded
the redoubt on Bunker Hill. In 1821 Prescott planned a course of
literary study. Beginning oddly enough with grammars and rhetorics, he
followed this preliminary reading with a wide survey first of English
literature, then of French and Italian. German he tried and gave up.
With his enfeebled sight he could do but little of the actual reading
for himself; the bulk of it had to be done for him.
Prescott’s literary life was peculiar in that he prepared himself to
become a man of letters with no definite conception of what he would
write about. He was not, like the literary heroes of whom we read, so
possessed of his subject from boyhood that all the ancient neighbors
distinctly recall early evidences of his predilection. His first
impulse towards the studies in which he won renown came from George
Ticknor. To help Prescott pass away his time Ticknor read to his
friend the lectures he had been giving to advanced classes at Harvard,
lectures which formed the basis of his _History of Spanish Literature_.
This was in 1824. Prescott became enthusiastic over the study of
the Spanish language and history. A year later he was thinking what
brilliant passages might be written on the Inquisition, the Conquest of
Granada, and the exploits of the Great Captain. After balancing Italian
and Spanish subjects against each other, he decided, not without
misgivings, on a history of Ferdinand and Isabella, and early in 1826
wrote to Alexander H. Everett, United States minister at Madrid, asking
his help in collecting materials.
Three and a half years of study preceded the writing of the first
chapter; ten and a half years in all were required to make the book.
Its enthusiastic reception from scholars and public alike led Prescott
to take up cognate subjects. The list of his writings is brief, but,
taking into account the difficulties involved, one may say without
exaggeration that Prescott’s historical works represent a labor little
short of titanic.
The _History of the Reign of Ferdinand and Isabella the Catholic_
appeared in 1837. It was followed by _The Conquest of Mexico_, 1843;
_Critical and Historical Essays_, 1845 (consisting chiefly of papers
reprinted from the ‘North American Review’); _The Conquest of Peru_,
1847; _The History of Philip the Second_, 1855 (left unfinished at the
author’s death). To this list of important works may be added a brief
continuation of Robertson’s _Charles the Fifth_, and a _Memoir of
Abbott Lawrence_.
Prescott’s life was without marked external incident. His surroundings
were ideal. Having inherited a fortune, he could give himself to
toilsome literary undertakings with no care for the financial result.
He took satisfaction in the thought of having refuted Johnson’s dictum
that no man could write history unless he had good eyes.
Early in 1858 Prescott was stricken with apoplexy, but so far recovered
as to be able to resume work on the _History of Philip the Second_. A
second attack (January 27, 1859) ended in his death.
II
PRESCOTT’S CHARACTER
To those who knew him in varying degrees of intimacy, whether as
friends, neighbors, or chance acquaintance, Prescott seemed the
incarnation of urbanity, thoughtfulness, good humor. To us who know
him only through the story of his life he seems notable for his heroic
qualities.
He had enormous courage and force of will. That other men have
performed great tasks under like difficulties cannot lessen the glory
of his individual achievement. Handicapped by partial blindness, he
wrote history, a type of literature which makes the most exacting
demands on the physical powers.
Had Prescott’s genius inclined him towards poetry or fiction, the
heroic element in his literary life would have been less noteworthy.
In general a novelist is not expected to read; what is chiefly
required of him in the way of preparation is, that he shall observe,
feel, and occasionally think--but not read; much reading makes a dull
story-teller. The novelist gleans material as he walks the street. For
his purpose an hour of talk with ‘a set of wretched un-idea’d girls,’
as Doctor Johnson half affectionately, half pettishly, called them, is
worth ten hours over a book. History is another matter. The historian
must often read a thousand pages in order to write one. And the work
of preparation is indescribably exhausting; there is so much detail
to set in order, so many documents to be consulted, such a wilderness
of notes to be arranged, compared, and fitted into place. The task,
difficult under the best conditions, must seem endless to any one with
an imperfect sense.
