57 pages • 1 hour read
Chapter 10 shifts to 1809, later in Martha’s life when her midwifery practice had slowed down and she began to increasingly dedicate herself to her garden. The later diary entries, in contrast to those of her earlier years in Hallowell, show families with the same last names as the original families, but are the younger descendants of the people Martha once knew, with many of the original townsfolk having died.
Ulrich gives historical context for the changes in Kennebec and in the US at large, especially as it pertains to westward expansion. She explores the various conflicts between land proprietors and settlers or squatters—who, notably, in one conflict impersonated Indigenous Americans to intimidate land proprietors—as well as the shifting global politics taking place during the Jefferson presidential administration. This was the background for Martha’s world, yet she made little mention of any of it in her diary, oftentimes in the margin of entries about what crops she planted that day.
The garden became significant to Martha toward the end of her life. While she danced around political events, like the lifting of Jefferson’s embargo in 1809, she went into detail about her gardening practices, offering more description than any other sources from the region for that period. Her garden was full to the brim with plants that bore fruit, vegetables, herbs, and flowers. Ulrich argues that the gardens cultivated and described revealed the inner desires of the gardeners: Dr. Cony used gardens as an economic forecast—if a year had good crops, debts would be repaid. Dr. Vaughn wanted his garden to display “harmony between art and nature” (378), while Martha’s garden was rooted in the incremental work it took to create something that could “nourish the soul” (379). Her garden was hers to cultivate and own, a corner of something that belonged entirely to her.
The peace of her garden entries is broken by the “scene” of her nephew Elijah Barton’s murder of a land surveyor. Martha expresses empathy for her sister, she herself able to imagine how it feels to have a son acting out of control. After a lengthy trial, Elijah was found not guilty, and Martha welcomed him into her home for a visit. Despite some of her entries describing discontent with Jonathan and Sally, it seems Martha kept some family issues out of her diary as she mellowed with age, describing “scenes” without further explanation. She took control of her diary, melding the narrative to her will.
In 1809, her midwifery resumed. In 1808, she attended only 3 deliveries in the entire year. By the end of 1809, she attended 21 births. Ulrich posits that her midwifery practice had been taken over by a woman mentioned in the diary as Mrs. Mosier, who died in the summer of 1809, leaving a role to be filled in Hallowell’s community. Martha’s midwifery practice continued up until her death, pushing herself to deliver even more babies in the last year of her life than in the year before.
The diary ends with an entry on May 7, 1812, describing a room full of people caring and praying for Martha in her time of illness. By June 9, 1812, she died. Her diary, though, lives on, offering an honest and authentic look into Hallowell and into her life. Though barely mentioned in official written documents like census records or tax lists, Martha’s name and memory are preserved in her diary, which she methodically recorded for over 27 years.
The Epilogue describes the preservation of Martha’s diary. It likely passed to Dolly Lambard after her mother’s death. When Dolly died, it went to her daughters, Sarah and Hannah Lambard. After her graduation from medical school in 1884, Mary Hobart received the diary from her aunts, Sarah and Hannah. It was a pile of loose papers when she received it, and she attempted to read and organize it. Mary became a doctor in a time when few women were allowed in medical school, attending a school established by Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell, the first American woman to graduate medical school. Mary then worked at the New England Hospital, which was founded by Dr. Marie Zakrzewska as a hospital run by women for women. She also joined the Massachusetts Medical Society the year she received the diary, the very first year the society allowed women to join. Clara Barton, a relative of Mary’s, was another pioneer, bucking the idea that women could not work in the medical field alongside men during the Civil War and founding the American Red Cross.
In 1930, Mary gave the diary to the Maine State Library, which in exchange promised her a typewritten transcription. She never received such a transcription, though they did give her an abridgment by Charles Elventon Nash, which cut many of the details Martha included. Still, it kept more sensational details, like Martha’s dangerous journey across the Kennebec in 1789 and the reaction to the Purrington murders. Edith Hary wrote a 1961 book that covered more of the importance of Martha’s diary to the history of the Kennebec Region, which broadcast the importance of Martha and midwifery to a new generation. Still, the promise of the transcription of Martha’s original diary remains unfulfilled.
Martha remained a prominent midwife and an avid diarist until her death in 1812. With her death, she would have been erased from history nearly entirely if it were not for her diary, as she appears in few public records, and even then, her first name is seldom mentioned. Yet, as she memorialized herself in her diary, she also managed to create a time capsule of life in Hallowell and the Kennebec Valley during the time in which she lived. Ulrich writes, “The apparent timelessness of Martha’s entries contrasts sharply with public histories of the period” (363). Martha did not concern herself with the large historical events that macrohistorians would fixate on, but instead on the minutiae of life as she knew it. The “rural quietude” of New England is evident through her words, through her description of each type of plant she placed carefully in her garden, which makes her diary an exemplar of a piece of microhistorical archival evidence.
The Epilogue notes that the fact “that Martha Ballard kept her diary is one small miracle; that her descendants saved it is another” (398). Her diary was preserved by her female descendants, most notably Mary Hobart, who carried Martha’s legacy in a way as she became a physician at a time when few women could do so. Ulrich compares Martha and Mary, writing,
Martha was a skilled practitioner in an ancient female craft, Mary an early entrant in a once exclusively male profession. Martha derived her authority from a local community of women. Mary owed her profession and her identity to a new feminist sisterhood. Martha ministered to women of all social classes in their own homes. Mary cared for the poor in a public hospital. Martha was married and the mother of nine children. Mary was single, by choice and perhaps by necessity as well (402).
While the relatives were similar in their dedication to women’s health and healthcare, but their methods and personal lives differed. Regardless of these apparent differences, Mary admired Martha and understood the importance of her diary, even utilizing it during medical school, an outcome Martha could not have predicted as she wrote it. She likely never thought her diary would be used as any sort of training manual, but though difficult to read, in the right hands it is an invaluable piece of medical and personal history.
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