As I sit here pouring over an account of Elihu Washburne – the onetime friend and confidant of Presidents Lincoln and Grant, and ambassador to France during a time of tremendous tumult and drama in the streets of Paris – I find myself marveling at how unaware we are of what is an undeniably riveting story of American honor and personal sacrifice, embodied in the valiant actions of a dutiful public servant in a hotbed of chaos and disorder. If I had ever even heard of Elihu Washburne in my youth, I have long since forgotten it. Yet here I am in my mid-40’s, and had I not encountered the story in the chapters of David McCullough’s The Greater Journey: Americans in Paris and my current reading of Michael Hill’s biography of Mr. Washburne (taken much from the latter’s own diary and dispatches during the Parisian tumult of the 1870’s), I would still know nothing of this remarkable piece of American history.
Mr. Washburne is most notable for his heroic actions to aid and protect American citizens and other foreign nationals in Paris during the Franco-Prussian war of 1870-71 and the civil strife and political disorder shortly thereafter. Interestingly, the impact Mr. Washburne had on American history may be even more consequential, for it was Elihu Washburne who first befriended and advanced the career of a certain Ulysses S. Grant on the eve of the American Civil War. It was Congressman Washburne who, as a close confidant of President Lincoln, convinced the Commander-in-Chief to promote Grant to the rank of brigadier general, leading to the eventual rise of Grant to the command of the entire Union Army. It is a fascinating plot line, and to think that until a couple of months ago, Mr. Washburne was a complete unknown to me.
I am fortunate, I suppose, in that I had a teacher who instilled in me a love of history and the stories it has to tell. While the practical world holds me in bondage, relegating my passion for history to a mere hobby or pastime, I continue to adhere to the advice of that beloved teacher: if something interests you, go find a book about it and read, and then find another and read more, until your curiosity is sated.
I’m not inclined to rail against the trends of public (and private) education in this regard, although it is a vitally important topic. History is but a collection of accounts centered around people and events in time, and the unique perceptions and perspectives of what occurred and why. I have long thought that a proper study of history’s figures and events require not a view from a single vantage point, but an overlapping panoramic from a great many such points. I have no major qualms about the selection of topics and stories to be taught, provided that care is taken to ensure that students are presented with the opportunity to explore the different perspectives and accounts of those people and events. All stories have a bias; only the degree varies. At the very least, the history that is taught should serve not as an end to knowledge, but a gateway to further exploration and discovery of what we have collectively forgotten about our own heritage and civilization.
No, my greater question is more abstract than simply developing a list of what should / should not be taught, or identifying what is “essential”. I find myself pondering not just “What history should they read?” but perhaps more importantly, “What history will they read?”. What stories of the past will prompt the next generation to put down their phones and pick up a book? Will they even pick up a book, or wait for someone to produce a movie or an original series on Netflix? What does it take to create a genuine thirst for knowledge that goes far beyond the base need for entertainment and sensory stimulation?
I have no answers, only concerns. Meanwhile, I have left the brave Mr. Washburne on the cusp of the great siege of Paris at the hands of the relentless Prussian army. It is quite a tale, and in his own words, no less. See you on the flip side.
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