
Before we start
Making History • HIST 1105 • Week 4
Two definitions of the historian’s task, three years apart in Prussia — and the discipline that grew out of one of them. Popkin cited by page, Ranke by which of his three excerpts.
The take home · three things
Both ask what the historian’s task is, and both answer: to present what actually happened. Neither means simply gathering facts, and both are refusing history written to judge the past or instruct the present.
Humboldt describes what understanding an event requires, and admits the evidence never supplies it. Ranke gives a procedure: named sources, on every page, with the workings published beside them.
A procedure can be taught, examined and failed, so Ranke’s is the one that became a discipline — and it arrived with archives, a seminar, journals and state money. A method can be honest and still only ever get asked about certain things, by certain people.
Where we’re going · three parts
Humboldt on what understanding an event requires; Ranke on what a book must disclose. The same task, defined twice.
The footnote, the seminar, and judgment by trained peers. Objectivity as a workflow you can be trained in and examined on.
A profession funded by states, a seminar that admitted almost nobody, and Ranke’s own refusal of Enlightenment progress.
Bridge from 4.1 · Prussia, 1806–1810
“The nineteenth century would see history transformed into an academic discipline. At the same time, historical writing would become intimately associated with the development of national identities.” Popkin, From Herodotus to H-Net, p. 71
Napoleon crushes Prussia in 1806. In 1810 the University of Berlin is founded “as part of a deliberate program to promote German national identity in opposition to the influence of the French” (p. 79). Its plan is drafted by Wilhelm von Humboldt. Ranke will teach there for most of his working life.
The two texts you read are not free-floating opinions about method. They are written inside a project to rebuild a defeated state, at an institution created for that purpose. Both facts are true at once: the method is a real advance, and it was funded for a reason.
The text · read to the Prussian Academy, 1821
“The historian’s task is to present what actually happened.” Humboldt, “On the Historian’s Task,” p. 57
The essay is not a method but an account of historical understanding. An event, he argues, is only partly available to the senses; the rest must be supplied by the historian through inference and judgment. Sorting facts gets you a skeleton, not an event — the connections between them are added, not found — and the historian’s obligation is to show each event as part of a whole. The faculty this requires he compares to the artist’s.
It is a standard, not a description of an easy job. “What actually happened” is what you are aiming at precisely because the evidence never simply hands it to you. Every complaint made against scientific history for the next two centuries is already inside its founding document.
Humboldt and Ranke · 1821 and 1824
An address to an academy by a philosopher of language. His subject is the gap between the evidence and the event: the senses give fragments, and the historian supplies the connections. An account of what understanding requires — described honestly, and left open.
A preface to a working book of history. The same gap becomes a problem to be managed: a hierarchy of sources, a citation on every page, a companion volume of criticism. Not a solution. A way of making the gap auditable.
In English the two promises read almost alike, but that is the work of two different translators, a century apart. Humboldt writes die Darstellung des Geschehenen; Ranke, wie es eigentlich gewesen. Popkin puts the relation carefully: the 1821 essay “set out a program that anticipated many of Ranke’s ideas” (p. 79). An affinity, not an echo.
Only one of these can be handed to somebody else. A footnote convention and a seminar can be exported to Tokyo, Baltimore and Paris; “supply the connections yourself” cannot be taught, examined, or failed.
The preface · 1824
“History has had assigned to it the office of judging the past and of instructing the present for the benefit of the future ages. To such high offices the present work does not presume: it seeks only to show what actually happened [wie es eigentlich gewesen].” Ranke, 1824 introduction
This is modesty, not ambition. Judging and instructing were what Livy, Bede and Machiavelli did. Compare Voltaire in 4.1. Ranke is declining all of it — and Popkin is explicit that the target is “Enlightenment historians such as Voltaire and Gibbon” (p. 79).
A claim that can be argued with. If a historian is delivering verdicts, you can only agree or disagree with their values. If they are claiming an event went a particular way, you can go and look. The authority moves from the historian’s standing to their sources.
Discussion · part one
Ranke hands back both traditional offices of history — judgment and instruction — and keeps only description. Voltaire, seventy years earlier, was doing nothing but ranking.
