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Sam Thomas is a fellow St. Martian and I'm pleased to welcome another historical mystery writer to Poe's Deadly Daughters. I met Sam face to face in Cleveland just this year at Bouchercon. In addition to The Midwife's Tale being Sam's debut novel, he teaches history at University School, an independent boys' school outside Cleveland, Ohio. He lives in Shaker Heights with is wife and two sons. Readers can expect a sequel to Sam's debut in 2014.
When I tell people that I’m writing
a series of murder mysteries about an English midwife, I often receive the kind
of condescension that people reserve for the very young and the very old. That’s nice, they say with an uncertain
smile, not entirely sure that they’ve understood me. Actually, that’s not true.
They know they have understood me. They’re just not sure that I’m making any
sense. After all, what could midwives have to with murder? Lawyer-sleuths? Sure,
we’ll believe that. Crime-solving doctors? Absolutely. But midwives?
Yes, midwives. While we (rightly)
associate midwives with bringing life in to the world, for several centuries midwives
also sent people out. Most obviously, thanks to comparatively high infant and
maternal mortality rates, midwives saw their share of death in the delivery
room. But this is just the start, for midwives were key players in England’s
legal and judicial system, and when a woman came into contact with the law, whether
as a victim or a suspect, a midwife often was on the scene.
The most common legal task that
midwives faced was to discover the fathers of illegitimate children so that
they could be made to pay for the upkeep of their offspring. Midwives did this
by – to be blunt – threatening the mothers: If a woman refused to name the
father of her bastard child (perhaps she had been paid for her silence), the
midwife was supposed to withhold care during the birth.
“You don’t want to name the father?”
she would ask. “Then you’re giving
birth alone. Good luck and Godspeed.” (It is not for nothing that I opened The Midwife’s Tale with just this
situation.) And while most mothers probably relented, there are cases in which
midwives did indeed make good on their threat. In thus was the midwife’s job to
expose infidelity and lechery to public view – reason enough for some men to
kill, no?
More dramatic – and mercifully less
common –was the midwife’s role in infanticide investigations. When an infant’s body
was discovered, the constable would summon the local midwife and she would
search out and interrogate suspects. Imagine the scene from the mother’s
perspective:
A young woman has given birth to an
illegitimate child, and she has done this in secret and by herself. Perhaps the
child is stillborn, perhaps not, but the mother panics and abandons the child
out of fear of discovery and punishment.
Within days or even hours, the
midwife arrives with a dozen women in tow. She corners the mother and squeezes
her breasts to see if she is lactating. She then insists on examining the
mother’s privities (to use the early
modern word) for evidence of a recent birth. Then the midwife and her
assistants begin to badger the mother in confessing to a crime which had only
one punishment: death by hanging. In depositions from infanticide cases, the
language of pressing is ubiquitous:
“after much pressing, Jane did confess” or “we pressed her further and again,
until Jane did confessed.” There were no lawyers, no Miranda rights, just the
mother and the women who would not be denied. Such work was not for the
tender-hearted.
Nor was this all. As the local
expert on women’s bodies, it fell to the midwife to examine women or girls who
had been raped, and to testify against their assailants. If a woman were
sentenced to death and claimed to be pregnant (which would prevent execution),
the midwife judged whether she was lying. When a woman was accused of
witchcraft, the midwife examined her body for evidence of the Witch’s Mark,
where Satan’s imp had suckled. Guilt or innocence lay in the midwife’s hands.
Midwives thus dealt in their
community’s darkest secrets: adultery,
murder, rape and witchcraft were their stock in trade. And in these cases, the
midwife’s word determined who lived and who died.
What more could you want from a
protagonist?
