Monday, June 28, 2010

Dawson and Kirk on the Significance of Myth





As I prepare for a lecture tonight on the meaning of myth, I've come across some meaningful thoughts by two of my heroes, Christopher Dawson and Russell Kirk, each significantly influenced by St. Augustine.


St. Augustine’s, Dawson’s, and Kirk’s vision of history, is not strictly history in the modern, professional sense of the term.  The City of God, Dawson explained, is “a vast synthesis which embraces the history of the whole human race and its destinies in time and eternity.”[1] 

Larger than a study of mere fact or a laying out a sequence of names and dates, St. Augustine’s City of God is “metahistory.” 
Metahistory is concerned with the nature of history, the meaning of history and the cause and significance of historical change.  The historian himself is primarily engaged in the study of the past.  He does not ask himself why the past is different from the present or what is the meaning of history as a whole.  What he wants to know is what actually happened at a particular time and place and what effect it had on the immediate future.[2]

True history, according to Dawson is poetic:  “The mastery of” professional historical methods and “techniques will not produce great history, any more than a mastery of metrical technique will produce great poetry.”  The true historian, or the metahistorian, will recognize that “something more is necessary—intuitive understanding, creative imagination, and finally a universal vision transcending the relative limitation of the particular field of historical study.”[3] 

Dawson on what his parents offered him: “Thanks to my parents I learnt the essential connection between story and history, so that I came to know the past not so much by the arid path . . . as through the enchanted world of myth and legend.  In this way I discovered very early that history was not a flat expanse of time, measured off in date, but a series of different worlds and that each of them had its own spirit and form and its own riches of poetic imagination.”[4]

Dawson on why myth opens one to a culture: “I believe the old myths are better not only intrinsically, but because they lead further and open a door into the mind as well as into the past.  This was the old road which carries us back not merely for centuries but for thousands of years; the road by which every people has travelled and from which the beginnings of every literature have come.”[5]

“In the modern age we have known no Thucydides, no Polybius, no Livy, no Plutarch,” Russell Kirk wrote.  “Obsessed by the Fact, a nineteenth-century idol, most modern historians have forgotten that facts, too, are constructions—and meaningful only in association.  It is the event, rather than the isolated fact, which is the proper concern of historians.”[6]

The historian, like the poet, should be divinely inspired, accepting the creativity offered by the love of the Holy Spirit, the source of all creativity and imagination.  So armed, the historian should recognize the Creator and glorify the creation.

Kirk wrote: “To seek for truths in history. . . distinctly is not to indulge in dreamy visions of unborn ages, or to predict the inevitability of some political domination.  Rather, the truths of history, the real meanings, are to be discovered in what history can teach us about the framework of the Logos, if you will: about the significance of human existence: about the splendor and the misery of our condition.  In this inquiry, there must be joined with the historical discipline certain insights of philosophy and psychology.  For historical consciousness necessarily is entwined with the mystery of personal consciousness.”[7]

“For good or ill,” Kirk concluded, “ideas about history and its lessons probably will be powerful in the dawning era—even though the average member of the rising generation has studied not history, but ‘social stew.’  If ignorant of history, that rising generation may wander bewildered in cunning passages, contrived corridors and issues.  And at the heart of such a labyrinth, we are told, there has lurked for ages the Minotaur.”[8]



[1] Dawson, “St. Augustine and His Age,” 223.
[2] Dawson, Dynamics of World History, 303.  For a critique of Dawson’s position, see Hayden V. White, “Religion, Culture, and Western Civilization in Christopher’s Dawson’s Idea of History,”  English Miscellany 9 (1958): 247-87.
[3] Dawson, Dynamics of World History, 309-10.
[4] Dawson, “Memories,” reprinted in Scott, “A Historian and His World,” 239.
[5] Dawson, “Memories,” reprinted in Scott, “A Historian and His World,” 239.
[6] Kirk, “Regaining Historical Consciousness,” in Redeeming the Time, 105.
[7] Kirk, “Regaining Historical Consciousness,” in Redeeming the Time, 102.
[8] Kirk, “Regaining Historical Consciousness,” in Redeeming the Time, 114.

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Holiness in Pfeifer, Kansas

The Christian Humanist

To defend the West, we must follow six tenets:
  • First, that the preservation of the virtues of the West, best understood through the stories of the exemplars of these virtues, is a sacred duty.
  • Second, that one must understand history in metahistorical, theological, and poetic terms as did Virgil and St. Augustine.
  • Third, one must embrace a proper anthropology, defining man by both his inherited sin and his received grace. The person, at root, is a being endowed with rationality, reason, and passion. He is higher than the animals, but lower than the angels. He must, to be fully human, balance each of these tensions.
  • Fourth, Christians (Roman Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, and Protestant)—in alliance with believing Jews and even virtuous pagans—must sanctify the world through the Grace of God. For men of good will to fight amongst themselves squanders precious time and resources, and it leaves the field to the Enemy.
  • Fifth, the real struggle in the world is not between left and right, but between Christ and anti-Christ, between that which is humane and that which is anti-humane.
  • Finally, true remembrance, preservation, and advocacy of all that is Good, True, and Beautiful, comes from a recognition that our highest form of understanding is derived from the reflection of the light of the Logos (Gospel of St. John 1:9) in our souls through the faculty of imagination. In this point, one must follow not just St. John, but the Blessed Virgin Mary: “My soul doth magnify the Lord.” Or, as St. Augustine put in it in his sermon on Psalm 58: “Of itself it hath no light, nor of itself powers; but all that is fair in a soul is virtue and wisdom; but it neither is wise for itself, nor strong for itself, nor is itself light to itself, nor is itself virtue to itself. There is a certain fountain and origin of virtue, there is a certain root of wisdom, there is a certain, so to speak, if this also is to be said, region of immutable truth; from which if the soul withdraws it is made dark and if it draws near it is made light.”