Category Archives: Culture

June 23, 2026

Monmouth Memorials

By daseger

I was down in New Jersey for a celebration of life event for a cherished member of my husband’s family over the weekend, and as the region where he grew up, Monmouth County in the central part of the state, is a veritable crossroads of the American Revolution, I took advantage of a free and beautiful afternoon to see a recreation of the 1778 Battle of Monmouth on its preserved battlefield. It was a large gathering of Patriots of different-colored coats and Redcoats, who also featured variant regimental uniforms. And there were also Revolutionary medical officers, chaplains, cooks and assorted camp followers. Everyone was very dedicated to their tasks at hand, and so I was inspired to look around the county for more Revolutionary places, including the Englishtown Inn which served as General Washington’s headquarters as well as the site of the retreating General Lee’s court-martial two days after the battle and the beautiful Old Tennent Presbyterian Church which became a shrine to the battle dead. In contrast to the battlefield, all was very quiet at the Church, which is surrounded by a graveyard with the marked graves of Revolutionary veterans, including two young men from Massachusetts and a British Lt. Colonel buried far from home.

The Battle of Monmouth’s most famous (composite) heroine, Molly Pitcher, was everywhere of course, including my sister-in-law’s house when I got home late in the afternoon—at the center of a battle watercolor in one of my favorite aesthetics, “mid-century colonial”! She (my sister-in-law, not Molly Pitcher) wasn’t really sure of how she came to possess this scene or its artist, so if you have any clues about the latter, let me know. I really like this depiction, and compared to the works of  Currier & Ives and their successors, it is very measured Molly: generally she is depicted as the central figure.

Currier & Ives, “The Heroine of Monmouth,” 1876, Museum of the American Revolution.

The weekend ended on a poignant note when other sisters-in-law took me to see the County’s 9/11 Memorial in Atlantic Highlands, atop Mount Mitchill with the surviving and new towers of New York City in the distance. An eagle clutching a beam from one of the fallen towers, with the names of all the (147) victims from the towns of Monmouth County inscribed below, it manages to merge the national and the local very effectively, just like the Revolutionary memorials to the south.

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June 16, 2026

The Art of Privateering

By daseger

So my title is a bit lofty and deceptive. There are beautiful miniatures of privateersmen and of course maritime paintings of great sea battles, but most of my post is going to be focused on a pen-and-ink “picture book” of privateering written and illustrated by a western New England medical doctor. I just had big book week, presenting Salem’s Centuries with my co-editor at the State Library of Massachusetts, and one of its chapters with my co-author for Historic New England’s Phillips House (where I also work in the summers). Both events went so well, and were even enjoyable; the staff at the State Library (an absolutely beautiful space in the Massachusetts State House) were just lovely and appreciative, as were my colleagues at the Phillips House. This latter talk was a bit more casual; it was actually a “conversation” between my co-author, Maria Pride, and I about Salem privateers, based on our piece on Jonathan Haraden in the book. Maria completed her Ph.D. dissertation on Massachusetts privateering just a few years ago at the University of Sterling in Scotland. We had our conversation outside near the Phillips Carriage House, and were followed by an amazing group of Salem musicians named Crowninshield Punch who sang some period maritime songs. Since we were outside, I decided to have a little program because we had some good quotes that we wanted to share (mostly by the privateers themselves, about their personal patriotism, which is often difficult to discern) and as I was putting it together I came across Pirates and Patriots of the Revolution. An Illustrated Encyclopedia of Colonial Seamanship by Dr. C. Wilbur Keith while looking for illustrations. It looked at first like a child’s book, and I imagine it probably is, but the illustrations were charming, and when I started reading some of the entries I was really surprised at the detail (and the writing). So I kept reading! Dr. Keith was obviously very interested in his topic, and very talented. You can find it at the Internet Archive and I just purchased on old copy on ebay.

