Some Recommended History Podcasts

I commute most days, and most of my time in the car is spent listening to – you guessed it! – history podcasts. I therefore thought I'd regale you with brief descriptions of some of my favorites. The list is in roughly chronological order. All of the selections are available at iTunes, either as podcasts or in the iTunes U section.

I've probably praised Yale history prof Donald Kagan's course on ancient Greek history before – I'm too lazy to check. Very briefly, Don Kagan (I'm always tempted to use a Marlon Brando-in-the-Godfather rasp and inflection) is one of the great figures in the ancient history field. His four volume work on the Peloponnesian War remains, almost forty years after its publication, the outstanding work on the subject. His lecturing skills have been highly regarded since at least the mid-1970s, when students packed his introduction to ancient Greek history course despite its esoteric subject matter, rigorous grading and Prof. Kagan's notorious status as a despised conservative on a campus that regarded Bobby Seale as a moderate. We are now blessed to have that course available. Take advantage.

Mike Duncan is no Don Kagan. Nonetheless, I've enjoyed – and continue to enjoy – his History of Rome podcasts a great deal. He's over 150 installments now, covering roughly 1.000 years from the appearance of a bunch of huts on the banks of the Tiber to the latter part of the empire (the western empire, at any rate) in the years following the death of Constantine. If you know little about Roman history, you'll learn a good deal. If you know your stuff, it's fun and relaxing, sort of like visiting with an old friend. My only warning is that some of the pronunciations will make you cringe.

Yale prof Keith E. Wrightson speaks with a delightful and mellifluous British accent – which is appropriate, I suppose, for a course on Early Modern England, i.e., basically the Tudors and the Stuarts, from roughly 1500 through 1700. Prof. Wrightson is so smooth that it can be a bit off-putting: one senses that every comma and pause is scripted. But he knows his material inside and out. Although the course includes much of the standard political history, where the good professor really shines, I think, is on the social and economic side. Although Prof. Wrightson repeatedly apologizes for those lectures (students must complain about economic history in particular in their reviews), he conveys a wonderful sense of the transformation of the country and much of its populace from an essentially medieval and local society to an increasingly urbanized and proto-industrial one with extensive regional and national ties.

I thank God that I did not take Stanford history prof Jack Rakove's course on colonial and revolutionary America as an undergraduate. Without background, I would have had no idea what he was talking about. The man is the exact opposite of the well-modulated Prof. Wrightson – he's manic. But it's the mania of a man whose ideas are so plentiful that they just come pouring out in a flood of words. Prof. Rakove is one of the leading scholars on the period of the early Republic and James Madison. My suggestion is that you first read Prof. Rakove's fine Original Meanings, which will give you an anchorage that will allow you to appreciate the torrent as it rushes by. Two subsidiary complaints. The course was recorded during the 2008 election season, and Prof. Rakove does not hesitate to display his adoration of the Big O. Second, there a few annoying comments about the Second Amendment, which he believes, for reasons that elude me, does not support an individual right to bear arms (I've read the brief he submitted to the Supremes and find it totally unconvincing). Prof. Rakove is living proof, I guess, that modern liberal ideology can trump the common sense of even an otherwise learned man.

Yale prof Joanne B. Freeman has a silly laugh, but that's what makes her great. Silly as it is, her laugh embodies and conveys the love for her subject in her course on the American Revolution. Prof. Freeman excels at humanizing the Founders – even the dour Thomas Jefferson – and at bringing home, for example, the communications and world-view gap (my phrase) between the colonists and the British, and explaining the unexpected shock and wrench that the colonists felt when they belatedly discovered that their love of their mother country and its institutions had led them revolt against it.

I think I've complained before that Yale prof David Blight sounds like Garrison Keillor (has no one else recognized this?). I also think, to be frank, that Prof. Blight can sometimes sound like a pompous ass. But if you can get past those two points (which I did), it's hard to ignore one of the leading authorities on the Civil War era. It's been a while since I've heard his course on the Civil War and Reconstruction Era, so I'm a little light on details, but as I recall you get a good, well-told survey of all the basics from about the Wilmot Proviso with a heavy dose, as you might expect, of memory, race, and the like.

I've placed Dan Carlin and his Hardcore History last only because Dan's podcast is unclassifiable. Dan's topics range from ancient Mesopotamia to Word War II. Or he can come up with quirky and fascinating subjects that range across history – Is slavery a baseline human condition? Until recently was the model for child rearing a form of child abuse? Dan's stentorian and melodramatic delivery seems to elicit mixed reviews, but I enjoy it as part of the overall over-the-top package that Dan is clearly trying to deliver. Over-the-top or not, the drama of Dan's episodes – whether it's Tiberius Gracchus being beaten to death or the slaughter of the Stalingrad campaign – can't be beat. My advice is to try out an episode. Don't like it? Fine. But if you like it you'll probably be hooked and have hours of listening pleasure ahead. Dan takes his older podcasts out of free access as he releases new ones, so I suggest downloading the older shows now; you can delete them if you don't like them.

I find my podcasts by browsing around iTunes and the internet. If anyone has other suggestions, I'd be glad to take them.

A Brief History of Pretty Much Eveything

Well done. Quiz second period tomorrow.

H/T Debby, Jonah's Odd Links Gal.

Was the Civil War Inevitable? The Secession of South Carolina

In his excellent new blog, Thoughts, Essays and Musings on the Civil War, Bob poses the question “Given Lincoln’s election in 1860, was the Civil War avoidable?” I thought I’d put in my two cents.

Luckily, I wasn’t one of Bob’s students, because this is precisely the sort of question I have trouble with. Most of the problem is that I see too many questions or issues within the question: I get bogged down in an infinite regression. The question can’t be answered, for example, without first considering the question whether the secession of the southern states was inevitable as of November 1860. And that question can’t be answered without first considering whether the secession of any southern state was inevitable as of November 1860.

I also get tied up in knots because there are all sorts of intermediate issues or hypotheses that must be considered. For example, what if secession had succeeded elsewhere in the deep south, but conditional unionists had been successful in staving off immediate secession in Georgia, where the ultimate vote proved fairly close?

