History Matters

History is hard to pin down. Propagandists have always known this; it’s the reason they can so easily manipulate and exploit history’s elusive truths. Reshaping the past to serve various agendas--political, dramatic, aesthetic, pious--is a time-honored strategy. Homer did it; Shakespeare did it; most dramatically in the 20th century, Hollywood has done it. “You don’t have to be faithful to the facts,” said Milos Forman, director of “The People vs. Larry Flynt.” “History has to be faithful to the facts. Drama has to be faithful to the spirit of the facts.” Or as Oscar Wilde once remarked, “Never let the facts get in the way of a good story.”

Witness, most recently, Steven Spielberg’s recasting of the Amistad slave rebellion, “Amistad,” a well-intentioned effort that’s being touted as educational by its producers. To underscore this claim, a study guide has been published to help teachers and students interpret the troubling period of slavery in American history. But the story as Spielberg presents it is yet another example of history dramatically reshaped to cater to contemporary audiences. By presenting his film as history without differentiating between its genuine passages and its fictionalizations and misrepresentations, he subverts the study of true history.

As an educator, a librarian and someone who, in E.B. White’s phrase, tries “to keep things straight,” I wonder: Given the kind of license filmmakers are in the habit of taking with facts, how can children possibly learn what history is? How will the next generation know how to identify which versions of its history are authentic?

What is true in “Amistad,” and what is not? Its depiction of Cinque’s rebellion and the resulting proceedings in the United States courts resembles what actually happened. The manner of the Africans’ capture and the conditions of the Middle Passage are authentic and depicted with a restraint that, by leaving much to the imagination, deepens the horror: Focusing on the Africans’ suffering, rather than on the slavers’ cruelty, compels recognition of their humanity.

It’s impossible to make such a film without fleshing out the record with invented dialogue and details. Such embroideries as Cinque joyously smelling a scentless African violet, or a scene in which two Africans convert each other by paging through a Bible and marveling at its illustrations, are harmless (if silly). But portrayals of a cold-hearted white abolitionist and a kindly but ineffective black one diminish and caricature their actual roles. Worst, by reaching for a generalized picture of slavery in America, the film is misleading in its depiction of the actual forces that shaped the Amistad case.

As Eric Foner, professor of history at Columbia University, has pointed out, such fictionalized historical films (and their focus on dramatic heroes) propagate false conceptions: here, for example, that United States courts in the 1830s were committed to civil rights. “Amistad, like other films, tells us more about the time in which it was produced than the event that it tries to portray,” wrote Foner. He’s especially dismayed by the Amistad study guide distributed by DreamWorks to high school and college teachers. “In the study guide, students are not told that in the 19th century it was perfectly possible to condemn the importation of slaves from Africa while simultaneously defending slavery and the flourishing slave trade in America,” Foner protests, pointing out that the peculiar convolutions of the Amistad case hinged on international law.

So how can young people learn to differentiate between such spellbinding fictionalized films and historical truth? Foner issues a plea for using libraries and for the reliable books to be found there.

Some outstanding books do set young minds on the right track; their authors enrich narratives of commonly agreed-on facts with insights into the creation and evolution of the historical record: the documents, eyewitnesses, discoveries and revisions that continually reshape perceptions of the past.

In a series begun with “George Washington’s Breakfast,” Jean Fritz models for young readers the lively curiosity and careful analysis that are essential to responsible historical thought. “What did George Washington eat for breakfast?” asks its protagonist, George W. Allen, echoing “The Elephant’s Child.” Fortunately, unlike Kipling’s hero (who was spanked for his “satiable curtiosity [sic]”), George has parents--and a librarian--eager to show him how to seek an authentic answer. While his library yields enough details of 18th century life to tell George what Washington’s meal might have been, a trip to Mount Vernon fails to elicit an authoritative menu. In the end, it’s serendipity, not George’s exemplary perseverance, that yields an old book in his own attic with an eyewitness account of the earlier George enjoying hoecakes and tea: step by step, real historical sleuthing, no less genuine for being child-sized.

In each of her books, Fritz brings the stuff of history and its players to life, as she does with allusions to Paul Revere’s “Day Book” (“And Then What Happened, Paul Revere?”). As a young man, she reports, Revere doodled in this diary. “But beginning in 1765, there was no time for doodling”; by 1774, he “was far too busy” to record even important events. Fritz’s brisk, humorous narratives, her genius for incorporating character-revealing facts and her scrupulous scholarship continue to recommend her appealing portraits to those who know that critical thinking should begin early.

