A Treat for the Medical Historian

A Midwife's Tale was one of the books on the syllabus I was most looking forward to reading, and I am not disappointed. I feel as if Dr. Bristol assigned this book with me in mind. Not only is the book a brilliant example of a microhistory, it also provides detailed glimpses into 18th and early 19th century medical practice that surprised me despite a decade of work as a medical historian. Martha Ballard's work as a midwife coincided with, and in fact traversed, a powerful movement in professionalization of the medical field that began in Europe but echoed throughout pre-Jacksonian America. Ballard’s “empirical” practice, her reliance on herbal and natural cures, and her emphasis on providing comfort to the patient are all in contrast to the “heroic” methods that were becoming the hallmark of supposedly learned (and at the time, exclusively male) physicians. In the 19^th century these differing medical theories would drive a wedge between empirics like Ballard and the university-trained physicians who were set apart by the title “doctor,” but as Ulrich’s analysis shows, the doctors and the midwives existed in a more cordial, complementary system of care in the rural communities of the late 18^th century.

Aside from her obviously extensive research into the history of medicine and of early American lifeways, which she uses to supplement her exposition of Ballard’s diary, Ulrich has a talent for storytelling that weaves the history into a compelling narrative. As we have discussed in class, this is a common aspect of microhistories that Ulrich has clearly mastered. She is able to take the reader on tangential paths exploring the town, the family relationships, and the overall environment in which Martha Ballard worked, without losing focus on the primary subject – Ballard’s daily experiences as expressed through her diary.

Since I plan to base my own microhistory project on a diary as the primary source (and a medical diary at that), A Midwife’s Tale is a fantastic example of how such work can be constructed in an interesting, analytical, and historically significant way.

I would also like to point out, in case anyone is not aware, that there is a wonderful PBS American Experience film and website based on A Midwife’s Tale. I have not seen the film yet, but I did find the website (http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/amex/midwife/index.html) to be a helpful supplement to the book, particularly the timeline (http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/amex/midwife/timeline/index.html), which provides a broad, historical context for the time in which Martha Ballard lived and worked.

A Beautiful Tale, and Speaking of Martin Guerre ...

A Midwife's Tale is a beautiful story about a woman's agency in a society where women were assumed to have little or no agency.  Moreover, it seems to have all the proper ingredients of what we've learned may be a classic microhistory: a social history that conveys personal experience as a lens for larger issues.  One of the larger issues in this book involves the important role of women, and there was no more telling fact of that issue than the description of Dr. Daniel Cony's medical practice.  Cony was a prominent doctor who is historically remembered for his paper on one delivery he made, whereas his fellow Hallowell resident Martha Ballard went unrecognized for almost 200 years after her many hundreds of deliveries.  Additionally the story of Martha Ballard has been available at least since the beginning of the age of professional historians, but because it was about women's "trivia," no one discerned its importance until A Midwife's Tale was published in 1990.

It is interesting to contrast the way Laurel Thatcher Ulrich deals with unknown facts compared to Natalie Zemon Davis.  Ulrich makes comments such as "one wonders if Cyrus was impaired in some way, though his mother never wrote of it in her diary" (he was unmarried and moved in and out of his parent's house, perhaps more of a twenty-first century trend).  Or, in speaking of Joseph's North's acquittal of rape, Ulrich writes that Ballard's "reference to 'the great surprise' suggests that the evidence against North had been damning."  While Ulrich uses words like "one wonders" and "suggests," Davis, as we have seen, writes her history of Martine Guerre with far more emphatic language.  Davis wrote in her rebuttal to Robert Findley's criticism that she was seeking "possible truth" as opposed to Findley's demand for "absolute truth."  However, it seems that Ulrich's gentler approach to seeking "possible truth" allows readers more latitude to assess the connections between facts and suppositions for themselves.    

Speaking of Martin Guerre, on the front page of yesterday's Washington Post (Friday), there as a sad story of a woman who called the police about her ex-husband, who she saw in a Maryland Panera Bread restaurant.  The encounter with the police ended in the deaths of two policemen.  An interesting aside to the story was that the woman, who had not seen her ex-husband for 17 years, was not certain that it was him when she first saw him last December.  She told the police later that he seemed too short.  Even though he was wanted for shooting at her 17 years ago, and she had been married to him long enough to have had several children, she could not identify him the first time and did not call the police until she saw him again last Thursday.