Finally, Bob’s question also gets me tangled up in issues relating to counterfactuals, for after all this is in effect an attempt to pose a counterfactual scenario. But, to be worthwhile, counterfactuals need to be plausible. Some counterfactuals I can dream up are plainly beyond the pale: South Carolina is struck by a massive plague; Lincoln endorses constitutional amendments granting the right to bring slaves into all the territories and outlawing all state personal liberty laws. But in closer cases, where do you draw the line between plausible and implausible?

Having reduced myself to utter confusion, let me start with what seems to be the easiest sub-question: was the secession of even a single state inevitable in November 1860? It’s very hard for me to imagine a scenario in which at least one state did not do so. But I can imagine events unfolding somewhat differently than they wound up doing.

In Secessionists Triumphant, for example, William Freehling tells a dramatic story of a fortuitous event that hastened the calling of the South Carolina secession convention (previously discussed here). After Lincoln’s election, the most radical South Carolinians pushed for a secession convention as soon as possible: December 17, 1860. They lost. On November 9, 1860 the South Carolina Senate endorsed a January 15, 1861 date by a vote of 44-1. This created the threat, radicals feared, that “the legislature’s timetable might well leave South Carolina deciding [on secession] last, so that the Lower South’s majority could drag the most fiery state into a southern convention, where an Upper South majority might rule.” At about the same time, South Carolina senator James Henry Hammond wrote a letter in which he counseled against immediate secession.

Luckily for the radicals, Hammond’s letter was suppressed and never became public. And then a chance event permitted them to rescue victory from the jaws of defeat. On the evening of November 9, 1860 a dinner was held in Charleston to celebrate the opening of a railroad link between that city and Savannah, Georgia. Radicals arranged to have several of the Georgia celebrants give speeches in which they declared themselves, and by extension Georgia, in favor of South Carolina’s immediate secession.

The crowd was electrified. The celebrants wired the legislature in Columbia to demand an immediate convention and advising that they were hiring a special train to send representatives to enforce the message. The emissaries arrived at 2:00 p.m. on November 10. To make a long story short, the wire, the emissaries, and the belief that Georgia stood behind her (reinforced by a rumor that Georgia Senator Robert Toombs had resigned) did the trick:

The smothering atmosphere engulfed Columbia after the transforming news from Charleston arrived. By 4:30 P.M. on Saturday, November 10, almost exactly twenty-four hours after the Senate had voted 44-1 for a January 15 convention (with elections for delegates on January 8), the House voted 117-0 for a December 17 convention (with elections for delegates on December 6). That evening, the Senate concurred 42-0. Two days later, the . . . [December 17] convention date sailed unanimously through all three readings in both houses.

Professor Freehling believes that secession and war remained probable even if the date of the South Carolina convention had not been moved up. Charleston radicals might have mounted a coup d’etat and taken the state out of the Union.

If illegal mobs failed to cancel a South Carolina legislature delay, a Mississippi convention might have seized the Separatist initiative . . .. Alternatively, a southern convention might have met and served Separatists ironically well. Uncompromising Lower South delegates might have stormed out in protest against Upper South compromising. Such an exodus would likely have led to a cooperative Lower South secession. . . . Or the Lower and Upper South might have agreed on demands for northern concessions that Lincoln would have rejected. A northern rejection of a southern convention’s ultimatum could have led to disunion as swiftly as did the Charleston and Savannah Railroad’s celebration. All in all, the chances for the nation to finish 1861 peacefully intact were very poor.

Nonetheless, Prof. Freehling cannot eliminate the possibility that delay might have averted secession:

Thus as South Carolina Separatists feared (and Cooperationists elsewhere hoped), several weeks of delay just might have dulled the first sting of Lincoln’s election, even in South Carolina and then in Mississippi too. Subsequently, a southern convention just might have settled for an overt act ultimatum: No secession now but automatic disunion hereafter, if Republicans secured a federal antislavery edict. Or perhaps a southern convention just might have insisted on northern concessions that President-elect Lincoln might have considered negotiable. Or perhaps an unexpected coincidence, akin to the accident of the railroad’s timing, might again have deflected history a little off course [true in theory, but this sort of speculation might be deemed to violate the rule against unreasonable counterfactuals, discussed above]. All humans know, or should know, that the fortuitous can somewhat deflect apparently remorseless trends at any time or place.

Counterfactuals

While I have Kevin Levin’s attention (hopefully he’ll read this post), I’d like to respond to another thought he expressed in his recent post about Lincoln’s vice presidential choices in 1864. There Kevin stated, “I’m not a big fan of counterfactuals.”

I’ve always wondered why some historians seem so negative about counterfactuals. It’s certainly true that counterfactuals can be silly or stupid – What if the Confederates had an atom bomb at Gettysburg? But I would submit that much historical analysis – and much of what makes history fun – uses counterfactual reasoning.

Historians and history buffs alike routinely do more than simply recite facts: they express judgments about those facts. Some judgments are purely moral – Hitler was evil. But many, and perhaps most, are, in effect, covertly counterfactual. Take, for example, the judgment that the Compromise of 1850 was a Bad Thing (or a Good Thing), or that Robert E. Lee made a mistake in undertaking the Gettysburg campaign.

Both opinions are (or at least should be) judgments that weigh the option taken against other options that might have been taken. If I say that the Compromise of 1850 was a Bad Thing, I am saying, in effect, that there were other options that would have resulted in better outcomes. For example, I might be saying that I do not think that the South would have seceded (or Texas would not have invaded New Mexico territory) even if there had been no compromise. Or I might be saying that it would have been better for war to have come in 1850-51. But either way I am saying something about what might have happened if the Compromise did not occur.

Brian Dirck inadvertently makes precisely this point in his most recent post. He says that he did not pick Lincoln’s selection (or re-selection) of George McClellan as general as one of Lincoln's "worst flubs" because, in Brian’s view, Lincoln really didn’t have any other reasonably available option:

But I'm not sure if it would be fair to do so, because when you get right down to it, what were Lincoln's alternatives? It was painfully clear at that Winfield Scott was past his prime. Henry W. Halleck had his uses, but displayed many of McClellan's same failings. The country likely would not have tolerated elevating McDowell after the Bull Run debacle. As for Grant, Sherman and the other stars of the post-Gettysburg war, they had yet to prove their mettle in combat. McClellan probably was the only viable game in town, so it doesn't seem right to criticize Lincoln here for doing what pretty much any other president would have been compelled to do, given the available personnel.