Well, these images will give you a taste of what Dr. Keith offers up in case you want to find your own copy of his little book. And everything is sourced—he referenced logbooks well before they were digitized. Along with Maria, I do not like to refer to Revolutionary privateers as “pirates” in any sense: they were certainly more regulated than the Elizabethan privateers I explored in my MA thesis. Instruction # 6 in the Continental Congress’s “Instructions to Privateers” essentially says:  don’t be a pirate! If anyone demonstrated the “art of privateering”, it was Jonathan Haraden, but I did want to share some material art too. I love Howard Pyle, and Howard Pyle loved pirates, and so I think he portrayed privateers as such, but still, An American Privateer Taking a British Prize (1908) is a great image.

A very famous “Jolly Tar” figurehead of a Virginia privateer was captured perfectly by WPA artist Mary E. Humes in 1935 (Now in the National Gallery of Art ). And there are quite a few miniature portraits of ship captains who started out as privateers, like Salem’s own Nathaniel West and the handsome Jasper Ely Cropsey in the collection of the Metropolitan Museum. So many ships: single portraits like that of the Avon at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, and in battle scenes like Robert Dodd’s famous depiction of the Battle off Halifax (1782) in which the Salem privateer Jack‘s Captain David Ropes was killed.

A View of His Majesty’s Brigg Observer, Commanded by Lieut. John Crymes (to whom this print is inscribed) Engaging the American Privateer Ship Jack, John Ropes (commander), by Night on the 29th of May 1782, Off the Harbour of Hallifax, Nova Scotia”. Aquatint by Robert Dodd, 1784

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June 8, 2026

Three Irish Takeaways

By daseger

How to summarize a long trip all around Ireland? I’ve got lots of photos—and thoughts—but I always think it’s better to focus when presenting anything, any way, so I’ve narrowed much of it down to three takeaways covering three topics that I feature on this blog consistently: architecture, gardens, and public history. So here I go with: more Pugin please, highlights from the Wild Atlantic Way, and bifurcated Belfast. If you’ve been following the blog for a while you know that I’m not really one who goes on and on about the glories of nature, but the coast of Ireland is so beautiful that I couldn’t top myself from taking lots of photos on the trip or sharing them now, so this is a bit of a dump, I’m afraid!

More Pugin please. 

I’ve always loved the Gothic Revival style which is so associated with the English architect Augustus Welby Pugin in nineteenth-century England as well as Ireland, where he designed around 18 buildings, mostly ecclesiatical commissions, between 1837 and 1850. Under British rule, the building of Catholic Churches in Ireland was restricted until the 18th century, but Catholic emancipation in 1829 initiated a building boom consisting of over 3000 churches. I was always looking for these “new” churches in every town and city we visited, right from the beginning of our trip when I became entranced by a Dublin church designed not by Augustus Pugin, but rather by his son and successor, Edward Welby Pugin: St. Augustine and St. John the Baptist Church (generally referred to as John’s Lane Church). I had made my way through the (crowded) Anglican St. Patrick’s and Christ Church Cathedrals when I saw the spire of Pugin’s church soaring in the near distance and went right there, where I was wowed. The pictures are not going to do the interior justice: there was something about the medieval motifs and smaller scale (than an actual medieval church) that was stirring.

I WAS wowed by the Pugin (Jr.) church, and it influenced me to search out more Pugin and more mid-19th century Gothic structures in Ireland, like St. Mary’s Cathedral in Killarney and these gatehouses. But I shouldn’t diminish St. Patrick’s (last picture above),  or Christ Church, which are both epic, of course, and I want to shout out the 

Along the Wild Atlantic Way:

The “Wild Atlantic Way” proceeds along the western coast from Cork to Donegal, which we did as well, but we couldn’t drive around ALL those peninsulas and we took some other shortcuts. Next time, I think I will follow it more precisely because it is a stunning coastline, interspersed with cliffs, beaches, colorful towns, island views and lots and lots of sheep. We used the inland town of Killarney as a base, went all around the Dingle peninsula, and then took the ferry over the river Shannon so did not go to Limerick. Then it was up to Galway, via the Cliffs of Moher in County Clare. Galway seemed like the New Orleans of Ireland to me on this particular trip, but I loved its very new (1965) cathedral, the last great stone cathedral built in Europe. It seemed very Romanesque revival to me, but I have to say I was less impressed by the Normanesque Kylemore Abbey up the coast (weird AI interpretation) but I did love its walled garden and cute little Gothic Revival cottage. Three medieval revivals in quick succession! Then it was on to Donegal Town and Northern Ireland.