Microhistories and The Return of Martin Guerre

     In my blog this week, I would like to consider the role The Return of Martin Guerre plays in the larger theme of our class's question: "What is a mircohistory?"  Both The Return of Martin Guerre and The Cheese and the Worms are told in an entertaining style that invites the reader to carry on through the book enthusiastically.  However, it seems to me that these books offer much more than just an entertaining read - they actually teach the reader a lot about what life was like during a particular time period.   Even something as simple as the wooden leg is given a framework that situates it within an appropriate historical period.  I knew, like most people, that people in the past had been given wooden legs, but I didn't know off the top of my head whether or not this was the case in 16th century France (edit: Spain, I suppose I should say).
     There are a great many other things that I learned about life in 16th century France by reading The Return of Martin Guerre.  I learned, for example, about the way in which a convicted criminal can appeal his case.  I also learned about religious views on marriage, and the way in which at least some people believed that it was wrong for a wife to divorce her husband, even if he had been missing for twenty years.  It seems to me that the lucid narrative style found in the works of both Ginzburg and Davis helps readers to easily situate what they're learning in a historical framework, which is certainly one of the advantages of microhistories.
     The aforementioned question, however, remains unanswered.  It seems that these two characteristics, (a relatively entertaining narrative style when compared to drier historical works, while also enlightening the reader as to what life was like during a certain period) are characteristic of a microhistory.  However, other historical works can be entertaining and enlightening, but not be considered microhistories.  The fact that the entirety of one story can be told within a manageably sized book also seems to be characteristic of microhistories.  However, while we have seen at this point in the semester examples of microhistories, and are gaining a clearer picture on what a microhistory is, the question still needs to be worked on throughout the rest of the semester.

Marriage and social constraints in 16th c. France

  Natalie Zemon Davis examines, among other things, the significance of identity in the 16^th century in The Return of Martin Guerre.  As Arnaud du Tilh (AKA “Pansette,” and later known as “Martin”) bluffs his way through the story, we also get a look at peasant life and character of 16^th century litigation.  By examining primarily two different accounts of the 1561 trial which followed the exposure of “Martin” as an imposter, Davis looks explores rural life, marriage (the importance peasants placed on marriage), family roles, criminal courts, and Protestantism in her work.  Although the author maybe doesn’t go as far as she maybe could have gone into some of these topics, she does dive into the marriage customs and the social constraints women faced as she examines Bertrande de Rols’s life and condition.  Peasant women apparently had little room to maneuver - an example the author points out is that the particle “de” signaled the legal and social attachment of female peasants to their male family members.  Bertrande was “de Rols” where father was simply Rols.  In her lifetime, Bertrande was subordinated to her father first, then to her husband(s), and finally to her widowed mother and uncle (turned step father)… before returning to her original husband.  So it seems, in a way, that Arnaud du Tilh represented a way for Bertrande to modify that life… or that Bertrande jumped at the chance to exercise agency in a male dominated society.  This is where conjecture and “perhaps” comes into play, and no doubt the author at time gives her opinion as possible reality: “Bertrande dreamed of a husband and a lover who would come back, and be different.” (p.34)   Beyond the examination of marriage, and its economic and social importance, and the look at 16^th c. litigation / courts in France, ultimately I think this is a book about struggle:  a village divided between Arnaud du Tihl and Pierre Guerre, and how that struggle divided the young and old, sons and fathers, mothers and daughters, Catholics and Protestants, and in the end, du Tihl and Martin Guerre, and how that struggle may have represented a chance for a young woman to have some say over the condition and direction of her life.

My neighbor's business

I truly believe that there are ups and downs to Natalie Zemon Davis' Martin Guerre, including the unbelievably of Bertrande not knowing the difference between Martin and Pansette, but what Davis does accomplish is a birds eye view of what life was like in a very small village in the 16th century. 