Answer · part one
Verdicts can only be shared or refused; described events can be checked. A claim about what happened is one somebody else can go and test, and that is what lets history accumulate rather than merely accumulate opinions. This is a genuine advance, and it is why the method survived its author.
Refusing to judge does not remove the judgments — it moves them upstream, into what counts as a subject at all. Ranke’s decision that the history of Germanic and Latin Europe “forms the heart of all modern history” is made in the preface, before any source is consulted, and Popkin says plainly that it dismisses “non-European civilizations as unimportant” (p. 83). Nothing in the method catches that, because the method starts after the question is chosen.
The preface · sources
“The basis of the present work, the sources of its material, are memoirs, diaries, letters, ambassadors’ reports, and original accounts of eyewitnesses… These sources will be noted on every page.” Ranke, 1824 introduction
A hierarchy of evidence — eyewitness and administrative papers over later narratives. Full disclosure — the sources named on every page, so a reader can retrace the work. The historian of scholarship Anthony Grafton calls the result “a distinctively modern, double story”: the past, and the historian’s effort to reconstruct it (Popkin, p. 80).
Not the phrase — versions of it were common. The footnote is the argument. Ranke publishes his workings, which means he can be caught being wrong, by anyone willing to go to the same documents. He also declares “a strict presentation of the facts, contingent and unattractive though they may be, is the highest law.”
Berlin · from the later 1820s
“Ranke’s innovation was to systematically engage students in the process of source interpretation by having them closely study primary documents and present their conclusions to other scholars, who would subject them to criticism.” Popkin, From Herodotus to H-Net, p. 81
An American student who sat in one: the student arrives “prepared with his brief of points and citations, like a lawyer about to plead a case in the court room… old opinions are exploded, standard histories are riddled by criticism” (p. 81).
A phrase cannot be transmitted; a procedure can. The seminar turned “check the sources” into something you could be trained in, examined on, and fail — and the scholarly journals that grew up around it demanded the same thing of everyone else, “each assertion accompanied by proof, by source references and quotations” (Popkin, p. 84). The graduate seminar still runs on this model.
Discussion · part two
Popkin says the seminar carried “the sense of being initiated into an elite club, limited to those who had mastered the exacting techniques of scientific scholarship” (p. 81).
Answer · part two
Misread documents, forged charters, dates that cannot be right, a conclusion the cited source does not support. It works because everyone in the room can go to the same paper and look. Popkin marks the shift precisely: a historian’s success was now “determined by the judgment of their professional peers, rather than by the reactions of the public or honors awarded by rulers” (p. 82).
Anything the whole room already believes. A seminar of men trained in the same tradition, reading state papers held in state archives, will catch a mistranscribed date every time and a shared assumption about who matters approximately never. Peer review polices accuracy. It does not police the question.
The profession and the state · 1819 onward
“The increasingly professionalized scholarly history of the nineteenth century was heavily dependent on national governments for support.” Popkin, From Herodotus to H-Net, p. 85
Governments funded the universities where the new history was taught and the archives where its documents were made available. Popkin has the Prussian government initiating the Monumenta Germaniae Historica — a state-funded scholarly edition of Germany’s medieval sources — in 1819 “as part of its program for strengthening national consciousness after the Napoleonic wars” (p. 84).
Popkin quotes a scholar on nineteenth-century nationalist historians: they were “true believers…. No one had to pay them to write their national histories; that was an added (and later) bonus” (p. 85). The bias did not need to be bought because it was built into which papers survived, who kept them, and who was hired to read them.
Heinrich von Treitschke · 1834–1896
“The nationalist and anti-Semitic outlook propagated in Treitschke’s influential works helped create the climate that led many Germans to support the policies that led to World War I and later made the rise of Hitler possible.” Popkin, From Herodotus to H-Net, p. 89
Treitschke trained under Ranke, used the archives, cited his sources, held the chair at Berlin. His German History in the Nineteenth Century told the story of unification “in a way that made Bismarck’s accomplishment appear necessary and inevitable” (p. 88) — that is, made the new German Empire look like the destination history had been heading for all along. Ranke’s students, Popkin notes, “saw unification as an expression of the individuality of the German nation, expressing itself as historicist teaching indicated” (p. 88).