In Kenmare, and Ross Castle in Killarney. Inch Beach on the Dingle peninsula and more Dingle coastline. The one llama on this Dingle sheep farm cracked me up; he was watching the herding from above as we watched below. Cliffs of Moher and Galway City. Kylemore Abbey and its Victorian walled garden. Classibawn Castle in County Sligo, and the parish church of Donegal Town.

Bifurcated Belfast:

I have not been in Northern Ireland for twenty years, and its major cities, (London)Derry and Belfast, struck me as thriving compared to my last visit, although Derry was a little quiet as we walked along its walls on a Bank Holiday Monday. Belfast was bustling, and of course it’s much bigger. I’m using the word “bifurcated” to describe it in this post because I was so struck by the two stories it presents to visitors: the Troubles and the Titanic. Two very different stories, but the city seems to embrace them both! Its massive City Hall seemed to me to occupy a central space between the West Belfast murals and the rising Titanic Quarter but I was very centered on downtown with the exception of a foray out to Queen’s University. I wasn’t really looking forward to going to the City’s biggest attraction, Titanic Belfast, because I thought it would just be a Disney experience, and it is essentially was (complete with a ride inside), but its interpretation also drew in the more comprehensive recent history of the city, for “Linenopolis” to the near-present. I just didn’t have enought time in Belfast; I need to go back, which is exactly how you want to feel when you leave a place.

6 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , , , | posted in Culture, Historic Trails, Travel

May 4, 2026

Philly Love

By daseger

We were in Pennsylvania for the last leg of our spring road trip, principally, but not exclusively, in Philadelphia. I’ve been to Philadelphia many times for different reasons, but this was definitely my favorite visit. It certainly wasn’t the weather—it was as unseasonably cold as it was elsewhere for most of the time we were there. Since we really slowed down and confined most of our touring, eating and drinking to the Old City it was most definitely the architecture, but it was also seeing so many people coming for the history, and being awed by it. Being a Revolutionary War tourist is really fun: I plan to keep on doing it all year long. There were crowds and crowds of color-coded t-shirt-wearing middle schoolers along with many foreign tourists in Independence National Historic Park, and the rangers handled it all in stride, with joy actually. We saw all the usual things, took in some special tours on historic preservation and taverns, made our own little Benjamin Franklin tour, visited the Museum of the American Revolution for the first time, and ate and drank at some great restaurants. The one thing I was a bit surprised about was all the construction going on—I assumed that projects would be completed for Philly’s big year—but it certainly did not detract from our experience. I’m looking forward to going back more often.

Just walking, beginning with Elfreth’s Alley. Philly seems to have figured out how to accomodate tourists and residents at the same time. Very clean streets, no huge walking tours (I saw no more than 20), no microphones.

Independence National Historic Park, including the Benjamin Franklin Museum:

I now have seen Declaration of Independence exhibits in SIX states and the These Truths exhibition at the American Philosophical is my favorite: it’s small but mighty, and manages to be incredibly dynamic by showing how the Declaration changes over time. This was certainly emphasized by the commissioned “Re-Declaration” project of Johanna Drucker, whose Declaration is a historical/contemporary study of the power of graphic design and punctuation. Then we were off to the Powel House, as it was on my punch list of mid-eighteenth-century mid-Atlantic Georgian houses. The home of Samuel Powel, the “Patriot Mayor” who served as the last colonial mayor of Philadelphia and the first “American” one, the highlight for me was the second-floor ballroom.