This is, in effect, a series of counterfactual judgments. If, for example, Lincoln had selected Henry Halleck, he would have been as bad as or worse than McClellan. Fair enough. Based on Halleck’s performance in the posts he wound up actually holding, there is ample basis to agree. But you’re still projecting the outcome of an event – the appointment of Halleck – that never occurred.

Academic Earth

At Wig-Wags, Rene Tyree has a fantastic tip on a site called Academic Earth, which has downloadable lectures by leading academics. Since Rene focuses on David Blight's course on the Civil War Era and Reconstruction, let me recommend another: Donald Kagan's course on Ancient Greek History.

Professor Kagan has been a leading scholar on Ancient Greece for the past thirty plus years. His four-volume study of the Peloponnesian War, first published in the 1970s, remains the leading work on the subject. To top it all off, Professor Kagan has been known on the Yale campus for decades as one of the school's finest and most entertaining lecturers. Over the years, his introductory Greek History course has routinely been packed to the rafters -- and that despite the subject matter, the professor's rigorous grading, and his outspoken conservative political views, which have sometimes been controversial in Yale's left-wing culture.

The Irrepressible Conflict

Deterministic views of history are not fashionable these days. Everything is contingent; nothing is inevitable. I recently reread an essay that runs against the grain. Since I tend to be a contrarian, I thought I’d discuss it.

In his essay “The Irrepressible Conflict” (found in The Imperiled Union: Essays on the Background of the Civil War), Kenneth M. Stampp suggests that contingency can be taken too far. He does not argue that the Civil War was inevitable. He does observe, however, that it is hard to see how the country could have avoided some sort of showdown on slavery. Conflict was “irrepressible” in the sense that “the issues dividing the North and South were genuine and substantial and that conflict between them was a natural and logical result.”

Professor Stampp’s thoughts – the essay is more an exploration than a formal argument – are based, as he admits, on several assumptions. First, after a lengthy review of the historiography of Civil War causation, Professor Stampp makes clear that he accepts the contention that the dispute between the North and the South centered on slavery. “The abnormal irritant that created sectional tensions and placed so great a strain on the American political structure was the persistence of southern slavery far into the nineteenth century.” “The interplay of these proslavery and antislavery forces . . . brought on the” War. Second, he rejects the suggestion that slavery was “a decrepit institution about to die; rather it showed enormous vitality, remarkable flexibility as a labor system, and every prospect of a long life.”

Given these assumptions, Professor Stampp tries to imagine counterfactual scenarios in which Northerners and Southerners might not have reached an impasse over slavery – and rejects them all as unrealistic.

He addresses first the scenario implicitly presented by southerners and revisionist historians who have argued that Northerners artificially fanned antislavery sentiment for political gain: if only Northerners had shown more restraint, and suppressed their agitation against slavery, things would not have reached the point they did.

That, says Professor Stampp, is rubbish. First, any “plausible analysis of antebellum politics and of the options that were reasonably open to that generation must begin with the assumption that an antislavery movement would exist in the northern states.” That movement was the logical outgrowth of both secular, intellectual trends and religious trends. Moreover, “its characteristic rhetoric, tactics, and goals must also be recognized as quite normal for that age.”

In sum, it is not realistic, Professor Stampp submits, “to wish away the abolitionists” and their moralistic, condemnatory rhetoric. The burden therefore shifts to those who would “explain how an atmosphere favorable to political tranquility, compromise, and patient delay might have been maintained in spite of the irritant of an antislavery crusade.”

In the end, Professor Stampp concludes that it is equally fanciful to imagine a conciliatory South that turned the other cheek to such provocations, for such a hypothetical scenario “fails to recognize the predicament of the South.” “Slavery produced in the South . . . a special set of problems.” “Economic interests [i.e., the tremendous capital investment in slavery], racial beliefs [that helped to perpetuate slavery], and fear of slave insurrections impelled Southerners to make demands and take actions that precipitated a series of sectional confrontations culminating in the secession crisis of 1860-61.”

Professor Stampp concludes as follows:

There still remains the question of the evitability or inevitability of the Civil War itself – a question that will probably continue to be, as it now is, unanswerable. It may well be that the country reached a point sometime in the 1850s when it would have been almost impossible to avoid a violent resolution of the sectional crisis . . . and the point of no return may have been reached in 1857 . . .. This, of course, is sheer speculation, for, as Seward would have reminded us, to make a case for an irrepressible conflict is not to prove the inevitability of war . . .. The irrepressible conflict of the antebellum years made the war, if not inevitable, at least an understandable response to its stresses by men and women no more or less wise than we.

It strikes me that the issue of historical “inevitability” is something of a straw man: no one I know claims that historical events are inevitable. But, as I suggested at the beginning, I wonder whether the emphasis on contingency does not go too far. Is it not fair to suggest that at some point the range of likely options narrows to a precious few? Is it not reasonable to maintain that, at some point, the burden should shift to those who would argue that a radically different outcome remained feasible?

Narrative vs. Analytical History

The following quote comes from Michael J.C. Taylor's H-Net review of Mark A. Graber's book, Dred Scott and the Problem of Constitutional Evil (which I haven't read yet):

"What this author should consider--as should all historians whether of a scholarly or popular bent--is the ultimate value of history if but a very few ever read it. The whole point of writing of the past is to convey its importance and relevance to an audience that will digest the lessons it has to offer. If the work is to be savored by but a few scholars, the whole purpose of writing history is futile--it is akin to preaching to the faithful. An idea expressed in but a few eloquent words can prove timeless, while the most intelligent effusion of expression will be forgotten by the time it is uttered."

Although the reviewer's immediate point seems to be a narrow one (he is addressing Professor Graber's use of a writing style allegedly so opaque as to discourage all but the most intrepid specialist), the quote also raises a broader issue somewhat akin to the old question about trees falling in uninhabited forests. In that broader context, I'm not at all sure I agree with the proposition. Is "[t]he whole point of writing of the past" really "to convey its importance and relevance"? Or is it, simply, to get the facts and inferences right, popular or not?

Perhaps the answer lies somewhere in the middle, in the sense that there should be room for both species of historical writing, both more broadly read narrative histories of the sort written by Doris Kearns Goodwin or James McPherson, as well as more detailed analytical monographs destined to be read only by scholars and specialists.

