History is Plural: An Analysis of Simon Schama's <i>Dead Certainties</i>

An Analysis of Simon Schama's Dead Certainties

History is old. And like anything old, it is deeply established in tradition. The traditional role of history is that found in textbooks, such as college textbooks. A historian tries his best to present history in a factual, unbiased method. He bases his so-called facts on artifacts and archaeological findings, especially manuscripts or tablets, such as the Epic of Gilgamesh, the oldest known tablet. Historians have inferred an entire culture from this tablet, which they proceed to present in a factual, unbiased method.

In his book Dead Certainties, Simon Schama presents an entirely different view. He realizes that the Epic of Gilgamesh could have been written by a terrible freelance writer whose overly imaginative work was rejected, causing him to toss his unwanted tablet into a nearby pile of igneous sediment, where it would be preserved. Schama's book points out the problem with traditional history: mere interpolations cannot be presented as fact. While at the time, the circumstances surrounding Gilgamesh were dead certainties, those certainties are now dead. These dead certainties leave historians only to speculation. Schama consequently rejects traditional history, instead asserting that history is compound and by its nature ambiguous. He utilizes his unique narrative and overall structure to demonstrate his take on history.

If the average person had to place Schama's book in a category, he would certainly place it in the "historical fiction" genre, simply because it reads like a novel. He would also think it poorly written, because it fails to maintain interest in many points and has no immediately evident plot, like respectable historical fiction should. The average person would not realize that Schama is not attempting to write historical fiction, but rather a plausible version of history based on facts and findings. Historical fiction is traditionally an elaborately contrived story with added realism and context from a few facts that usually do not play any significant role in the story. The classic Ben-Hur comes to mind; next to nothing is fact. But Schama is writing what could be history; he takes the actual known facts and presents several ways of interpreting them. He does not take a complete story and add facts to make it real; he takes real facts and adds story to make it complete. He does not show his interpretation as fact. He only shows the facts as facts. The rest is narrative: descriptive, opinionated narrative. Certainly not traditional historian-speak.

Contrary to tradition, description abounds. At one point, Professor Webster is reading Milton with his family: "As the lines became more pastoral and travelled through the realms of Mirth where 'the milk-maid singeth blithe, / And the mower whets his scythe,' his voice became lower and the lyric cadences seemed to the girls to represent his flute, liquidy legato." This sample makes excellent use of imagery. The reader's sensory organs are nearly perceiving the environment. But nobody has any idea what Prof. Webster's voice sounded like, and certainly haven't a clue when it comes to the thoughts circulating in his daughters' minds. Schama made it up. But he is using actual known facts in his description; moments earlier he mentions how "the candlelight reflected off his spectacles" when he reads. This says A) the Professor is illuminating his house by candle, and B) technology had advanced to the point where spectacles existed. The second one is a true fact, and the first one, while speculation, is based on the fact that electric lighting does not show up for another thirty or forty years. Schama's description, while reminiscent of a modern novel, never exceeds the bounds of plausibility.

Schama's structure is also quite novelesque. In Part Two his first chapter takes place after the bulk of the story. It tells us little about the actual murder, but it does establish a lot of thought, suspense, and uncertainty, even in the first page. And the first page is a known fact! It is an actual document received by then Governor George Briggs. The "shrieking letter" curses and threatens Briggs, saying that if "Professor Webster hang you will meet with a terrible death" and calling him numerous insulting names. This fact and Schama's subsequent narrative, mixed with other factual letters, make the reader and the average person want to know more, to know what did happen, and why the heck is anyone going to hang a professor?! This chapter also lays an after-the-fact foundation for the structure Schama will build on top of it. It establishes his descriptive tone, historical accuracy, and unorthodox methodology of creating historical characters, utilizing as one of his key tactics the inner monologue of the character. The reader feels connected to Briggs, as though he is stepping inside the governor's mind, as though he is himself experiencing the same trials and issues that Briggs faces.

The second chapter is a flashback. It begins shortly after the murder, when people are beginning to notice that something had gone awry (he didn't come back to pick up his lettuce), and even contains its own flashback. It describes George Parkman, his life and his character, in Schama's tangible narrative, but with a marked lack of any real inner monologue. Chapter Three describes the janitor and his role in unearthing the probable remains of George Parkman at the medical college, telling his story from the first-person perspective, from beginning to end. The next chapter details the person, thoughts, and character of Professor Webster in a third-person narrative, which still manages to analyze the thoughts and mental processes of the Professor. This chapter takes us all the way up to the event but skips those few hours.

Then Webster is arrested. Until this point the chapters were not in chronological order like a traditional history or even traditional historical fiction. Apart from the first chapter, the chapters tell stories. They tell separate, individual lives. But upon Webster's arrest, the relationships become clearer. The whole picture is still vague, like a mosaic with many missing pieces, because Schama leaves many things uncertain still. The following chapter describes the public view on Webster's arrest and whether or not the public thought he was guilty or innocent. This relates to the trial that follows in the next chapter because the jury is composed of people from this public. The trial seems to be the climax, as Schama has met in the middle and now advances toward where he started, covering the uncovered territory.

Why does Schama use flashbacks and arrange his chapters in a chronologically-challenged manner? It can't be only because traditional history doesn't. There is a better reason. He is describing an event and the events surrounding that event. If he covered it chronologically, the story would actually be scattered still more. He provides excellent character analysis along with the story and background of each individual. He tells the mayor's story, the janitor's story, and Professor Webster's story, until he merges them all in the courtroom. The one person whose story he did not tell was George Parkman. Yes, he provided the character description and background, but he did not show any of Parkman's thoughts except his doubt of Webster and resolve to purchase lettuce -- insignificant compared to the extended thought processes Shama shows us of the others. The trial shows all of their stories combined except, again, George Parkman. He could not tell his story, for dead men tell no secrets. Heck, they don't say anything.

Schama's book is just like real life: many people's distinct stories converging into one story. Marriage is a good example of this phenomenon. Two distinct people with backgrounds and stories converge, making the rest of their lives one story. Schama would not have been able to tell these people's stories in a realistic way had he gone chronologically. Instead, he told each person's story until they had all merged into one story. The rest of the book is that single compound story.

The compoundness of Schama's history is what sets it completely apart from traditional history. Traditional history is one story. It's like the historians process the hundreds of unique stories in a gigantic History Machine, which flattens all the stories into one homogenous layer, removing anything irrelevant to the big picture. Schama retains the individuality of the stories, allowing his reader to assemble the compound story for himself. The difference is like processed meat vs. combo pizza. Shama's history is made up of other stories, made up of other people. A story like real life, not made up of facts and events, like history. An old story.