A man with good eye-sight is like a man with the free use of his legs,
he goes where he pleases. But a scholar with defective vision is an
invalid in a wheeled chair. Prescott, being denied one of the greatest
conveniences of study, was forced to try expedients. With most writers
pen and ink are an indispensable aid to composition. Prescott used
memory instead. Not only was the knowledge accumulated, arranged, and
weighed, but it was put into literary form, the paragraphs measured and
the sentences polished before the actual writing was begun. Prescott
often carried in his head, for days at a time, the equivalent of sixty
pages of printed text, and on occasion, seventy-five pages. Only by
reflecting on the difficulties met and overcome can the amateur of
literature arrive at a conception of Prescott’s indomitable courage.
Add to force and persistency of purpose another notable trait,
a passion for nobility of character. Prescott, unwearied in
self-examination, studied his own moral nature as he studied the pages
of his manuscript, that he might weed out the faults. The methods he
employed to this end were often whimsical, and even childlike; but in
their touching simplicity lies the best proof of the genuineness of the
motive that prompted them.
III
THE WRITER
Prescott gave unusual measure of time and thought to the problem of
expression. With a view to grounding himself in the technical part of
literature, he invoked the aid of those now forgotten worthies, Lindley
Murray and Hugh Blair--how greatly to his advantage would be difficult
to say. Books of this sort are so often disfigured by a vicious or,
what is worse, a commonplace style that it is a question whether one
does not lose by example all that he gains by precept.
Escaping these influences, Prescott took up the chief English authors,
beginning with Ascham, Sidney, Bacon, Browne, Raleigh, and Milton.
His mind was constantly on the alert to discover by what means these
masters produced their effects. His journals show how painstaking he
was in these studies, with what intense interest he turned the problem
of the art of expression over and over in his mind.
When he came to print, it was observed first of all that he had a
‘style.’ The self-conscious literary workman was plainly visible.
Prescott had evidently aimed to produce certain effects through the
balance of his periods, the choice of his words, the length and
structure of his sentences. Every one said: ‘He is an artist.’ Praise
could not have been more aptly bestowed. Among many eminent artists in
words Prescott was one of the most conscientious.
But the literary style of the _Ferdinand and Isabella_ had the defect
of being too apparent. One often found himself taking note of the
manner of expression before he took note of the thought. The panoply of
words glittered from afar. It was brilliant but metallic, magnificent
but artificial.
The criticism of his first book taught Prescott the futility of
worrying about style--after one has worried sufficiently. He was no
less anxious to improve; he noted the mannerisms into which he had
fallen, resolved to correct them, and that was the conclusion of the
whole matter. He stopped dwelling overmuch on the fashion of his
writing, and at once gained in ease and naturalness. After ten years
of labor he had mastered the materials of his art. His workmanship
improved to the last. The volumes of the _History of Philip the Second_
have literary characteristics so gracious as to add sharpness to the
regret that this noble work had to be left unfinished.
IV
THE HISTORIES
The _Ferdinand and Isabella_ is not a formidable book for size. A timid
reader, shrinking from fifteen hundred pages of any literature but
fiction, need not fear mortgaging too much of his time in the perusal.
Compared with a reading of Freeman’s _Norman Conquest_ or Carlyle’s
_Frederick_, his task is light.
In an introductory section Prescott traces the growth of Castile and
Aragon, with their dependencies, up to the time when Ferdinand and
Isabella come on the stage of history. Perhaps there is a lack of
detail here and there. One would like to know the steps of the process
by which the Spaniards regained the territory from which they had been
driven by the Saracenic invasion of the Eighth Century. Bitter as were
the jealousies and quarrels of the various petty states, they made
common cause against the Mohammedans. They hated the hereditary enemy
both as infidels and usurpers. Hatred fostered the national spirit.
