An Old Town By the Sea

In Short

This book is a collection of observational essays and historical sketches focused on Portsmouth, New Hampshire. It serves as both a love letter to the author’s birthplace and a preservation of a vanishing era. By blending archival research with personal anecdotes and architectural descriptions, the work documents the town's evolution from a 17th-century colonial settlement to a quiet, atmospheric nineteenth-century town. It has lasted because it transcends mere local history, offering a meditative, evocative look at how time reshapes a place and the people who inhabit it.

The Story

The narrative begins with the earliest European arrivals, notably Martin Pring, who sailed up the Piscataqua River in 1603. These early mariners were looking for the medicinal sassafras, but they found instead a lush landscape that would eventually become the settlement of Portsmouth. The author traces the town’s trajectory from its origins at "Strawberry Bank" through the tensions of the Revolutionary War and into the industrializing nineteenth century.

The story is not told in a rigid timeline but rather through a series of "strolls" through the town's geography. We visit the riverfront, where decaying warehouses and abandoned piers suggest a lost commercial glory, and we explore the "Point of Graves," where the town’s aristocratic past is literally buried beneath the feet of modern passersby. The author moves through the streets, pointing out the Warner House—the oldest brick building in the city—and recounts the lives of the colonial elite, including Governor John Wentworth and the controversial King’s Attorney, Wyseman Clagett.

Interwoven with these political figures are the local legends and social oddities of a later age. The narrative captures the "Arcadian" final days of the town's older customs, detailing the lives of figures like the town crier Nicholas Newman and the enigmatic hermit who watched the world from his second-story window for years. The author reflects on the cruelty and the humor of the past, recounting stories of public executions, the peculiar self-governance of the local enslaved population, and the town’s "witches."

The arc ends with a sense of gentle melancholia. The town has not been destroyed by progress, but it has been softened by it. The author acknowledges that the vibrant, slightly eccentric social fabric of his youth has largely dissolved, leaving behind a place that feels like a museum of itself. By the final pages, the reader understands that while the individuals mentioned—the governors, the merchants, and the town characters—have long since passed, their essence remains etched into the architecture and the very air of the streets. Portsmouth is presented as a place where the past has not entirely departed, but has merely sat down to rest, waiting for the curious traveler to notice it.

How It Unfolds

The early explorers The book opens with the 1603 voyage of Martin Pring, who arrived hoping for sassafras but discovered a land sloping invitingly to the water. This establishes the setting: a river-dominated town that has held its own since the earliest days of colonial expansion.

The riverfront landscape The author leads the reader on a tour of the wharves and warehouses, where the lack of current commercial activity contrasts with the lingering air of history. He notes that while the scene is quiet, the "mandragora quality" of the atmosphere makes it a place where one could happily linger for years.

The society of the dead A walk through the colonial burial grounds reveals the town’s aristocratic roots, where governors and counselors lie buried. The author muses on the haughty feeling one gets while walking over the graves of His Majesty’s former officials.

Colonial power and conflict The narrative shifts to the lives of the influential, including the dramatic marriage of a kitchen-maid to Governor Wentworth. It also documents the friction of the Revolutionary era, specifically the mob violence against the loyalist landlord of a local tavern.

The local legends The focus narrows to the curious characters that defined the town’s later years. These include stories of "witches," the harsh reality of colonial justice, and the unique social structures of the local enslaved community, who maintained their own systems of hierarchy and law.

The passing of an era The final chapters reflect on the author’s own memories of the town’s quiet dissolution. He portrays the last of the town criers and the mysterious, housebound figures who gave the streets their peculiar, fading character.

The People

The book is populated by a mix of historical figures and local icons. Governor John Wentworth and his kitchen-maid-turned-wife, Martha Hilton, provide the most romantic narrative, illustrating the fluidity of colonial status. Wyseman Clagett, the King’s Attorney, serves as a study in vindictive, theatrical vanity, while George Jaffrey represents the stagnant extreme of colonial aristocracy, defined by a will that required his heir to do nothing more than live as a gentleman.

On the humbler side, Nicholas Newman, the town crier, stands out as a man who brought a strange, intense dignity to his mundane tasks. Mark Noble, the victim of a mob’s rage, appears as a man of surprising grace, choosing to forgive his assailant from his sickbed. We also meet Cyrus Bruce, a manservant who held onto his status with such conviction that he became a local legend of style and pride. Finally, the nameless hermit in the yellow house serves as a haunting embodiment of the town’s mystery; he is a silent witness to the passage of time, his presence at the window becoming a permanent feature of the neighborhood’s landscape.

In Its Own Voice

"I know of many a place where the scenery is more varied and striking; but there is a mandragora quality in the atmosphere here that holds you to the spot, and makes the half-hours seem like minutes."

The author describes the hypnotic, slow-paced charm that defines the town’s riverfront environment.

"The worm-eaten wharves, some of them covered by a sparse, unhealthy beard of grass, and the weather-stained, unoccupied warehouses are sufficient to satisfy a moderate appetite for antiquity."

This observation highlights the physical state of the historic district and the author's appreciation for its decaying beauty.

"I have never since seen a bell of that size disconnected with a church steeple."

The author uses this detail to vividly capture the outsized personality of the town’s last official crier.

What It's Really About

The central argument of the book is that history is not merely found in textbooks, but in the physical environment of a town and the collective memory of its residents. The author explores the tension between the "fateful hand of time and fire" and the human desire to maintain a sense of continuity. He asks whether a place can truly retain its character once its original purpose has faded. By documenting the transition from a bustling colonial port to a quiet, introspective town, he suggests that prosperity and historical significance are fleeting, but the atmosphere of a place—the way light hits a spire or how a name lingers on a sign—offers a different, more enduring kind of truth.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy atmospheric, slow-paced travel writing or local history will find this book deeply rewarding. It reads like a quiet afternoon spent in a rocking chair, listening to an elder recount the stories of their youth. The prose is elegant and precise, capturing the "indolent sunshine" of the town with a warmth that makes the reader feel as though they are actually there.

However, modern readers should be prepared for the author's nineteenth-century perspective. The book contains period-specific attitudes, including a detached, often patronizing view of the local enslaved population, and uses language regarding "witches" and social outcasts that reflects the sensibilities of the author's own time. The length is modest, but the focus is narrow; if you are looking for a fast-paced thriller, you will not find it here. Instead, you will find a beautifully crafted, meditative look at how a community holds onto its past. What stays with you long after the final page is the sense of the "soothing atmosphere of respectability and comfort" that the author finds in the ruins of the old colonial world. It is a book for anyone interested in the quiet, lingering ghosts that live in the architecture of our oldest towns.