Fall 2008 has kicked off at this point, and I find myself in Professor Copelman's HIST 610 "The Study and Writing of History." This is one of the only required courses in the program, the foundational class where young historians are taught the craft. Almost everyone, students and professors alike, tends to approach this course as a burden or a vegetable that has to be eaten but probably can't be enjoyed. As a result, it's a self-fulfilling prophecy. I did a lot of research with my fellow students to find the professor who did the best with the 610 obligation and settled on Dr. McGrath. When I registered for class this summer, I was sure that I selected her Section 003. Whether it was my oversight or something screwy with the GMU registration application, I wound up in Copelman's Section 001. And too late to change anything, since all of the other 610 sections were chock full of students. Oh, well. We're making the best of the situation.
Speaking of that, I really enjoyed Professor Copelman's exercise last night. We read the chapter on the Watercress Girl from Henry Mayhew's London Labour and the London Poor, volume 1. After further examination, we concluded that the watercress saleswoman was pulling a con on old Henry, who was predisposed to see her as a pathetic waif with little hope. It was clear from his writing that he pitied the girl, and after we examined her comments it became clear that she was not as bad off as Hank assumed. An excellent example of why we as historians must read sources, especially primary sources, skeptically and with a constant eye for not so much bias as subjectivity.
That, of course, led us to our other text, Peter Novick's That Noble Dream, a historiography of the objective question in historical writings. Can a historian be truly objective — divorcing himself completely from his own nature and nurture to write simply the facts? I think that is an impossible standard, and Novick does too given that "my way of thinking about the past is primarily shaped by my understanding of its role within a particular historical context, and in the stream of history." Objectivity is more of a myth, says Novick, never achievable but worthy of consideration because it "has served to safeguard and enforce norms of scholarly rectitude; it vouches for the efficiency of scholarly rituals." We should strive for the Holy Grail of objectivity, but not be disappointed by our failure to realize it.