And finally, my first visit to the relatively new Museum of the American Revolution! There is an extended chronological exhibition which takes you through the Revolution in most of the building, a gallery for rotating exhibitions currently featuring a thoughtful examination of the Declaration of Independence’s “journey,” and then of course Washington’s Tent, the centerpiece of its collection. We ended up here on a rainy Saturday, so it was quite crowded, but the museum’s design seemed to handle everyone very well, and still provided a bit of intimacy in some of the galleries—I managed to be almost alone in the privateering gallery, sitting on a model ship with only a woman and her adorable baby in view (I was searching for Salem here and didn’t find much). The main exhibition had a very effective ending: with the amazing photographs of Revolution veterans and combatants from the mid-19th century on one wall, adjoining an assortment of mirrors surrounding the statement: MEET THE FUTURE of the American Revolution.

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April 27, 2026

The Wilton House

By daseger

Virginia was the second leg of our southern road trip: we visited family in Richmond, toured historic gardens, and saw several Lost Cause and revolutionary exhibitions. I am enjoying the regional America 250 interpretations. For example, the Virginia Museum of History and Culture has branded Patrick Henry, Thomas Jefferson, and George Washington, Virginians all of course, as the “Voice, Pen, and Sword” of the Revolution. Now I am a big Patrick Henry fan, but I think we can identify a few other notable voices—perhaps the Adamses of Massachusetts? Different messaging in Philadelphia–which I’ll explore next week. I thought I’d just spotlight a beautiful house today: the Wilton House, also in Richmond, thought its original location was 15 miles outside of the city. It’s a very high-style Georgian mansion built in 1753 for William Randolph III and his family. Threatened by industrial development in 1933 (the year after the bicentennial of Washington’s birthday, cresting an intense Colonial Revival wave) it was purchased by the National Society of Colonial Dames, dismantled, and carefully resurrected on a beautiful site overlooking the James River in Richmond’s west end. Its detaled resurrection, or re-erection, is extremely notable in the history of historic preservation, and I wanted to learn about that as well as see the house. The story, as well as the house, did not disappoint.

I tried, but my amateurish photography can’t really do this house justice: it’s so textured and there was only natural light in many of the rooms. Every single room, downstairs and up, is panelled, and those amazing windowed alcoves seemed to let in different shades of light. The black walnut staircase was astounding! The largest and most public of the downstairs rooms—photos four and five above—was so gorgeous I gasped but I don’t think it’s really captured here. It is set up for General Lafayette, who stayed at the Wilton House just before Yorktown. The interpretation was both architectural (both design and construction) and historical in terms of the Randolph family history and general history, because this was a conspicuous house, visited by many, including George Washington. Ultimately the decline of the Randolph family fortune led to the decline of the house and the derelict status from which the Colonial Dames rescued it. But both the family and its restoration were set in a broad historical and social context, so we see the list of people enslaved by the Randolphs as well as family portraits (in close proximity), and photographs of those who contributed to the restoration of the house and that story too. A dual narrative, encompassing many “smaller stories,” exemplified by a beautiful house.

5 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , | posted in Culture, History, Houses

April 13, 2026

I’d Rather Read Poetry

By daseger

Over the past few weeks Salem residents have learned that our city will become the site of yet another dark attraction, styled a museum of course, an establishment that seems even worse than the last arrival in terms of tackiness, kitschiness, darkness, and removal from anything to do with our past or present. I’m not going to name it as I don’t want to shower any publicity on the horrid thing, but you can read about it here. I got all revved up as I usually do, but then found that I could not act (write). All the work on the book, all the anxiety about the launch of the book, all the presentations I’ve been giving on the book, all of my immersion in Salem’s history for years just sort of emptied me, I think. And I truly felt despair. Usually rant writing revives me, but I had nothing to give, nothing to write, and I knew it wouldn’t matter anyway. So I was just kind of stuck. And then, for some inexplicable reason, I picked up an old poetry anthology and started reading it, and one poem led to another and then to another and so I experienced sort of a poetry immersion/conversion over the last week. I say conversion because I’ve had a notable lack of appreciation for poetry my entire life. I remember calling up my father, an English professor and a poet, when I was in college and complaining that I had to read Gerard Manley Hopkins and his work was awful and my father swearing at me in frustration, after which we both hung up and then he called back and calmly explained to me why Hopkins’ work was not awful, and I said ok, but basically I’ve been faking it since then. But the words that I have read over the past week–expressing sorrow over the loss of place, the trivilization of tragedy, and just general futility–really helped me. I discovered all sort of new poets and perspectives and I’m going back for more, but these are some of my favorite lines so far, set against the soon-to-be location of Salem’s newest “museum.”