The apparatus performed exactly as designed and produced this. Rigour about evidence is not a safeguard against anything, because it never touches the prior question of what the evidence is being gathered to show.
The seminar · through the nineteenth century
“Women remained almost entirely excluded from the university seminars that had now become crucial for the achievement of academic status in the historical profession.” Popkin, From Herodotus to H-Net, p. 94
Popkin notes that “even some women endorsed this view” — the British writer M. A. Stodart, in 1843, held that women’s “powers of mind are hardly fitted to enter this field… her feelings usurp the seat of judgment” (p. 93). Meanwhile women wrote a great deal of history — biography, popular history, the first American house museums — none of it counted as scholarship.
Smith argues the seminar “excluded women, who did not gain access to higher education until the twentieth century” (p. 83), and that the exclusion was part of the model rather than incidental to it. Ranke described archival research in frankly masculine terms — a “sweet, magnificent fling with the object of my love” (p. 80). Objectivity was defined partly against what the profession coded as feminine.
Ranke · lectures on world history, 1854
“I would maintain that every epoch is immediate to God, and that its value consists, not in what follows it, but in its own existence, its own proper self.” Ranke, 1854 lectures
He asks flatly: “What is progress? Where is this progress of mankind to be seen?” To hold that every generation is more perfect than the last, so that earlier ones are “only porters for the following generations,” he calls “a divine injustice.” Of the philosophers of history: “Out of the infinite array of facts, they select those which they wish to believe” (1881–88 notes).
Scientific history is not the Enlightenment’s story of progress made rigorous. It is partly a refusal of it. Compare Herder in 4.1. But note the limit: Ranke refuses to rank generations, and in the same lecture calls Asia’s history “retrogressive” and dates art’s peak to the sixteenth century.
Discussion · part three
Voltaire ranked four ages by taste; Kant argued the species was headed somewhere. Ranke says no generation may be ranked above another, and gives a theological reason for it — while ranking peoples and periods freely in the same lecture.
Answer · part three
There is no document that establishes epochs are of equal worth. “Immediate to God” is a theological claim, and it does the same structural job as Kant’s secret plan of Nature (compare 4.1): it supplies a shape for history that no evidence could confirm or refute. Both men needed one. Ranke simply chose the shape that flattens rather than the shape that climbs.
A ladder lets you skip the ages near the bottom; this premise obliges him to take each period on its own terms — more work, and better history. He does not hold to it consistently: the same lecture ranks peoples, and his 1824 preface had already settled which nations counted. The rule outlived the man who broke it, and Popkin says it is what survives him — “judicious evaluation of evidence, with careful attention to its historical context” (p. 98).
The take home
It began by giving something up: the right to judge and to instruct. What replaced them — a hierarchy of evidence, a citation on every page, a seminar, journals, a doctorate — are not claims about truth but arrangements for catching people out. What they could not do is choose their own questions. States built the archives and paid the chairs; the seminar admitted a narrow few; Ranke settled who mattered in his preface, before any document was opened. The apparatus checks answers. Somebody else has always chosen the question.
Objectivity here never meant a historian with no view; it meant work laid out so that someone who disagrees can find where you went wrong. So “is this person biased?” is the wrong question to put to a claim of objectivity — in a history book, a news report, or a model. Ask instead what it would take to catch them being wrong, who paid for the evidence, and who was in the room when the question was chosen.
Recap
“Present what actually happened” — followed by the admission that the senses give you only part of any event.
Judging and instructing handed back. “Only” to show what happened — a smaller job, deliberately.
Memoirs, letters, ambassadors’ reports, “noted on every page,” plus a whole volume of criticism. Workings published.
Source criticism made teachable and examinable. It polices accuracy — never the choice of question.
State archives, state chairs, a nationalist profession of “true believers” — and a seminar that excluded women by design.
“Every epoch is immediate to God.” The ladder Voltaire and Ferguson built, thrown out on principle.
Discussion · 4.2
You now have a specific version of the question rather than an abstract one: a hierarchy of sources, a citation on every page, a seminar of critics, a state that paid for the archive, and a preface that decided who mattered before any of it started. Answer it with those in view.