magine yourself in a shopping mall,
browsing the shelves in a chain bookstore. The history section
features a cardboard promotion of The Greatest Generation by Tom
Brokaw. Interesting book, you think to yourself. Next to Brokaw
is an unfamiliar title. You open to the Preface, where you find
the author explaining to you how important history is: “I
believe that the splendour of historical writing is to be cherished
with the greatest delight and given the pre-eminent and most glorious
position. For nothing is more excellent in this life than to investigate
and become familiar with the course of worldly events. Where does
the grandeur of valiant men shine more brightly, or the wisdom
of the prudent, or the discretion of the righteous, or the moderation
of the temperate, than in the context of history?” Beautifully
stated, you think to yourself. As you keep reading you discover
that the author views history as the unfolding of God’s providence.
This a work of today’s scholarship? The preface closes with
an invocation to the Almighty Lord of history: “O Adonai,
our creator, shepherd and defender, source, quickener and end
of these things, we pray Thee to favour this work and guide it
to its close: this work which Thou, our Father, hast Thyself brought
about among our fathers, raising up and putting down peoples and
kingdoms by Thy judgment, that operates sometimes secretly and
sometimes openly, delaying the punishment of some until they finish
their crimes, and hurling punishment at others when their crimes
are complete. For whatever kings or peoples plan to do, if it
is accomplished, it is by Thy action, Who makest peace and createst
evil, as the prophet attests [Is. 45:7], a unique entity, remaining
as great as Thou hast desired, from Whom and by Whom and in Whom
Alone, all things exist.” Is this a dream?
Yes, this is a dream. You will find nothing like this in The
Greatest Generation, nor in most other products of modern historiography.
But there was once a time when Christianity pervaded historical
thought, and historians could not envision the past any other
way. To them, history was not ultimately directed by climate and
geography, socioeconomic class struggles, political ideologies,
market forces, movements from thesis to antithesis to synthesis,
impersonal and unending cycles, scientific changes and technological
gee-whizzery, military movements, health and diet and population
growth, literacy, or any such framework that shapes the obsessions
of modern historians. Of course, the old Christian scholars understood
these factors and reflected upon how past occurrences were shaped
by some of them. But they believed such factors to be unintelligible,
and even meaningless, unless they were seen as the various means
by which God carries out His sovereign purpose in the affairs
of men. Their Christian outlook meddled in every little nook and
cranny of their scholarship, because their God governed all things.
Indeed, they would have acknowledged that Tom Brokaw and others
have stumbled on to something, yet at the same time they would
have denied that the moderns knew what that something was or how
to account for it.
The excerpts quoted above come from the great twelfth-century
chronicle of Henry, Archdeacon of Huntington, the Historia Anglorum
(History of the English). Henry is one of several important medieval
chroniclers who is valuable not only for the information he relates,
but for his historiography. Henry’s Historia surveys the
history of England from Roman times down to the accession of King
Henry II, his contemporary, in 1154. This work is one of the most
clearly organized surveys of English history, but its most striking
feature is its elegant style. Henry was well-educated, having
been thoroughly steeped in grammar and rhetoric, and he was influenced
by the ancient poets. For Henry, history was worthwhile not only
for the sake of information and moral improvement, but also for
its beauty—which reflects the goodness of history’s
God. This beauty he brings out with uncommon flair. Consider,
for example, his record of the first blows in the Battle of Hastings:
“Then began death-bearing clouds of arrows. There followed
the thunder of blows. The clash of helmets and swords produced
dancing sparks. . . .” Henry’s work, which includes
excellent poetry, is as great a work of literature as it is of
history.
Oxford University Press has done a great service by reopening
this history to us (published in 1996; 900 pages). This new Oxford
edition, edited and translated by Diana Greenway, will be the
standard version for years to come. An earlier Latin text—valuable,
but inferior to the present version—was published in 1879,
and the previous English translation was Thomas Forester’s
in 1853. Like all titles in the “Oxford Medieval Texts”
series, this volume features a complete Latin text with a facing-page
translation. The book also includes, for the first time, all of
Henry’s extant writings, as well as helpful scholarly apparatus:
notes on manuscript variants, an index, and the most thorough
survey of Henry’s life, career, and methods yet produced.
Moreover, it is well bound. At $195.00, the cost may be prohibitive
to individuals, but it is still a worthwhile investment—especially
for school libraries. History teachers should have access to a
copy. Sadly, there is not a good market for fine works of medieval
history, so Oxford prints short runs that sell slowly; hence,
the price is high. We are grateful to Oxford for their commitment
to publishing fine works like this, and to Henry for showing us
how history ought to be written. You won’t find the Historia
Anglorum in the mall.