I’ve always tried to find answers for what has happened and is happening to Salem in academic literature: there is now quite a robust discussion about “dark tourism” and the lure and exploitation of tragedy in general and the Salem scenario in particular. My colleagues Margo Shea and Drew Darien have contributed insightful chapters on tourism to Salem’s Centuries, both with personal and local perspectives (and Salem’s verty first Poet Laureate, J.D. Scrimgeour, closes our book). But it seems to me that Salem has gone way beyond just exploiting the Witch Trials of 1692: an entirely new layer of commodified horror seems to have been grafted onto the city’s identity, completely detached from its human history. I don’t have the tools or the patience to deal with this erasure, so I think I’ll stick to my poetry regimen.

5 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , , , | posted in Culture, Salem, Tourism

March 30, 2026

Personal Declarations

By daseger

I would love to hear about Revolutionary exhibitions, programs and events sheduled for your area in this 250th anniversary year: 1776 is certainly alive and well in the Boston area! Since I’m on sabbatical, I’ve been able to attend quite a few happenings, and my favorite collaborative initiative is the Declarations Trail, on which four institutions, the Boston Athenaeum, the Massachusetts Historical Society, the Boston Public Library and Harvard University’s Houghton Library, have put more than a dozen copies of the Declaration of Independence on view, “originally created in different printings for different audiences” along with lots of other contextual objects. I’ve been to the first two exhibitions at the Athenaeum and MHS, and am looking forward to the opening of the last two later this spring.

Looking at, and thinking about, these paper Declarations has got me thinking about their popular and personal reception. I am very mindful of the words of historian J.L. Bell on his great blog Boston 1775: for the first generations of Americans it was a set of words, not an object they ever saw but at the same time, I know that one of the primary functions of print is to make things more permanent, and with tangible permanance comes possession as well as remembrance. Following that trail in my mind brought me to textile Declarations in general and Declaration handkerchiefs in particular–because there seems to have been a market for these words that you could literally put in your pocket. That market did not really develop until the first era of remembrance for the American Revolution—the 1820s, approaching its 50th anniversary with participants dying—but then it really took off. A great book (Threads of History. Americana Recorded on Cloth 1775 to the Present by Smithsonian curator Herbert R. Collins), an archived exhibition at the Museum of the American Revolution, and numerous auction archives introduced me to the copperplate-printed handkerchiefs produced by William Gillespie & Sons in Scotland for the American market beginning in 1821. Produced in blue, black and red colorways, there’s a blue one coming up at auction next week at Eldred’s Auctions, and this spectacular red textile was the banner lot at an important Sotheby’s auction in 2023. A black (more sepia) handkerchief was sold by Swann Auction Galleries in 2023, and the Yale University Art Gallery has a similar one, as well as a centennial quilt from fifty years later sewn around the same: what a perfect object linking two eras of patriotic remembrance.

Textiles seem less ephemeral than paper, so I assume that the Declaration handkerchiefs of the 1820s were in demand as commemorative items, but it’s important to remember that this was also an era that the Declaration was being issued as separate broadside for the first time too–it was evolving from words into an object which could take several forms. The motifs that were featured on these textiles, including the “chain” of states, big Revolutionary moments, and the founding fathers, will reappear again and again. Fifty years later, the Centennial will inspire another wave of patriotic production, but those objects will be more familiar than introductory.

