[In early May,
with the lockdown closing in around us a bit, my sons and I took a daytrip up
to Portsmouth, New Hampshire, where we walked around the historic
waterfront area (masked and at a social distance from fellow visitors,
natch). This week I’ll highlight a handful of histories from this multi-layered
New England community, leading up to a special post on other NE historic
daytrips!]
On two stages to
and the broader meanings of a 19th century Renaissance life.
To quote the waterfront
historic marker dedicated to him (from which I first learned about him,
natch), Thomas
P. Moses (1808-1881) “was born near Sagamore Creek in Portsmouth and became
the town’s leading musician and poet during the 1830s and 1840s. A book
of poems and essays was locally published in 1849 as well as a colorful
‘autobiography’ in 1850 that insulted all his ‘enemies.’” (Not for lack of
trying, I can’t find an online version of, or even any further info online
about, that latter book, to my eternal regret.) Without having had the chance
to read either of those books yet, it nonetheless seems quite likely to me that
these literary works of Moses’ were inspired in part by the Transcendentalists,
whose Concord focal point was not too far from Portsmouth and who often
combined multiple literary genres in the
same works (and certainly in the same moments and careers) as Moses
apparently did. But on the other hand (or rather at the same time), the
autobiography sounds quite a bit like Edgar
Allan Poe, who was the era’s master at coming after his perceived enemies
in print.
Whatever the inspiration
for this burst of literary productivity and publication, it was apparently
short-lived, as (to quote the marker once more) “from the 1850s on he
transformed himself into one of Portsmouth’s most interesting Victorian
painters and cultural entrepreneurs.” In yesterday’s post I highlighted one of
Moses’ most famous individual paintings, an 1870 rendition
of the 1864 Civil War naval Battle of Cherbourg. Indeed, as you might
expect from a Portsmouth painter, many of Moses’ work focused on nautical
scenes and subjects, including the three featured on that historic marker: American
Ship Entering Portsmouth Harbor (1850s); Coming
from the Navy Yard, Portsmouth (1867); and The
Schooner Charles Carroll (1875, and his last Portsmouth painting
“before he left the city to teach music at an academy in Marietta, South
Carolina). Unlike the Cherbourg painting, those works—like most of Moses’
paintings, it seems—depicted Portsmouth subjects, and Portsmouth itself; that
is, while his focus is often on ships, Moses consistently situates those ships
within the Portsmouth landscape, making his paintings an important part of the
historical record of the city overall and its waterfront spaces in particular.
A published
author, a prolific painter, and a talented even musician to get a job teaching
at a music academy—Moses was clearly a
Renaissance man (or rather Renaissance person—I want always to be clear
that the concept can apply to anyone). But so what, you might ask? Sure, it’s
impressive when someone is talented enough in different arenas to leave a
legacy of work (published and otherwise) across them. But beyond appreciating
them as individuals (which is never a bad thing and indeed one goal
of many of my blog
posts and public
scholarly pieces), does that kind of breadth have collective or social significance?
I would argue that it does, in a couple distinct and equally important ways.
For one thing, it means that these individual figures can help us better
remember many different sides to their cultures and communities, which is to my
mind one consistent, overarching purpose of any contributions to our collective
memories. And for another, figures like Moses can help inspire us to consider
how we might contribute to multiple sides to our own moment and society. I’m
not suggesting we all have to publish, paint, and perform (my trombone-playing
was never anywhere near my writing, and the less said about my visual artwork
the better). Just that, as with academic disciplines and departments, in the
wider world the boundaries between forms are far less clear, and far less worth
worrying about.
Next Portsmouth
post tomorrow,
Ben
PS. What do you
think? Other historic sites or daytrips you’d highlight?
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