Maine History Online

In different periods of time, historians have privileged some evidence over others, giving more attention to some types of documents over others. The traditional separation of history from pre-history is built on written documents, giving greater emphasis to the elite, literate few who produced such evidence.

This emphasis favored the study of cultures with writing, leaving oral cultures, such as Maine's Native Americans, without an apparent "history."

Earlier in the 20th century, historians favored examining the past from what we today call the top down – that is, to study the lives of great leaders and the laws they made, the battles they fought, the industries they captained, or the technology they developed.

In these studies, historians would privilege, or focus on, the copious written records of that elite level of society. This approach provided important information on American society, or at least on society as lived by the elite and by the ideals imagined by those in charge, yet neglected the impact of that leadership, war or business on the rest of society.

Later generations of historians asked different questions, moving beyond an examination of one level of society to encompass different populations and cultural groups. Studying different levels of society necessitated an examination of different sorts of evidence.

Early histories of the Civil War focused on President Lincoln, military officers, and the great battles that were waged.

Civil and social unrest in the 1960s led a new generation of historians to re-examine the Civil War era, asking questions about foot soldiers, enslaved and free Blacks, and the large group of citizens anxiously awaiting the wars' end from home.

Military historians of the early 20th century likely would not have examined the letter of Rebecca Usher, a Civil War nurse who writes movingly of Lincoln's assassination, or of Emma Manson, who organized Biddeford women to prepare goods to send to wounded soldiers. The new social history inspired a new generation of historians to revisit the past, this time with more attention to race, gender, class and to the lives of the everyday man and woman.

The continued conversation of questions and evidence, evidence and questions makes history a dynamic undertaking. Historians return to familiar topics again and again, to question the evidence anew.

Dozens of historians have examined the infamous Salem Witch Trials of 1692 all seeking to understand why some individuals accused others of witchcraft. Historian John Demos saw economic relationships as key; Carol Karlsen highlighted the role of unprotected and independent women.

Other authors focused on long-standing family rivalries, psychological disturbances, or poisoned grain. Recently, Mary Beth Norton noticed that accusers shared an interesting thing in common – surviving Native American attacks, particularly in Maine.

Scholars trying to understand Salem would not have thought to look north to Maine for an explanation for events in coastal Massachusetts, but Norton asked different questions.

Historians' framework for understanding the past is often unintentionally limited by the very name by which events are identified, such as pre-history (implying incorrectly there was no history prior to the development of civilizations), the Dark Ages (erroneously suggesting a lack of cultural advancement in this period), or the Salem witchcraft trials (emphasizing one particular locale). In the case of the latter, witchcraft accusations went well beyond Salem, as this 1692 deposition indicates.

As with most historical events, there is no one story. In asking different questions and in carefully questioning the assumptions and frameworks historians themselves use, each generation adds another facet of understanding to the complexity of events that comprise the past.

Asking new questions, seeking evidence for those whose voices have not been previously heard can reap rich rewards. In some cases, whole new histories are discovered, as in the recent case of a Portland lawyer whose dogged efforts in archives throughout the country demonstrated the presence of a significant Chinese population in Maine where none had been previously suspected or imagined.

This is often referred to as "recovery", when an individual's voice or particular community's presence is brought from obscurity in to the historical conversation.

Recovering historical stories is particularly powerful history: when we see ourselves in history – that is when our gender, ethnic group, religious background, or other facet of identity is recognized as contributing to and participating in history – we see ourselves and our ancestors validated.

Conclusion

Recovered from the dustbin of history, we are once again connected to and a part of a community, state and nation.

The historical record is inherently incomplete. Paper and physical items are discarded or burn in fires, events are misremembered, photographs are not labeled or are mislabeled.

The very nature of the historical record leads historians to hunt far and wide for evidence, to examine new sources of information, to find parallel examples, to piece together the past like a puzzle – a puzzle where we don't know the final image and some of the pieces are missing.

Good history assembles evidence from a variety of perspectives to craft a narrative, tell a story and critically, to make a point. But above all, history moves beyond a long list of names and dates and makes an argument, offers a thesis, answers the question "so what." What does this mean? What does this teach us? What do we now know? What is still unknown? And where might we hunt for the answer?

Questions lead to answers, which lead to more questions and the hunt for more evidence. This is the historical conversation, an ongoing dynamic between what we know and what we don't, between evidence and historians, and between past and present.

As you explore the resources of the Maine Memory Network and Maine History Online, we invite you to join the conversation.