Popular histories will not always absorb the discoveries of specialists, but I do assume that the most significant changes will eventually come to be reflected in more general works. I've read several "popular" biographies of George Washington recently, and both went out of their way to point out a number of warts to go with the virtues. And did you know that he didn't chop down that cherry tree after all?

Popular History Vs. "Real" History?

Dmitri Rotov at Civil War Bookshelf has a post discussing James McPherson-type narrative history (which he seems to deny is “history”) versus “the discipline of history.” Although it’s a thoughtful post (and although he’s kind enough to quote me – thanks!), I must say I still don’t get it. To explain why, let me start by quoting from Dmitri’s post:

“On the contrary, the overwhelming experience of history begins at some point after the facts, dates, and (yes) storyline have been mastered. Fail to master those, and you cannot begin to engage this as hobby or discipline. The reading (and listening) experience called history rests on combinations of details that never stop surprising, delighting and challenging.

“History taught as story cuts out the legs from under those who might eventually learn to love history - perhaps even study or write history - and converts them into readers of nonfiction genre narrative, usually second rate literature with appallingly low history content.

“The question is how many of those nonfiction readers cross over to discerning history readers: direct mail specialists call this the "conversion rate" and I personally think it is miniscule. . ..

“Well, it is not history except that it uses historical materials more or less the way a novelist would use them. It is genre literature written to entertain - not in the way a crossword puzzle does, or even a detective novel, but in the same way a Western works - black hats, white hats, a struggle, a showdown, the end.

“I am selfishly concerned that a generation of people with no historical sensibility to whom McPherson and Goodwin have been portrayed as "historians" is making my life miserable. If McPherson and Goodwin were represented to newbies as the starting point in a long journey, then I should keep quiet. But if held up as representatives of this discipline called history they merely encourage newbies to read more authors like DKG and McP. They become a gateway to more Goodwinism, not to history.”

History as Narrative

To begin with, I just don’t understand why narrative history isn’t “history.” Herodotus called his work “Historiai” – “Inquiries” – because he was for the most part recording tales told to him by locals in response to questions he asked in the course of his travels. What he produced, naturally enough, was a series of dramatic narrative stories.

Even if you do not consider Herodotus a true “historian,” no one doubts that his successor, Thucydides, was. And yet he, too, recounts the history of the Peloponnesian War in chronological terms, using techniques (such as reconstructed speeches and dialogs) that would be condemned if used today, to create “you are there” excitement.

And so on with all the great Roman historians, such as Livy (whose histories are called “The Annals” because they tell their story in chronological format), Sallust and the superb Tacitus. All tell riveting stories in largely narrative and chronological format. All intentionally strive to relate their stories in ways and using techniques designed to heighten dramatic tension and get their readers to “experience” the past. And talk about black hats and white hats! Livy described his task as “putting on record the story of the greatest nation in the world.” Nobody reading the Annals is going to mistake Tarquin the Proud for one of the good guys.

Is Narrative History Dangerous?

Putting aside whether narrative history is “history,” I am also confused by the sense I get from Dmitri’s post that narrative tales of the past are somehow dangerous (“convert[ing people] into readers of nonfiction genre narrative, usually second rate literature with appallingly low history content”). I have no idea what the empirical evidence shows (or even whether there is any), but it certainly is at odds with common sense and, in my case, personal experience.

As even Dmitri concedes, you can’t begin to understand or appreciate “real” history (as he understands it) until you master “the facts, dates, and (yes) storyline.” But how do you do that? By reading your Livy – or your James McPherson. You may decide that Hannibal crossing the Alps, or Lee invading Pennsylvania, is not your cup of tea, and that you want to play video games instead. But you presumably learned something and know more now than you did before you read them. Can that possibly be a bad thing? And if those stories don’t grab you, you’re never going be reading monographs anyway.

And how else does one become interested in history? I’d guess that most classical history professors were inspired by “simplistic” accounts of Thermopylae, or Horatio at the Bridge, or the Rape of Sabine Women, or Hannibal Crossing the Alps.

I have not reviewed a list of the histories in the libraries of, say, John Adams or Thomas Jefferson, but I’d guess their libraries were heavy with narrative histories, including narrative histories that in some respects were wildly inaccurate – far more inaccurate than anything in McPherson. (I think it’s widely known that Jefferson’s views of early English history, for example, were downright bizarre; I assume he got those views from somewhere.) And yet they seem to have turned out all right, because, I suspect, the histories they read inspired them, even though those histories may not have satisfied Dmitri’s rigorous standards.

Those ancient stories inspired me (I am not a historian, but I wound up majoring in Classics in college). Barbara Tuchman’s dramatic narrative The Guns of August inspired me to read a good deal of World War I history. And McPherson and Ken Burns were the starting points of Civil War reading. They didn't do me many any harm.

Finally, I’m not aware that “popular” historians such as McPherson explicitly or implicitly tell their readers that they should not or need not read more on the periods or topics they cover. I presume most readers of McPherson stop with him, feeling they’ve gotten a sufficient feel. But is it fair to blame McPherson for that?

I don’t mean to give Dmitri too hard a time. When you’ve read deeply in a particular area and realize how complex it is, it can be frustrating to see more broad-brush accounts that, in your view, miss subtle but key points that have changed your analysis or perspective. But is that a legitimate reason to condemn narrative histories that are sufficiently dramatic and entertaining to lure tens of thousands of readers, who will surely learn more from the experience than they would reading a romance novel or playing video games?

A Map Ain't A Map

As mentioned in an earlier post, Jimmie Carter appears to have used copies of maps without permission, in apparent violation of the copyright laws. That seems to be the least of Carter's sins, but the copyright issue is an interesting one -- as are some of the reactions to the accusation.

One approach taken by those seeking to minimize Carter's culpability is to suggest that maps are only minimally copyrightable. Hiram Hover, for example, posts the following:

"Maybe there’s a case of copyright infringement here, maybe not. As Ralph Luker points out, maps of the same place do tend to bear some resemblance to one another—surprising as that may be to the folks over at NRO, who have done so much to flog the accusation. In any event, a cribbed map is hardly what comes to most people’s minds when they hear the charge of 'plagiarism.'"