The history proper is divided into two parts. The first has chiefly
to do with the internal policy of Ferdinand and Isabella. It was the
period when law displaced anarchy. The law might be severe or even
unjust, but it was at all events law. Here is shown how the power
of the nobles was curbed, warring factions pacified, banditti of all
sorts kept within bounds, and that too whether they lived in castles or
lurked in dark corners, heresy suppressed in a truly rigorous fashion,
above all the national ideal strengthened. To use a homely figure,
Ferdinand and Isabella took up the problem of national housekeeping and
handled it as it had never been handled before. A reign of order and
economy was inaugurated. Thieving servants were put under restraint
or discharged, poachers were apprehended, and the gypsies who had
impudently camped on the best part of the estates were driven off.
A government which for years had run at loose ends was now under
masterful control.
The second part illustrates the foreign policy of the two monarchs.
Having made a nation out of an assemblage of turbulent states,
Ferdinand and Isabella were enabled to take a conspicuous place among
the sovereigns of Europe. By good fortune in war and in discovery, by
diplomatic shrewdness and religious zeal, their influence was felt
throughout Europe and over the seas. Spain was no longer isolated. Her
name carried weight; her will was respected.
Much of the narrative proceeds by divisions each of which might have
been printed as a monograph. A certain amount of space is given to the
Inquisition, so much to the war in Granada, so many chapters to the
history of Columbus, so many to the colonial policy, to the Italian
wars, to the life of Gonsalvo of Cordova, to the career of Cardinal
Ximenes.
While in no sense neglecting the constitutional side of the problems
before him, the historian’s bent is to the biographical and pictorial
phases of the reign. On these he dwells with satisfaction and often in
detail. To him history is a pageant. The rich coloring of the period
first attracted Prescott; he can hardly be blamed for painting his
canvas in lively hues, for so he conceived the design. Neutral tints
and dull tones are wholly wanting. The blackness of certain events only
serves to bring out in stronger relief the resplendent brightness of
virtuous acts and the goodness of noble characters. Torquemada offsets
Isabella; the cruelty of war is forgotten in the splendor of chivalric
deeds.
It is not a history of the people of Spain. The people are not
forgotten; the struggle of the commons for recognition, for justice,
for the right to be themselves and express their individuality--these
things are taken into account. But the work belongs rather to that
older school of history which concerns itself for the most part with
wars and royal progresses, with the intrigues of councillors, the
machinations of prelates, the rivalries of great houses and powerful
orders.
The _History of the Conquest of Mexico_ is of about the same length as
its predecessor. The narrative, simpler in some ways and more vivacious
in others, is gorgeously colored throughout. Prescott was disturbed
by the picturesqueness of his own treatment. ‘Very like Miss Porter’
and ‘Rather boarding schoolish finery’ were his comments on certain
chapters.
The first of the seven ‘books’ into which the work is divided contains
an account of Aztec civilization. Sixty years have elapsed since these
pages were written, during which time American archæology has made
great advances. That the value of Prescott’s introduction is not wholly
destroyed is due to the healthy sceptical spirit which controlled his
work.
The story has every element of romance. A young Spanish gentleman,
handsome, witty, daring, an idler in college and a libertine, joins
the army of adventurers in the New World. For ten or fifteen years he
leads the life of men of his class. He becomes a planter in Hayti and
varies the monotony of watching Indians till the soil by suppressing
insurrections of their brother Indians.
He goes to Cuba as secretary to the governor of that island, quarrels
with his chief, makes his peace, and quarrels with him again. Thrown
repeatedly into prison, he escapes with the ease of a Baron Trenck.
Reconciled to the governor, he is appointed to lead an expedition into
the newly discovered kingdom of Mexico. On this venture he stakes
his every penny. With five hundred soldiers he proposes to subdue the
natives; two priests go along to convert the natives as fast as they
are subdued. His sailors number one hundred and ten; his pilot had
served under Columbus.
Arriving on the coast, he secretly scuttles his ships, all but one,
that there may be no retreat, and then begins that wonderful march to
the great city of the Aztecs. He fights by craft as well as by physical
force. The jealousy of mutually hostile tribes helps to win his
battles. Superstition comes to his aid, for the Spaniards are thought
to be gods, and the horses they bestride carry terror into the hearts
of the natives.