While it seems obvious that Bertrande should have known that Pansette was not Martin, I for one can not fault her for denying the the truth or even being an accomplice to the impostor. From what Davis writes the first years with Martin were grim and unfulfilled. When he leaves she is forced to revert to living back with her family and must give up the independence that she had experienced as a married woman living in her own home. So that when Martin/Pansette returns to the village she can once again enjoy the freedom of her own home. What Pansette provides for Bertrande is a sense of freedom not to mention a better married life than the one she had experienced before. Perhaps that is the reason that Martins sisters also jump on the band wagon of being supporters of Martin/Pansette.

Even though the story seems like something right out of a telenovella it is supported by the testimonies provided to the court in the trial of Pansette. One can assume and Davis does make the assumption that if the real Martin had not suddenly appeared at the court Pansette would have continued to live Martin's life and Bertrande would have been happy with that decision.

What Davis does accomplish with this book is to explore the many aspects of peasant life, property laws and the sexuality of peasant women. She is successful in presenting a relatively well known court case and reconfiguring it as a love story that ultimately ends in disappointment, but she also creates an interesting narrative from some rather dry court records.

Gossip Networks

The story of Martin Guerre is surely an interesting one. It's easy to see why such varying mediums picked it up as a basis for their interpretations. Seemingly however, the more accurate accounts portrayed by Natalie Zemon Davis bring to light great historical implications.

Arnaud du Tilh aka. Pansette aka. 'new Martin' is by far the most fascinating character  in Zemon's investigation. His motives could keep readers fascinated, historians busy, and authors inspired. I think, from a historical perspective, the gossip networks Zemon brings up on pages 39 and 40 to hit on one of the most fascinating aspects of the book. The fact that Arnaud was able to ascertain so much information about a single person through gossip. Not only the amount of information, but the sheer accuracy of it. Enough to buy the initial belief of Martin's family and friends. I don't think this point can be underscored enough.

As Zemon points out, Bertrande and several others must have known at some point that Arnaud was not Martin Guerre. This is almost self-evident. However, it must be said to, like in the case of his sisters, that there was quite a few people who were convinced that Pansette was Martin. Unless, as Zemon seems to discredit so readily, Martin and Arnauld did meet and plot out some scheme, Pansette learned of SUCH intimacy between Martin and Arnauld through these gossip networks. This goes to show not only how into each other's business villagers were, but the accuracy and intimacy of such knowledge. Events that took place between two individuals in private, could spread so far in the 16th century. As Zemon points out many had selfish reasons to espouse the identity of pseudo-Martin. With this said, there must have been such accuracy in his initial statements to those he met in Artigat. Knowing this has changed how I view gossip from similar instances of place and time. Surely, these things inherently grow and embellish over time, however it gives much credence to what other villagers have heard about their fellow neighbors when taken with a grain of salt. Zemon, didn't elaborate too much on these notions, but I find them to be the most fascinating of the book and some of the more informative.

Popcorn

How can you not fall in love with the story of Martin Guerre?  It has all the element of a good movie, so when Natalie Zemon Davis does this historical treatment, for a history lover, reading her book is like sitting in a movie theater eating a bucket of popcorn.  But yet, doesn't she go a little too far for what seems to set out to be a historical inquiry?  She excuses herself by admitting at the end of her introduction that her book is "in part invention," but she also claims that it is "held tightly in check by the voices of the past."

How tightly in check?  The main thrust is to interpret Bertrande as having known of the imposter's duplicity and having become his accomplice.  Lots of assumptions are made.  Bertrande "dreamed of a husband and lover who would come back, and be different." (34)   By the time she received her lover "in her bed, she must have realized the difference; as any wife of Arigat would have agreed, there is no mistaking 'the touch of the man on the woman.'" (44)  Where in the book is there anything giving the reader information on the sexual practices or attitudes of the wives of Arigat?  Davis writes that Bertrande and the imposter justified their scam to themselves because they became Protestants. (49-50)  There seems to be no evidence of any role of religion in their actions.

Davis simply goes too far in imagining how things might have been for these actors.  Yes, she does base her story on facts, and yes, history is often a matter of assumptions based on facts, but generally there needs to be a stronger nexus between the facts and the hypothesis than that found in Davis' Martin Guerre.  In the case of Martin Guerre, Davis writes an enjoyable retelling of the story from a historical perspective but yet her grander assumptions fall somewhat short of having a firm historical footing.