This is excuse is particularly silly coming from a purported historian. A historian should know, if anyone should, that maps are not fungible. Good or poor maps can make all the difference when trying to following a campaign, for example. Even in a social history, the absence of good maps can be extremely frustrating.

On the legal side, it's worth noting that the very first copyright act enacted in this country -- the Copyright Act of 1790 -- specifically included maps within its scope. Indeed, "map" was the very first item mentioned in the title of the Act: "An Act for the Encouragement of Learning, by securing the Copies of Maps, Charts and Books, to the Authors and Proprietors of such Copies, during the Times therein mentioned." (Emphasis added) "Map" is likewise the first protected species of work listed in the text of the Act:

"Section 1. Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives of the United States of America in Congress assembled, That from and after the passing of this act, the author and authors of any map, chart, book or books already printed within these United States . . . shall have the sole right and liberty of printing, reprinting, publishing and vending such map, chart, book or books, for the term of fourteen years from the recording the title thereof in the clerk’s office, as is herein after directed . . .." (Emphasis added.)

I guess the First Congress was populated by denizens of NRO. It's a massive right-wing conspiracy!

Mr. Caldwell Goes to Richmond

Did you know that there was a Republican in the Virginia State Senate -- in 1860? There was:

"Alfred Caldwell, former mayor of Wheeling, was elected to the Virginia Senate in 1859 under the Opposition banner, but, by 1860, he was an active Republican. Serving as a member of the Republican National Committee in 1860, Caldwell would eventually become what one contemporary called one of 'the most sagacious and resolute Republicans in the Northwest.' In Richmond, Caldwell was ostacized, left to smoke his cigars alone and pay his own bills at the bar. But Panhandlers elected Caldwell to represent their 'peculiar sentiments' about slavery, not 'to be the toast of urbanity.' Despite his ostracism, it was difficult for what he termed the 'peddler-lynching, school-mam expelling, parson-whipping editors and asses of Old Virginia' to undermine his popularity among his constituents."

William A. Link, Roots of Secession: Slavery and Politics in Antebellum Virginia (Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press 2003), at 202-03.

Incredibly, there's no Wikipedia entry for Senator Caldwell, and Professor Link's footnote (omitted) suggests by negative implication that there is little modern discussion of him. He might make an interesting topic for a thesis or paper.

Two Versions of Popular Sovreignty

The southern position on the territories shifted over time. The core premise was that the territories were jointly owned by the states; that residents of all states were entitled to equal access; and that equal access for slaveowners necessarily included the right to bring their "property." A limited version of the Cass-Douglas "popular sovereignty" option was therefore acceptable: residents of a territory were entitled to choose slavery or not, but only immediately before statehood (i.e., when voting on the proposed state constitution). If a territorial legislature were permitted to bar slavery earlier in the territorial phase, then slaveowners would never move in, and non-slavery would necessarily result.

Dred Scott, with its suggestion that a congressionally-created territorial legislature lacked the power to bar slavery in a territory, reflected this approach.

The Breckinridge Democratic Platform of 1860 summed up the elements as follows:

"Resolved . . .

"1. That the Government of a Territory organized by an act of Congress, is provisional and temporary; and during its existence, all citizens of the United States have an equal right to settle with their property in the Territory, without their rights, either of person or property, being destroyed or impaired by Congressional or Territorial legislation. . .

"3. That when the settlers in a Territory having an adequate population, form a State Constitution, in pursuance of law, the right of sovereignty commences, and, being consummated by admission into the Union, they stand on an equal footing with the people of other States; and the State thus organized ought to be admitted into the Federal Union, whether its Constitution prohibits or recognizes the institution of Slavery."

Over time, and particularly in response to Douglas' Freeport Doctrine (and accepting its premise that slavery could not flourish without affirmative support), southern political leaders argued, in addition, that equal access required the federal government to enact slave codes that would affirmatively protect slavery in the territories. Only this, they argued, would provide sufficient protection to slavery to give slaveowners equal access as a practical matter.

This view of the federal government's duty to affirmatively protect slavery is also contained in the 1860 Breckinridge Platform:

"Resolved . . .

"2. That it is the duty of the Federal Government, in all its departments, to protect, when necessary, the rights of persons and property in the Territories, and wherever else its Constitutional authority extends."

Until 1860, the phrase "Popular Sovreignty" thus masked and smoothed over differences, allowing politicians in different sections to tell their constituents that it meant different things. The northern version permitted the people of a territory, through their territorial legislature, to bar slavery at any time after the territorial legislature was formed. The southern form, exemplified by the Breckinridge platform, essentially prohibited the people of the territory from barring slavery until they voted on the proposed state constitution.

Southern politicians accepted the weak form, but then added to it the stipulation that, during the territorial phase, the federal government was constitutionally obligated to take affirmative steps (if the territorial legislature did not do so) to protect slavery in the territory in order to insure that slaveowners had, as a practical matter, equal access.

I suppose a skeptic might argue that the southern form of "popular sovreignty" had somehow lost the "popular" part, and the "sovreignty" part as well. But it allowed southerners to argue that they supported "popular sovreignty" and adhered to true republican values.

The Breckinridge platform is noteworthy not just because it demanded those affirmative protections during the territorial phase. It also took the mask off the term "Popular Sovreignty" and clearly identified the specific form of popular sovreignty being endorsed.

The Douglas platform, in contrast, of course omitted the affirmative protections. It also left the popular sovreignty concept as vague as it could, and essentially abdicated responsibility for its meaning to an eventual ruling by the Supreme Court. (In Dred Scott, Taney had held that Congress could not constitutionally bar slavery from the territories and strongly implied that territorial legislatures could not do so either, but the court did not squarely rule on the latter issue because it was not presented.) The Douglas platform stated:

"7. Resolved, That it is in accordance with the interpretation of the Cincinnati platform, that during the existence of the Territorial Governments the measure of restriction, whatever it may be, imposed by the Federal Constitution on the power of the Territorial Legislature over the subject of the domestic relations, as the same has been, or shall hereafter be finally determined by the Supreme Court of the United States, should be respected by all good citizens, and enforced with promptness and fidelity by every branch of the general government."

