Our 'relationship' with the past

The article we read for this week as well as Ulrich’s work on Martha Ballard’s diary really got me thinking on what constitutes a microhistory and also helped me garnish a different viewpoint on the subject. A Midwife’s Tale reminded me heavily of the work of Kierner’s Scandal at Bizarre (which we will read later this semester). They both focus on the home life of women right after the American Revolution and the grand social, political, economic, and scientific/technological changes occurring during this period. They both even follow roughly the same timeframes from the 1780’s through the early nineteenth century.

In conjunction with the article by Jill Lepore, I really started to analyze what differs a microhistory from a biography. She lays out four ‘propositions’ that, in her mind, define a microhistory. I found such an analysis to be enlightening yet problematic. Each one of her propositions has its limits and in the end she seems to conclude that the lines between microhistory and biographies are blurred and ultimately come down to what one considers a microhistory to be. Seemingly, this brings us back to square one. However, I think what needs to be highlighted was brought up on the first day of class when we attempted to define (and still are) microhistory. Perhaps, it is why and how something is written that differs it as a microhistory. The purpose is what defines it.

In a sense, though as Lepore notes it cannot be an all-encompassing declaration, biographies tend to render the authors interpretation of a single individual for the sake of said character and importance. A microhistorian can approach a subject similarly, however instead they tend to ask larger questions in smaller places. In some ways this is sort of the inverse of many biographers. Whereas biographers tend to attempt to render their individuals on the global stage, a microhistorian, perhaps attempts to understand the larger theme/’global stage’ from the minute. Their approach differs drastically.

When it comes to the subject of biographers and microhistorians, Lepore touches on the love/passion an author/historian may acquire from so long an investigation. They tend to see a bit of themselves or something relatable in their focus. This subject REALLY intrigued me. On the one hand, such a passion/love can make us blind and thus diminish our objectivity. On the other hand however, if we relate or emotionally connect with our work, it seems we would have a better understanding of motive and larger interconnectivity. One must tread a fine line however, for our motive inherently differ from others.

Part of why I thought so much on that subject is that a couple years back I was doing research for the U.S. House Historian’s Office on the first Filipino Resident Commissioners in the House. My main subject was Benito Legarda. I spent weeks upon weeks in the basement of the Madison Library of Congress building reading through all of his letters to and from William Howard Taft. They started off as having a political alliance, yet quickly built an esteemed friendship. As I requested the microfilm, chronology became my best tool. By the end of my research, I remember almost feeling like I had built up a relationship with the man. I knew him, at least from the letters, better than just about anybody. When I read that last letter he sent and signed with something along the lines of ‘Forever your most affectionate and loving friend, Benito Legarda’ I nearly cried in-front of the microfilm machine. I knew he passed away a few months later. I had never really experienced anything of that sort before, especially of someone who I didn’t know from a long passed era. It’s very intriguing.