IMPORTANCE OF THE STUDY OF LOCAL

HISTORY

BY JAMES E. LE ROSSIGNOL

[Paper read at the annual meeting of the Nebraska State Historical Society, January 13, 1913.]

Mr. Chairman, and Ladies and Gentlemen:

Mr. Paine, your secretary, tells me that he would like to have an expression from an outsider on the subject of local history. I know little of history in general and less of local history and therefore think myself well qualified to speak as an outsider. True, I have read a great deal of the sort of history that was written thirty or forty years ago, before modern methods of investigation were well established, but now I know that most of the information thus obtained was quite unreliable, and I have not been able to improve my knowledge, or ignorance, in recent years. But I have, as you see, a proper spirit of humility, which should lead me in the right way, though it may not lead me far. Also I have much sympathy with historians, knowing the difficulty of their work of investigation and the still greater difficulty of arousing the public to a due appreciation of this great and important work.

It was courageous in Mr. Paine to let an outsider like myself speak on this platform because he did not know what I might say. I might say something that I ought not to say. For example, I might say that history is no more important than political economy, but it would be an impertinence to make such a statement on this occasion, so I will not say it. I might say that all historians are liars, but I will not say that, either, for it is not true. To be

sure, some historians of the past, particularly biographers and genealogists, have told a good many lies, but they are all dead now, and we hope that they have long since expiated their faults and have been admitted to the historian's paradise.

As to historians of the present day, they have only one virtue, the worship of truth, and no redeeming vices at all. They will tell the truth and shame the devil, and all their best friends as well. Nothing escapes the historian's searchlight, and, like the recording angel, he sets down everything good, bad, and indifferent-in his book. I have a wholesome fear of the historian, for I realize that at this very moment he may be taking down all that I am saying and that at some future time, in this world or the next, my words may rise up in judgment against me. So I try to be careful as to what I say before an audience like this and am tempted to use words not to express thought but to conceal it.

There is a good story about an Assyrian historian who used to write upon tables of clay, which were then dried or burned and piled away in the library. This Assyrian had a mortal enemy and spent many days thinking of the most cruel and unusual punishment that he could inflict upon him. Finally a brilliant thought came to him, and before the inspiration cooled he ran to his enemy with a brick and said: "Sir, you are the meanest man I know. I might curse your ancestors, but I will not. I might curse yourself and all your posterity, but I will do worse than that. Listen! tremble! I will write your evil deeds upon this brick, have it packed away in the royal archives, and when, five thousand years hence, men dig up the ruins of our city, they will read about your crimes and you shall be infamous forever."

There is a moral in this story, for it shows very well the ethical value of history. The historian is the man with

the searchlight who peers into everything and tells everything that he sees. Like the law, he is a terror to evil doers and a praise to them that do well, because he tells the truth. Publicity kills many social evils as sunlight kills the germs of many diseases, while it encourages good deeds as the sunlight gives life to grass and flowers. Common gossip contributes to this end. The press does much to make people respectable; and history, by keeping a record of the words and deeds of men, helps them to realize the importance of life and the value of a good name. We live not only in the eyes of our friends and neighbors but in the sight of a larger world and in the view of future generations, and the thought of many eyes looking upon us and many minds pronouncing judgment upon us cannot but make us careful about what we say and do.

In former times historians used to color and distort facts for the glorification of their friends and patrons; more recently they would pervert the truth for the edification of children and the development of patriotism; but now, in this age of science, the historian follows truth alone and worships the God of Things as they are, believing that honest character and worthy patriotism can never be built upon a foundation of lies. So the historian describes the Pilgrim Fathers as they were, gives a true picture of colonial life with light and shade, explains the right and wrong of the revolutionary war, the war of 1812, the civil war, doing justice to both sides and favoring none. He tells of the greatness and littleness of our heroes, shows the successes and failures of the past, and traces the path of progress as well as he can for example, warning and guidance to future generations.

It used to be the custom to glorify the pioneer, to make of him a sort of saint or missionary who came to the western plains for the glory of God and the salvation of the Indian. There were saints and missionaries in those days,

as now, but the typical pioneer was nothing of the sort; and to paint him with a halo about his head is to do him an injustice and make him ridiculous. The surviving pioneers do not desire such a picture and those who have passed into the eternal world do not need it.

For all that, it is well to honor the pioneers, to treasure their memory, to be grateful to them for what they have done in making it possible for us to live in peace and comfort in this good land. The worship of ancestors is not altogether without a rational basis. If we honor our ancestors, our children will honor us, and there is something beautiful and inspiring in the thought of successive generations looking backward in appreciation of all that was good in their fathers and mothers, and looking forward in hope that their children and children's children will be still nobler and better than they. Family pride that is based upon honor and virtue is a good thing, and the just pride of a people in the character and achievements of their ancestors is a power that makes for good in the education of the rising generation.

The people of the Old World understand the importance of this more than we do, and we must not be ashamed to imitate them. It is a fine thing to see, in cities like Edinburgh, Munich, and Geneva, how they remember their great men by monuments, statues, tablets, memorial windows, and records of every kind, in streets, churches, colleges, museums, libraries and many other places. As one walks along Princess street in Edinburgh, for example, and sees the noble monuments to Walter Scott, Robert Burns, Allan Ramsay, James Hogg and many more of the worthies of Scotland, one cannot but think how inspiring it must be to live in a place where the past is remembered and where citizens who serve their country well may hope to live in the thoughts of future generations.

In this respect local history may be of greater ethical

value than national or world history, for by it the work of obscure men and women of whom the world at large can never hear, may be noticed and remembered. To this end we need not only the history of the country as a whole, but the history of every state, city, town, county, church, society, and family; and it should be the ambition of every man, woman and child to have a good name and an honorable place in the little circle to which he belongs.

If it is true that the study of local history can and will improve the character of individuals, it follows that it will also improve the government, which is in a large measure a reflection of the character of the people. It will develop local patriotism and a civic consciousness, without which, in a democratic country, good government is impossible. We of the West cannot deny that we are somewhat lacking in local pride. We are always talking of the places where we were born-of Chicago, New York, Philadelphia or Boston, instead of Omaha, Lincoln, Hastings or Beatrice. Our heart is in the place where we were born and brought up and not in the place where we live. We are pilgrims and strangers here. Lincoln is our dwelling place, but Boston is our home. This is not right. We need not forget our old home, indeed we cannot, but we must be loyal to the place where we live and work. Here is our home; here are our friends; here is our opportunity; our duty is here, and here we shall find our reward-the satisfaction that comes from honest effort, from the approval of our neighbors and the hope that the work of our hands will be established for good.

We are not altogether responsible for our lack of local patriotism, which is largely the result of the unsettled condition of a new country; but we are responsible, in so far as that lack is due to our own selfish indifference and neglect. Time will work great change in this regard. Conditions will become more stable; migration will be relatively