The "Cincinnati platform", to which the Douglas platform refers, was the Democratic platform of 1856 (the 1856 Convention was held in Cincinnati). The Cincinnati platform was long on rhetoric and conveniently short on substance:

"And that we may more distinctly meet the issue on which a sectional party, subsisting exclusively on slavery agitation, now relies to test the fidelity of the people, north and south, to the constitution and the Union—

"1. Resolved, That claiming fellowship with and desiring the cooperation of all who regard the preservation of the Union under the constitution as the paramount issue, and repudiating all sectional parties and platforms concerning domestic slavery which seek to embroil the states and incite to treason and armed resistance to law in the territories, and whose avowed purpose, if consummated, must end in civil war and dis-union, the American democracy recognize and adopt the principles contained in the organic laws establishing the territories of Nebraska and Kansas, as embodying the only sound and safe solution of the slavery question, upon which the great national idea of the people of this whole country can repose in its determined conservation of the Union, and non-interference of Congress with slavery in the territories or in the District of Columbia.

"2. That this was the basis of the compromise of 1850, confirmed by both the Democratic and Whig parties in national conventions, ratified by the people in the election of 1852, and rightly applied to the organization of the territories in 1854.

"3. That by the uniform application of the Democratic principle to the organization of territories and the admission of new states, with or without domestic slavery, as they may elect, the equal rights of all the states will be preserved intact, the original compacts of the constitution maintained inviolate, and the perpetuity and expansion of the Union insured to its utmost capacity of embracing, in peace and harmony, every future American state that may be constituted or annexed with a republican form of government.

"Resolved, That we recognize the right of the people of all the territories, including Kansas and Nebraska, acting through the legally and fairly expressed will of the majority of the actual residents, and whenever the number of their inhabitants justifies it, to form a constitution, with or without domestic slavery, and be admitted into the Union upon terms of perfect equality with the other states."

Say what?

Secession

H. Mills Thornton makes a compelling argument that the non sequitur in the disunionist case concerning exclusion from the territories, and the fact that unionists rarely pointed out the obvious error, demonstrates that something else was going on:

"The careful reader will have observed a fundamental non sequitur in the southern rights case. If the great threat of free-soil was that it would trap southerners in the South amidst the rising tide of Negroes, how would secession remedy the predicament? Would not independence shut southerners out of the territories even more effectively than would the adoption of a free-soil policy by the federal government? . . . If getting access to that territory was the primary southern goal, southerners had certainly not selected a means which gave obvious promise of being efficacious.

"It is essential to note, however, that . . . Unionists almost never mentioned the difficulty. The solution to this paradox is the identification of which element in the southern rights case was the primary source of its force. Despite all the discussion about the effects of free-soil upon southern slavery, the threat of Negro inundation was not the chief terror with which the case conjured; and the Unionists knew it. . . . The essence of the case was not what would happen to southerners when they were excluded from the territories but was the fact that they were to be excluded. That the exclusion would wreak ill in the economic and social environment of the South was mere lagniappe to the argument; the true ills would be wrought in the hearts of those debarred. Free-soil was an issue basically because it would represent an overtly discriminatory action by the common government."

* * *

"Secession, then, was not really intended as a remedy for the consequences of free-soil . . .. It was to be revenge for the condemnation implied by the policy and the inequality inherent in it. Southerners were Americans and they wanted to be treated like Americans; we must never forget that they saw themselves as struggling to preserve the substance of the American dream."

H. Mills Thornton III, Politics and Power in a Slave Society: Alabama 1800-1860 (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press 1978), pp. 225-27 (emphasis added).

Plagiarism Plus

Over at Civil War Bookshelf, Dmitri Rotov notes that former president Carter has been accused of plagiarizing maps. I was going to post a brief item simply noting how important maps can be -- and how frustrating bad or insufficient maps can be. The number one complaint about Civil War books has got to be the dearth of maps. I frequently go to the internet (or other books) to locate usable maps to accompany my Civil War reading.

Then, doing a check to see what the current status of the dispute is, I ran across a post that explains that the plagiarism charge is the least of president Carter's problems. The post provides copies of the maps in question, so you can judge the plagiarism allegation for yourself. It also provides a simple and readily understandable explantation documenting the far more serious charge: the maps are copied but mislabeled in a way that appears designed to reinforce inaccurate and misleading statements in the accompanying text. I urge anyone intested in this issue to read Rick Richman's post at Jewish Current Issues, entitled "Carter's Maps: Worse than Plagiarism."

Historians Acting Well

I don't have any further reports of Historians Acting Badly, so I thought I'd mention the latest example of an Historian Acting Well.

Victor Davis Hanson's latest post at his blog Works and Days is yet another instance of his careful use of historical background to illuminate the parameters of present day issues.

Related Posts:

Historians Acting Badly I

Historians Acting Badly II

Popular History or No History?

Over at The History Enthusiast, Ph.D. candidate Kristen recounts the abysmal ignorance or confusion of even one of her brighter students:

"I had another student who confused most of the facts presented in her paper. For instance, she thought that Northerners wanted Texas to become a slave state because this would trick Southerners into gaining control over Congress, allowing Southerners to defeat Lincoln in the presidential election of 1844. No, those are not typos. Needless to say, my response in the margin was a rather lengthy one. I was really surprised by her paper because she had talked to me about it after class and seemed to be heading in the right direction. My teaching mentor has been really pleased with my lecture style, and our textbook is very clear and concise, so I'm not sure how she got so mixed up. Hopefully, for her sake, her final essay (due Tuesday) stays more on track."

Yikes! I am not, and have never been, a teacher, but this certainly is in accord with anecdotal evidence I have inadvertently collected -- the bright and well-educated teenager who looked at me blankly when I asked her when World War I took place, for example. (She was hazy about World War II as well.)

Incidents such as these make it hard for me to get too excited about issues that make some people upset or angry. Kevin Levin at Civil War Memory, for example, is frequently disappointed that many Civil War buffs regard the Civil War as entertainment or a celebration of the Lost Cause rather than contemplate its racial implications. Dmiti Rotov at Civil War Bookshelf seems to be outraged that Doris Kearns Goodwin gets prizes because she's a popularizer (and notwithstanding some ethical issues).

As for me, I'm delighted when I see that someone under the age of, say, thirty, knows anything about American history. If Doris Kearns Goodwin inspires 100 or 1,000 people to become interested in the Civil War or Lincoln, I say she can have her award. Ditto for James McPherson and Ken Burns. In an age when teenagers have never heard of World War I and aren't sure when World War II took place (much less between whom), I say that popular history is better than no history at all.