Kathy Pelta’s “Discovering Columbus: How History Is Invented” broke new ground for older children by exploring the evolution of the explorer’s reputation. Though Fritz makes implicit the concept that facts are known through available documents, Pelta explicitly details the histories of specific documents: for example, the log of Columbus’s first voyage, “not seen again after he gave it to Queen Isabella in 1493” and its only known copy, lost by Columbus’ wastrel grandson; and the biography by his son Ferdinand (a prejudiced and unreliable witness), published in 1571 but not translated into English until 1744. After outlining the “story of Columbus’ life that most people today accept,” Pelta documents how Columbus has been perceived, century by century: the struggle for recognition by his heirs; his long obscurity; and his adoption by the United States as a hero free of the taint of British colonialism (witness the many places, organizations and events named for him). Pelta also points out that adulation of Columbus first began in the 19th century with Washington Irving’s biography “History of the Life and Voyages of Christopher Columbus” (1828), which was based on Irving’s archival research in Spain and persisted until the late 20th century revulsion against the appalling cost of Columbus’ policies for Native Americans.

Pelta doesn’t provide a full bibliography, but her concluding three-page essay on materials she found most helpful, including recent translations of early sources, is in the spirit of her text’s scrupulous regard for accuracy. Unfortunately, captions for her illustrations are less precise: A few pictures are fully sourced, but others (paintings, for example, from various eras and what seem to be textbook illustrations) are merely credited to collections. It’s a pity, because illustrations, too, can inform by mirroring changing attitudes. Overall, however, Pelta’s is a splendid achievement: Her impartial narrative generates enthusiasm for the ongoing quest for truth that is history at its best.

Steven H. Jaffe’s “Who Were the Founding Fathers?: Two Hundred Years of Reinventing American History” is more ambitious in scope and more energetic in presentation. With his first words, Jaffe plunges into the thesis telegraphed in his subtitle by inventing three contrasting takes on the same July 4 scene:

” . . . [F]ifty-six traitors. . . . Some are fools, but most are shrewdly selfish and evil men. They are rebels against the king who has always protected them. . . .”

” . . . [F]ifty-six hypocrites. . . . Most are wealthy . . . and all are white. . . . [They] will do little or nothing to challenge the great evil of slavery. . . .”

” . . . [F]ifty-six patriots. . . . created the greatest nation the world has ever known, a nation committed to liberty, equality, and the rights of man.”

The vivid contrasts encapsulate Jaffe’s theme: Each political wave applies its own values to the Revolution’s legacy. While some of the Founding Fathers’ political descendants venerate their wisdom and authority, others find reason to deride them as forerunners of the most venal politicians. Both admirers and detractors envision the Founders’ lives and ideas--including the Constitution itself--to suit their own views of a changing American society.

For example, during the Civil War, as Jaffe points out, the South revered Washington as “the greatest Virginian and slave owner”; the North saw him as “the statesman who had helped create a stronger Union.” In the free-wheeling 1920s, debunkers pointed out that the great man’s flaws made him more “interesting, even likable. Rather than detracting from his greatness, his humanity enhanced it.” And in the 1970s, Jaffe reminds us, historians of the New Left emphasized that the Continental Army, like the one that fought in Vietnam, was comprised mostly of “poor artisans, laborers and drifters” who “needed the pay and security”--a view “that was less heroic and more complex than traditional views of gallant patriots rushing to enlist, aflame with the spirit of liberty.” By examining such biases in lively and concrete detail, Jaffe renders our entire history in a refreshingly new and candid light.

Bibliographical notes with full citations attest to his scholarship, as do informative captions for an abundance of pertinent historical photos and illustrations. Such scrupulous acknowledgments do far more than give requisite credit: They suggest that Jaffe has taken care in gathering facts and knows that his generalizations must be understood in context; the quality of Jaffe’s sources (primary materials, landmark historical works, articles based on original research) intimates the authenticity of his material. Similarly, to know that a tableau of Union troops was “painted by a Northerner during the Civil War” with a background image of Bunker Hill to recall the spirit of ’76 is to appreciate it in its original context; to be told, on the same page, where the original can be found is far more useful than a microscopic last-page summary that merely fulfills a legal obligation.

Jaffe gathers masses of pertinent detail into provocatively titled chapters: “Did Anybody Ever See Washington Naked?” (Nathaniel Hawthorne’s Jackson-era plaint that the first president was depicted as so perfect that he must have been born fully clothed); or “I Call Upon You to Be Maladjusted: Prosperity and Protest, From the Fifties to the Vietnam War.” Reading “Who Were the Founding Fathers?” inspires new appreciation for history’s complexities; Jaffe’s book demonstrates that reconstructing the past’s essential truths requires both tenacity for the quest and thoughtful, open-minded consideration of the facts.

