Heroes

“If everybody was satisfied with himself, there would be no heroes.” – Mark Twain

The more I learn, the more I know history is a funny line of work.

Modern historians rarely grasp the ambition or ability to rise to the prominence of their subjects. Their archives are scant sought. The effect is humans writing about others whose lives are more “important,” more “prominent,” or, simply, more public.

It is human to develop envy, jealousy, or, more dangerously, admiration for a subject. Villains and heroes do not exist in life. Or at least, not like in fairy tales.

In this way, I envy novelists. I have no choice in the matter. I cannot, with good conscience, or hope to keep academic integrity, fictionalize a historical subject. I am bound to evidence, which even in the best or abundant situations is only what was intentionally left behind. “Why are there hundreds of books about Abraham Lincoln but none about his maid?” Because his maid did not see herself as important enough to journal, archive letters, or make public statements.

Often the subjects of history are a personal hero of the author or of a significant amount of the readership. Once passed, historical figures join a pantheon of humanity. They lose their wholeness and become myth. Once immortal, they lose complexity. They lose humanity.