The Road to Disunion II: Secessionists Triumphant

This is as much a note to myself as anything else, but I'll dress it up with some background information to make it bloggishly useful.

If you are at all interested the causes of the Civil War -- or more accurately the causes of secession -- the first book you should read is David Potter's The Impending Crisis 1848-1861. The second book you should read is William Freehling's The Road to Disunion: Secessionists at Bay 1776-1854. Although Professor Freehling's writing style is poor, the book is nonethless wonderful.

I have been waiting for the sequel for years. Last summer, word came that Volume II would be published this coming March. The Oxford University Press site indicates that March 2007 remains on track as the publication date for The Road to Disunion: Secessionists Triumphant 1854-1861. This will be one of the few books that I will buy in hardcover, new and at full price. The advance reviews at the OUP site give a taste of the themes in Secessionists Triumphant. You can also take a look here at an address that Professor Freehling gave back in 2000, entitled "South Carolina's Pivotal Decision for Disunion: Popular Mandate or Manipulated Verdict?", which presumably figures prominently in his narrative.

Volume II should be particularly interesting because Professor Freehling's apparent thesis -- that secession was largely manipulated by southern radicals -- is controversial. In this, it seems to bear some similarities to the arguments of Michael F. Holt. Some other historians, such as Stephanie McCurrie in her superb Masters of Small Worlds: Yeoman Housholds, Gender Relations, and the Political Culture of the Antebellum South Carolina Low Country, have noted that there were organized elements in the push for secession in lower southern states. Others, such as H. Mills Thornton III, in his Politics and Power in a Slave Society: Alabama 1800-1860 and Lacy K. Ford, in his Origins of Southern Radicalism: The South Carolina Upcountry 1800-1860, have emphasized that secession was popular among white farming yeomen in the deep south precisely because it was rooted in fundamental values of white male freedom and equality. I do not regard these views as mutually exclusive and look forward to seeing whether and how Professor Freehling attempts to reconcile them.

The "note to myself" part of this entry is that I see that the Civil War Roundtable of New York will be hosting a talk by Professor Freehling on March 14, 2007. Frankly, I didn't even know that such a Roundtable existed. I've never looked for a local Civil War roundtable because I have the impression, or perhaps misimpression, that roundtables do nothing but sit around and rehash Pickett's Charge for the ten-thousandth time.

I guess I'll find out whether I am mistaken or not. I've already got March 14 reserved on my calendar. If you're in the New York City area, you should consider doing the same.

Somewhat Related Earlier Post on McCurrie, Thornton and Ford:

The Causes of Secession in the Lower South

The Fourteenth Amendment and Incorporation VI

All right. Back to the Fourteenth Amendment and Incorporation after a substantial delay. Let's look next at the speech of Senator Luke P. Poland (Republican, VT). Senator Poland's speech is sometimes cited as supporting the proposition that the Fourteenth Amendment was not intended to apply the Bill of Rights to the states. In fact, it proves exactly the opposite.

Senator Poland spoke on June 5, 1886 (thirteen days after Senator Howard gave his speech). He spoke only briefly about Section 1, precisely because, he said, he did not disagree with what had already been said (including, presumably, Senator Howard's explicit and widely-reported statements that the Privileges or Immunites Clause was designed to incorporate the Bill of Rights). Senator Poland explained that "all the questions in the proposed amendments to the Consititution have been so elaborately and ably discussed on former occasions during the present session that I do not feel at liberty to attempt to argue them at length and in detail."

Senator Poland's speech has been misinterpreted because he apparently did not understand that, in Barron v. Baltimore, the Supreme Court had held that the Bill of Rights did not apply to or limit the states -- or at least, in common with many Republicans, Senator Poland seems to have believed that the Constitution, properly construed, had always required the States to protect fundamental rights. He expressed the opinion that the Privileges or Immunities clause secured “nothing beyond what was intended” by the similar provision in the original Constitution -- and he then quoted the Privileges and Immunities Clause, Article IV, Section 2.

But, he complained, slavery had led “to a practical repudiation of the existing provision on this subject, and it was disregarded in many of the states. State legislation was allowed to override it.” It became “really a dead letter.”

In addition, Senator Poland analyzed Section 1 as follows:

“It is essentially declared in the Declaration of Independence and in all the provisions of the Constitution. Notwithstanding this we know that State laws exist, and some of them of very recent enactment, in direct violation of these principles. Congress has already shown its desire and intention to uproot and destroy all such partial State legislation in the passage of what is called the civil rights bill.... It certainly seems desirable that no doubt should be left existing as to the power of Congress to enforce principles lying at the foundation of all republican government if they be denied or violated by the States.”

The reference to “State laws . . . of very recent enactment” almost certainly alludes to laws passed by southern states restricting the right to bear arms, and the reference “to all the provisions of the Constitution” almost certainly includes the Bill of Rights, and the Second Amendment in particular. Congress had recently received a report complaining about the passage of laws in southern States depriving returning freedmen, recently discharged from the Union Army, of the right to carry arms (the penalties included flogging). In response, just days before Senator Poland’s speech, the House had passed the second Freedmen’s Bill, which contained a provision protecting “the constitutional right to bear arms.” (Ironically, the jurisdictional basis for the provision was the Thirteenth Amendment – reflecting the fact that many Republicans believed that that amendment had already imposed the Bill of Rights on the States.)

In short, Senator Poland may have had a mistaken understanding of the original meaning of the Privileges and Immunities Clause in Article IV. However, any reasonable person listening to Senator Poland’s comments in 1866 would have had every reason to believe that his views concerning Section 1 were entirely in accord with those previously expressed by Senator Howard and that Senator Poland believed that Section 1 would forbid States from depriving their citizens of their basic rights, including those embodied in the Bill of Rights.

Previous posts:

The Fourteenth Amendment and Incorporation I

The Fourteenth Amendment and Incorporation II

The Fourteenth Amendment and Incorporation III

The Fourteenth Amendment and Incorporation IV

The Fourteenth Amendment and Incorporation V

Poor James Madison!

I see that one Michael Lind, billed as the Whitehead senior fellow at the New America Foundation, is patting himself on the back for listing George Bush (43) as only the fifth worst president. But what really caught my eye was his nominee for fourth worst: none other than James Madison.