Another groundbreaking portrait of America is Joy Hakim’s 10-volume “A History of US.” With a breezy, colloquial style and a forthright candor that clarifies the thorniest issues, Hakim propels her narrative with an expert storyteller’s sure sense of audience. She organizes an awesome number of significant and entertaining facts into thematic volumes (“Reconstruction and Reform”; “War, Peace and All That Jazz”), liberally equipped with sidebar quotes and contemporary illustrations. Her citations are less complete than Jaffe’s; however, there are good contextual clues to the origins of most illustrations, which are also sourced at the end of each volume, making it feasible to track down originals. Though Hakim’s bibliographies consist only of “More Books to Read” for young readers, she refers constantly to historians, pointing out differences of opinion and urging readers to question facts and test them against new information and what they already know. Hakim’s great contributions are that she banishes dullness from what is, after all, a vital subject and that she celebrates the value of curiosity and an open mind and the joy of ferreting out the truth.

But what of the many new books about the Amistad uprising? Of three I have in hand, Suzanne Jurmain’s “Freedom’s Sons: The True Story of the Amistad Mutiny” is the best model of responsible sourcing. Though her lively account is brief, it’s followed by 30 impressive pages of supporting data: biographical sketches of the captives, which offer poignant reminders of their individuality; a substantial bibliography featuring primary sources; and, best of all, extensive notes, including page citations, to show precisely how we know about these long-ago events. Large type and generous white space make this supplementary material a splendidly inviting introduction to scholarly documentation. This would be the perfect book to open discussion of the film’s strengths, as well as its cavalier way with facts.

“Amistad: A Long Road to Freedom” by Walter Dean Myers (whose many honors include five Coretta Scott King Awards) is published as one product of a new publishing partnership between Penguin Putnam (Dutton Children’s Books is a division) and DreamWorks. Myers pays more attention to social and political context than Jurmain and offers deeper insight into the Africans’ reactions to their experiences. His quotations from a letter to John Quincy Adams from Cinque are especially revealing, as is another from the boy Kali, who “had clearly learned a lot of English” (a fact concealed in Spielberg’s film): “Some people say . . . Mendi people dolt; because we no talk American language. Merica people no talk Mendi language; Merica people dolt?” Myers’ lucid explication of the thicket of legal issues and the court proceedings is a particular boon; though his bibliography is brief and a bit miscellaneous (his “additional sources” are three libraries, including New York City’s Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, which lacks specificity, to say the least). Oddly, Jurmain and Myers’ bibliographies have virtually no sources in common.

In “Amistad Rising: A Story of Freedom,” Veronica Chambers centers on the action at sea; only Cinque’s speeches are fictionalized, their wooden prose a weak link in an otherwise effective text. Paul Lee’s freely rendered paintings are handsome, somber and powerfully dramatic.

Finally, a monumental pictorial evocation of the bitter African journey to America: artist Tom Feelings’ “The Middle Passage: White Ships / Black Cargo.” Feelings gave 20 years to seeking the most authentic and potent images of Africans enduring the agonies of the slave trade. His series of 64 black-and-white paintings is a masterpiece of research, imagination and composition. Like Michelangelo’s “Last Judgment,” it is an unforgettable expression of emotion via heroically proportioned human figures. Share it with anyone over the age of 10.

Children who absorb the kind of intellectual honesty that’s modeled in these fine books, who learn respect not just for accuracy but for the deeper truths that depend on it, should be well prepared to evaluate whatever fabrications the media put forth. And the media may sometimes meet them halfway: Director James Cameron (“Titanic”) recently observed that “[W]e have a great responsibility. Whatever we make will become the truth, the visual reality that a generation will accept.” Such compunction is commendable. Still, until films are freed from commercial interests and historical productions come with fully documented footnotes, kids will need another venue in which to cultivate a healthy skepticism. And what better place than books?

****

WHO WERE THE FOUNDING FATHERS? Two Hundred Years of Reinventing American History. By Steven H. Jaffe. Henry Holt: 160 pp., $16.95

AMISTAD RISING: A Story of Freedom. By Veronica Chambers. Harcourt Brace; 40 pp., $16

A HISTORY OF US: Ten Volumes. By Joy Hakim. Oxford: $16.95 each volume.

FREEDOM’S SONS: The True Story of the Amistad Mutiny. By Suzanne Jurmain. Lothrop, Lee & Shepard: 128 pp., $15

AMISTAD: A Long Road to Freedom. By Walter Dean Myers. Dutton Children’s Books: 100 pp., $16.99

GEORGE WASHINGTON’S BREAKFAST. By Jean Fritz. Illustrated by Tomie DePaola. Putnam/Paperstar: 48 pp., $5.99

DISCOVERING CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS: How History is Invented. By Kathy Pelta. Lerner: 106 pp., $21.27

AND THEN WHAT HAPPENED, PAUL REVERE? By Jean Fritz. Illustrated by Margot Thomes. Putnam/Paperstar: 48 pp., $5.95

THE MIDDLE PASSAGE: White Ships/Black Cargo. By Tom Feelings. Introduction by John Clarke. Dial for Young Readers: 80 pp., $45