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March 16, 2026

Camellia Days

By daseger

Nineteenth-century monied New Englanders loved camellias and living embodiments of their desire exist at the Lyman Estate greenhouses of Historic New England, which hosts “Camellia Days” in February and March when these old trees are in bloom. Somehow I miss this event every year, but not this year. I drove to Waltham on Wednesday and had a quick view of the Lyman Estate mansion followed by some alone time with the camellias. The Lyman greenhouses are old (1804), and as close as I can get to Salem’s greenhouse era, when there were at least eight (maybe more—my count is ever-evolving) right in the middle of the city. Camellia Days extends to the mansion, which was designed originally by Samuel McIntire, so there’s a more direct Salem connection there too. I was never really a fan of this rambling structure, but now I realize that is because of its robust Victorian additions rather than its original design. McIntire’s plans reveal a charming two-story house unblemished by those bays. I can certainly understand why Arthur Lyman wanted to expand the house in the 1880s, however: he had a large family who enjoyed this bucolic estate as an escape from busy Boston. And I do love the relocated staircase and vaulted ceiling of the added third storey.

The mansion was built in 1793 and expanded and altered in 1882-83, but the Lyman family retained McIntire’s Federal ballroom (which they used as a library) and oval “bow parlor”. The relocated stairway with its Palladian window oversees the grounds and greenhouses.

I really liked the very Victorian library as well, but my heart stopped when I entered the adjacent china room with cabinets full to brimming with purple transferware! “My” Waterhouse wallpaper adorned one of the bedrooms upstairs so that was nice too. It’s a lovely summer estate with a preserved landscape in the midst of now-busy Waltham.

But I was there for the camellias and they did not disappoint! These are lush, heirloom varieties. I’m partial to less showy plants in the bright light of summer, but in the very dim light of late winter these bright blooms are just what you need. The Lyman greenhouses are accessible all year long actually (and there are great plant sales), but Camellia Days provide extra enticement.

8 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , , , | posted in Culture, Historic Houses, New England

March 9, 2026

Trolley Goals

By daseger

I came across this book entitled The Trolley and the Lady (1908) and thought, wow, great, this is going to be a great exploration of turn-of-the-century “transportation liberation” from the perspective of a liberated woman! But I should have known, as it was written by a man (William J. Lampton), that this would not be the story. Indeed, it’s a tale of a man chasing a woman on a trolley from New York City to southern Maine. He seems to catch up with her in my home town, York Harbor. In a way I guess it is about liberation, as the woman in question, Clara, is exploring New England via trolley, but it’s definitely not written from her perspective. Still looking for that perspective, I encountered a lot of projection and instruction related to the topic of women and trolleys. After I read the Lampton book, I found a charming and practical little piece, still from a male perspective, in The Puritan magazine, a women’s monthly published in 1899-1900: illustrating the right and wrong way that a woman (equipped with the cumbersome skirts of the era) should flag, board, and disembark from a trolley.

Despite the paternalistic instruction and aside from the conductor, the woman is alone, and that’s the key point. Like bicycles and later cars, trolleys were a way for women to get out and get away, on their own. But trolleys are even better than those other vehicles: no physical exertion was required and very little money, and there were routes everywhere in the early twentieth century: 940 miles in New England alone according to one trolley company’s advertising.

As street railways expanded beyond urban cores in the later nineteenth century, images of trolleys emphasized exploration rather than commuting, and featuring women was a good way to reinforce that message. Charles Herbert Woodbury’s two wonderful lithographs for Boston’s suburban trolley network (1897 & 1895) really illustrate this messaging well.

Boston Public Library via Digital Commonwealth; the second poster is inspired by Oliver Wendell Holmes’ 1891 poem The Broomstick Train or the Return of the Witches.

This post is just a teaser; there’s something about trolleys and gender that is interesting and needs a bit more exploration. The sexes/masses are pushed together in close contact: there are new opportunities, new connections, new horizons, and the need for new rules. The Puritan story is a bit condescending for sure, but there are more misogynist commentaries on trolley-riding women from the same era, generally regarding the “immodesty” of their dress as they climbed on or off. There is the occasional critique of male passengers (see below, upper right) but many more postcards targeting women: this is the age of “vinegar valentines” after all. A spinster chasing down the last trolley on the “Matrimonial Line” is not nice! And then there’s that old chestnut about street cars and women. Too much protesting, I think.