I would agree that Mr. Madison was a poor president. He got us into a war that was totally unnecessary and for which we were utterly unprepared -- not a good combination. Mr. Lind makes the case for the prosecution:

"Madison, the 'Father of the Constitution,' was a great patriot, a brilliant intellectual -- and an absolutely abysmal president. In his defense, the world situation during the Napoleonic Wars was grim. The United States was a minor neutral nation that was frequently harassed by both of the warring empires, Britain and France. But cold geopolitics should have led Washington to prefer a British victory, which would have preserved a balance of power in Europe, to a French victory that would have left France an unchecked superpower. Instead, eager to conquer Spanish Florida and seize British Canada, Madison sided with the more dangerous power against the less dangerous. It is as though, after Pearl Harbor, FDR had joined the Axis and declared war on Britain, France and the Soviet Union.

"It might have been worse. In 1812, Madison wrote Thomas Jefferson to ask what the former president thought of waging war simultaneously against Britain and France. Alarmed, Jefferson replied that this was "a solecism worthy of Don Quixote." Instead, the United States fought only the British, who torched Washington, D.C., while Madison and first lady Dolley fled to Virginia. Gen. Andrew Jackson's victory in the Battle of New Orleans (waged two weeks after the United States and Britain, unknown to Jackson, had signed a peace treaty) helped Americans pretend that the War of 1812 was something other than a total wipe-out."

But fourth worst? Worse, for example, than Franklin Pierce, whose foolish support of the Kansas-Nebraska Act started the Union on its final descent into Civil War? Worse than Jimmy Carter, whose craven weakness earned us the contempt of the Middle East, a contempt we are still dealing with today?

Ironically, Madison's presidency illustrates the vagaries of history. In the end, Madison got very, very lucky. Great Britain got tired of the war, and the United States was blessed with canny negotiators, including Henry Clay and future president John Quincy Adams. The resulting Treaty of Ghent, negotiated without the benefit of Andy Jackson's victory at New Orleans, extricated the United States from the war on reasonable terms. In the aftermath of Jackson's victory, the United States perceived itself as the victor. They had fought the British to a draw, or better, and shown themselves to be a power to be reckoned with.

Should Madison get the credit, as well as the blame? On the one hand, he really doesn't deserve it. But on the other, the fact is things turned out well. So long as Andrew Jackson, John Quincy Adams, Henry Clay, and others (Steven Decatur, Oliver Hazard Perry and Winfield Scott, for example) are not deprived of their shares, perhaps poor James Madison may have some too.

For further reading, I heartily recommend Gary Wills' brief book on Madison's presidency. Wills pulls no punches recounting Madison's numerous blunders, but in the end appreciates him for all his failings.

Historians Acting Badly II

Perhaps this sheds some light. In an essay about 9/11, published less than a month after the event, Eric Foner began as follows:

"I'm not sure which is more frightening: the horror that engulfed New York City or the apocalyptic rhetoric emanating daily from the White House. 'We will rid the world of evil-doers,' President Bush announces as he embarks on an open-ended 'crusade' (does he understand the historical freight this word carries?) against people who 'hate us because we are free'. This Manichean vision of the world, so deeply rooted in our Puritan past and evangelical present, is daily reinforced by the media as an emblem of national resolve."

Any questions?

Historians Acting Badly

Eric Foner has now joined Sean Wilentz in labelling President Bush (II) as the worst president in history. The purpose of this entry is not to explain why both articles are ludicrous -- if you don't know that, you're in the wrong place. Instead, I want to consider what they suggest about history and historical reasoning.

In his thoughtful post about the Foner article at the Alincoln blog, Brian Dirck expressed concern that it was inappropriate for historians to write such articles:

"As a practicing, professional historian, however, I have no business using my professional status to turn that perspective into an historical judgment concerning Bush's relative worth compared to other presidents in American history. To do so is impossible.

"Worse, I think it risks turning our profession into nothing more than a witting tool for the political exigencies of the moment. I know there are those in my profession who feel historians can and should use their training in our craft to involve themselves actively in the political controversies of our day. I respect that point of view, but I'm afraid I'd have to disagree. Professional historians are far more valuable as dispassionate, sober analysts who can use the tools of our craft to promote balanced, careful assessments of both the present and the past."

As I commented there, I have a related, but somewhat different, concern. I wonder whether articles such as these demonstrate that the reasons traditionally given for studying history are meaningless propaganda spread by our high school history teachers.

I am not a professional historian, practicing or otherwise. I read history simply because I find it interesting and often amazing. It's simply incredible to me that the Greeks defeated the Persians, that Socrates lived (but never wrote a word), that the conception of the role of the federal government 150 years ago bears no relationship to our current understanding of it, or that men charged from the trenches in World War I. You couldn't, as they say, make this stuff up. I read history looking for answers sometimes, but they are usually answers to historical questions. How did the Russians and Chinese come to be ruled by monsterous regimes? Why did white southern yeomen enthusiastically back secession?

But most historians, I think -- and certainly my high school history teacher -- would claim far more for the study of history, summed up in the adage, "Those who forget the past are condemned to repeat it." By studying history, the reasoning goes, one can learn lessons that can be applied to the present. I suppose the tendency to generalize is instinctive among humans, and I am guilty as everyone else, although I recognize that others may disagree with the conclusions I draw.

The most unfortunate corrolary of the Foner and Wilentz articles, I think, is that they tend to discredit the study of history and the generally accepted reason for studying history. If two such respected members of the academy can produce such silly partisan hit pieces cloaked in the objectivity of historically-based reasoning, does that not suggest that historically-based reasoning is an utter fraud -- something so malleable and manipulable that it is not worth the paper it is written on? The good professors seem bent on proving that the field of study to which they have devoted their lives wears no clothes.

Although my expectations are usually disappointed -- I do not recall historians condemning Professor Wilentz after his performance in The Rolling Stone -- I am hoping that Professor Foner's contribution may yet rouse historians (in addition to Professor Dirck) to express concern about the damage that such amateurish partisanship does to the study of history. I'm particularly hoping that historians such Don Kagan and Victor Davis Hanson will make their presence felt.

I'm going to watch for developments and will report any I encounter.