What a sad narrative Kierner weaved together in Scandal At Bizarre. One can’t help but
feel the loneliness, desolation, degradation, depravity, and, to some limited
extent, the salvation that emanate from the very pages that tell the story of
Richard, Judith, and Nancy Randolph. Names, including their last, that I have never
once encountered yet quickly became familiar with. The reader can’t help but develop
a sense of intimacy with the Randolph’s coupled with the empathy the narrative
demanded.
Kierner’s work is a perfect example of the form and function
of microhistory. It tells the story of a single event, a single night, and the
people of such an event. Then Kierner goes into detail about the importance of
what such an event, the actions and repercussions of its subjects, and the ramifications
in their entirety. When attempting to summarize the exact form and function of
this book, I think some of Kierner’s closing words leave us with the best
summation of how she views her own work.
“Some historians have viewed the scandal primarily through
the lens of gender, interpreting Nancy’s tribulations in Virginia as evidence
of the oppression and suppression of white women in the Old South. Others,
focusing on the offensive against Richard and the eventual disintegration of
his family, have seen the scandal as emblematic of the plight of decayed gentry
in the post-revolutionary Virginia. One recent account, by contrast, emphasizes
the adroit efforts of Richard’s defenders to use the newspaper and the courts
to influence ‘an ever-widening “public”…to manipulate the public understanding
of their behavior and their character.’” (171)
Kierner concludes, in her view of her own work, that:
“My account of the Bizarre scandal highlights all of these
themes while using the Randolphs’ story to gain insight into complexity and
contradictions of American society and culture in a crucial transitional era.”
(172)
Scandal At Bizarre, highlights
a compendium of historical themes that would take another compendium in-order
to fully answer. Ranging from relationships of 18th/19th
century Virginian gender roles, rising democracy/egalitarianism, financial
death of the dried up landed gentry of the old world, relationship between
Master/Slave and the power of gossip, honor, dejure representation of the law/courts juxtaposed with the defacto power of societal perceptions. I
personally find gender and gossip/honor to be two of the most central themes in
this highly turbulent era full of great events and great changes. Very
similarly to how Jack (from class, not Jack Randolph) illustrated Toby Ditz’s
article as a testament to the notions, themes, and viewpoints of the people at
a crucial time in history, one which we are a product of.
Perhaps this is the function and form of microhistory. To
relate a story, a narrative, that is easy to comprehend because of its dealing
with relatable events and people. Perhaps, it is an offshoot of the
historiographical trends of the Marxist historians. Focusing on the everyday,
the small, the individual, the micro, allows us to build a bottom up
representation of historical themes. I personally worry about culminating a
microhistory with broad overarching themes that can easily be unfounded due to
a small sample size of primary source material. But, from the instance of
Kierner and the thorough nature of her research, I find such an endeavor to be
well worth the work. Her work was illuminating and so many ways.
Perhaps the “great historical question” she is attempting to
answer here is simply the effects of the micro on the macro. One night at
Glentivar dictated an entire generation of Randolphs and illuminated the social
standards and norms of the late 18th century. Nancy, Judith,
Richard, and other’s lives were completely ruined by a small “mistake” in their
youth. The books concern is not what happened,
but more so what it meant. It detailed ruin that transcended the lifelong
pursuits of Nancy, Judith, St. George Tucker, the courts, peoples of all walks
of life, etc. Perhaps such a microhistory attempts to find the ramifications and
implications in the small. Kierner ends her work with a picture of the plaque erected
at the site of Bizarre and another in the South Bronx. Both are very topical
and lacking any sort of depth except a summation of the largest of all events.
No mention of the scandal or the lives affected therein. Perhaps microhistory,
in this sense, is a tool to combat the necessary reductionism present in larger
histories. Nonetheless, her work accomplishes a very similar goal to that of
larger histories.
I definitely plan on using Kierner’s work in my paper on
Gender History. I also imagine her work could be utilized in a number of
different subjects which speaks to the importance of the micro on the macro.
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