8 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , | posted in Culture, Tourism

March 2, 2026

The Last Week in February

By daseger

Well, it’s been quite a winter here in eastern Massachusetts, and last week was quite a week, so I think I’m going to take a break from topical posting and just present the week that was. It started with a blizzard, and even though it is now March 1, as I am typing I see big fluffy snowflakes out there again. But not all was white: there was bright blue towards the end of the week as my husband and I proceeded north for a little break. In this topsy turvy winter, Rhode Island experienced 30+ inches of snow while midcoast Maine seems to have had just a dusting. By the time we got up there on Thursday, it seemed springlike to me! We saw my stepson, who works at an oyster farm near Damariscotta, engaged in a bit of house-hunting, and (lucky us) stayed at the storied Norumbega Inn in Camden. The latter was a long-time wish of mine, having driving by the fantasy castle on Route One many a time, and it did not disappoint. After two nights in Camden, we returned to Salem on Saturday for a really cool event at Hamilton Hall: Fashioning Freedom: Layers of Liberty. This was a theatrical performance fashioned as a “a celebratory, historical runway of Black creativity and activism” featuring prominent nineteenth-century African Americans, including the Remond family of the Hall, Frederick Douglass’s wife Anna, educator Charlotte Forten, and sculptor Edmonia Lewis. A collaboration between Salem’s revered historical theater company, History Alive, and the Hall, it was a can’t miss event for me: all Renaissance scholars adhere to the concept of “self-fashioning,” which is just what we saw, and of course after having written about John Remond in Salem’s Centuries it was a thrill to see “him” right in front of me. So it was a very interesting week and I am ready for March!

Monday’s blizzard from my second-floor windows.

And then: bright blue sky and sea in Maine! Obviously there was snow up there too, but less of it and more room to spread it around. City snow can be exhausting: you just can’t find get it out of the way and it is increasingly gray (among other colors). Below are a few houses in Newcastle, Cushing and Friendship, and then we were off to Camden and the Norumbega.

The Norumbega, otherwise known as Norumbega Castle, was built as a private home for Maine native Joseph Barker Stearns in 1886-87 in a style that is generally described as “Queen Anne”. To me, it has always seemed more Romanesque, but its interior was a bit lighter than I imagined—smaller too. Not that it is small, it’s just that the scale is not baronial or overwhelming. We stayed in one of the turret rooms, named Sandringham. Stearns made his millions in the telegraph industry by patenting and licensing duplex telegraphy, by which two messages could be sent over the same wire simulteneously. Camden is a hilly coastal Maine town (with its own municipal ski slope, called the Snow Bowl) and the Norumbega is situated on an elevated site which once, and really still, has unobstructed views over Penobscot Bay. The house remained residential for a century, and then was converted into an inn. We really enjoyed our stay: our room was lovely, as were all the public rooms, and breakfast and bar bites in the small blue cocktail lounge were special touches. We actually saw a bit less of Camden than we expected to because we just wanted to hang out in the castle—you can do that in the winter and not feel guilty. But Saturday morning we knew we had a date with the Remonds so back to Salem we went.

The real Remonds at Hamilton Hall and a few shots from “Fashioning Freedom” before and after the performance. It was a very visual evening so check out Hamilton Hall for more professional photos in the next few days. Congratulations to all involved! The month ended with the news that Salem’s new consolidated elementary school will be named after Sarah Parker Remond–yet another triumph for an important Salem family! I do tend to view them in the collective as they were all so invested and engaged. As we enter women’s history month, here’s a clip of an 1855 petition calling for the resignation of Judge Edward Greeley Loring, the Massachusetts Justice most associated with the enforcement of the Fugitive Slave Act, signed by ALL the Remond women, including matriarch Nancy, her daughters and daughters-in-law, and their friend Charlotte Forten. You can see more at the Massachusetts Archives Anti-Slavery Petititions Dataserve at Harvard University:

https://dataverse.harvard.edu/dataverse/antislaverypetitionsma.

 

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